#I believe in short brick supremancy

[connoisseur-of-love]

finally drew my version of late teen/young adult rrb

(i can probably create an essay of my decisions/headcanons with these design)

notes on height

boomer: 6”4

butch: 6”1

brick: 5”8

[hoffmansgirl]

SALVATORE ━ father charlie mayhew 𒋲ㅤ͏

PART 1.・ PART 2 (coming soon)

summary. in search of understanding and compassion, y/n finds herself growing fond of her new priest and teacher, father charlie mayhew.

a/n: holyyy i'm so excited for this! it is based off a request that i can't find atm, anon u know who u are :D as always feedback is deeply appreciated & requests are open ♡

tw. blasphemy; subtle touches; slight praise?; father charlie is a teaseeeee! (basically, nothing too extreme just yet) | wc. 2862

Y/N was sitting in the schoolyard, pen moving against the page of her journal swiftly as she lost herself in the little world she created in her head. The feeling of grass on her bare legs somewhat comforting, taking off some of the stress blooming in her chest.

It was almost finals season in the catholic university she went to. Every few seconds she could hear the other girls' worried voices, discussing the importance of the finals, almost as if their lives depended on it.

Y/N leaned against the tree, deep sigh leaving her mouth as she closed her journal, fingers brushing against the cover almost lovingly. She looked around, the sun almost hiding behind the stone brick walls. A few groups of girls were scattered around the yard, girls she barely spoke to. It wasn't that they weren't kind, she just didn't feel like fraternising with any of them.

She was just... different. Slightly older than most of them, although no one besides the nuns and teachers knew that. And she wasn't really a believer. Her parents were. made her go to the church every sunday, pray every night. They did everything to make her the perfect daughter, but they failed.

It was probably a form of self defence; some kind of a protest against everything her family wanted her to be. She became a sinner. Got drunk, took drugs, smoked, and even slept with a boy or two. The last one made her parents so angry and so disappointed that they made a decision to send her to a catholic college. A catholic, girls' only college. The loneliness she felt in the place almost made her regret everything she's done in the past.

Y/N got up from the grass and straightened her skirt when the big clock on the wall struck a quarter to six. She had a mass to attend to, and it was obligatory to pass the semester.

Some of the girls looked at her when she passed, some greeted her with a smile. their souls so pure, so untouched, she almost felt jealous.

She entered the church soon after, the soft clicking of her Mary Janes against the marble floor disturbing the quietness of the temple. The smell of incense filled her nostrils, so familiar yet so distant at the same time. The church was still empty as she sat in the third row, staring down at her hands. Goosebumps covered the skin of her legs, the cold air making her shiver slightly. She folded her hands in a prayer, kneeling and focusing on the cross behind an altar.

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time, accepting hardship as a pathway to peace, taking, as Jesus did, this sinful world as it is, trusting that You will make all things right if I surrender to your will, so that I may be reasonably happy in this life, and supremely happy with you forever in the next", she chanted, voice quiet, eyes closing involuntarily.

She made the sign of the cross, feeling somewhat better after the short prayer. Her eyes opened, and she looked at the cross behind an altar, a small smile adoring her face. It was almost as if she could feel His presence next to her.

"I don't mean to interrupt", a low, yet soft voice came from behind her, and she was quite surprised at the fact she couldn't recognise it. Y/N turned her head, and her breath hitched at the sight of a young man in a cassock. His dark hair slicked back perfectly, and oh lord, he was so handsome, all of him. He looked more like a personal trainer of some sort than a priest. She could see his muscles even through the thick material of his gown. He walked towards her slowly, hands behind his back, pink mouth turning upwards, offering her a kind smile. "That was beautiful. It's rare to see someone so dedicated to prayer these days. Especially someone as young as you", he continued, now standing next to her as she kept wide eyes on him, his much bigger form towering over her. She cleared her throat, heart pounding in her chest. Y/N's cheeks burned as she realised he was waiting for an answer, playful glint in his eyes at the sight of her abashment.

"Excuse me, I don't mean to offend you..." the words word came out unsure, his intense gaze focused on her face, as if he was trying to memorise every detail about her. the young man nodded, meeting her eyes, and something dangerous sparked in his dark irises just for a moment. "I haven't seen you around here before".

"Of course. I should've introduced myself sooner, forgive me. I'm Father Charlie Mayhew", he clarified, the way his name rolled off his tongue made Y/N shift uncomfortably, hands shaking on her lap.

"I'm Y/N", she retorted quickly. "I'm so sorry for the directness, Father... but you are so young for a priest".

He chuckled softly, shaking his head, and Y/N couldn't help but smile, body finally starting to relax.

"And you seem too old to be a third year student, yet here you are", he noted playfully, sitting next to her on a wooden bench. Y/N gasped in disbelief at his sarcastic comment, the urge to laugh too strong now as she pressed her lips together in attempt to stop it.

She crossed her legs, the already short skirt riding up her thigh, and Father Charlie wasn't oblivious to that. She didn't notice the way his jaw tightened, shaky breath leaving his mouth, gaze lingering on her bare skin for a little bit too long.

"I must admit, Father", she started, leaning back against the cold wood, eyes focused on the altar, hands back on her lap in order to warm herself up. "I haven't confessed in ages. And never of my own accord", she spoke softly, the weight of her sins unbearable now, her head tilting to look at him, "And I'm not a saint. I've done a lot of things i'm not proud of. i still do", she admitted, the last sentence coming out as a whisper. She expected to see disgust in his eyes, maybe some signs of pity; yet all she found was an understanding going deeper than she would've expected. Father Charlie nodded, deep sigh leaving his mouth. He cocked his head, and Y/N couldn't help but notice the way his jaw clenched uncontrollably, the air between heavy, weird tension rising between the two.

Her eyes followed his every single move, unable to look away, mesmerised by his angelic presence.

"We are all sinners, Y/N", Father Charlie met her eyes, yet he looked absent, as if there were other things bothering him at the moment. "If you ever feel the need to talk, about anything, I will be more than happy to help. Come to me anytime", he reached for her leg, never breaking eye contact as he traced his thumb over her thigh softly. His words seemed so ambiguous, so wrong, almost blasphemous, considering his position. Yet she nodded her head politely, her gaze landing on his lips, need beginning to consume every single part of her body.

In that moment, she felt like she could trust him with her life. His presence so intimidating yet comforting, like a warm hug that she oh so desperately needed.

"I will keep that in mind. thank you, Father", Y/N pressed her thighs together, licking her lips nervously. He nodded, squeezing her thigh for the last time before standing up. Y/N shivered at the sudden coldness surrounding her, thigh burning from his soft touch. Charlie's eyes running over her form for the last time before he turned away and left.

Y/N exhaled, gripping at the edges of the pew tightly, and she swore she could hear her own heartbeat in the quietness of the church.

Lust. Yet another sin to add to the already long list. The very thing that made her parents send her to a catholic school, yet here she was, desire consuming every part of her body as she saw Father Charlie in the back of her mind, the memory of his warm hand on her thigh making her head spin. She felt pathetic at having such unholy thoughts about a freaking priest, the old version of her, the sinner, buried deep inside, beginning to set her body aflame, and it scared her.

She almost laughed hysterically at the ridiculousness of her current position as she looked at the altar again. The cross behind it almost mocking her, it's as if she could feel the disappointment of her Lord as she gazed at it blankly, the image of Father Charlie's smile appearing in her head yet again.

A few days passed, and it was as if Father Charlie vanished into thin air. It made Y/N wonder if he wasn't all an illusion, some sort of manifestation of her desires. Ever since the rather unusual encounter in the church, she hasn't seen him. His words echoed in her mind pretty often. "Come to me anytime". He had to be real. She actually contemplated reaching out to him, going into the church fifteen minutes before the mass started in hope of seeing him again.

Yet he never came. And she was disappointed; she grew fond of him, even though they only talked once. Loneliness sparked in her chest yet again, now more than ever. Yet she continued with her classes, being as perfect as ever, never letting anyone see through her. The only thing she could think of was his him, a devilishly handsome priest, whose eyes haunted her even in dreams.

When Y/N woke up that morning, sun shining through the curtains, an image of Father Charlie appeared in her mind once again. She hated herself for thinking about him so often, yet his smile seemed to be stuck in her head, his voice echoing through her head like some sort of a dreamy psalm.

It was Wednesday; which meant there was a hard day ahead of her. Bible reading classes with Sister Megan, whom she adored, very much, but her presence felt melancholic, as if she was sucking the life out of Y/N. She was so pure, as every single girl in the university, and it made her angry. Angry because she couldn't relate to any of them, angry because the only person who seemed to understand her was Father Charlie. Father Charlie who disappeared as quickly as he appeared.

She groaned at the thought of him, rubbing her eyes slowly, stretching, dramatic yawn leaving her mouth.

The air felt hot on her skin, smile appearing on her face nonetheless, eyes squinting involuntarily as she took in the weather outside the window. It was such a beautiful day, summer air making her feel better as she got up slowly, starting to get ready for the day.

It was ten past eight as she left her room, locking it before walking down the hallway to leave the residence hall, her heels clicked against the wooden floor as she walked, the silence almost suffocating, a musky smell of the antique building filling her lungs. She took a left and walked through the classroom door confidently.

"Good morning, Sister", she looked at the spot behind the teacher's desk, expecting to see Sister's Megan contagious smile, yet she was met with Father Charlie's intense gaze.

She inhaled softly at the sight of him as she stopped in the middle of the class, heart throbbing in her throat. She was mad that, once again, he looked absolutely breathtaking; not wearing a cassock this time, instead there was a black suit that cling perfectly to his muscular body. His ring glistened in the sun as he drummed his fingers against the desk, back pressed against the back of the chair comfortably, legs spread wide, almost inviting her to come in between them, and her heart throbbed with longing at the sight.

"Well, good morning, Y/N", he smiled and looked her up and down shamelessly, his gaze making her feel small as she returned his smile hesitantly.

"Cha- Father", Y/N breathed, chewing on her bottom lip, unsure what to say. He was the last person she expected to see, but she was relieved to see him. "Is Sister Megan sick?"

She walked to the front desk slowly, putting her bag down on the wood, eyes never leaving his form.

"No need to worry. Sister Megan is perfectly fine. Although I will be the one to conduct the Wednesday classes from now on", he explained, flashing his white teeth at her as he smiled. She thought that he looked really happy to see her; happiness bloomed in Y/N's chest, body starting to get warm, heat lingering in between her thighs.

"Good", she breathed a little bit too enthusiastically, the excitement obvious in her voice. "I wanted to come and see you, Father, but it seems as if you were... absent", she wet her lips, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt mindlessly, battling her eyelashes. The gesture made Charlie twitch in his seat; her faked innocence was adorable, her body and eyes betraying her true intentions right away.

"Yes, I was quite busy", he sighed, getting up abruptly. "Why did you want to see me? Did something happen?", Charlie asked, genuinely curious as he walked over to Y/N, standing right in front of her crossed legs. Her breath hitched as she looked up, meeting his gaze, tensing at the closeness.

"I...", she hesitated, "I don't know".

A lie.

He half-smiled as y/n uncrossed her legs, gripping the edges of the desk until her knuckles turned white. Her chest heaved with uneven breaths, yet she never looked away from his eyes, tension inside of her stomach ready to snap anytime now.

"Y/N...", he leaned in, "Lying is a sin".

Charlie took a step back, his gaze hardening, almost becoming demanding as he clenched his jaw.

"Luke, 8:17", his voice almost taunting as he challenged her, dangerous glint in his dark irises.

Her palms became sweaty as she chanted: "For nothing is hidden that will not be made manifest, nor is anything secret that will not be known and come to light".

Charlie's smile almost predatory, adoration taking over his features as he tilted his head, hand reaching out to put a strand of Y/N's hair behind her ear. The girl's eyes fluttered shut as she exhaled through her mouth, the feeling of his warm hand on her cheek so right, as if he was meant just for her.

"Smart girl", he praised, voice low and proud. He dropped his hand, backing off and she finally felt like she could breathe again. She hated herself for enjoying his touch and words so much, his position more exciting than terrifying now. Yet they both knew he shouldn't be doing this, using her submissiveness to feed his own sick fantasies, teasing her until she broke. But there was no denying the effect he had on her, panties damp from the arousal coating them, embarrassment and guilt heavy on her chest, yet the lust blooming in her stomach stronger.

The air around her felt cold, even though it was hot outside. She so desperately wanted him to touch her again, but she woke up from the trance quickly, clearing her throat as the clock struck eight thirty.

"I'm sorry, Father", her voice barely above a whisper as she fixed her hair, jumping off from the desk as she heard her classmates' hushed voices from the corridor.

Y/N sat down across from him as she lowered her gaze, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, face flushed as she tried to maintain her balance. Charlie's appearance as perfect as before as he sat back on the chair casually; disappointment bloomed in her chest at his stoic posture, thinking that it didn't affect him at all.

"You need to confess before the weight of your sins crushes you, Y/N", his voice dangerously low yet steady, spark in his dark eyes, before he greeted the other students as they walked in. Professional look on his face, the one she hasn't seen before, as he started the class, his words inaudible as she followed his every move with curious eyes.

Father Charlie was not just a priest. Something about him made her crave for him, all of him. He seemed to understand her so well, even though they barely spoke. She found comfort in his demanding yet affectionate manner, the way he praised her, touched her softly, almost as if he expected her to break if he pushed too hard. Heart filled with longing as she followed the movement of his lips, the way his silver cross necklace glistened in the sunlight. Dimples appearing on his face when he smiled at something her classmate said, dark eyes that kept on meeting her own.

So divine yet so cruel.

So tempting yet so forbidden.

��━━━━━━━━━

2024, hoffmansgirl ©

nicholas alexander chavez masterlist ✿ | about the author

[sirenalpha]

Why are Thanos and Azula fans so mental

idk if u want a real answer but have it anyways, I haven't interacted with any Thanos fans so I can't say there, I think he was portrayed well and more memorable than a lot of other MCU villains though not all but ultimately his plan is kind of nonsensical so I don't find him that interesting to discuss

he's kind of a lot like Ozai in my opinion, Ozai has bricks for brains and he's only made interesting through his children and his menace and atla actually does better with the build up and menace and follow through probably because they had one consistent team rather than multiple directors

you only really need one post to discuss either of them which is that they're stupid and cruel and their children are better than them as people and/or characters and their actors did a really good job in helping their believability despite their super dumb plans

but if I were to guess, I think Thanos fans are mental because they think his plan is sound and applicable to the real world, and yes we humans on planet earth without magic are living on a finite planet under an economy that needs infinite growth to function which is obviously in conflict with finite reality which will make people twist themselves to try to square that cognitive dissonance to begin with, but ultimately the non-cruel and more effective though supremely difficult and potentially dangerous solution is to change the economy, but instead they support Thanos's halving the population as a logical and good solution but it's not, if you don't solve the underlying problem - the economy - you will still end up in a place of running out of resources due to an infinitely growing economy

to make it worse, Thanos's plan is even less sensical in the MCU than in the real world, he has the ability to make whatever he wants at will, he could make infinite resources and chooses not to, so if you take something that's cruel but could be a short term solution in a finite world and apply it to a scenario where those limits don't apply because magic

you have to be mental and also cruel to treat Thanos's plan as good and smart, you are fighting reality

and fighting reality is also why Azula's fans are mental

don't get me wrong, I really like Azula, she is a much better written character than Thanos, she doesn't have any plans or do anything super obviously stupid, but she is still a villain, has a negative character arc, and is flawed and some fans really cannot accept characters having any flaws or being culpable for their own problems in any way

a lot of the really mental Azula fans completely deny how manipulative she is, especially of Zuko, they see her as a fundamentally honest character because she told the truth a couple of times which does not match the text of the show

and if you deny that she is manipulative it's obviously hard to see that she is abusive which she is, mostly to Zuko but she's also cruel and tests Ty Lee and Mai

they see her as an abuse victim of Ozai, Ursa, and Iroh and one who did not receive help from anyone and deserved help and rescue from Iroh but more importantly from Zuko, and while it's true Ozai abused her, there's no evidence Ursa and Iroh abused her though they obviously weren't able to prevent the abuse, and Zuko as her abuse victim actually doesn't owe her shit and that's unacceptable to them

so accurately describing Azula as she is in the show is seen as an attack denigrating the character by Azula fans because they have a completely warped view of her that doesn't match the text of the show and only exists on their head which obviously is in conflict with reality

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 2

3rd Person POV

By the age of nine, Jean and Tom Granger found that their adopted daughter (Y/n) was quite a peculiar child. It wasn't just the strange hourglass scar on her neck, but she was incredibly smart, picking things up that most kids in high school wouldn't understand.

By Year Five of school, (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger had aced all of her classes on top of taking Year Nine level classes - Geometry and AP Biology.

And by the age of ten, (Y/n) was fluent in Russian, French, and Spanish.

The eldest Grangers also learned that their adopted daughter was extremely athletic. (Y/n) had played football - what Americans called soccer - and was top of her class in her Karate and JiuJitzu classes.

(Y/n) was also an inventor. She could come up with solutions to problems that Jean Granger had told her that most adults couldn't solve. She had built her first circuit board at the age of five and her first engine at the age of eight.

The Grangers' had put a shed in their backyard where their adopted daughter was always tinkering with things she would buy or was gifted from neighbors.

It wasn't to say that Jean and Tom's other daughter wasn't smart, for Hermione Granger was very intelligent. But all three - including Hermione - knew that (Y/n) was on a whole different level of intelligence.

Hermione Jean Granger wakes on July 26th of 1991 to her sister standing over her, a wide smile on her face.

The two sisters - even considering that (Y/n) was adopted - looked nothing alike. Hermione had frizzy brown hair and chocolate brown eyes, whereas (Y/n) had sleek (H/C) hair and brilliant green eyes. There was a strange thing about (Y/n)'s appearance though, she had an hourglass shaped scar on the side of her neck. (Y/n) liked the scar, but it reminded her of black widows, which wasn't great because (Y/n) didn't like spiders.

Hermione sit up in her bed, pushing her covers off her.

After the two use the bathroom - (Y/n) taking a quick shower and leaving her hair damp - they make their way downstairs to find their parents already in the kitchen.

"Morning girls," Mrs. Granger greets her daughters as she places breakfast on the table.

"Morning Mum," (Y/n) and Hermione say in unison.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Granger were dressed for work - they were dentists at the local dentists' office a few miles away.

After the four finish breakfast, there is a knock on the door.

Looking slightly confused, Mr. Granger stands up from the table and walks towards the door.

He opens it to see a very stern looking woman with black hair and blue eyes.

"Good morning," Mr. Granger greets the woman.

"Good morning, sir," the black haired woman says. "Are your daughters home? I'm here about a scholarship, per say, for a new school."

(Y/n) and Hermione exchange excited looks.

"Yes, they are here," Mr. Granger answers the woman. "Would you like to come in?"

The woman nods and steps inside the neat house.

"Hermione! (Y/n)!" Tom Granger calls and the two girls rise from their chairs simultaneously and walk out into the living room.

(Y/n) waves shyly at the woman, surprising the other Grangers. (Y/n) was never shy.

A small smile spreads across the woman's face at the slight of (Y/n) and catches sight of the hourglass scar on her neck.

"Hermione and (Y/n), was it?" the woman asks and the two nod.

"I'm Professor McGonagall. I'm here about a school for gifted people like yourselves," the woman says.

(Y/n) and Hermione exchange gazes, like a clashing forest, brown on green.

"It might be hard to believe, but the two of you, you're witches," McGonagall says and (Y/n)'s gaze flashes a silver, almost too quickly for McGonagall to see, but the woman does.

This sends a flash of curiosity though McGonagall, but she holds out two letters.

(Y/n) and Hermione step forward and take the letters from the Professor.

Miss (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger 100 Crestent View Ln. The Third Largest Bedroom Hampstead, London

"That's so very incredibly specific," (Y/n) murmurs. Opening the letter, she quickly reads:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss (Y/n) (L/n)-Granger, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress

(Y/n) looks suspiciously at the letter for a moment before looking up. "Are you sure?" (Y/n) asks. "I'm not anyone special. I can't be a witch."

At the comment about (Y/n) being no one special, the other three Grangers exchange looks that McGonagall presumed to mean that they though that the statement wasn't true.

"Has nothing ever happened when you were afraid or nervous?" McGonagall asks and a flash of realization flashes behind (Y/n)'s eyes. "If you two have to go to work," McGonagall turns to Jean and Tom, "I can take the girls to find their school things."

(Y/n) looks excitedly over at her mother and father, "Mum, Dad, can we?"

Jean looks at McGonagall and nods.

Hermione and (Y/n) grin at each other.

"Go get dressed and then you can go," McGonagall says, smiling softly at the girls' excitement.

(Y/n) and Hermione run up the stairs.

(Y/n) goes to her bedroom and opens her closet door. She pulls out a black AC DC t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts from her dresser.

Thinking for a moment, she grabs a zip up hoodie and throws it on, placing her wallet inside one of the pockets.

(Y/n) stops at her sister's room and a moment later, Hermione pops out, dressed in a pair of jeans and a short sleeved t-shirt.

"So, what do you think about this?"  (Y/n) asks as the two make their way down the stairs.

"I think it's interesting, us being witches and all," Hermione answers as the two enter the living room where they find their mother asking McGonagall to keep her daughters safe.

McGonagall, (Y/n), and Hermione walk outside and McGonagall tells the two girls to take her hand.

They do, and they're suddenly somewhere else. (Y/n) and Hermione look up to see a sign, which reads, The Leaky Cauldron.

They walk inside.

It was a small, tiny, grubby-looking pub. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. All of a sudden, the low buzz of chatter stopped when two people walked in. One of them was a very tall man, he almost looked to big to be allowed. He had long black hair and a black beard. The other was a small boy with jet-black hair, bottle green eyes, and light skin. The bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said the man who must have Hagrid, clapping his great hand on boy's shoulder and making his knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at the black haired boy, "is this — can this be — ?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. "Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter ... what an honor."

(Y/n) studies the boy for a moment, then he looks over at her, as though sensing her eyes on him.

The old bartender hurries out from behind the bar, rushes towards Harry and seizes his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back." The boy didn't seem know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry was shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand — I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle.

(Y/n)'s POV

I look up at Professor McGonagall who looks at me with a question evident in her eyes, though I couldn't tell what it was.

McGonagall follows Harry and Hagrid out of the pub, Hermione and I following.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh — mind you, he's usually tremblin'." Hagrid was saying.

"Is he always that nervous?" Harry asks.

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience. ... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject — now, where's me umbrella?" Hagrid responds. "Three up ... two across ..." he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry." He taps the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. Hagrid and Harry proceed to walk through the archway.

McGonagall follows the two and Hermione and I follow close behind.

"The first stop for us is the wizarding bank, Gringotts," McGonagall says leading Hermione and I towards a large, grand, white building that looked over the rest of Diagon Alley.

The doors open and we walk in, the doors closing behind us. We walk over to what looks like a Santa Clause elf - pointy ears and relatively short.

"Good morning," McGonagall says, pulling out a golden key, "we need to visit Miss (L/n)'s vault."

"And does Miss (L/n) have her key?" the goblin asks.

McGonagall hands the goblin the key in her hand. "Very well," he says, handing the key back to McGonagall, who, in turn, hands it to me.

"I'll have someone take you down to the vault. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Hermione, Professor McGonagall, and I follow Griphook towards one of the doors leading off the hall.

Griphook holds the door open for us.

We walk into a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It slopes steeply downwards and there are little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart comes hurtling up the tracks towards us. We climb in and are then off.

When the cart finally stops, the four of us get out stopped in front vault 714.

"Key please," Griphook says and I hand him my key.

I was confused though, because Vault 714 had no keyhole.

Griphook simply examines the key closely, and then hands it back to me. I guessed that they key must just be confidential.

"Stand back," says Griphook importantly. He strokes the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melts away. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," says Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Hermione asks curiously.

"About once every ten years," Griphook answers with a rather nasty grin.

3rd Person POV

Griphook steps aside and (Y/n) and Hermione's eyes go wide at the sheer amount of gold, silver, and bronze coins inside.

"This is mine?" (Y/n) asks Professor McGonagall, who smiles softly, holding out a drawstring bag.

"Your mother was very addiment on leaving most of her gold to you," McGonagall says and (Y/n) nods dumbly as she takes the bag.

Hermione helps (Y/n) scoop some of the coins into the bag. Though they had taken quite a bit of coins, it didn't even seem to make a dent in the large piles.

"The gold ones are Galleons," Professor McGonagall explains as (Y/n) studies a wooden box in front of the truckloads of gold coins. "There are seventeen silver Sickles to a galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle."

(Y/n) nods absently as she opens the box, Hermione next to her.

Inside, she sees a stack of letters and a few pictures.

Hermione holds out her bag, and (Y/n) closes the box, placing it inside the bag.

(Y/n) smiles gratefully at her sister as Hermione pulls her backpack back onto her back.

One wild cart ride later, the three stand blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts.

Hermione pulls out her letter, and (Y/n) reads over her sister's shoulder:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Uniform

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black) 2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear 3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) 4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

Course books:

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)by Miranda Goshawk A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungiby Phyllida Spore Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them by Newt Scamander The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment:

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) I set glass or crystal phials 1 telescope 1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Where do we even start?" Hermione asks in amazement.

"If we get are cauldrons first, we can put our other supplies in it," (Y/n) thinks quickly.

Hermione nods and then both look up to Professor McGonagall, who smiles softly and leads the two to the Apothecary where they pick up two cauldrons and two supplies of basic potions ingredients for Hermione and (Y/n).

"Books now, 'Mione?" (Y/n) asks with a grin as they are about to pass a large bookshop.

Hermione shoots her sister a grin and the two girls walk into the bookshop, McGonagall waiting outside with their cauldrons and potions ingredients.

(Y/n)'s POV

Hermione grabs two of each of our course books while I look around at some of the other books. I grab: Hogwarts: A History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Modern Magical History, Great Wizarding Events of teh Twentieth Century, and a book that looked like it was for kids titled, The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

The next place we went was called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Inside were two boys one was the Raven haired boy from the Leaky Cauldron; the other was a short boy with blond hair that was greased back; he had a mean attitude about him.

Harry's POV (A couple minutes before)

Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so I entered Madam Malkin's shop.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when I started to speak. "Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood me a on stool slipped a long robe over my head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yeah," I said, not really liking him very much.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," I say.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"Nope," I respond.

"I do – Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," I say. I really don't like this boy, I thought.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," I say, wishing I could say something a bit more interesting.

"I say, look at that man!" says the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at me and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," I tell him, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," says the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," I say. I was liking this boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage – lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," I say coldly.

"Do you?" says the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," I say shorty. He seemed not to want to talk to this boy any more than he needed to.

"Oh, sorry," says the other boy, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean." I respond.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways."

A tinkling of a bell interrupts the boy. I look over to see two girls walk in.

"Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before I could answer, Madam Malkin says, "That's you done, my dear," and I, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hop down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," says the drawling boy.

3rd Person POV

A few minutes later, (Y/n) and Hermione walk into the bright sunlit alley, their robes folded neatly in a bag.

(Y/n) smiles at Professor McGonagall and places her robes into the cauldron, then (Y/n) lifts up the heavy cauldron, Hermione doing the same with her own.

"What next?" Hermione asks Professor McGonagall.

"You two still need wands," answers McGonagall, pointing towards a store.

As we walk closer, I read the sign, Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

The three of walk inside. A tinkling bell ring somewhere in the depths of the shop as they step inside, and an old man walks to the desk from teh deep recesses of the shop.

"Hello, good afternoon," the man says. "I am Mr. Ollivander. You two are here for wands I presume?" he asks and Hermione and (Y/n) nod.

"(Y/n) (L/n)," Mr. Ollivander says, "I was wondering if I was going to be seeing you soon." he pauses, looking carefully into (Y/n)'s eyes. "Your mother's eyes." At the statement, (Y/n)'s eyes seem to light up with curiosity. "It seems that only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Twelve inches, ash wood with a unicorn hair core. Good for stubborn and courageous witches and wizards."

Even at this small amount of information, (Y/n) had perked up. Hermione glances over at her adopted sister and feels a rush of pity for her. She can't imagine not knowing who her parents were.

It wasn't that (Y/n) didn't remember, because she did have very vivid nighmares about a car slamming on the brakes, a flash of green light, then red, then everything would go dark. It always ended the same way however, with Mrs. Granger carrying a two year old (Y/n), who was clutching her black and white stuffed cat, back to her home.

(Y/n) wrenches herself out of her thoughts as Ollivander approaches her. He had come so close that he and (Y/n) were almost nose to nose.

"And that's where . . ."

Mr. Ollivander touches the hourglass shaped car on the side of (Y/n)'s neck with a long white finger.

"I'm sorry to say that I sold the wand that did it," he says softly and (Y/n) looks back up into the wand maker's misty silver eyes. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands . . . well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do . . ."

He stops, and (Y/n) continues to watch the wand maker, her green eyes flashing silver for the second time that day.

Ollivander, as though sensing (Y/n)'s desire to know more, moves onto Hermione, and she quickly revives her "Vine wood, Dragon heart-string, 10 1/4 inches, unyielding" wand.

(Y/n)'s POV

Again, the same process commences with me, but I end up trying more wands then Hermione. Finally, I get my wand, and strangely my, "Alder wood with a Phoenix Feather core, 12 1/4 inches. Alder is an unyielding wood, yet I have discovered that its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, but often helpful, considerate and most likeable. Whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Alder is also excellent for protection against outside forces, and, when combined with phoenix feather, is a suitable match for a wizard who will "make their mark on this world.'" Mr. Ollivander says, and I look up at him in shock. Hermione hadn't gotten such a lengthy explanation of her wand.

Mr. Ollivander fixes me with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss (L/n). Every single wand. It so happens that that phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave two other feathers - just two. It is curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother - why, one of it's brothers gave you that scar."

I swallow thickly.

"Your other wand's brother, however, I sold just a mere thirty minutes ago," Ollivander continues, "to a young Harry Potter. Curious how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember . . . I think that we must expect great things from you, Miss (L/n) . . . After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible yes, but great."

Hermione and I return home a few hours later with Professor McGonagall, me clutching a woven basket that housed my new black and white cat Marvel inside.

3rd Person POV

Before they enter the house McGonagall stops (Y/n) before she can enter.

(Y/n) turns to looks quizzically at the professor.

"Good luck," the Professor says simply, then holds out to train tickets. "These are you and your sister's ticket's for Hogwarts." (Y/n) nods, taking the tickets. "I'll see you on September 1st," McGonagall says. Then the Professor turns around and walks away.

Word Count: 4,100 words

So yeah, here's Chapter 2.

I wonder if any of you know who (Y/n)'s dad is yet. I tried dropping some hints at the very beginning.

So yeah

I'll see y'all soon!

Love y'all!

              Kaitlynn 😍❤️

[that-sw-writer]

Prompt #3 was so good!! can you please do a part 2? I love your writing💕💕

Thank you!! And thanks for requesting it, I was meaning to write a part 2 and totally forgot 🥴

I’ve also renamed the series ‘come back to me’

Summary: Kylo isn’t ready to let you go, he’s willing to do anything to bring you back from the brink.

Word count: 2218

Warnings: probably terrible use of medical dialect by me, lost of angst, mentions mental health/trauma, mentions death

PART ONE

MASTERLIST

Come back to me II

It had been a month, and Kylo still felt numb.

He still visited you every day, but there was always that impending sense of doom lurking around you like a dark shroud.  It was just a matter of time before one of the doctors became brave enough to tell their Supreme Leader the harsh truth.

The truth that his wife had been in a coma for a month, that he had sourced the greatest medical professionals in the galaxy and even they couldn't draw you back to consciousness.  You had sustained extensive injuries, and that was before the malnutrition and presumed mental trauma had been taken into account.

Eventually somebody had to speak up.  The medical staff had spent a long time arguing over whose responsibility it was to tell Kylo that he needed to start thinking about letting you go, and eventually they decided to approach him as a pack... after all, the saying was 'safety in numbers.'

When the Chief Medical Officer had given him his two options: let you go, or keep you alive on the basis that you might never wake up, he had said that only by giving your body a chance to sustain itself would you possibly awake; although the chances were extremely slim.  Kylo had simply ordered them all out of the room in an angry fit.

He wanted to demolish the walls with his Saber, but you were laying there so peacefully, he couldn't bring himself to do it.  You had been the source of all of his happiness for so long now, he had no idea how to cope without you - in short, he wasn't coping without you.  He was becoming more and more destructive by the day, especially where the pirates who kidnapped you in the first place were concerned.  He was ruthlessly hunting them down across the the galaxy, following up every lead, every rumour, no stone was left unturned when it came to your captors.  If he couldn't have you, he would at least have their blood as compensation.

Part of his destructive nature was stemming from his own guilt.  If he had just gotten to you sooner, perhaps he would have caught you in time for the medical team to save you.  But he hadn't made it fast enough, in fact the doctors had said that it was a miracle in itself that you had survived, even if you were comatose.  On paper, you should have been dead, but your sheer will to live had kept you going.

Kylo sat by your bedside, and clutched his head in his hands as he tried to process his frustration.  He wondered what you were dreaming about - one of the doctors he had brought in from Coruscant had told him that your brain was still active, and that you were able to dream, as well as possibly register things that were going on around you.

He just hoped that you were dreaming of happier times together, like when you had taken a trip away to Bespin together.  Just the two of you, pretending that you could have a life outside of the First Order, although naturally the Supreme Leader and his wife were two very recognisable faces.  Nevertheless, you had never felt so at peace in one another's company.

You strangely looked at peace now, Kylo thought.  Your features were relaxed and soft, and for what it was worth you were looking in much better health than you had when he and the Knights had brought you back from Bor.

"Please don't let those animals be your finals thoughts, my love."  He quietly urged you.  If you could subconsciously register what was going on around you, he knew you would hear his voice.  "You deserve the galaxy, and I promised I would give it to you.  I'm just sorry I let you down."  Emotion now filled his voice, and he prayed that nobody would come in and see him in such a vulnerable state.  "I will hunt them down and avenge you, that's a promise I can keep."

He knew you better than anyone, and he knew that if you had your way you would be hunting down your kidnappers and getting revenge singlehandedly.  He owed it to you to find them, either that or he was just trying to rectify his own mistakes.

"D-don't blame yourself."

Your final words still haunted him, he heard them every day.  How could he not blame himself?  He could have done so much more, or even better, he could have stopped you from pursuing that distress beacon in the first place.

Another day passed, and he once again found himself sat at your bedside.  Even Kylo had to admit that he couldn't do this forever, it wasn't fair on either of you.

"If you stop supporting her, what happens?"  He asked the Chief Medical Officer, his eyes not leaving your face.

"Her body has to either sustain itself, or it will fail.  But Supreme Leader, you must know that the chances of her surviving are extremely low.  In fact, I would say near impossible."  He didn't want to get Kylo's hopes up, he understood that.  But Kylo believed that your will to survive had brought you this far, and he wasn't ready to give up on you yet.

"Do it."  He quietly said, every muscle in his body screaming at him to do something to stop this, but he knew it was necessary.  If he lost you, he would never recover, but perhaps this could be the spark you needed to finally wake up and come back to him.  Either way, he couldn't allow you to live out the rest of your days unconscious in the med-bay.

A team were gathered, ready to deal with any possible eventuality.  They had tried to suggest that the Supreme Leader leaves the room, but Kylo was adamant on staying, because the second you were close to consciousness he would have something they didn't - the Force.

Despite you not being Force sensitive, he could sense your presence from a mile away, and he always knew how you were feeling.  It was now his last lifeline to you, if he felt even a spark of life come from you then he wouldn't dare give up on trying to save you.

It all happened so fast, the machines were cut, the only thing left active being you heart rate monitor.  The steady beeping immediately began to rise, up and up until it was dangerously high, then suddenly it flatlined.

"She's going into cardiac arrest."  The Chief Medical Officer exclaimed, the team sweeping into action to try and save you.

He couldn't get a look in, the sea of bodies surrounding you had his own heart rate rising.  Could he have just made a terrible mistake and lost you for good?

When the medical officers stepped back, the only sound filling the room was the monotone beep that symbolised your heart rate.

"I'm sorry Supreme Leader."  The Chief Medical Officer spoke quietly, "we'll give you some time."

When everyone else left the room, tears were already uncontrollably pooling in the corners of his eyes.  His whole world was shattering before him.

He wasted no time in moving to your bedside and gently taking one of your hands to hold in both of his.

"This can't be it, I can't have failed you again."  He whispered, bringing your hand to his lips to press a soft kiss to them.  Your hand was still warm, and he couldn't believe he had come so close and still failed to save you.

"Please-" he begged, unsure as to who he was even speaking to now, "please don't take her from me."  His voice cracked as the weight of losing you finally hit him like a tonne of bricks.

As if the Force had heard his pleas it called to him, and he listened.  It drew him towards you, but he wondered what the point was - it was too late now...  But then he felt it, tiny, almost non-existent, but it was there.

The smallest flicker of life remained in you, your will to survive still fighting, but quickly fading.  He knew he had to at least try and pull you back.

His hands ever-so-gently released yours, placing it back by your side in favour of placing one of his hands on your chest.  He dug deep, deep enough until he could reach that tiny flicker of life within you and he started to pass his energy to you.

Kylo felt himself becoming physically and mentally drained as he passed almost everything he had into you, but when he heard intermittent beeps coming from the heart-rate monitor he knew that he had to push through.

His hand was then met by yours, warm, gentle, alive.  Your eyes fluttered open next, your pupils taking a moment to adjust to the harsh light in the room.  Usually when people awoke from comas, it would take them weeks, months even, to recover.  But you felt reinvigorated, as if you were ready to jump up at a moment's notice and undertake a mission.  Whatever Kylo had done hadn't just brought you back to consciousness, it had brought you back to almost full health.

Satisfied that you were alive, and unable to physically give you anyone, Kylo stopped and collapsed to the ground, his breathing laboured as he tried to regain his strength.

"Kylo-" you tried to speak, but your voice manifested as a mere croak, barely audible.  Your throat was so dry, you were starving hungry, your limbs were aching, but all you could think about was your husband.  He had just saved your life.

"Supreme Leader-" assuming he was about to walk in on a grieving Kylo Ren, the Chief Medical Officer's expression was truly one of shock when he saw the scene before him.

Kylo hunched over on the floor, trying his best to remain conscious after giving up almost his entire life-force to his wife, who was now alive...  You were trying your best to sit up, but struggling due to your limbs being out of practise, and all of the machinery you were wired up and attached to.

"I need a full team in here, now!"  Was all he could think to yell, and immediately he had doctors and nurses arriving in the room behind, each and every one of them looking just as shocked at the scene before them.

As the Force began to catch up with Kylo and fill his veins once again, he was able to pull himself back to his feet, although he still looked like he could collapse at any given moment.  Nevertheless he shoved everyone aside, paying them no mind whilst they tried to read your vitals and work out how in the galaxy you were alive and well suddenly.  He moved to your bedside and cupped your face in his hands.

"You're really here?"  He quietly asked, part of him thinking that he was dreaming right now.

"Yeah, I'm really here."  You whispered back, your voice beginning to sound more recognisable as you now.

He didn't say anything else, he just pulled you close to him and momentarily buried his face in your neck.  He usually refused to show such vulnerability when you were around people, but he was beyond caring about that right now.

You could feel his tears dampening your skin, and your hands gently weaved through his hair, soothingly stroking his dark locks to remind him that you really were there.  Had you not been so dehydrated, you probably would have also been crying - but in your current state you weren't physically capable of it.

When he became aware of your need for medical attention, he reluctantly pulled back and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before withdrawing to allow the medical staff to do their work.

He stayed by your side for hours, until eventually you insisted on leaving and going back to your quarters.  Some things never changed, and Kylo knew that whenever you were in the med-bay for one reason or another you were always keen to leave as soon as possible.

The Chief Medical Officer agreed to your release, but only on the basis that a medical droid be present in your quarters to take your vitals hourly and see to it that you undertake a good diet and stay hydrated.  They were also concerned about your mental wellbeing, although  everything was seemingly fine, you were overwhelmed and it was more than likely that the aftermath of everything you had been through hadn't hit you yet.

That night you and Kylo didn't say much to each other.  You had been somewhat aware whilst you were comatose, and you knew just how much pain he had been in without you.  You had bathed, dressed, and simply laid in bed together with him holding you in his arms.

The last time he had properly held you, you had been on the brink of death after days of relentless torture.  He had started to accept that he would never hold you again, and it felt surreal that you were here in his arms.

There were so many issues he had to iron out, including brining your captors to justice, but for now you were the only thing on his mind.  He never wanted to let you go.

[dokoni-mo]

Back Again, Together || Darth Vader x Reader (Chapter 3)

(A/N: I didn’t expect to get this out so quickly, but I started it this morning and it just wrote itself!! It also has become one of my fav pieces of writing that i’ve done :)) as always, tags open, asks open, and important links below. Enjoy!)

Masterlist Link (Link to first part of this story) : [x]

Chapter One: [x] 

Chapter Two: [x]

WARNINGS: cursing, a tiny amount of violence, some angst, a tiny mention of death, otherwise none!

Key: (F/N) = first name 

Word Count: ~4300 (i think)

~~~

The feeling that crept across your skin was both fiery hot and icy cold at the same time. 

You were absolutely speechless. All you could do was stare dumbly at Rey as you processed her words. 

Emperor Palpatine has returned. 

You finally made a move, dropping your gaze down to the hand that was intertwined with your love’s. The crown of your head started to ache as your mind started to spiral. It felt as if the rest of the galaxy around you was fading away into nothing, and your body weight was dissolving into nothing. 

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. 

You could hear your breath become heavier and heavier. 

All other noises faded away into a dull white noise. 

How could it be possible? 

How could the universe be so cruel? 

After everything you had been through. 

After all those years of slavery, you-

Your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar, deep voice that came from nowhere but everywhere at once. 

“Darling.” 

Who was that? 

Everything was so confusing. 

You were lost. 

Your eyes were searching the fuzzy view of the floor below you for something, anything to make sense of it all. 

You felt a pang of surprise when that anything came not from your eyes, but from your hand. It came in the form of a tight, firm squeeze, and made your gaze snap over to it. 

The reminder of where you were came at you like a metric ton of bricks. 

Your soft, small hand was intertwined with a much larger and stronger one. 

His hand.

Your lips parted at this revelation. 

Him. 

How were you so cruel as to forget about him?

Your eyes shooting up, you were quickly met with the gaze of his mask, the sound of his steady breath slowly bringing you back to reality. Even though his real face was obscured, you could feel his concern. Concern for you. 

You felt so selfish. 

How could you? How could you be so selfish as to fade away by yourself just then and forget about him?

He was the one who suffered the most. 

He was the one who was a slave to that man for so many years. 

He was the one who lost everything. 

He was the one who killed him. 

How could he be back?

It couldn’t be possible...

You felt tears threaten to brim your eyes, but you resisted them. 

No. 

You couldn’t waste any time on yourself. 

You had to be strong. 

For him. 

He must be in far more disbelief and shock than you. You didn’t need him to display it for you to know You could feel it in your bones. He thought it was over. He thought he would never have to relive any of the nightmares he had. Never in a million years did you nor him think that Palpatine could still be alive. It had to be a lie. 

It just had to be. 

A filthy, rotten, lie. 

Gazing into the eyes of your love’s mask, you felt another wash come over you, one you hadn’t felt in so long, and wasn’t sure that you even had in you anymore. 

Pure, unbridled, anger. 

You turned your head to Rey without even commanding it to. She looked troubled, nervous even. 

This only added to the flames that were building inside of you. 

How dare she. 

How dare she come into your home and tell him these awful things. 

You felt your blood begin to boil as you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“Get out.” 

A flash of confusion went over Rey’s face. 

You clenched your jaw, your fingers beginning to twitch. 

“I’m… I’m sorry?” Rey said, her voice breathy. 

That was fucking it. 

Unwrapping your hand from Vader’s, you stood up so fast that your chair was knocked over, the sound of the wood hitting the floor making Rey jump. 

“I said GET OUT!” you almost screamed, pointing your arm strongly over to the door. 

Rey looked up at you with stiff shoulders, her eyes wide and her voice raised to better match your own. 

“P-Please! Just let me explain, i-” 

“I don’t  give a FUCK what you have to say!” You yelled, cutting her off. Your vision filling with red, you reached down to the table below you, picking up one of your tools. Your body going into autopilot, you lurched your arm backwards, getting ready to throw it at the brunette intruder. You didn’t care about the way she lifted her arms to shield herself. 

“Get the FUCK out-” you continued on. You were ready to throw the tool, but were quickly stopped before you could. You were quite frustrated at first, but it soon faded away as you recognized the touch.

Your love. 

Your gaze moving from Rey up to the figure next to you, your eyes confirmed your suspicions. Vader had stood up from his chair and held onto your arm, preventing you from throwing the tool at Rey. Feeling no metal against her arms, Rey lowered her limbs, looking up at you and your love with parted lips. 

Gazing into the mask of your lover, you felt your anger and frustration slowly start to dissipate. Your chest rose and fell in heavy breaths as Vee helped your arms to lower into a resting position, and continued to do so as he took the tool out of your hand and placed it back on the table. Your head was hung, but was slowly lifted up by the feeling of one of his large, gloved hands on your face. Lifting up your hand to rest on his, the two of you gazed at one another for a short moment before he spoke. 

“Let us hear what she has to say, dear.” he said. 

You felt a sense of calm wash over you at his words. Your cheeks dusting a light pink, you realized that you may have embarrassed yourself a little. 

But, you were quite grateful that he was there to bring you back to reality. 

You loved him so much… 

Nodding your head in agreement, Rey watched in silence and disbelief as Vader leaned down to pick up your chair for you, pushing you back to the table when you sat down. He soon followed suit and took your hand again, leaving Rey temporarily speechless. 

Was this the same Darth Vader that she had heard so many stories about?

He was so…

Gentle. 

Rey couldn’t believe it. 

Realizing she had to say something, Rey cleared her throat before speaking, her tone soothing and calm. 

“I, umm… I’m sorry. I should have broken the news more gently.” she said. 

Your lips tightened into a line at her words as you dropped your gaze briefly. It was you who should be sorry. 

“No, it’s okay.” you said, your voice much more quiet than before, “I’m the one who should apologize. I-I just…” 

You were grateful that Vee was able to finish your sentence for you as you trailed off. 

“We do not care for being reminded of that time.” 

Shooting a glance up at your love, you felt his thumb rub the back of your knuckles as you squeezed his hand. 

You had to stay strong for him. 

No more messing up. 

“I understand, it’s okay.” Rey said in response, a small, sympathetic smile painting her face. 

“Would you care to explain yourself now, Miss..?” Vee continued, tilting his armored head to the side. 

Rey’s smile faded as her eyes widened slightly. She realized she never introduced herself to Lord Vader.

“Rey, umm, sir.” she said, not knowing how else to address your love, “My name’s Rey.” 

The silence she got from Vader told her that she need to start explaining. Searching her mind for a moment, she decided on where to begin. 

From the beginning. 

Shifting in her chair, Rey leaned her elbows on the table as she begun. 

“After the fall of the Empire, there were still many people who were loyal to it and wanted it to still be in place. Eventually, these people came together and formed the First Order. They’re basically a repeat of the Empire… although this time more dead-set on galactic domination.” 

“I’m assuming the Resistance or whatever are the people trying to stop them?” you asked in the break of her words. 

“Yes, they are.” she said, “And we’ve been trying to for years now. We’ve had many victories, but we’re at sort of a stand-still right now. About a week ago, the entire Resistance was trapped, and we were looking death in the face. Kylo Ren… he was about to slaughter us all. But, Luke saved us. He saved us all. He sacrificed himself to save our lives…” 

Rey looked to Vader as she continued. 

“He trained me, made me who I am today… He was a good man, sir. You should be very proud.” 

Vader gave her a nod in response, and only you could feel how he squeezed your hand. 

“You mentioned someone,” you responded, “Kylo Ren… who is he?” 

“He’s the current Supreme Leader of the First Order…” Rey said before she trailed off, her gaze dropping as she searched for the right words. 

“Leia… Kylo Ren is her son.” 

Your lips parted in shock. You were…

Grandparents? 

You wanted to be angry again, but you couldn’t. You looked to Vee, and he met your gaze. 

You could tell he felt the same way as you. 

Happy. 

Grandparents…

You never thought you would see the day. 

“Looks like we’re older than we thought, Vee.” you breathed out, a smile enveloping your features as a rumble of approval escaped his chest. 

Rey licked her lips before continuing, “But that’s why I’m here. Luke, Leia, Me, Han Solo, all of us have tried to bring Kylo Ren home… but we’ve all failed. He’s far too blind for his own good.” 

“What makes you think we’re the ones to do it?” you asked, “And how does this relate to the Emperor?”

“We’ve recently gained intel from one of our spies that the Emperor has been pulling the strings this whole time. He’s  the one that has muddled with Kylo’s mind. Leia, she… she needs you. Both of you. She’s the one who sent me. You both know what it’s like to be controlled like that. You both know how to stop the Emperor… And she needs you.” 

Rey paused for a moment as she looked from you to your love over and over again. 

“The two of you are our only hope.” 

~~~

“There’s no way we can do this.” 

You felt bad for being so blunt, but knew it was the only way you were going to get the message across to Vee. 

You had dragged him into your shared bedroom for a moment of privacy as the two of you talked, leaving Rey by herself in the room next over. You were stood by the end of the bed, your arms folded across your chest as you looked up at your love. 

You knew you were firm on your position, and you knew he would be just as stubborn. 

“What do you mean?” He asked you, tilting his head to the side. 

“Did you hear what she said, Vee?” you responded, “Facing the Emperor again? You’re in no condition to do that type of fighting again, and if you’re not going then I’m sure as hell not.” 

“I am more than prepared for the task at hand.” he said flatly, his gaze locked on you. 

You sighed, “No, you’re not, Vee. I still haven’t completed all the upgrades to your suit, and you’re still injured from your first encounter. We can’t-” 

“I am in a good enough state to press on, darling. I have done this before without your upgrades. I am confident we can do this together.” 

“Anakin, do you really want to go back there?” you asked softly, the usage of his real name signaling that you meant business, “To all of that.” 

“Yes, I am sure.” 

“How? Ani, we both suffered because of that man, you so more than me. We have a good life here. Our fight is over. We did so much… we can choose to rest. We can choose to just live out the rest of our days. Don’t you want that? With me?” 

Vader reached down and took your hands in his as he spoke. 

You felt like crying.

“More than anything, darling.” 

“Then let’s stay.” You pleaded with him, “Forget the First Organization or whatever, forget the Rebellion. We’ve done all we could.” 

“(F/N),” he said, “I can not ignore a cry for help from Leia. She needs me. We told her long ago that we will be here if she does. We can not back out now.” 

“Vee…” 

“(F/N), this may be the only chance I get to be there for her. I do not want the last memory she has of me to be… to be Alderaan.” 

You bit your lip and glanced down. 

He was right, but…

“Ani, it’s so dangerous to go off of this planet. We’ve been hidden for years and he might sense our movement. What if we just cause more trouble? I don’t want Leia or anyone to die because of us.” 

“More people will die if we do nothing, darling…” 

Ani moved his hands from around your own up to your face, cradling it in his gloved palms as he continued. 

“This is our only chance to be the parents we never were for them. You are just as much as their mother as I am their father, even if you did not birth them. Leia needs us there. And by doing this… We will carry out Luke’s dream. We could bring real peace to the galaxy. I wish for Leia to live in such a place. I wish for our grandson to do the same…” 

His thumb caressed your cheek. 

“And I wish for the same for you.”  

You could feel the tears well up in your eyes as you searched the face of his mask, lifting up your hands to rest atop his own. 

Your voice came out strained from the lump forming in your throat. 

“I-I just…” you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I just wanted you to be able to rest…” 

You couldn’t stop the flow of tears as he responded. 

“I will not be able to unless he is destroyed, darling. And I know you shall be the same.” 

Throwing yourself into his arms, you did your best to hide your cries in his armored shoulder as you hugged him tight, your small arms unable to wrap fully around his large frame. His arms, however, were able to wrap around yours with ease, his large hand rubbing small, comforting circles into your back. 

You loved him. 

You loved him so very much. 

You loved him more than the air you breathed. 

You loved him more than life itself. 

So, if this is what he truly wanted…

You would follow him. 

Without question. 

Pulling away from him once your tears had dissipated, you reached up your hands as you stood on your tip-toes, pulling his head down to touch your forehead to his armored one. His hands placed on your sides, you placed your own on the expanse of his broad shoulders, holding him there for a moment of silence, your breathing slowing to match is own. 

“How are you so sure we can beat him?” you whispered. 

You felt his thumbs rub circles on your hip bones. 

“When I am with you, my dear, I can do anything.” 

~~~

Rey shot her gaze up to the pair of you as soon as she heard the bedroom door click open, her eyes wide and hopeful. Her gaze followed the pair of you step closer to her, making her rise out of her seat. She could feel the anticipation bubble in her diaphragm. 

Your hand firmly intertwined with your love’s, you took a deep breath before you spoke. 

“We’ll do it.” 

Rey couldn’t hold back the smile she breathed out. 

Leia was right. 

They would join. 

“I have something for you then.” she said, dropping her gaze to the bag around her shoulder. 

After a brief moment of digging through it’s contents, she brought out something that looked oddly familiar to you. 

It was a cylinder of metal, with a hole in the top and many black rectangles around it’s base. 

It looked an awful lot like Vee’s saber, yet different…

You heard your love’s respirator hitch as Rey held out the metal to him. 

“I believe this belongs to you, sir.” she said. 

After a brief pause of no movement whatsoever, you watched as your love took the metal out of Rey’s hand. He turned the thing over in his hand many times, inspecting every curve and edge to the object. Your curiosity taking over, you dropped your gaze upon the thing, watching at how carefully Vee held it in his gloved hands. 

“What is it, Vee?” you asked. 

Getting no response from him, you watched as he held onto the object, igniting it in his grasp. A long streak of deep blue came out of the metal, as well as a familiar humm. 

It was beautiful. 

“It is my lightsaber, darling.” Ani eventually responded, his mask trained on the light. 

Blue, huh? 

You smiled up at him. 

He had told you long ago of his time as a jedi…

You were glad he was finally reunited with a little piece of his past. 

“Does this mean I can have your old one?” you asked half-jokingly. 

“Yes, dear.” 

~~~

He slept in the bed with you that night instead of in his meditation pod. You wanted him to sleep in there, since it was more comfortable for him. 

He wouldn't have any of it. He insisted on being next to you that night. 

It was the first night in a long, long time that both you and him got a full night’s rest. It was quite soothing to feel his weight next to you and feel his arms around you, and you were sure it was comforting to him as well. 

In the morning, you woke up before him just as normal. You thought about waking him up, but decided to let him rest instead. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you padded your feet over to the kitchen. 

You decided to cook him his favorite for breakfast. 

You knew it would be the last one for quite a while. 

Waking him up and helping him into his meditation pod, you smiled as you placed the plate of food next to him, pressing a kiss to the crown of his helmet before closing the pod behind you. 

You figured that now was the perfect time to start packing. 

In the middle of preparing your bags, you heard his meditation pod open and close, as well as the sound of his footsteps drawing closer to you. A moment later, you felt his large arms wrap around your frame, pulling you close to his chest as you breathed out a smile. Closing your eyes, you slid your arms over his own, rubbing circles lovingly into his leather-bound forearms. 

“I have to pack for us, Vee.” you said, your tone loving. 

“I know.” 

“You’re not gonna let me go for a while, aren’t you?” 

“No, I am not.” 

You let out a giggle. 

“I love you, Vee.” 

“I love you too, (F/N). More than anything.” 

~~~

It took a long while for you to take your eyes off of your home. 

Your bags slung over your shoulder, your eyes were fixated on the front door of the house you had built, a few strands of your hair fluttering in the breeze. 

You didn’t want to say goodbye. 

You really didn’t.

“Darling.” 

His voice made you finally take your eyes off of that place. Your gaze now on him, your lips parted as you took the sight of him in. 

He was so handsome. 

So large. 

You loved him so, so much. 

He held his hand out to you. 

“It is time to go.”

Blinking at his outstretched hand, you swiveled your head back to your home, feeling your heart ache faintly in your chest.

“I know,” you said, “It’s just… I don’t want this to be goodbye.” 

Continuing to gaze at your house, you felt your love walk up to you, wrapping his big, strong arm around your shoulder. After looking at your face briefly, he joined you in looking at the home the two of you had built together. 

It was beautiful. 

Absolutely breathtaking. 

“It will not be.” was all he said. 

~~~

Rey’s ship was just as shitty as you remembered it being. 

It was complete garbage. 

But you were surprised that Vee recognized it. 

The Millennium Falcon, he said it was. 

He also said how ironic it was he was about to board one of the main ships he tried to destroy all those years ago. 

You told him everything was gonna be a blast from the past for the foreseeable future. 

You were really scared to fly in that bucket of bolts. The only thing that made it worth getting on was Rey’s driod.

“That’s BB-8.” Rey said as she helped you load your bags in the ship, “He’s been really excited to meet you.” 

Pausing from your work, you smiled and knealed down near the circular droid, placing a hand upon his front. 

“Hey there, BB-8.” you giggled, making him beep excitedly. 

You laughed as you stood up, packing in the last bag. 

“He’s quite the cutie.” you said. 

This made the droid beep out seemingly bashful beeps. 

Rey chuckled, “He says you’re not so bad yourself.” 

You laughed again as you looked down at the tiny white and orange droid. 

“Sorry, BB-8. I’m taken.” 

BB-8 beeped questionably, but soon found his answer as he saw Darth Vader step on board. Watching as you took the dark lord’s hand into your own, BB-8 beeped in surprise and rolled away, making you giggle again. 

“Was that droid pestering you, darling?” your love asked. 

“No, Vee.” you responded, “It’s fine. 

Rey came around the hallway before either of you could say anything else. 

“We’re about to take off. Get ready.” 

Giving her a nod, you watched as she left to the cockpit of the ship, feeling your love’s hand squeeze your own. 

Looking up into his mask, a small smile painted your lips. 

“Are you ready, love?” you asked.

The ramp to the ship closed in front of the two of you. 

“No.” 

You let out another giggle as you felt the ship take off.

“Good. I’m not either.” 

~~~

TAGS: @spaghetti-666 , @soullesstaco , @arsonistvoyager , @robin-obsessed , @glitter-rian , @captainrexstan , @easterncryptid , @deviatedwinter , @roseangel013bf , @danicalifxrnia , @dartheldur , @finest-trashbag , @yeah-boiiiiiiiiiii , @elongatedmusk-rat , @shads121 , @muffinbeliever , @sakuramadae , @padme-parker , @khapikat222 , @the-official-memester , @rens-angel , @obiwankenobiness , @yvette1703 , @missmannequin​ , @breakfastpizzagalaxy​ , @scarletsinsandsnowwithetragedies​ , @clearnostolgia , @ahs0ka-skywalker 

[written-beyond-the-grave]

Wonder

They say we live in the moment, that the past is always gone, and each day is something new, a stepping stone into a future we dream of even in the cold. For you, that was snow, those wintry days of bluster and ice. You see the earth of yesterday covered as white as any new page and the toddler in me rises as if armed with a rainbow of crayons, eager to set that right. Yet today, you were happy to simply walk in it, create a few footprints of your own. You watched them tumble, those feathered crystals, their chaotic flight to form a blanket that could not be more uniform, more orderly. Yet for some their destination is to come to your hand, to alight upon those ungloved fingers and let your warmth be their spring melt: and to also toss a snowball at the unsuspecting yeti.

You barked out a laugh as you caught an oblivious Phil in the face with the snow, it was all short run due to Phil making a large snowball that’d definitely cause some damage if it hit a human. Making a sprint to dodge, your snow boots crunched under the fresh now to behind a forgotten sled. The impact of the snowball caused the sled to push you first face into the snow, though muffled you could hear the chucking Phil and the other Yeti’s made. Pushing yourself up from the sled with your mitten protected hands you made a show to shake the snow from off your wool coat and black braids that cascaded down from under an aviator hat.

“Nice job Phil,” your frozen lips mumbled, “Now back into the Kremlin I go.” You made a short walk back to the entrance of the Pole, well, one of its many entrances. As per usual the Pole was covered in ice, but not as much due to it being mid July. The bottom half of the workshop that was commonly encased in a block of ice was now sporting a thin layer. That also meant that there was danger of falling icicles as one narrowly missed you by a hair. You froze and stared at it for a minor moment, “That’s nice,” before going in. 

The absurdly pulsing heat in the workshop was a rude awakening to your nearly frozen lungs and somehow turned your lips number the they already were. Leaving you winter gear at the door on their respective hooks and cubbies you made your way to your favorite place: the kitchen. Now matter how many times you’ve been in the workshop, it still amazed you. The various tall columns of sturdy wood, the signature red accents with hints of silver and cold. All questionably mixed in with architecture made of solid ice that did not melt in the sweltering heat of the Pole. A feat for the ages, you called it. Your feet in thick socks took a stroll to the kitchen, looking every which way of everyone's hard work. Since Christmas was a little more than halfway there the yetis and elves had cranked up their work ethic, you could tell by the madness going on. Fighter planes were taking test drives under the skylight, zooming past bubbles carrying nuts and bolts, and a few fairy dolls. The floor was littered with a toy army reenacting what could be the Siege of Yorktown, red coats versus blue.

Choooooooo. Choooooooo.

“Woah!” you yelped as a train almost tripped you up. It left an impressive cloud of steam as it went by. Madness indeed. Stopping in front of a worktable full of Rock ‘em Sock ‘em robots there were two elves that decided to micic the fight going on. You let out a small cackle as Steven got knocked off the table from a right hook by Susan, the nearby watching elves erupting in cheers and another half looking disappointed as they turned to Sal and started to pass him off coins. Gambling Christmas elves, also a regular off the books occurrence. 

Pushing past the kitchen door you greeted Gretchen, a yeti who was head honcho of fit for a Yeti, or North when he came in for a late night snack. The appliances were a bit too large for you to utilize without a stepping stool of some sort.

“What’s on the menu for today?” You quipped as you took a seat on a tall stool, it had extra foot rests so you could climb. Gretchen made a series of hand motions and grunts, then turned around and pulled out a bowl of soup with grilled cheese on the side.

“Ah, your famous three sister’s tomato soup and grilled cheese supreme, huh? You always know the way to my heart.”

Gretchen looked away abashed and shrugged.

You took a big spoonful of your soup and promptly started to puff out your cheeks and blow, it was hot. But then again you never did like waiting for food to cool down. Gretchen gave you a low look and shook her head in amusement letting you enjoy your lunch she went back to meal prepping. Dipping your grilled cheese into your soup you looked around the kitchen admiring its trimming. Black marble table tops with deep redwood cabinets that had white oval patterns on the edges and snowflake embellished wall edges gave a sort of shine to the atmosphere. That and the floating crystalline chandeliers, each piece was somehow connected to all the others and moves in a circular motion around the ceiling. 

Another bowl of soup and a tray was put beside you.

“Again?”

Gretchen gave a nod.

Of course.

You finished up your soup, “Guess I’m off for delivery.” You got off the stool and took the tray and went on your merry way. Although the Pole was incredibly large there was always a shortcut, out in the corridor was a large pulley system that could take a package out almost anywhere in the house. Pushing the tray into the box and climbing in you pressed a hammer symbol button on the wall and watched as the door closed and felt it surge. While on the short ride you pulled out your watch and checked the time, the north star was on the bottom right hand corner. Dinner would be soon.

The elevator staggered to a halt and slowly opened out to a blindingly lit floor from the direct sunlight. You cautiously stepped out, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen a fraction of the floor in this place. Taking the tray out into your hands you marvelled around. There were beakers, some empty, some filled with liquids and concoctions, bubbling or sparkling in the light. There were crystal balls, wands, staffs, wrenches, gears, tools of both magic and technological trades both jumbled together across the tables. Books were crammed nearly to the ceiling as space had ran out long ago on the floor to ceiling bookshelves. Row after row of neatly lined up books with their spines facing outward, colour coded with dots, advanced engineering section arranged in alphabetical order, mythos section, folk magic section with low shelves and floor cushions, comfortable leather arm chairs, tables for quiet study, muffled stillness.  Prototypes of planes, wooden cars, and train parts stood as if trophies on the ledges of the room. Even an old record player with a horn, a mini piano, matryoshka dolls, and a glass case of some floating shadow made an appearance 

And in the middle of it all, crouched over a desk in his signature red sweater, was North, looking completely in his element in this mix of science and magic. Where color-coded wires formed their own abstract meaning, mathematics meets craft, form meets function. Where technology erupts from the hands of artists and the minds of philosophers, the heart of the truest believer, or the eyes that saw wonder in everything. In his huge hand was a tiny bottle with a single black diamond, which he was frowning at thoughtfully.

You’d met North, or Nik, as you’d like to call him about a year ago in a small cafe in Paris. It wasn’t too hard to spot a 7’2” densely built man in a small coffee shop, nor ignore his French with a Russian accent. Meeting, well, being in the presence of father Christmas was a complete accident. But, what wasn’t was him taking notice of the river chapel you were beginning to sketch that was right next to the cafe. It was tall, spiky, and completely gothic. One of France’s oldest architectural structures you had heard. With a half eaten croissant by your side and a cup of cold espresso you had settled down. All until North looked around for a moment and took in your character. 

His first thoughts, you looked dainty: the white layered romper added to that effect and the sunlight on you directly made you look ethereal. Like liquid gold in the most conventional of places, or a sunflower bathing in the sunrays. Your hair was put into two puffs on your head with a braiding pattern in the back to keep your curls from going a stray. 

“Maybe try tilting pencil to the left, yes?” You paused for a second and put your hand on your chest looking up. There stood a tree of a many, an absurdly long white beard that was an accent to largely innocent looking deep blue eyes and bushy graying eyebrows. The mystery man’s hair was put into a bun and across his arms there were two things tatted as far as you could tell with his long sleeve rolled up.

Naughty.

And on the other arm: Nice.

“I’m sorry, what?” Who was this man, and what gave him the audacity to talk to you? Couldn’t you mind your business in peace?

“Your sketch.” He gestured with a large meaty hand, “Maybe it would do good to tilt pencil to get desired effect, no?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” You picked up a Russian accent, what was a Kremlin doing this far near the equator? He pulled out a seat, but before he could sit he gave you the silent question. You nodded and North went ahead and sat down.

“May I?”

You wordlessly handed the pencil and watched the man go to work, he looked concentrated as he started back out the window and cobblestone walkway to the chapel. You watched his big hangs engulfing the pencil work, he made some quick strokes and shaded in some parts lightly as he went. 

“Like so.” Finished he pushed the sketchbook back to you. It was well timed since at that moment he was called up for his order. You should see what he meant by tilting the pencil, the slanted edge gave the sketch depth and made the lines bulky and gray enough to seem like bricks. You looked back outside to the warm light, he even got the gargoyle statue in the corners correct.

He came back with this beverage and sat down, “You like?”

“It’s alright.”

He almost spit out his, from what you could tell, a frappuccino with peppermint. Who does that?

“I’m sure you could do better.” He bit out in a laugh, “What brings you to Paris?”

“I got tired of the winter of the big apple.”

“Ah, a New Yorker I presume? Should be used to the cold?”

You leaned forward and grabbed your forgotten cup with your hand and took a long drink. “I could say the same for the Russian. What? Get tired of the frosty frosty?”

He shrugged. “Something of the sort.”

“Something of the sort,” you repeated, “You don’t strike me as sitting in a small cafe and enjoying the pending sunset type.”

He leaned forward and took the candy cane out of his drink and munched on it, “Then what do I strike you as?”

You did a quick analysis, “You seem a little too jolly to be out here, you’re a little far from home, hmmm?” You mused, “You’re… big, I assume a worker of sorts. Maybe a factory? But then again you do a grandfather type fatherly vibe going on. But I think I’ll stick with the private manufacturer owner… What do I strike you as?”

North was surprised you deduced that much in such little time, you almost had the right idea. Almost. “Depends,” he huffed and pulled his arms across his chest and gave you a deep gaze, “Are you naughty, or nice?”

The air was thick and suffocating, you had only been there for a good forty minutes and a husky Russian was giving you quite a plight. You went through the checklist in your head: tattoos, a gold ring on his thumb that made him look like a pimp, man-bun, thick accent, eyes that looked too genuine, and a soft interior that didn’t match his exterior. An oddity that conflicted with your scheduled time in Paris before you hit Germany, an oddity that you had no time or desire for… However, when in Paris, do as the Parisians do. 

You stared at him for a moment, “Name’s (y/n).” You held out your hand.

He shook your hand, you could feel the warmth and the calcoususes that graced his hand. The greeting was surprisingly gentle for a man of his size.

“Nikolai.”

“Delivery from the polar express.” You walked up behind him and placed the tray far off from his papers and creative process going on his desk. You pushed up your tippy toes and kissed his cheek, you felt the hairs on his long white beard tickle your nose.

He leaned into your touch and you felt his cheek heat up slightly. “Sunflower!” North snaked an arm around you and pulled you into a hug, you giggled.

 “What’s on the schedule today Nik?”

“Djinn is stuck in diamond, may have been a few thousand years old.” He turned around fully to show you the tiny bottle, “Have yet to find place of storage.”

You stared at the bottle for a moment, “You cease to surprise me with you always bring in here. Last week a seemingly cursed puppet, and the week before that was an actual cursed clown doll that kept switching places around the shop.” You shuddered at the memory, never in your life had you felt violated by a clown doll barely two feet suddenly appearing behind you in a mirror. A bellowing laughter pulled you out from your thoughts, North slapped his belly.

“Clown is gone now,” he paused and wrinkled his eyebrows, “hopefully.” 

At that you tilted your head and narrowed your eyes questionably, how the hell did you end up here?

“Hilarious.”

Another chuckle erupted. You turned around and walked closely to the window formed by ice, actually, more than half the floor in North’s special experiment room was made of ice. Looking outside the yeti were still out there this time talking the reindeer for walks, hard to believe but Blitzen was giving them a hard time. 

“Almost forgot to mention, guardians will be over for dinner and game night. Been a while seen we last met.”

“Game night?” You turned around to face North and leaned against the cold ice. “You mean… Bunny will be there?”

You stifled a smile as you saw North’s shoulders freeze.

“Sunflower－”

“Say less!” With an enthusiastic voice you bounded up back to North’s desk, and this time slowly pushed the tray towards him that he ignored the first time around. “Eat… you’ll need energy for game night.”

His big blue eyes met your chocolate ones, in opposition for whatever your voice signalled for the night. He didn’t like it, game night was fine. However, you and the Easter Bunny were not a good mix. Last game night ended up with paint splattered everywhere at the Bob Ross themed night and a hopping mad Aussie. In your defence, color theory had no place in abstract design when art had no meaning but to be consumed by an audience… a philosophical approach of course. And this sparked a mini passive aggressive argument between you and the Pooka, one thing led to another and what was previously a nice community den turned into a colorbomb of curses, laughter, and acrylic. After that it became known not to leave you and Bunny alone on artistic matters. Civil was not a word in your vocabulary. 

Sighing, he dug into his soup not wanting to know what you had planned for this night. He’d hold Sandy on standby if anything occurred. Grinning in success you gave the hulking man a quick hug and bounced off.

North shook his head in, whatever fire you were prepping for, he didn’t want the smoke.

  Dinner had been a success, you had gotten Gretchen to whip up some Americanized Chinese food. Not the healthiest, but when working with ancient spirits it was important to introduce them to average human delicacies. Thus the table had a large bowl or lobster fried rice, egg rolls, sweet and sour lo mein with bourbon chicken. MSG had never tasted so good.

“So, how are Mr. and Mrs. Claus doing?” Jack teased conventionally sitting in a chair for once, slouching back he took a sip of his cider. “All is well in paradise? And the master bedroom?”

Tooth dug her elbow into Jack’s ribs.

North put his hands above his head and smiled with glee, “Jack, why would not all be well? Has new evil come? But, eh, why would something be wrong in bedroom?” He tossed a confused glance to you, while you were busy stuffing an egg roll in your already filled mouth. It was no surprise that the innuendo went over North’s head, he wasn’t very adept in sarcasm either. 

Swallowing down your food you answered. “Amazing, it’s like a white Christmas. Every. Night,” then gave Jack a wide toothy smile as Tooth choked on her drink and Sandman made a series of symbols summing up that Jack got owned. You’ve never seen a three hundred and some spirit go as red as a strawberry before. 

“Nice going show pony,” Bunny piped up after having a taste of the vegan egg rolls. “Now, dinner was amazing, but we came here for game night.”

North cleared his throat, “And you’re right Bunny.” North let you take it away.

You smirked and pulled out a larger than normal deck of cards, “I present to you all… Uno.”

“So, a card came?” Jack reasoned.

If your smile got a tad bit more malicious showing off your pearly whites. “Not just a card came. Total warfare. Us humans have been playing this for years, its broken up friendships, marriages, and sacred barber companionships. The true test of skill.” You seemed to have mistified Sandy, he was leaning over the table staring at the box in your hand with heightened curiosity. “So lets play!”

Was it just a game of Uno? Yes, but did you find some way to spice things up? Indeed. You had taken the liberty to write down a few options on the special cards in uno. With the help of a sharpie marker you marked down two options on every card, either do as the card said or do the dare. In your reasoning Uno was already too much of an easy game the guardians could figure out, so why not cause more calamity? During the dinner you watched Sandy and Jack go ham with the cider you accidentally spiked with North’s peach flavored Vodka.

“... And then, Man in Moon decided to replace my fear with wonder, and hope an－”

“Uno.”

“What? You were all playing without me!”

“Well, you looked pretty involved in that story,” you shuffled some cards around in your hand and glanced back up, “now draw four.” You got comfortable on the red velvet carpet and crossed your ankles. Everyone was spread out on the rug, Jack Frost sat himself criss-cross while Sandman lazily lounged on him. The tooth fairy, or Toothiana was more invested in the cup of steaming hot chocolate than the game before her while the Easter Bunny was slowly gaining a steady hand of cards. 

North grumbled into his beard and retrieved the additional cards. He glanced down at his hand and huffed, this game had been going on for about thirty minutes, it was time to put things into motion.

You put down a draw four card and it was Jack’s turn.

Draw the whole deck or streak down the hall naked.

“Wait… wait.” It was a minute before Jack could catch up. “I think this card is defective.” Wanting to see what Jack was going on about, Bunny took a look and his ears stood up at attention, already knowing why he turned to look at you all cozy.

“Shiela, what is this?”

“A draw four card.”

“But, what’s on it?”

“Options, I know you both can read.”

He gave you a flat look.

You rolled your eyes and sat up straight, “I took the liberty of making Uno interesting, besides spiking the punch, I may have redacted some of the rules of Uno for my own purposes.” You felt North shift beside you, “And I may have used Nik’s high grade bottle to do so, but that isn’t the point.” You shuffled around and pulled out a small stack of cards and passed five randomly to each player. Taking the rests and shuffling them to the deck in the middle, while doing do, “So Jack, you make your choice?”

He shared a look with everyone.

And ten seconds later he was down the corridor screaming. Huh, you really thought he would’ve taken the whole deck. Stunned into silence the group recounted what they just tried to not see. Everyone could only assume the horror the yeti and elves were witnessing as you heard echoing alarmed yells from the yeti and falling items. You’d have to apologize to North later.

“Bloody show pony.” Bunny sighed.

“So who’s next?” North questioned trying to move things along. “Sandy?”

Sandy glowed a lazy gold and pulled out a skip card that Toothiana could get herself skipped or prank call an ex. She chose to skip.

Up next was Bunny, considering you all were playing stacksies he got rid of more than half his cards and put down a draw four on top of a skip leading it to North.

“Take 34 cards or finish… the whole bottle of alcohol. Bloody hell, Sheila you’ve gone mad.”

North could only stare at the card intently and close his eyes in prayer, of course it had to be you. 

You nudged the bottle, or what was left of one of his favorite bottles. “Drink up big guy.” You know he needed it with what was left to come in the game.

Wordlessly he unscrewed the bottle and downed it.

Oh, it was going to be quite a game.

You know how people say ‘wow last night was totally a blur’ after a trip from Vegas, or one night from Miami? Or when people sing along to Katy Perry’s Last Friday Night as she recounts the questionable teenage acts she’s done before she hits her midlife crisis? Or possible a disaster remake of The Hangover. You never really got that sentiment until now because last night really was a blur. You tried to rock and bring my what happened last night but all you can come up with Jack stripping, Bunny’s explaining how breeding worked between two Pookas, Sandman projecting one of the most erotic dancing you seen to date via sand, tooth knocking out from a complete sugar rush, and North’s tribute to Rick Roll. You're so somehow got back into your bed and you can only assume North had something to do with that as he usually always does. 

Rolling over in the heavenly plush mattress you scooted over to your side of the nightstand. A cup of coffee, it was still steaming and an advil. Definitely North. You smiled at the thought and popped the pill then the coffee, he even remembered you loved vanilla bean. As you continued to drink your coffee you began to feel the pounding headache leave you, but the room was still somewhat spinning. Putting the empty cup back on the nightstand you stretched forward and felt your shoulders pop.

“Jesus Christ.” You yawned and pulled off your bonnet. You surveyed the room for any signs of north. His red robe laid on the armchair of his study desk, and his side of the bed was cold. Crawling over to check if his slippers were gone, there were still there. Huh. Knowing North, he could drink so a hangover wasn’t an actual thing for him.

What time was it? You hopped out of bed and shimmied to the curtains, preparing yourself for the sunlight to harass you. But that never came, either meaning that you slept into the night or it was some ungodly hour before dawn. “You’ve got to be kidding.” Trudging into the bathroom to brush your teeth and check the time, you noted that it was approximately six in the morning. This early, and North was already gone? You slipped a silk robe over your shoulders and headed out in search of the big man himself. After questioning a few yeti and stopping for a breakfast burrito you found North. All the way in one of the Pole’s lower compartments, the training room.

North was practicing with his sabers when you arrived. You had to stop for a moment to appreciate it. Every time you thought you’d seen everything the Pole had to offer, there was something new to find.

The room was large, probably so the guardians could all practice in it at once if they had to, to get used to fighting together. Something you’d seen them do from time to time. The walls could have been anything, under all the padding. The floor was covered in a thick layer of something that gave underfoot, and you weren't sure what it was beyond gentler on someone taking a tumble than wood or stone would have been.

One section of the wall near the doors was full of hanging weaponry. You pictured the fabled “ole Saint Nick”, a jolly man that was all about the children versus the reality of the man who owned all those weapons. 

At the moment, North was the only one in the room. He had his sabers in hand – blunted practice ones, you wondered if they were as heavy as the real thing, from where you were standing they seemed just as heavy. But North made it look easy – and he was going through a strenuous routine.

It was on North had been doing for awhile, if the sheen of sweat was anything to go by. After all, North was built more like a  bear or barbarian weightlifter than the 'bowl full of jelly' he was called; he was husky for sure, but was still muscle. There was strength under that layer of fat, stronger than people gave North credit for.

At some point North had taken off his shirt, full torso on view and honestly you did not mind. You got a nice view of his back muscles and a large intricate compass tattoo in the middle of his back. It was large, in the middle of the compass lay a crest of some sort with two sabers meeting in the middle. Outside of that harsh black ink spread into eight points, each facing north, south, east and west and everything in between. The main arrows were in the same thorn-like pattern as the rim of the inner compass. And above the north pointing arrow laid a phrase I am the master of my own fate, and under that were words written in perfect cursive calligraphy I am the captain of my soul. The true words of a bandit. Your eyes roamed farther up his back and saw a tiny almost ignorable detail, a small star to the right, well ,the second star to the right. The north star that always pointed to home. All of that shining by the sweat pouring down North, pulling your eyes back down you caught a small peak of the bandit tramp stamp he had gotten one drunken night. You stifled a laugh, you remembered the story behind that one. 

Watching as North continued his routine, this time going ballistic on a wooden dummy. You took an easy walk behind him and viewed him up close. 

“Hey big red,” you greeted.

 North staggered quickly and turned around in the same motion to point his wooden saber directly at your face almost touching you. If it was anyone else your face would have been bashed in but, looking into his startled eyes you probably should stop sneaking up on him. Last victim was a bowl of cereal. North was still breathing hard as he awaited for his mind to catch up to what just happened.

“Sunflower.” He heaved out as his chest dropped, “Did not see you!” He opened his arms wide and you got a good look at his chest. As broad as it was, it was equally covered in curly as white as his beard, there were some hints of black. Before you could veto his hug, you were already wrapped up in his arms. You listened to his heart race.

“Good to see you this morning.” You muffled, and tried to pry his hands away from you, man was this guy a space heater.

He let you go. “After game night, I send guardians home and take you to bed. You fell asleep after Jack’s 8 mile reenactment.” He looked at you closely and pushed a stray braid behind your ear, “Was an interesting game night.” The bottle of vodka North had gulped down earlier did not help erase his memories of what happened a couple hours before. 

“I could tell by the hangover, thank you for the bedside assist.”

North nodded and went to put his sabers back in the armory, you followed.

“So, I gotta ask you, big guy… Come ‘ere often?” Your eyes raked down his back, and you saw his muscles tense as he shuffled away from your view. This was new. You blinked for a few seconds in surprise. You would’ve never thought of North as being body shy or ashamed of anything for as long as you knew him. He was always fearless, impulsive, and more of a ‘think things later’ type of guy if the occasion called for it, but never… self conscious. If anybody was, you always figured it would be you, comparing yourself to North's friends. All completely exceptional people who keep the world safe, with seas sof stories and accomplishments to achieve, places they’ve been, or...the list was cut off abruptly as you realized how long North had been quiet.

“Hey,” You said moving closer to North, “You know I didn’t mean any harm.” You put a hand on his back to help alleviate some pain, but it only made the man a bit more tense. “Um...” you paused, searching for the words. The right ones were refusing to come to you, and you didn't want to make this worse, especially if he was reading things wrong.

Fuck it.

“You know I love you, right? All of you.” you said.

You were rewarded with a blush spreading across the parts of North's face you could see and the tops of his shoulders. 

He began to turn around. “Is very nice, what you say,” North said, one hand hovering over his belly. “But...” North wouldn’t meet your gaze, knowing better you dropped the subject and moved back to give him some space. Mumbling out an apology you took your leave. Making a few turns you found one of the dumbwaiters and crawled in. North would be in the training room for a while mulling off his thoughts, or his private study. Pushing the hammer symbol you were now back at his magic lab. You wouldn’t just skip over what happened with North just a minute ago. 

Taking a seat at his work desk you let out a deep sigh and leaned your face on your palms. Santa Clause, you were dating Santa Clause. Also known as Saint Nicholas, St. Nick, Kris Kringle, Pelznickel, St. Nikolai, and formerly known as the Bandit King. All multiple names for the same face, same body, and same soul. All affiliates to a man who brought joy to the world once a year, operated a toy making syndicate for hundreds of years, fought evil on a regular basis, and tinkered with magic and science on a borderline mad scientist type of way. A being who had a laugh as loud as lions and spread happiness everywhere, that never understood sarcasm, and was hard on himself and unsure at times if the toys that he did make were even worth while.

You closed your eyes in thought. Why haven’t you ever peaced together than North ever had issues himself? Sure you helped him out of toy slumps, but what you witnessed today was far beyond that. The jolly giant himself wouldn’t even look at you.

North was, and is, the Guardian of Wonder. By definition he literally saw wonder in everything around him and puts that into his toys and other creations. The lights in trees, the magic in the air, a diamond in the rough, and any tough situation he found something redeeming.

You didn’t know when you started to walk around, but your legs led you to a particular item. A snowglobe. You tentatively reached out and gave it a closer look, it was of Hunley’s Circus, one of your first official dates.

But, how does one see wonder in everything but themselves? Better yet, how do you make the guardian of wonder who's ever really cared and loved others, give a little love to himself? You rolled the snowglobe in your hands a little more, deep in thought. 

Lightbulb.

As quick as the idea came, it flashed away. But you knew exactly what it was. With one final look at the globe you put it back into its rightful place and headed out the room. What you had planned would take all day to execute correctly, but you knew it’d be worth it by tonight. But, all you had was time. And time was your new best friend.

 Twas the night to a long day, and as predicted North had been avoiding you. North couldn’t draw his eyes away from the mirror. His shirt tossed aside, he locked his eyes onto the expanse of skin splayed out in front of him. North bit his lip and focused in on the extra fat accumulated around his middle, his fingers deftly trying to flatten it out to no avail. Deciding to take a break from the self torture North put back in his white night shirt, he was sporting a reindeer themed onsie with the top half wrapped around his waist like a jacket. 

Making his way to your shared bedroom where he was sure you were asleep by this hour, he stepped in and immediately felt sus. There you were, braids down giving you an innocent look and one of his white shirts that contrasted nicely with your skin. The only source of light was from the lamp on your side of the bed. You closed the book and placed a bookmark to come back to it later.

“Hey, Sunflower.” You smiled brightly at his greeting and motioned for him to come to bed. The bed dipped under his weight as he pulled his legs over the bed to rest properly. You crawled over  to him and gave a quick peck on his cheek then went back to your side and slipped under the covers as North did, not forgetting to turn off the lights. In the dark you shifted around in bed to face North back, it was now or never.

“You never answered me,” you began as a whisper, “You know I love you, right?”

North didn’t bother to answer, but you continued.

“You wanna know how I knew? It was Germany, at the circus. Some kids couldn’t afford tickets to get into the circus and were sitting outside listening to what was going on inside. Their eyes were shut so tightly. We were on our way to that circus when you stopped for those kids, you were so concerned about why they were out there on their own…”

“Why long faces?”

“Sir, w- we don’t have enough to buy tickets so we’re doing the next best thing.” A young boy with fiery red hair supplied holding his sister by his side. They were twins.

North got up from his squat and looked around for a second and then spotted a balloon cart. “Wait here.” Leaving for a few minutes to purchase some balloons, North came back with a smile. “You’re just in luck,” he took out an orange balloon, “the real show has just started.” He began to inflate the balloon and when it was a decent size he molded it into a poodle, and handed it to the little girl who stared at him in awe.

He then took a green balloon and white balloon and molded it into a turtle for the young boy, “Here!” With a laugh he handed the boy his turtle. “Do you want to know what’s special about these creatures?”

“N-no,” the boy answered and his sister shook her head as well.

North eyed them both, “They fly for the heart’s of the truest believers.”

The boy gave him a skeptical look, “No way mister.”

“Ahhh, but am telling truth? See,” he pointed his head to the girl’s poodle and saw it begin to take flight around her and stop to nuzzle her nose. This elicted a gasp from the young boy and an inaudible ‘no way’.

“How do I make mine’s float?” Desperately looking to North for answers.

“Believe.” It was a simple command, but the boy looked in distress as he tried. North slapped his belly and chuckled.

“Looks like you did it.” And he did, the turtle was swimming through the air and doing a figure eight. 

You smiled from the sidelines watching the interaction, this was far better than a circus. North stepped back and placed a hand on the small of your back ready to lead you to the circus, but you stopped him.

“I think we have a little time before the show actually starts.” You reasoned with him as you maneuvered yourself back to the kids. 

You never knew the look North was giving you that moment, but it turned to be one of his most treasured memories.

“No, please look at me.” You began to sit up straight in the sheets, “You know I love you. And I’m not talking about you when you’re happy, but when you’re sad, angry, and down right depressed… ya know?” At that he slowly shifted up, but facing away from you in bed, at that you slowly moved closer and sat behind him and leaned your head against his back, “but, I don’t think I ever showed you how much I love you.” 

With that you reached up and quietly took North’s shirt off you to reveal a mustard yellow lingerie set and slowly moved yourself up North’s back and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Let me show you,” you whispered in his ear and hoped he'd allow it. 

“Please.”

North slowly turned around to meet your gaze, slowly pulling him back onto the bed you moved to straddle his torso as you ran your hands slowly up his arms. 

“You know what I love the most about you?” You questioned while your focus was still on his arms, rubbing them gently. You could feel the muscle tense and jump at your ministrations. “Your hands,” you slip your hand into his and played with his, “it's created so many marvelous things.” You brought it up to your lips for a quick kiss and held it near your chest. “Its punched through who knows what, fought so many battles, and sustained so much damage, and yet it can still be gentle. Drying tears, or holding me tight when I need it.”

You were looking at him, taking your free hand you tilted his head to have your eyes meet. “They’re calcoused, but know passion when you trace my face when I’m asleep, or rub circles on my back when I can’t sleep.” You leaned in closer and got quieter, “They’re hands that love.”

And then kissed him, North’s lips were slightly chapped in contrast to your soft ones. He kissed you back and squeezed your hand, pulling back you put his hand next to your face and held it there. Pulling your hands down, you toyed with the bottom of his shirt and nonverbally asked permission. He didn’t make a move to stop you, so you slipped it off as he lifted his hands to aid you. Placing your hands back on his chest you raked your hands through his hair and kissed him once again.

Gradually you moved your kisses down his neck and past his stomach and over his thighs. As you made your journey, you gave his nipple a little suck and nip, and you took his onesie down too. You slowly spread his legs and got between them, without breaking eye contact you began to kiss between his thighs. You could feel him tense again.

The room was suddenly illuminated, North quickly looked up and saw that the usual wooden ceiling was temporarily changed to a night sky. Looking at you he searched your eyes for an answer. You gave no tells. It seemed as if the sky was truly in your joined presence, North stared a little more and noticed the one star shining brightly than the rest. The second star to the left.

“I love your thighs,” you gave his thick thighs a squeeze, “You're so sexy." you half moaned, half sighing you kissed a lazy, open mouthed trail along the curve of North’s thigh as your hands smoothed up and down his flesh. You stopped to grope gently at the supple skin of his thighs, quivering with tension as North struggled not to instinctively shy away.

“Trust me.”

You continued up and body and splayed yourself over his belly and laid a soft kiss on it. He was burning up and you could tell. 

“I-I trust you.” Came a breathy whisper. He couldn’t believe you were doing this just for him, North’s eyes moved up your body and slowly relaxed at the attention.

You took a point to admire his belly, as round as it was and decorated with stretch marks that were shades of pink and purple. 

“You talk down on yourself, and don’t even see the wonder of yourself.” You began and slowly traced a stray mark that curved onto his back. “You don’t even realize how you carry the autonomy of the universe within your skin. The holy bodies that made you the way you are decided to leave a mark, a reminder of where you come from.” You laid another kiss as you began to make your way back up, “A place of infinancy, a place of wonder, and place were the north star guides you home from way up above.” You wrapped both arms around him, “A plac- no, kingdom of beauty that I refuse to let you crumble.”

North’s eyes began to water, but you continued, “A perfectly constructed man, who has a heart purer than gold or the untouched waters of the amazons, with the spirit of unbridled fire, and voice as loud as thunder.” You slowly wiped his tears away as you felt his arms come to circle around you. 

“A man worthy of love.”

You stared directly into his eyes, even while crying he still looked heavenly.

“You’re beautiful.”

You breathlessly whispered and watched North crumble completely into cries and whimpers. Holding him close you ran your hands through his hair and massaged his scalp, you kissed his temple and let him let it out. You let him know what he was, not his body, but his hands, his mind, his own north star.

His own piece of wonder.

[cringeclown]

EVERY MULTIPLE OF 3 for the countess

OH BOY!!!! UNDER A CUT BC THIS GOT LONG XDFJHKDGSHKJ 

3. What do they smell like?

Like cold metal and something chemical, like bleach or formaldehyde, but also slightly earthy, like old brick. She smells like a hospital room in a cave. Not exactly a welcoming smell! 

6. Do they dress for the weather or are they the type of person to wear shorts in winter or a coat in summer?

Honestly. She stays in her castle where the temperature is always Vaguely Cold and probably wears her villain outfit like 99% of the time because she’s a dramatic bitch JKHVCJHKDGD

9. What is their dream job?

Does “supreme leader of the world” count. Because she wants EVIL POWER 

12. Do they have siblings? If so, do they like them?

Nope! Being an AU of Meeb, she’s an only child, and has no family that she knows of - and likes it that way, or so she insists. 

15. What clothes do they go to sleep in?

Y’KNOW THAT’S A GOOD QUESTION. Probably like, a fancy nightgown I think... Maybe ALSO with an anatomical motif of some kind because well she has a theme and is going to Stick To It 

18. If they got into a fight would they stick it out or run away?

HMMM. Well despite how high and mighty she is she really is NOT all that capable in a physical hand-to-hand fight (except for the fact that she can pop your limbs off like a doll) but she would sure Try. She has too much pride to run away from a fight even if it results in her death 

21. Favourite flavour(s)?

Her favorite flavor is MEAT!!! She’s a cannibal and would eat everything raw if possible. However when it comes to actual flavors she’s a fan of red velvet 

24. Have they ever been prejudice in the past? If so, have they made an effort to move past that? Did they have reasoning behind their thoughts?

I wouldnt call the Countess prejudiced so much as Just Evil FDKJHGDFJKH 

27. What’s their opinion on musicals?

Unfortunately she thinks she’s above everything in the world that is fun but I could see her being a fan of theater if she wasn’t like that HJKDSJHGKD I know Meeb Classic would at least. But she’s pretty different from vem 

30. What’s something they believe they could improve on?

HMMM well she’s always working to improve her craft (her craft being fucked up Body Art made from People). She’s never quite satisfied with anything she creates. 

33. They’ve suddenly won the lottery! What is the first thing they do with the money?

SHE DOESNT NEED THAT SHES ALREADY TOO WEALTHY!! She’d either hoard it away or invest in more fucked up medical/art supplies for her “workshop” AKA scary murder basement.  

36. Do they want to travel or are they content where they are?

She is PERFECTLY HAPPY in her castle and has no intention of leaving anytime soon. She can leave the castle (unlike Meeb Classic being unable to leave ver house), but generally chooses not to.

39. Are they planning on ever getting married? Will they get married in the future?

She does NOT believe in love. If she ever marries, it’ll just be another move in the game of chess she’s attempting to play towards the goal of world domination... That is, unless someone somehow manages to actually woo her someday.

42. What are their main personality traits?

Cold, detached, domineering, power hungry, selfish. She wants to be revered, and has no time for other people.  

45. If faced with a physical exam how would they do?

HM. DECENTLY she’s pretty much average when it comes to physical fitness. She doesn’t leave the castle but the castle property is pretty big so she walks plenty JKHFGDJHKGD

48. If at a birthday party, would they wear a party hat?

She would rather DIE !!! She would KILL YOU IF YOU EVEN ASKED. No fun allowed 

PHEW !!! THANK YOU FOR ASKING THIS WAS FUN 

[dippedanddripped]

For more than a year, Los Angeles-based streetwear designer Tremaine Emory had been working with Converse on a red, green and black sneaker inspired by Jamaican political activist and Black nationalist Marcus Garvey’s Pan-African flag and artist David Hammons’ 1990 work “African-American Flag,” an original of which was acquired by the Broad museum in Los Angeles last year.

Emory’s brand, Denim Tears, tells the story of Black people in the United States starting in 1619, when the first documented enslaved Africans arrived in Virginia; according to the designer, the brand’s logo, a cotton plant, is a direct reference to slavery. That’s why the proposed packaging for his Converse sneaker collaboration depicts a coffin covered with Hammons’ flag and a cotton wreath, as a tribute to Black Americans who have died under unjust conditions. The image is based on an art installation, “A Proper Burial, Thanks America,” that Emory debuted in London last year.

However, in late May, as protests spread across the country after George Floyd’s death in police custody, Emory announced on Instagram that he and Denim Tears couldn’t go forward with the partnership until Converse’s parent company, Nike, went beyond its plan to donate $40 million over four years to support the Black community. (Michael Jordan, through his Nike subsidiary Jordan Brand, is donating an additional $100 million over 10 years.)

Emory called the move by Beaverton, Ore.,-based Nike, which reported $37.4 billion in revenue last fiscal year, a very expensive Band-Aid. He said he wanted to use his voice to push Nike to look inward at its own record on diversity and inclusion.

“It’s accountability,” Emory said in a phone interview. “It’s about Fortune 500 companies and how they are run under the guise of white supremacy and patriarchy and how I take accountability, that I need to see the steps — and brands that I work with dispensing that — or guys won’t work with me.”

In recent months, nearly all major industries, including entertainment, journalism and sports, have been forced to confront how closely their statements opposing systemic racism align with their treatment of Black and brown employees. The fashion industry, which has frequently been criticized for cultural appropriation, instances of blackface and a lack of diversity, is no different.

According to a count by trade publication Women’s Wear Daily, Black people make up only 4% — 19 out of 477 members — of the invitation-only Council of Fashion Designers of America, whose new chairman is Tom Ford. In an email to The Times, a CFDA spokesman said, “The CFDA does not record nor require members to state their race upon application, but it is estimated that members of color make up approximately 25% of the total membership.”

June 8, 2020

In anecdotal comments, Black streetwear designers from L.A. to New York told The Times that their subset of the fashion industry is no different.

“You can’t ignore the fact that there aren’t many Black brand owners in the streetwear space,” said Scott Sasso, who founded 10.Deep in 1995 while he was a student at Vassar. “And [at] some of the biggest companies, I don’t know if they’ve even had Black employees.”

Streetwear brands such as Denim Tears and 10.Deep offer casual clothing, primarily for men, that blend the styles of various subcultures, including hip-hop (as popularized in the 1990s by brands such as FUBU, Walker Wear and Phat Farm) as well as surf and skate motifs. It’s an identity that can be found in the clothing from brands such as Supreme and Stüssy. Instead of offering widely available, mass-produced products, streetwear brands tend to offer limited-edition drops for consumers who hear about companies through social media or by word of mouth.

Although Black style — from hip-hop to sneaker culture — has played a major role in shaping the fashion industry while bringing new designers and brands to prominence, Black fashion professionals and streetwear brand owners said in interviews with The Times that the clothing industry has failed to elevate and promote Black creatives in a way that reflects that influence.

Several designers also questioned the sincerity of corporations promising to invest in Black communities. They reflected on their own experiences trying to explain Black art to predominantly white company leaders.

Chicago-based designer Joe Freshgoods started selling T-shirts in high school and has been selling his designs out of Fat Tiger Workshop, the streetwear retail hub he co-owns, since 2013.

“I feel like a lot of these brands are in these boardrooms having these talks about how to fix this or how to just clean up their mistakes real fast, and it’s just like, ‘Hey, let’s just fill in the blanks real quick and see if this will make them happy,’” Freshgoods said.

He said he tried to include the logo of the Black Panther Party on a design for an Oakland-themed collaboration with an apparel brand last year. The company’s legal department rejected his proposal. At the time he went along with it, but now he’d push back, he said.

“A lot of Black collaborators are the reason why a lot of brands are super successful right now, so that’s a lot of power to have,” Freshgoods said.

Emory, who has partnered with New Balance and Levi’s, called on Nike to stop supporting Republicans while President Trump is the party’s leader. He also wants the company to release more information on its record of hiring Black employees and assist in “the defunding and total reform of all the police departments across America.”

Since his initial Instagram post in June, Emory has spoken to Converse Chief Executive G. Scott Uzzell or Uzzell’s team about a half dozen times over the phone or in video-conference meetings. In those discussions, Emory said the company acknowledged it hasn’t done everything it could in terms of creating a diverse corporate structure and laid out its hiring plan, especially in its executive suite. The designer said he discussed current initiatives at Nike to invest in Black communities and to address systemic racism and police brutality. “They want to get involved in all that, and we will see,” he said.

The release date for his red, black and green Converse sneaker has been moved up from February to October, ahead of the November election. Emory said the marketing for the shoe will focus on promoting voting. The shoe will be available in North America, Europe and online for $95 to $100.

“We respect and encourage the efforts of any collaborator or athlete we work with to raise their voice against racial injustice,” a Converse spokesperson said in a statement to The Times. “We have spoken with Tremaine and look forward to working through these issues together.”

At its core, streetwear is about authenticity and the personal connection between consumers and the designers and labels they love.

The push by larger brands and corporations — specifically in the fashion industry — to meet the current moment with statements, donations and new initiatives is in direct contrast to what many Black streetwear designers have been doing since the inception of their brands. Those designers have been hiring diverse staff, speaking up about political issues and infusing their works with references to Black culture.

“Now I feel like everybody’s rushing to make some type of relevant shirt or make some relevant message on their Instagram,” said Zac Clark, a Black designer who started his brand, FTP, while in high school in Los Angeles. “To me, a lot of this stuff right now seems very unnatural and just forced from a lot of these brands, so they won’t get ‘canceled.’”

Olivia Anthony, the designer behind the Livstreetwear brand, said the turning point for her New York-based company was her 2017 My Love Letter to Our Culture collection, which paid tribute to Black trends of the ’90s — think long nails, grills and slicked-down baby hairs — that were largely considered unfashionable until they were adopted by other races.

“It was so beautiful, but it was looked down upon,” said Anthony, adding that she wanted her brand to reflect how those Black trends, now featured in magazines including Vogue, have been “shown in a different light.”

Kacey Lynch said he created his South L.A.-based streetwear company, Bricks & Wood, after years of working at streetwear brands where he felt Black representation was missing.

“They wanted a lot from us, but they didn’t want to do the work, what it took to understand us,” Lynch said of his past employers. “Whether that’s Black culture, South-Central, minorities … wherever the cool came from, they all wanted it but they didn’t really know how to identify with it.”

In May 2019, fashion website Hypebeast and Strategy&, a consulting firm in the PwC network, released its Streetwear Impact Report, based on interviews with more than 40,000 Hypebeast readers and 700 global industry insiders. The survey found that 70% of respondents said they care about social issues, 59% said brand activism is important and 47% said they would stop shopping from a brand because of inappropriate behavior.

“It’s fine as a starting point for corporations to say, ‘This is what we stand for and this is what we believe,’” said Elena Romero, a fashion journalist and author of 2012’s “Free Stylin’: How Hip Hop Changed the Fashion Industry.”“But that’s not going to be enough.”

Romero, an assistant professor at New York’s Fashion Institute of Technology, said companies likely will face questions over where they invest their profits, the diversity of their staff and how they’ve helped build the communities from which their dollars are coming. She said many companies will realize they’ve fallen short because the answers to those questions weren’t a priority until their profits were at risk.

“Now the consumer is saying, ‘You can’t fool us anymore,’” she said. “If you’re not authentic and truly supporting the very same things that these young people believe, your business will suffer.”

The result has been an industrywide push to make those investments now but also to make amends for past inaction. After Black Adidas employees criticized the company’s response to racism, Adidas announced June 9 that it would add more diverse staff, start a scholarship program for Black employees and invest an additional $20 million over four years in programs that serve the Black community. A day later, Adidas upped its $20 million pledge to $120 million. (In addition to those changes at Adidas, the company’s global head of human resources, Karen Parkin, resigned at the end of June after facing criticism for her handling of racial discrimination.)

Adidas also apologized for its past silence. “For most of you, this message is too little, too late,” a tweet from the Adidas account read. “We’ve celebrated athletes and artists in the Black community and used their image to define ourselves culturally as a brand but missed the message in reflecting such little representation within our walls.”

In the broader fashion community, various organizations and members of the industry have offered different strategies for creating a more inclusive environment. Aurora James, a New York-based creative director, started the Fifteen Percent Pledge, which calls on companies to provide at least 15% of their shelf space or contracts to Black-owned businesses.

After the CFDA announced its plan to promote diversity, a group called the Kelly Initiative called for the CFDA to adopt its proposal to conduct and publish a census of diversity in the industry, audit its recruitment practices and release an annual list of top Black talent, the Kelly List. The initiative is named after the late Patrick Kelly, a Black fashion designer who rose to prominence in the 1980s with work that played with Black cultural symbols and racial stereotypes.

April Walker, whose New York brand Walker Wear was worn by ’90s hip-hop stars including Method Man, Tupac Shakur and the Notorious B.I.G., stressed that Black designers need to look outside the fashion industry for success by collaborating, mentoring and sharing resources with their counterparts.

“We just need to not look for the fashion industry, as it’s been very oppressive for the last 30 years, to be the end-all, be-all for our opportunities,” she said, “but to create our own.”

Among streetwear companies, the effort to fight systemic racism in the country and the fashion industry has been on an individual basis, with brand owners of all races deciding how much they’re willing to give back and how comfortable they are using their platforms to discuss and condemn racism.

For some, that means speaking up in solidarity with the Black community. Bobby Kim, cofounder of the Hundreds, a Vernon-based clothing brand, teamed with Pharrell Williams’ brand Billionaire Boys Club to raise money for Black Lives Matter and the Black Mental Health Alliance with a shirt that was available for 48 hours. After the Fairfax shopping district where his shop is located was vandalized in late May, Kim, who’s Korean American, defended the right to protest.

In an interview, Kim said, “If you have been given a lot of money, and especially if that money has come by way of participating, contributing, or even stealing or borrowing from Black culture, then you — more than anybody else right now — need to tithe, need to pay up, in a sense, in order to reflect how influential Black culture has been in your career and your profitability as a company.”

Sasso’s 10.Deep stopped selling its regular collection for most of June and instead offered a new line of 10.Deep products to draw attention to activism against racial injustice and police brutality. The profits went to national bail funds for protesters.

“Streetwear, in its truest form, is about shooting yourself in the foot as often as possible but also just doing what you think is right,” Sasso said.

He said he was drawn to streetwear because it was a multiethnic community of different countercultures, a blend of the skate, surf, hip-hop and graffiti scenes, with a dash of punk rock, united by an exclusive knowledge of where to find and buy certain brands.

However, he has noticed a shift among streetwear consumers. For some shoppers, it’s not about the community. It’s just about the clothes.

He said he lost “several thousand” social media followers after he posted about Black Lives Matter and has received comments asking him to just stick to fashion.

“My thought is: If you want just some regular clothes, go buy Banana Republic, go buy Levi’s,” he said. “Those are companies that aren’t gonna take political stances. They’re providing basic stuff. This space is about a culture. If you want to participate in it, this is what it’s about.”

[magical-beans]

Chapter 1: The Meet-Cute (Danganronpa x Reader)

(N/N) = NICKNAME

"What are you doing back here?  Dumpster diving?  That's gross!"

Clearly, you aren't dumpster diving.  You lift your head from your knee, the one tucked up by your chest — the other leg is extended — and glare at the person that is now standing at the end of the alley you're curled up in.

"Do you need something, or did you just want someone to annoy?" You counter.

"A little bit of both, I guess." The boy pouts playfully. "The people I hang around haven't been much fun lately." He can't be much older than ten, you think, so not far off from yourself.  He's eerily pale, but he has curly, ink colored hair that frames his face, giving him the makings of a doll.

"I won't be much fun either." You say in an attempt to turn him away.  You lean your head against the brick wall behind you, closing your eyes. "So leave me alone."

"Oh, hardly!" The boy exclaims, lips twisting back up into that giddy grin. "This is easily the most entertainment I've had all week!"

Great.

"You said you wanted something, then.  Spit it out."  If he isn't going to leave, then you'll have to hurry your little chat along.  A throb pounds against your skull, already splitting headache rapidly worsening the longer this conversation goes on.  You need water, possibly something to eat.  You don't have the time or brain power to process this nonsense.

"I've heard stories about you." You jerk forward, eyes snapping open as you hear his voice come down into a whisper, and he's suddenly crouched right in front of you, a maniacal glint in his irises and smile.

When the fuck did he get there?  I didn't even hear him move!

"(N/N)-chan, won't you protect me from the big, bad bullies?"  His pout is back, but his eyes — they're violet— still shine with something else.

"How do you know my name?" You glower at him, bringing his grin back.  He stands up, pacing back and forth in front of you.

"Oh, I know lots about you, (N/N)-chan!  Like how you're homeless, and haven't eaten in several days, and you spend your earnings on pot, and you're a big name in the underworld, and that I want to recruit you to my organization!  It has over ten thousand members!" The boy huffs and crosses his arms defiantly, grinning down at you as he finishes his rant.

He's pretty short for someone who talks a game as big as his.

"Sit down.  You're a middle schooler who did his research.  Now leave or tell me what you really want."

All of a sudden, he starts tearing up, fat droplets rolling down his cheeks, staining them an irritated red.

Oh boy, here come the waterworks.

"You-you don't believe me? Ju-just beca-because I'm small do-doesn't mean I can't be the supreme leader of a big organization, you know!  And you're younger than I am!" His blubbering is punctuated with an obnoxious sobbing sound not unlike a siren.

He switches between emotions on a whim.  It makes him difficult to read.

You hold back an exasperated sigh knowing it won't help you clean up your mess. "I just said sit down.  Now calm down and tell me what you want." You aren't sure if you can believe him on the organization part, but you keep that to yourself, too.

The boy wipes his tears quickly, grin returning as he gracefully slipped into a criss-cross position in front of you. He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward.

He still has baby fat on his cheeks.

Cute.

"I told you —" he smirks, letting out a small giggle, "— I want to recruit you for my organization.  You're in the underworld; I'm sure you've heard of DICE."

Your eyes fly open wide and jaw drops a bit, really taking in the boy before you.

Quick

Overdramatic

Childish looks

Leader of DICE

So this was the lord of the underworld.

JOKER

"There's the recognition I was looking for!" The boy exclaims before standing up in a whirlwind, twisting around in a fluid movement to make his way out of the alley.  As he nears the street, he tosses something over his shoulder, and you reflexively reach out to catch it.  It's a flip phone: simple, black, and easily disposed of.

"I'll call you tomorrow to give you a time and place. Don't be late." And with that, he disappears around the corner.

"The devil himself, huh?  That's a surprise," you say to yourself after a few moments of shocked silence.

You've been warned of him on more than one occasion.  Been told of the things he did, the kind of people he worked with.  The kind of people he took down.  He was indiscriminate and violent, a natural disaster that wipes out anything and everything in its path.  But he was also careful and calculated, and everything he did was untraceable.  No one knew his name, or his true one, at least, if he'd bothered to give you the time of day to tell you a name at all.  You've been told that his looks are most definitely deceiving. That he can read anyone as if they are an open book and then make them his slave with just his words.  You've been told to watch out and be careful whenever news of him and his crew comes around.  

And this wolf in sheep's clothing had just come knocking at your door, offering you a job.

Well, you aren't the underworld's best bodyguard for nothing.

You feel a twitch of your lips, maybe the beginnings of a smirk, cross your face, and you relish it for a split second, that feeling of being out of control for a moment taking over.

And then your stomach clenches and growls and another scream of throbbing pain claws through your skull, and you decide it would probably be a good idea to get some substance in your body other than the pot that had staved off your hunger for so long.  You'll worry about everything else later.

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

So this is my first fan fiction post on Tumblr, and I intend to update on Fridays, but I’ve never been very good at keeping up with a deadline.  This is an x reader, so if you don’t like, don't bother.  Hope you enjoyed!

[gaywoso]

Who do people claim started stonewall if not gay people?

Tumblr historians love to pretend gay history didn't exist before Stonewall and love to pretend gay people had nothing to do with our own rights movement (that is if they don't try to claim these gay people were secretly trans because of their appearance, basically the liberal swapped version of traditional gender essentialists)

https://inferior-mirage.tumblr.com/post/161687118140/pre-stonewall-lgb-history

(the entire thing is well worth a look, I reblogged this yesterday)

"1969: The Stonewall riots transform the gay rights movement from one limited to a small number of activists into a widespread protest for equal rights and acceptance. Multiracial butch lesbian Storme Delaverie punched her arresting cop and shouted to the crowd, “Are none of you going to do anything?” One of the many gay Latino patrons, Raymond Castro, shoved the two officers dragging him by the arms to the ground. Three days of riots ensued. To build on the momentum, militant activist groups like the Gay Liberation Front formed in the following weeks and Dick Leitsch sprung the Mattachine Action Committee. The Mattachine Society and Daughters of Bilitis sponsored a rally at Washington Square Park a month after the uprising. Del Martin & Phyllis Lyon picked Robin Tyler up from the airport when she moved to San Francisco after reading The Ladder; 20 years later she organized the first March on Washington for Lesbian and Gay Rights. Harry Hay was behind the Radical Faeries too, and Randy Wicker surfaced again in the Gay Activists Alliance (co-founded by Barbara Gittings’ partner, photojournalist Kay Tobin Lahusen). Frank Kameny not only sent copies of his gay rights manifesto to Kennedy, Johnson, the cabinet, the Supreme Court, and US Congress, he mailed his newsletter to J. Edgar Hoover until Hoover died. Barbara Gittings used to bring a stuffed dinosaur toy with her to meetings after having her presence as an older woman questioned. After Stonewall, Gittings and Kameny successfully campaigned the American Psychiatric Association to declassify homosexuality as a mental illness. 

They never stopped dedicating themselves to gay liberation."

Instead of remembering butch lesbian drag king Stormé people either try to claim she was a trans man or more commonly Marsha, a self proclaimed gay man and drag queen, and Sylvia who was not even there started it. In Marsha's own words

(You almost never hear anybody talk about other activism from Marsha or Sylvia. All they care about is hurr durr throw bricks bc they're edgy anarchist wannabes who never leave the basement)

And 2 years before Stonewall was the Black Cat Tavern riot & protest in LA....

There's a lot more to it but I'm gonna keep it short, this isn't a discourse blog

Gay people have our rights movements, trans people have their rights movements, we have shared rights movements, and that's great. I support trans and nb people and equal rights. It's frustrating bc there's a lot of neoliberals who are as homophobic as conservatives. I'm not gonna let them continue to spew lies especially in our history month. And you know there's trans history and rights movements out there that nobody talks about bc most of these Tumblroos don't care and only care about whatever they can spin to be homophobic. Then on other sides you have homophobic conservatives and then t*rfs who are fake lesbians and hets and just wanna use gay people as pawns in their anti trans movement and I feel like I'm going crazy. Where are the sane LGBT people I only know a few. Where are the people who can research history for even 5 minutes and not blindly reblog.

TLDR: neoliberals don't actually care about trans rights movements and are homophobic and will reblog anything without fact checking and then people believe their lies. Nobody wins

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Z Movie 14: Battle of Gods

“Battle of Gods” premiered on March 30, 2013, seventeen years after “The Path to Power.”   Apparently Toei changed up their logo a bit during that time.

Anyway, this movie, wait, what?    Are we watching Star Wars now?  

Yes, we know Toei made this, why are they credited again?

And what’s this thing for?   I mean, they could have put this at the start of any of these movies, but why do it now?  

The way I heard it, this movie got made because 20th Century Fox had the rights to make a Dragon Ball movie in the U.S., and then they made Dragon Ball Evolution in 2009, and it... did not impress anyone.   At all.    I remember thinking it was okay, but that’s about as much enthusiasm as I could muster for it.    Anyway, the story goes that Toriyama decided that he didn’t care much for DBE, and decided to come out of retirement to make his own Dragon Ball movie and show all the big shots at Fox how it’s done.   Well, maybe I just assumed this.   It makes a good story, doesn’t it?  

The theatrical release was 85 minutes long, but the home video version got an extra twenty-minutes of footage, which includes this rather lengthy introduction to the story, recapping Goku’s past adventures.   I don’t think the movie particularly needed this, although I am grateful that they found a way to cram Cell into it.

Then we get to the actual start, where the Kaioshin have observed that Beerus the Destroyer has awakened from his slumber.

Kibitoshin contacts King Kai to keep an eye on the situation, and to keep Goku out of it at all costs.   

But Goku is on King Kai’s planet, and he overhears their discussion, and King Kai can’t keep a secret, apparently, so he just tells Goku the whole thing.   So far, all the gods we’ve seen in Dragon Ball are responsible for creating and preserving life, like the Kais and Kaioshin.   Beerus, on the other hand, is a Hakaioshin, or God of Destruction, and it’s his role to destroy stuff from time to time, in order to maintain balance in the universe.   And unlike all the Kais, Beerus actually has immense power worthy of his authority.

And naturally Goku wants to see how strong he is, even though King Kai keeps insisting that he’s not someone Goku needs to mess with.  

And there’s the title of this here picture.

We then go to Beerus’, uh... planet?  Whatever this thing would be called.    It reminds me of Tokimi’s domain in Tenchi Muyo!

And here’s Beerus.   He’s a big purple cat dude, and he’s pretty awesome.   I’m not sure how long he normally sleeps, but he set his alarm to wake him up after 39 years, and everyone comments that this is a very short nap by his standards.   Also, Beerus’ alarm clock is made of bombs, because Dragon Ball Z.   

This is regarded as one of the best, if not the best Dragon Ball film, and it’s tough to argue the point.   In 2013-2014, it was a big heckin’ deal because it was the big return of Dragon Ball after the end of Dragon Ball GT in 1997.   From 2015 onwards, it became known as the ground floor of a whole new Dragon Ball franchise, Dragon Ball Super.   But even without the hype and nostalgia, what puts it ahead of the other movies is the simple fact that it works within the canon of the original manga.   It’s set during the ten year gap in the Kid Buu Saga, and it actually adds to the lore of the main story.     Movies 5 and 8 introduced characters with connections to the main story in Cooler and Broly, but they barely tried to explain what those characters had been doing while all the stuff with Frieza was going on.  

By contrast, Movie 14 introduces a new deity, and he claims at least partial responsibility for destroying Planet Vegeta.   That’s a huge deal, and it’s not something that Turles or Bojack could ever do.   According to Beerus, he believed the Saiyans were beyond redemption, so he planned to destroy their planet, but it was too far away for him to bother with, so he told Frieza to do it for him.   At the same time, Beerus found Frieza to be quite insufferable as well, so he considers destroying him as well, but then his attendant Whis tells him that someone named Goku already beat him to it.   

When Whis explains that Goku beat Frieza by becoming a Super Saiyan, it reminds Beerus of a dream he had about something he calls a “Super Saiyan God”.    See, before he took his 39-year nap, Beerus was told that he would meet an arch-rival.   That’s why he set his alarm bombs for this year, because this is supposed to be when it happens.   Apparently during his nap, he had a dream of his own, that he would fight a Super Saiyan God.

Whis doesn’t put much stock in any of this, especially since the Oracle Fish who made the prophecy doesn’t seem to recall saying it, but Beerus insists on investigating, so Whis locates the remaining Saiyans on Earth.   He then notices Goku is on King Kai’s planet, so they decide to head there first.

Meanwhile, on Earth, it’s Bulma’s birthday.   She won’t say how old she is, but this movie is set in Age 778, four years after the fight with Majin Buu, and she was born in Age 733, so she’s 45 in this movie.   

There’s a bit where Mr. Satan apparently meets Bulma’s father for the first time and mistakes him for a waiter.   Ox King has to explain who Dr. Brief is, and Mr. Satan is mortified to learn that he just asked the world’s richest man to fetch him a drink.    Dr. Brief doesn’t seem to mind much.

There’s a bingo tournament at the party, and the prizes include stuff like an entire castle.   Bulma offers to liquidate prizes into cash if the winners prefer that.   I dig how 18 really, really wants some sweet castle money. 

On King Kai’s planet, Beerus and Whis arrive and have a somewhat awkward conversation with Goku, who knows nothing about “Super Saiyan God.”  Beerus decides to head for Earth to ask the other Saiyans there, but before he goes, Goku asks him to demonstrate some of his awesome power with a quick sparring match.    Beerus is intrigued by the request, so he agrees.

So Goku powers up to Super Saiyan 3, but he can’t even touch Beerus, or make him take the battle seriously.  

Really, this is my favorite part of the movie, because I dig me some Super Saiyan 3, and this movie just demolishes the whole concept of SSJ3 with the way Beerus humiliates Goku in this form.    It’s incredibly strong, as seen when Goku misses a punch and blasts a hole through King Kai’s planet, but against Beerus, SSJ3 is meaningless.   

Beerus only uses two blows to beat Goku.   The first is a playful flick of the finger in Goku’s face, and the second is a light chop to the neck.   Goku goes down like a ton of bricks, and Beerus proceeds on his merry way to Earth.

Now, you might be wondering how King Kai even has a planet, since Cell destroyed it way back in Episode 188.   Beerus and Whis briefly mention that it was restored, but they don’t say how it happened.    Neither does anyone mention that King Kai and Bubbles are still dead.   This is a running gag through Dragon Ball Super, where Goku keeps promising to wish King Kai back to life but never gets around to it.    I could have sworn King Kai was alive in Movie 14, but I must have been mistaken, unless Toei edited all these halos in after the fact.

By the way, Whis also mentions that King Kai’s planet is so small because Beerus got angry once and did something to make it this size.    I don’t know if he destroyed most of the planet’s mass, or some other thing.    At some point, it got established that Beerus was the one who trapped the Elder Kai in the Z-Sword, but that seems out of character as well.     Beerus destroys stuff.    Shrinking planets and sealing people in swords really isn’t his style.   

As for King Kai, he telepathically contacts Vegeta to warn him of Beerus’ impending arrival.   He makes it clear that Goku was no match for Beerus, and if anyone upsets Beerus, he might decide to destroy the Earth in his anger.  

Meanwhile, Goku struggles to make sense of what just happened.    He’s thrilled to have encountered someone so powerful, but he has no idea whether Super Saiyan God is a new form, or a person named “God” who happens to be an unknown Saiyan.   He also briefly considers fusing with Vegeta to beat Beerus, but then decides that not even Gogeta could close the gap in their powers.   

Luckily, Goku had some senzu beans in his belt, and Bubbles fishes one out and feeds it to him.   But that only restores Goku’s health.    He still doesn’t have an answer to the problem of Beerus.

So it’s up to Vegeta, who finally puts in an appearance at Bulma’s party.   She teases him, but he’s in no mood for jokes, because he feels like he remembers Beerus from somewhere, and he doesn’t know where.

So Bulma’s like, whatever, imma get my drink on.   

Then Beerus calls out to Vegeta, and Vegeta doesn’t know where he is.    One of the conceits of this movie is that Beerus’ power doesn’t operate on the ki used by most of the main characters.    So Goku and Vegeta can’t sense Beerus and Whis’ presence the way they can sense one another.   Supposedly, all deities are like this, except Kami and Dende had ordinary ki, and so did King Kai, because Goku was always able to find him for instant transmission.    The Supreme Kai is a different story, I guess, but Goku threatened to teleport to him at the beginning of this movie, implying that he could sense his presence and use Instant Transmission to reach him.    

Anyway, Vegeta searches a trash can for Beerus, since yeah, I guess he could be in there.

Oh, Krillin, you have no idea.    One of the major qualities that makes this movie a fan favorite is all the dumb stuff Vegeta does in this one.   

At last, Vegeta finds Beerus, and he remembers the time they visited Planet Vegeta when he was a child.    His father, King Vegeta, prepared a banquet for him, and spent the whole meal as a footstool.  

Personally, I never liked this scene much.   I think they just needed a way for Vegeta to have already met Beerus in the past, and this works well enough, except having Beerus humiliate King Vegeta seems rather redundant.    King Vegeta was already a vassal to Frieza, so having a second character treat him this way just feels hollow.  

Beerus asks Vegeta about the Super Saiyan God, but he doesn’t know anything about it either.   That might have been enough to get them to leave, except Bulma’s party attracts his attention, and he loves the smell of the food, and then Bulma herself walks over and invites Beerus and Whis to join them, much to Vegeta’s chagrin.

For what it’s worth, Beerus conducts himself with grace and manners at the party.    He puts up with Piccolo’s karaoke...

...enjoys the cuisine and the view of Yamcha’s handsome face...

...and he shows everyone his awesome dance moves.

Vegeta gets nervous when Mr. Satan drunkenly challenges him to a fight, but then he passes out and Beerus has a laugh over it, so he clearly didn’t take it seriously.

Meanwhile, Emperor Pilaf is sneaking around inside Bulma’s house.   So here’s the deal: these three never stopped trying to get the Dragon Balls to achieve world domination, and apparently at some point they succeeded, only for Pilaf to wish for restored youth instead.     Mai complains that they were made too young, but Pilaf’s reasoning is that it wouldn’t do for them to wish for world domination and then die of old age immediately after.  

I feel like this is some sort of shot at Dragon Ball GT, where the Pilaf Gang appears in the first episode and they’re very elderly.    But maybe I’m reading too much into that.    At any rate, Pilaf is young, but he’s also poor, so he plans to use their next Dragon Ball wish to get some cash, and then they can wish to rule the world.   Does he know that the Dragon grants more than one wish at a time now?    I feel like Toriyama might have forgotten that in 2013, honestly.

Somehow, Pilaf has a Dragon Radar, and that’s how he knows all seven Dragon Balls are in Bulma’s house.   Turns out they’re the grand prize of the bingo tournament, and so they’re located in the prize room.   How did Bulma fit an entire castle inside one room of her house?  

Overcome with envy, Pilaf spray paints graffitti on the prizes.    Yeah, DX Rulz!

They find the Balls, but can’t risk summoning Shenron indoors.   Then Trunks walks in on them, and then Goten shows up, and they panic, because they mistake Goten for Goku, their old nemesis.  

This screencap should be in the Smithsonian or something.   

Mai was trying to steal one of the other prizes, a valuable diamond, but she hands it back to Trunks before running away.  

Goten asks who those guys were, Trunks says Mai is his girlfriend, which impresses Goten to no end.    “So awesome!”   I like that there’s at least some effort to try to age up the boys.    Goten doesn’t look too different, but his dad was pretty short at twelve, and he’s only eleven here.    Meanwhile, Trunks should be almost the same age as Future Trunks was when he found Future Gohan’s dead body.  

Anyway, Mai only gave Trunks the diamond to cover her theft of one of the Dragon Balls.    Her plan is to hold it for ransom, say one million dollars.    But the diamond was probably worth a lot more than that.  

But before they can make their escape, Trunks invites them to join the party because Bulma wants to meet his new girlfriend.   Pilaf thinks it’s him.  Mai isn’t too keen on pretending to be Trunks’ date, but at least they get free food out of this.   

Back on King Kai’s planet, Goku films more segments for Jackass.   He always forgets to bring a camera, but it’s the thought that counts.

Then Bulma tries to start the bingo tournament, but Yamcha points out that one of the Dragon Balls is missing, which screws up her grand prize.   

Pilaf gets caught sneaking the seventh ball, so Mai tries to use Trunks as a hostage.    Except everyone thinks it’s a skit, either because Trunks is impervious to bullets, or because no one thinks Mai would have a real gun.

Then Gohan decides to join in, so he switches to his Great Saiyaman outfit and dares Mai to shoot him in the face.    What the fuck?

So she does it, and Gohan deflects the bullets.    He’s irked that Mai’s gun is real, and even more irked when he realizes he deflected one of the bullets into his wife’s leg.     Imagine going to a party like this and getting shot.   I guess this is why they stopped inviting Launch to these things. 

Oh, and then Master Roshi wants to feel Videl up.    She got shot, you asshole!   Master Roshi belongs in jail.    Seriously, imagine you’re Mr. Satan, and you just watched your daughter get shot, and some sex pest shows up and he’s all “Lemme give her mouth-to-mouth eh-heh-heh-heh-heh!”     This whole part of the movie hasn’t aged well, at least for me.  

I guess it didn’t bother me so much the first time I saw it because I knew Dende could just heal her, but that doesn’t make this okay.    Someone informs Mr. Satan that Dende is Kami, and he’s all like “What?  Really?”    I guess he just forgot that day they hung out together stalking Super Buu on the deserted planet Earth.  

Anyway, Dende somehow detects that Videl is pregnant while he heals her leg.   He seems kind of concerned about this, like he doesn’t know what that means.   “Ma’am, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think you have a parasite.”   “No, that’s a baby, it’s cool, I put it there.”   “Look, I didn’t come here to listen to you brag about your sex life.”

Oh, also one of the bullets hit Beerus, which irritates him enough that he decides to blow up the world...

Until Vegeta jumps on stage and performs his epic Bingo song and dance number.   How did he get the music cued up? 

Watching Vegeta make an ass of himself is enough to calm Beerus down, so Vegeta thinks he might be safe for a little longer.

Meanwhile, Piccolo loses at Bingo and Bee eats his card.    What a good boy.   Well, without any pesky litter to annoy Beerus, it looks like Vegeta is home free.   Wait, why is “Roundabout” by Yes playing?   

Ohhhhhhhhhh.

Oh no...

Oh, he won’t share his pudding because he doesn’t know this guy can kill everybody that’s bad.

So this leads to Buu throwing down with Beerus, and Beerus can kick his ass easily, but the point is that he’s mad enough to destroy the world, and this time no amount of singing and dancing is going to calm him down.

Everyone tries to stop Beerus, but he just schools them all with chopsticks.  

Gohan gets Beerus in a full nelson for like 0.2 seconds, but it doesn’t get him very far.   Why did Gohan change clothes again for this?   

So Vegeta figures we’re all screwed now anyway, so he jumps into the fray.  

It goes about as well as you’d expect.    To be fair, he lasts longer than Goku did.   

Goten and Trunks fuse into Gotenks, who tries to shame Beerus over his motives.   He’s going to destroy the whole world over pudding?   I’ve probably said this before, but when Gotenks thinks you’re being immature, it’s probably time to take a step back and think about your choices.

Beerus replies that he’s upset about pudding because he’s never had it before, and now he can never taste it because some pink asshole ate it all.   Gotenks doesn’t understand his frustration because he probably eats pudding all the time.    This scene is dumb, but it actually captures the core point of this conflict.    Beerus savors all these new experiences because he’s like a kajillion years old, and it’s hard for him to find something truly novel in life.   So when he’s denied the taste of pudding, it’s a huge deal to him, while the other characters take it for granted.

Then he spanks Gotenks and tosses him to the ground.

You know, the funny thing about it is that I really have no idea what kind of pudding we’re talking about here.    The term covers so many different types of food.   I assume this is about Jello instant pudding, specifically French Vanilla flavor.   So yeah, of course Beerus should be angry about that.   French Vanilla Jello pudding rules, and he doesn’t even know it.   But for all I know, Buu was eating a bunch of flan, Panna cotta, or haggis.   In which case, yeah, Beerus probably shouldn’t be this worked up about it.  

Anyway, nobody can stop this dude, and Vegeta’s amazed by just how much stronger Beerus is.    He at least takes some solace in the honor of being killed by no less than the God of Destruction.   

But then Bulma confronts him and tells him to cut out all this shit, because he’s ruining her 38th birthday party.    Krillin’s pleased to hear how old Bulma is, but that’s dumb, because he ought to know Bulma’s older than he is.

Anyway, she slaps Beerus, who slaps her back and knocks her down, and Vegeta loses his shit.   This is the famous “MY BULMAAAAAA” scene.    It’s weird to me, but I remember what a big deal this was at the time, and yet now it feels sort of mundane.    Like, I first watched this movie in late 2013, on some kind of bootleg fansub, and I think the scene had gotten around in the U.S.   But even by the time it came to theaters in 2014, the audience went apeshit when this happened.    Vegeta loves his wife!   Now it’s like, of course he loves his wife.   Movie 14 said so.    But at the time, when Movie 14 was brand new, this was the sort of thing Vegebul shippers could only appreciate in theory.    

Don’t get me wrong, this part fucking rules.   Everyone’s been tiptoeing around Beerus this whole time, but Vegeta’s been pushed too far, and he’s got nothing to lose, and for a brief moment, it looks like Beerus is getting a taste of his own medicine.   

Then we see this lady, for no apparent reason.  This is Kaori Mutsumoto, who won the 2012 Olympics Gold Medal for judo.    I guess that’s why they gave her a cameo in this movie, but that’s about all I know.  

Anyway, none of Vegeta’s furious offense hurts Beerus at all, even though Master Roshi observes that he surpassed Goku in power.   Beerus boops him on the forehead and knocks him out.  

In the theatrical cut, this is when Goku would show himself, but in the extended version, Beerus decides to give the Earth one more chance by challenging Oolon to a game of rock-paper-scissors.    I really don’t know what the point of this was.   I mean, it’s kind of funny, I guess, but why Oolong specifically?    I guess Toriyama wanted to give Oolong a moment in the film, but why?   He was in most of the Buu Saga, holed up on Kami’s Lookout with the others until Super Buu ate him, but he barely said or did anything the entire time.    Why should anyone care about him now?    Why should Beerus single him out, of all people?  

Anyway, the gag here is that Yamcha thinks Beerus picked Oolong because he’s a pig, and pigs can only do scissors because of their cloven hooves.   But Oolong’s a pig-man, with man hands, so he can do paper and rock too.    So Yamcha tells him that Beerus will certainly go with rock, so Oolong should use paper to counter.   

Except Beerus overhears the entire conversation, because his ears are bigger than his entire head, so he does scissors and wins.    Dragon Ball Super turned this bit into half of an entire episode.    The Beerus Saga in Dragon Ball Super is fucking vile.    They took a great movie like this and just turned it into crap.

All right, so now Goku makes his big entrance.   At first he looks all cool, like when he walked up to Frieza back on Namek, but the truth is he still has no idea how to beat Beerus.     Then he gets an idea on how to get a Super Saiyan God, and asks Beerus for time to try it out.   

Said idea is the Dragon Balls.   Is that Farmer with Shotgun?  He’d settle Beerus’ hash.

Basically, Goku asks Shenron about the Super Saiyan God, and this throws him off, because Shenron grants wishes, and answering questions is kind of a grey area for him.  Fortunately, he’s so frightened to see Beerus that he’s very accomodating and just explains the whole Super Saiyan God concept in detail.  

So real quick, because this post is taking forever: The Super Saiyan God isn’t an individual deity, but a transformation once used by righteous Saiyans to rebel against their evil brethren.     The figure seen while Shenron tells this story was later identified by Akira Toriyama as Yamoshi, the first Super Saiyan.   He and his five Saiyan allies fought against the evil Saiyans, and I guess they turned him into this God form, which let him whoop-ass until he ran out of power.   

With that settled, Shenron excuses himself, mostly out of fear of Beerus.   I’d say that Shenron owes Goku a second and third wish, but I’m not sure answering his question counted as a first wish, so who knows?

So this leads to the gang arguing over whether they have five righteous Saiyans, since Vegeta used to be a real dick, and Goku’s not always dependable either, and Goten once shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.    But they figure they might as well give it a shot, and they all hold hands and lend their power to Goku.   Only it doesn’t work.   Goku gets stronger, but nowhere near strong enough to beat Beerus, and there’s nothing divine about his power-up.

But Whis points out that they actually need six Saiyans, since Shenron’s story states that it took five righteous Saiyans to help a sixth one achieve the form.    Bulma remembers Vegeta’s brother, Tarble, from the “Yo!  Son Goku and His Friends Return” special, which aired in 2007 and was set about two years before this movie.    Only Vegeta doesn’t even know where Tarble lives or how to contact him.   Couldn’t Whis track him down?    I mean, he found all of these guys easily enough.

Then Videl suggests that they have a sixth Saiyan right here, because Gohan got her pregnant.  

Everyone flips out, but this is hardly the time to celebrate, because Beerus is about to blow up the world.   So they do the hand-holdin’ thing again, but with Videl.

And it works.    Like Beerus and Whis, no one can sense Goku’s ki anymore, and he’s got maroon hair and his body is lankier than before.

So Beerus and Goku fight.   Honestly the Super Saiyan God form doesn’t seem like such a big deal, since this part of the fight is just the warm up.    It takes Goku a while to get used to using it, and they spend most of that time discussing how Goku is dissatisfied with how he got to this level.    He doesn’t like that he needed the others to help him achieve this form.   Beerus scolds his stubborn pride, and says that most Saiyans wouldn’t care about such details, because all they crave is power, by any means.   

But Goku points out that Vegeta is even prouder than he is, and yet Vegeta forsook his pride to protect the others, back when he did the bingo song and all of that stuff.   This tells us two things.   First, Goku was there to witness all of that.   Second, Beerus was fully aware of Vegeta’s efforts to keep him from becoming angry.    I’d suggest that Beerus isn’t quite as irritable and volatile as he seems.  Maybe he purposely goaded Vegeta to test him, just like how he hit Bulma just to see if it might provoke Vegeta into reaching a higher power level.  

The point, though, is that for all of Vegeta’s pride, he could set it aside for the bigger picture.   He can compromise for the sake of protecting his loved ones and the Earth.    Goku’s the same way, which is why he accepted the other’s help in becoming a Super Saiyan God.   He doesn’t like how he got here, but he couldn’t afford to try to go it alone.  

And really, this is a lesson Goku’s learned time and again.     He had to accept teachers before in his life: Grandpa Gohan, Master Roshi, Korin, Mr. Popo, King Kai, and now this.   But it’s been a long time since he had to take lessons from anyone, and maybe that’s the problem.   Goku’s been on top for so long that he lost sight of something he understood better as a child.   A student has to swallow their pride to learn and grow.    And Goku will always be a student, because he’s constantly trying to improve himself and push past his limits.     Like it or not, he had to accept this path to the God form.

Meanwhile, the rest of the characters get in an aircraft to observe the battle, and Whis asks 18 what ice cream is.    He remarks that her response is as cold as his dessert, which he thinks is a clever bon mot.   Look, your boss is going to blow up the world.    How friendly can you expect her to be here?

Also, Vegeta admits to Krillin that he doesn’t envy Goku like he ususally does in these situations.    I like this, because it shows that Vegeta is willing to drop his usual bravado in this situation.    This isn’t a fun situation, and he knows it.  

Anyway, Goku and Beerus keep fighting, but somehow Goku loses his Nacho Cheese Dorito appearance.  He looks like he’s changed back to normal, and yet he’s still fighting Beerus as if nothing’s happened.    He can even use Instant Transmission, which would have been nearly useless against Beerus before, because Goku couldn’t sense him.    I assume that Super Saiyan God Goku could sense godly ki, so the fact that he can still sense it must mean that he’s still tapping into the SSG power, even if he doesn’t look like it.

Then he turns vanilla Super Saiyan, and now the fight gets really good, because the insert song plays.  It’s “Hero” by FLOW.   The weird thing is that they recorded an English version of the song for the dub, but when I watched the Japanese version on the DVD, the song is still in English.    Weird.    Fortunately, I have the Japanese version of “Hero” on my phone, so I can listen to that all the time.   

Anyway, yeeeeahhhhh.    Fuck Yamoshi, Goku’s gonna do this Luffa-style and fight Beerus as a Super Saiyan 1.   

Then they fight IN SPACE because anime.    Earlier, Beerus used hand energy on Goku, so Goku figures he’ll respond in kind, using the best hand energy.

WARP KAMEHAMEHA!    Cell may not get to be in this movie, but Goku uses the move that blew his face off!    Yee-haw!

But it doesn’t work, and Beerus chucks one of those big energy balls at Goku, like all the other bad guys use.   He also points out to Goku that his God power expired several minutes ago.

Then Goku sees Chi-Chi in his thoughts, and that gives him the intestinal fortitude to somehow change back into a Super Saiyan God and nullify Beerus’ energy ball.    Chi-Chi’s that good in bed, folks.

So Beerus is truly impressed by Goku’s performance.   Somehow, his body learned the Super Saiyan God form, and allowed Goku to tap into that power without doing the hand-holding ceremony with five other Saiyans.   Beerus calls him a fighting genius for this, although maybe Yamoshi and any other SSG’s had the same talent, and they just got killed before they could demonstrate it.  

In any case, it’s still not enough to win Goku this fight.    Beerus wants to hear him surrender, and Goku admits defeat.    Beerus had offered to spare the Earth if Goku won, but Goku just can’t beat him, even with the God power.   And Beerus refuses to back out of that stipulation, because once he makes up his mind, he sticks to it.  

Instead, Beerus gives Goku a different consolation prize by revealing that Whis is actually Beerus’ teacher, and he’s even stronger than Beerus is.   So it just goes to show that even Gods of Destruction have to swallow their pride and accept help to grow.  

He also informs Goku that their universe is merely the seventh of twelve, which means that Whis isn’t even the strongest being out there.   This fascinates Goku to no end, because he always longs to meet stronger folks.  

Then they head back to the surface, and Beerus destroys Earth just as he said, only he just destroys a small piece of it, which I guess counts for something.   I don’t know if this is a play on “Earth the planet” versus “earth the dirt”, or something else.    Beerus says he’s too worn out from the fight to destroy the whole thing, so maybe that’s all it is.

Anyway, Beerus apologizes to Bulma for making a scene at her party, and for hitting her.    She agrees to invite them to her next party, and promises to have a swimming pool full of pudding for him.    That sounds kind of gross, actually.   

On the Supreme Kai Planet, the Kaioshin observe Beerus’ peaceful departure, and are amazed that Goku was able to defuse that situation without Beerus destroying them all.   Kibitoshin suggests that maybe it’s not just Goku’s character, but the entire Dragon Team as well.    Not Roshi, though, he’s a sex pest who belongs in jail.    If Beerus had boobs we’d all be dead right now.  

Back on his own turf, Beerus is pleased with how things turned out.   Goku and Vegeta weren’t really strong enough to be true arch-rivals, but Beerus is certain that they could eventually become arch-rivals in time, which is good enough for him.

Beerus plans to take a three-year nap, but Whis offers him some sushi that he got in a to-go box before they left.   Beerus takes an interest in the glob of wasabi in the box, and he just eats the whole thing.

That makes him bounce around the place like a Tom and Jerry cartoon, and Whis has to hit him to stop him from damaging any nearby planets.    So we get at least a glimpse into Whis’ true strength, which is as far beyond Beerus as Beerus is beyond Goku.

Back on Earth, the party just keeps on going.    I like the idea of Bulma just throwing a marathon party, but I can’t really say I’d enjoy that personally.   I’d probably get bored after 15 minutes.

During this quiet moment, Goku praises Vegeta for turning into “an awesome Super Saiyan” after Bulma got hit.   

Vegeta’s embarassed by this, but Goku admits that he definitely surpassed him in that moment.   Then he jokes that the next time they have to fight a guy, Goku will just get the enemy to hit Bulma, and that’ll get Vegeta good and fired up.

Then everyone’s mad at Goku, because he must have been watching them get beat up during the middle of the movie and didn’t step in until later.   It ain’t easy being Goku.

Then the credits roll, and they show all the highlights from the manga, including this shot of Cell, which is the best one.   

And yeah, that’s it.   

I mean, it’s definitely one of the best movies of the lot.    It’s a lot longer than most of the other films, and it feels more like an actual, stand-alone film.    The Cooler movies really depend on you being familiar with a lot of DBZ lore, like Bardock, Frieza, the destruction of Planet Vegeta, and so on.     This movie takes care to actually introduce most of the concepts it uses.    The Kai’s introduce Beerus, Beerus and Whis introduce Saiyans and Super Saiyans, and Shenron explains what a Super Saiyan God is.    It’s not entirely airtight-- no one really bothers to explain the Kais, or why Bulma invited bit players like Ox King and Mr. Satan to her party, but you can at least muddle through.   

My main critique is that it’s a little too devoted to fanservice.   Not the pervy kind, but the kind where they felt like they had to have Gotenks and Great Saiyaman in the movie, just for the sake of having them put in an appearance.    Most of the characters just didn’t need to be there, and I think the movie drags in places when it tries to give Oolong or Mr. Satan something to contribute.    There’s something to be said for the minimalist approach used in the DBS: Broly movie, where the only Dragon Team guys are Goku, Vegeta, and Bulma.    Yeah, it kind of sucks that Gohan doesn’t get to be in that one, but if they didn’t have anything for him to do, then I’d rather leave him out entirely than have him just stand around like he did for most of this movie.   

I remember being kind of bewildered by the way they went to all the trouble of introducing a new form for Goku, only to have him get stronger when he stopped using it, but now that we’ve learned more about the godly ki stuff from Movie 15 and the back half of Dragon Ball Super, it makes a little more sense.   Nacho Cheese Dorito Goku was just the door, and this movie was about Goku stepping through it.  

Rewatching “Battle of Gods”, I don’t feel quite as hyped as I did when it first came out.    I remember being pretty excited about Goku fighting this purple cat dude, and I never dreamed that he’d lose so badly, or that Beerus would turn out to be an okay dude in the end.    It was a big deal that they brought all of this stuff back after so many years.   

Now, though, it’s just become part of the DBZ mythos, which kind of diminishes it somehow.    It’s definitely not as good as Fusion Reborn, at least for me.   I was looking forward to watching Movie 12 again way back in July, and when I did get to that one, I ended up rewatching large sections of it a few times.   I just love that movie.    Same thing with Movie 13.   I only watched that one the one time, but the whole time I was watching it, I kept thinking “Man, this is so good.”    BoG is a great movie, but it’s just not on the same level as those others.    Just my opinion, of course.   

Nevertheless, you’ve got a really awesome trilogy of movies here, which serves as a nice make-good for the crap trilogy of Bojack and the Broly sequels.    And after that, you’ve got Movie 15, and well... 

[solskinns]

Gold Over the Heart

It's a simple night in the city of true perfection; even the horrors of night have no power to tarnish the beauty of the city lights from above on top of some of the tallest buildings. Such a scenery allows me to see the cars below as if they are mice or rats and my good friend Lanced-Moonlight looks down too. I believe clarification is needed though, I am the great Captain-Daylight; hero in the thriving city of Perfania though I personally want that ‘f’ to be a ‘v’ however that is me getting ahead of myself. My ability of great strength and flight has made me the hero of light. Though my friend ends up my opposite as the night's final answer wielding a lance more like a bow-staff. He sees the city that he holds so dearly to his heart.

“Look at them all, at ANY time ANY of them could end up in jail if they make even a single wrong move” He said worryingly.

“Do not fret old friend, soon we can make sure the utopia we achieved remains so” My answer became. Indeed this city couldn't be better of its painful perfection after the work of war being neutralized. What WAS here was the rubble of a broken city doomed for apocalypse upon its fallout during the 1950s and war in the 1960s! Therefore, upon the end of the war, peace had settled in at last with the help of me and my fellow men that took the call to action. Now the buildings stand taller than ever a renaissance beginning with a bigger, scattered, more functional Stonehenge towering over those who innocently roam the streets; truly, a paradise has been made in hopes of it being maintained!

It always seemed to be the alleyway, however, that was still as dark as it always was aside from the litter and graffiti that no longer marks these areas, though warning signs for innocent strangers are what fashion them now. It makes the roundup of bad guys much easier honestly.

“You know Lanced-Moonlight, such heroism is quite difficult for keeping morale amongst our public; how is it you are maintaining such popularity?” I question sitting against a wall with him holding his lance like a once warrior now king, waiting for his next challenger pridefully.

“John, must we go through with the reasoning of your failure as a hero on the daily now?” He questions back with disappointment in his tone. I could tell it was disappointment laid true considering his mention of my name and his heart seeming unwilling to mention it once more. It's also possible that he doesn't want to be here anyway.

“It has boggled my mind then and it still does NOW, so I believe it is still needed, yes” I say so a bit assertively with my kind wish for advice

He sighs defeated “Well if you MUST know, you are completely out of your league; powers of the strong with a mind for the weak” he scoffs as if disgusted and continues “Where I am able to take down the villains to the delight of our fans, YOU are criticized time and time again by your methods” 

Like always, I'm shocked by the response I got “Methods? Well why woul-”

He cuts me off “Don't you see your excitement is killing your reputation for what you do?!” He blurted out of a hate for WHAT I do rather than me specifically.

I basically wait till he's done which he took as me speechless.

“They all love me because I don't bother with horrifying acts like that and they ALL have feelings that you of all people have a dark side to yourself,”

“well that goes for you too my frie-”

Once again he cut me off from my little joke “Me included…” Now THIS was a new one and worst of all, it felt like he kept that in for practically MONTHS!

He gets up from the cold low hair of concrete and brick and looks down at the alley he has been on the lookout for as his eyes narrow to a group down there, so he tries to finish our shorter of talks “I suggest that you change your acts before you get labeled a madman and get thrown in the prison, I'm sure they'd LOVE to talk to you there” he jumps down and next thing I end up hearing is the punching and even cracking of bones. Not a single scream or beg for mercy was uttered by the my old friend!

The next day, my rest in a simple mattress was rather nice; my apartment room was small with a kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom all wrapped into a nice package the size of half an attic really. I manage getting out of bed and do my daily routine of perfect hygiene, a great breakfast of eggs, bacon, and pancakes filling my nostrils and my stomach, and finally dressing up in my uniform of the white suit with the significant C in a sun as well as yellow gloves and boots for this occasion. OH, and can't forget my flowing yellow cape to fly in.

With all the essentials, I fly out the window, close it, feel the sun return my abilities in full force, and patrol the streets of a perfect city, no crowds and no trouble either. I could feel the wind flow my well cut and positioned hair as the only sounds I get to hear up here is the public enjoying their lives without a second thought. That is until I find a line decorating a single sidewalk to an expo center. Now what on earth is all this? I look for a sign on the building and oh I thought seeing Lanced-Moonlight’s daily routine of the morning. I decided to float my way slowly to the expo that would be the the most average sized building in the city.

People and even security allowed me inside without the need to wait in line. Upon arriving, it was clear as day, Lanced-Moonlight was signing autographs and selling his recent stories for all to see his work. Not to mention his merchandise flying off the shelves like a tornado took all the good products! There DOES exist my merchandise, but, like every time, it lays dormant and fully stocked. Only a select few have wandered there just because the Lanced-Moonlight stuff is long gone.

“AH, the Captain of Daylight himself” He says smiling smiling at me and getting up. His costume is visual and his navy blue suit is shown with a crescent shaped moon and stars making an L shape. He sports a scarf of pure white with only a few light gray spots here and there. Simply put, he stays my opposite in every way “HEY EVERYONE ‘GOODY-GOODY’ IS HERE TO TELL MY STORY TO YOU GUYS! Aren't you pal?” patting my shoulder with a nice grin directed to me. He also jokes with me seeming like a ‘goody-goody’ he calls it.

“Sure, I'd like to” I recite the story as I heard it for myself and how I didn't join due to me...having faith in his ability to do it alone...yeah. The audience would correct me on the violent acts he did and laugh at my cowardice as I portrayed it “and there you go, the story of another victory for the Lanced-Moonlight against the dreaded Jaded-Key” I really assumed it was the villain who could open any door through his incredible strength; it simply made sense from the voice. He segued me off to the side as to give himself more attention. It didn't matter to me though, I did what he wished and that's all I want, besides, I'm going to be late for MY meet and greet.

I fly off in the lower streets where kids usually have trouble around here and sure enough, I snatch a cat from a tree and talk to its owner about this behavior, I get a kid a brand new balloon to replace the one in the same tree as well as scold him for doing it for the seventh time this month, and even stop some roughhousing between four kids while having them make up for past mistakes. They all say the same thing “get away” “I can't talk to mean strangers” “so what old man” and my favorite “go jump on the meanie-trainy” the imaginations on these children seem to never end. It all passes by me though; I helped them and I'm okay with that. What madness it is to get that across others and to say I'm not crazy which once more, I protest still, my mind is sane and well.

I fly on down to the gray box of inescapable brick and I stand proudly in front of it, opening the doors that contain these villains all that have destroyed or stole in some way or another. I walk past every cell with names flashing by; Winged-Zapter, Professor Gulp, Sea-beast, and then Jaded Key which I stop at. There were others beyond his cell, but I don't need them now, for now it's HIM I need! I take my breath and get ready for my vile deed to the city. Delay is no longer an option. I must do this. For my city. For my people...I open the door as it creaks in the way a metal door would to see him peacefully sitting on the bed.

I smile relieved; he could escape easily with his strength and yet he sits. I take a seat on the other end of the bed as my position is to him so we can have this be done and over with“good morning, Jake, I trust you slept well today”

He smirks at my mention of his real name “better than ever, but ya kept me waiting” he responds gladly.

“Oh, well I had some delays on the way here, you know me” I chuckled.

“Yeah, hero business and what not” He says understandably.

“Now...let us talk about what happened yesterday,” this is no interrogation “how was it?” this is my horrible act that I pull every single day

“Well ya see…” he responds with how he was just fine with all the chaos that was going on. Do I regret what I do because the fans won't give me fame from what I do? Am I tricking this man? Do my acts cause pain and sorrow to those I face? Absolutely NOT! Why? Because despite the city claiming its openness to all, the people of PerVania do not see the segregation that still reigns supreme and is even SUPPORTED by the likes of the Lanced-Moonlight!

Therefore, as the only light in the dark, I believe everyone deserves a second chance...EVERYONE!

*CUT*

Coming this week; the next story concept of a perfect world trying to figure out how to remain perfect. This short story is not the real thing and Captain-Daylight as well as Lanced-Moonlight will not be this simple. Lanced will be lighter and less selfish than that while the 'bad guys' are typical villains instead of criminals. Daylight is more optimistic while also somewhat ignorant to the big picture as he only saves lives and unintentionally gain fame amongst the audience. Just as further salt on the wound, the audience is okay with all of this. No worries though, a hitman in a world where corporations are all there is has been thrusted into this world of a classic and tired formula...this is more comedy as I create it so maybe look forward to that. Until then, keep the sun shining! Buh-byye

[artificialqueens]

rhythm of a wild heart (branjie) - holtzmanns

A/N: Based on Brooke’s comments from the Roscoe’s viewing party - “He was like my safe space, so like when I would get stressed out and stuff, I could go and he would give me a hug and a kiss.”

Brooke overthinks things.

It’s in his nature, and it’s what’s gotten him this far. He’s used to striving for perfection in fields where perfect doesn’t exist, where there’s always room for improvement. It’s given him a work ethic rivalling that of an Olympic medallist, but also a mind that doesn’t let him rest. One that concocts scenarios that outline all of the areas where he’s going wrong, where he can do better, how he’s not enough-

But it works.

He has ridden his tendency towards perfectionism to principal roles in ballet, winning fucking Miss Continental, and now to national television with the world watching his every move.

It’s exhausting sometimes, all of the overthinking. He’s tried to find an off switch for it before, taking vacations from his work to calm the voices in his head that are always on the run. Doing so only makes them spiral more, latching onto possible areas for missteps like vine tendrils (there’s so much to do and not enough time, you can’t rest, go back to work).

So, Brooke works. He makes it onto the show where he stresses over each challenge like it’s going to be his last. The voices in his head are still there and draining, telling him that he can’t rest until he’s prepared enough to be able to do each challenge in his sleep. He learns the lip-sync song each episode just in case he hasn’t done enough, not accepting that he’s made it to another week until he’s standing safe at the back of the stage. And then the entire cycle begins again the next morning.  

The swirling thoughts are draining but they have gotten him this far, so who is he to complain? He accepted long ago that things are always going to be this way. He’s always going to have this feeling of not doing enough, not being enough. He just wishes that it exhausted him less.

His brain tires him out again the evening before the magic challenge. He’s gone in circles with Nina and Shuga all day, trying to find a way to combine their talents into a script that’s actually entertaining. They’ve second-guessed all of their decisions, rewriting over and over again until the words in the pages start to blur together.

They’re all still on set, waiting for the van to take them back to the hotel for another night of fitful sleep and dreams that detail all the ways the challenge the next day could go wrong. His mind has tuned out Nina and Shuga beside him as they fret over one of the magic tricks. He’s trying to use his dance background to come up with some choreography, any presentation skills to pull their performance together. He’ll make them practice tomorrow morning until their show looks nothing short of professional. It has to.

“Hey.”

There’s a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Vanessa’s inquisitive face studying his own. She looks as exhausted as he feels, after the long day of filming followed by hours of practice off camera.

Brooke wordlessly pulls her into a hug, her head fitting perfectly under his chin as she buries her face into his chest. It hits him, as it always does, how they fit together like puzzle pieces. How kissing the top of her head and comforting her helps calm down the heart beating out of his chest, too.

Vanessa lifts her face to look up at him, raising a hand to smooth the crease that’s formed in between his eyebrows. He feels the tension he didn’t even realize he was holding drop under her touch.

“How’s your team faring?” Brooke barely finishes asking the question before Vanessa’s face wrinkles, indicative of a frustrating day.

“It’s just tough, y’know?” she sighs. “Trying to please them all is harder than winning the fucking lottery or some shit. Silky and A’keria want to wing it, Miss Yvie is over here hemming and hawing and writing out a full script without consulting anyone first. I’m feeling like a mother hen trying to control all her wayward chicks.”

He snorts at the mental image, remembering loud, argumentative noises coming from her group’s side of the room more than once during the day. “Too much personality, huh?”

She groans. “Picking the loudest bitches aside from myself was not the smartest shit to do, let me tell you.”

He tilts her chin up, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

“You’ll kill it. You’re funny, you’re magnetic. I’ve seen you practicing your trick a million times today already.” He wants to convince her with more than just empty words; he wants her to believe them too.

She smiles at his attempts at reassurance. “How’s your group?”

Brooke is rambling before he even realizes it, telling her about their uncertainties and complete lack of decision-making ability, and how all of them want to fall back and have someone else lead the group. He walks her through their tricks, all the dropped props and the stumbling and the magic abilities that have not quite come together yet.

“Tucking panties? Y’all are nasty.” Vanessa’s face wrinkles at his description of Shuga’s tentatively planned trick, and he laughs despite himself at her reaction.

“Hopefully both nasty and funny.”

He’s not sure if he’s trying to convince Vanessa or himself. What happens if they’re not? What happens if he falters and he messes up the bubble trick? What if he brings his team down and they’re judged in groups and suddenly he’s in the bottom, potentially sending one of them home for his mistakes or going home himself-

“Hey. I see your head spinning already. Don’t go there, baby.” Vanessa’s voice is uncharacteristically soft. She tugs on his hand, stepping even closer into his space. “You can’t plan for things that haven’t happened yet. Don’t be making up those scenarios with the bad juju.”

“I’m not,” he says weakly. She only raises her eyebrows at him in response until he sighs. “Okay, maybe a little.”

It surprises her every time when she catches the moments that his anxious thoughts start to take over him. He’s used to keeping everything inside, his metaphorical brick wall giving off a façade of calm and fearlessness and keeping his emotions safely inside. He’s used to being an ice queen, to everyone else believing that everything he does is effortless and confident.

Vanessa is the only one who can catch the wavering in his eyes every time that his mind starts to crumble, sending him glances across the workroom throughout the long filming days. It’s no different now, with her standing in front of him.

Brooke sees the gears turning in her mind, trying to come up with something to distract him. It doesn’t take her long. “Silky said to me and A’keria that she got the PA on her hotel room floor to bring her Taco Bell last night. And she didn’t even order a Crunchwrap Supreme!”

A corner of his mouth turns up at that. “I don’t know, you always strike me more as a Dorito taco fan.”

“Ooh bitch, don’t even go there.” She makes a face. “Dorito taco shells are fucking nasty. I need me a good classic Crunchwrap. I don’t know how Silky did it, though. I tried asking the PA on my floor for Gatorade last night and she brought chocolate milk instead! I mean I’m not pressed about it, I fuckin’ love chocolate milk, but what part of that screams Gatorade? Do you think she has a bias against Gatorade? What did the Gatorade family ever do to her?”

She rambles on at him for ten more minutes, making him crack up every so often despite his mood, until the van arrives and all of the queens pile in.

The two of them end up in the back row on their own. The van has become less crowded as every episode passes and more and more queens continue to go home. It’s nice, the extra room, but also unnerving when he compares it to the first few days of filming when fifteen of them were squished together like sardines in a can.

Vanessa leans into his side easily once they sit down, pulling one of his arms around her shoulder and grabbing his hand with both of hers. They’re quiet, watching the cars on the highway pass outside their window. The fingers of his free hand trace patterns on her shoulder.

He feels safe. She’s his safe space, his place to let go and just be.

Brooke doesn’t know how Vanessa does it every time, how she can take the anxious ramblings that have an iron grip on his brain and distract him with her laugh and soft kisses.

The swirling waves in his mind are quieter now. He’s not thinking about the challenge anymore, but rather about how her breathing has synced to his and how he never wants this van ride to end, the way it does too soon every day when they have to part at the hotel and head for their individual rooms.

Vanessa slides out of his arms reluctantly once they get to the hotel, not wanting to separate from him either. Brooke wishes that he could just pull her with him into his own room, bringing her close and not having to let her go at all.

They walk slowly behind the other queens, as if it’ll make their time together last longer. They ignore the PA calling both of their names (“the elevator doors are going to close, hurry up”) as they eventually shuffle in.

Vanessa squeezes his hand in the elevator. “We’ve made it through all of the episodes so far. We’ll make it through this one too, and we won’t stop till I’m lip syncing you for the crown and I win, bitch.”

She winks at him when the elevator dings at her floor, sauntering out but not before blowing him a kiss. Brooke smiles despite himself, ignoring the knowing look that Nina is shooting his way beside him.

He doesn’t know what will happen tomorrow, if his group will be able to pull themselves together in time and put on a magic show that won’t end in disaster. He does know that he has her, and that somehow - despite his anxious mind - she makes him feel sometimes like that it’s all that matters.

[kokichi-and-co-imagine-blog]

You knooooooow, it’s been awhile since I came out of nowhere with something completely irrelevant. So I think it’s about time I remedy that!! Hope you guys missed me!!

Finally, I can get back to posting some good stuff for readers. It’s a series I hope people really like. If I get enough positive feedback, who knows what else I’ll do? The moment you’ve all been waiting for: with a word count of 5167,

DANGANPOCALYPSE: Death Road To Canada, Part 1

“I’ll only come with you if you agree to join my organization.”

“Seriously? Are you even sure that your followers are going to even make it to Canada? I seriously doubt that you’re thinking about it realistically.”

“Well, guess we can’t find out till we get there, right?”

Kokichi hung off a brick wall, swinging his legs as he looked down. A girl with long braids looked up in frustration. Unfortunately, she didn’t have much time to think before the supreme leader snapped to get her attention.

“Here, catch.” Kokichi tossed her something and she caught it with one hand skillfully. She opened her hand to see a pair of broken glasses with red framing. Her head shot up in rage, and she pulled him off the ledge he was swinging on. He gave a wide grin as he looked her directly in the eyes.

“Oh, so you are Touko Fukawa! This guy who kept claiming that he was above the rest of the survivors talked about you and your smell since you never bathe yourself. He said I’d recognize the smell, but I didn’t think it was going to be this poignant.”

“That doesn’t matter right now! Where is he? Why won’t you tell me?!” Fukawa ignored the remarks Kokichi made, shaking him like a rag doll. He wriggled out of her grasp and took the glasses back from her.

“Well, I have to have some way to convince you to come with me. No worries, he wasn’t dead or anything like that.” He twirled a lock of his hair absentmindedly as he started walking over to a car. Fukawa looked around quickly, wondering if she should be listening to the voice in the back of her mind that was telling her to stop. She shook her head and moved towards the car quickly and got into the car.

“Aww, so you’re coming with me! Great, I have some food in the glove compartment in front of you, and I’ve got some music choices that you can go through.” He motioned over to a CD book that he owned, which Fukawa took in her hands. Flipping through, the majority of it were pretty well known songs. One of them looked like it was a personalized disc that was labeled “Pop meme jams” in blue writing with lots of lines to make it look emphasized. She stopped for a moment on one of the newer looking CD’s and notices the name “Sayaka Maizono” on it. She recalled that she was supposed to have been in her class. With a shrug, she popped in a random CD with some calming piano music.

“So... Toki. Can I call you that? Toki?” Kokichi asked with a smirk. Fukawa groaned.

“I’ve only let one person call me that before, and even then... not for very long. I don’t like nicknames.” She thought of the blasting of weird bears that happened in Towa city. They were called Monokumas if she wasn’t mistaken.

“Well, that’s fine I guess. Tell me- how long have you been fighting alone? Any idea?”

“I would say... a-about ten days. It wasn’t until I got separated from master, who told me to wait here! Y-yes, that-that’s right, he told me to... to wait... ah...” Toko held herself, panting as her imagination got her excited. Kokichi pretended that he didn’t see this for his own sake. The trip was pretty quiet until Kokichi finally broke the silence.

“As fun as this chit-chat we have going on between us is, and it totally pains me to say this, we should probably make a pit stop at this Y’all Mart. You have anything to defend yourself with?” He asked. Fukawa pulled out a couple pairs of intricately made scissors. The same ones she had murdered people with along with Monokumas and now... zombies. Kokichi laughed as she showed them off.

“What are you gonna do, give them the most menacing haircut ever? You’re like the threatening hair stylist who no one wants to admit they don’t like their haircut because you’ll probably slit their throats.” Kokichi parked the car, getting little attention from the small horde that seemed uninterested in them.

“Okay, short-shit, how do you plan to get past them? You don’t look like you’ve got a weapon on you.” Fukawa motioned to his entire body. He rolled his eyes, pulling some extra dirtied clothes from the back seat of the car.

“If you move, smell, and look like them, they ignore you. But by all means, if you think I need a weapon...” Kokichi bucked his hips, finally fishing out a pink knitting needle from his pocket. “I got it from someone in my class who was killer at making cosplays. I picked up a few skills from her, actually.” He smiled at the girl.

“Why do I feel like that’s a lie?” Fukawa shook her head.

“Awww, you figured me out quicker than Shuichi! No fair- but yeah, it was a lie!”

Before there could be more complaining, the short boy slid out of the driver’s seat and moved with a limp. Fukawa watched as he blended in with the horde, wondering how he picked up such a useful tip. She couldn’t use the same methods as she was far too worried that she would pass out from blood on her clothes. Then again...

“W-well, here goes nothing. Let’s just hope I find somewhere to wash these later,” Fukawa grumbled. She got out of the car and quickly followed her new companion, looking for a zombie motionless on the ground. She didn’t catch the eye of any zombie as she bent down, splattering blood on her clothes while she grimaced. She didn’t want to lose control of herself yet, much less in front of a person who she wasn’t sure she would have any control around. Faking a limp, she moved towards the door of the store.

As she walked in, she lost sight of Kokichi. There were a lot more Zombies than she realized, and thanked her lucky stars that she blended in. She walked over towards shelves, scooping up as much food as possible. She found a lot of gasoline in the back room, where she finally caught sight of Kokichi. He had grabbed multiple cloth bags from god knows where and was filling them with as much supplies as possible. Fukawa walked over to him, taking a few of the bags out of his grasp.

“Oh, so you followed my lead! Thank goodness, now I don’t have to worry about you making a commotion and possibly getting us both killed!” He laughed. A zombie picked up its head, only for Kokichi to implant the knitting needle in its head. It dropped over after a few skillful stabs, ceasing movement entirely. The bookworm looked away from the body, feeling like she was going to pass out.

“Yeah, no shit I followed you. If I didn’t and something bad happened, you’d be dead. Now, I’m gonna try to actually do something for us by taking some of the weapons. At this rate, that flimsy needle won’t last more than five minutes.” Kokichi rolled his eyes but nodded.

“Fine, fine. Do whatever pleases you, but I don’t think it would be very wise to take more than we can use, you know?” He turned back around to face some of the crates, almost falling in one as he tried to reach for a bag of chips. Fukawa smirked as she left the room to find something besides junk food.

She passed back towards the bathroom, deciding to check it out. When she walked in, she saw five zombies roaming around the stalls. A soft knock on the door could be heard, and Fukawa couldn’t help but notice a rope hanging from the ceiling. Quickly thinking, she jumped up onto the sink and cut it down. A loud thud could be heard as something slumped up against the door, catching the attention of the undead. They started ramming into the door mercilessly, fighting to break it down. She climbed onto the top of the stall and peered down, instantly regretting what she saw.

A person with bright pink hair was laying on the ground, weakly coughing and trying to gasp for breath. Their hair was probably originally covered by the beanie laying next to them, and their jumpsuit was tattered. They couldn’t seem to get themselves off the ground, and Fukawa could tell that whoever it was probably wasn’t going to last much longer with the amount of progress the zombies had made on the stall.

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” She mumbled as she pulled up her skirt slightly. Under a band she had tied around her right leg was a taser she had attached to her from back when she was trying to rescue Komaru. The person on the ground slowly turned to look up, still sputtering and their almost completely glazed over eyes barely registering the scene playing out above them. With a single zap from the taser, Fukawa felt herself change, smiling as she felt that familiar bloodlust course through her. She flipped off the top of the stalls, reaching for the scissors that she had tailored to her liking a long while back. She bowed in a comical manner.

“Now, which one of you do I get to make into a Zombo-Filet first?” She cackled as she ran towards the group, her arms behind her back before she came up. With an act of sheer power, she snapped the neck of the zombie closest to her, making it falter on it’s original goal. She stuck the scissors in the back of its throat and pushed off of it with her heel, sending it flying back into the remaining ones on the door. Their attention was diverted as they all turned to face what caused the commotion. Before they could get a move on her, she flung multiple pairs of scissors into their heads. She bounced up to them, twisting them further into the corpses with no mercy. Eventually, they were all actually deceased at her feet. She shrieked with laughter as she held her stomach. She finally calmed down, and washed her scissors while humming a tune.

The moment they were all clean, she turned off the water flow to the sink, finally able to hear more audible choking sounds. She went back over to the closed stall, knocking on it.

“Knock knock~! Come out already!” Genocider called melodiously, making the coughs come to a stop. After waiting a few seconds, she grew bored of waiting for the person to get up and respond, and climbed over the stall door.

Upon closer inspection, she could see this was a male probably around the same age as her. He had one braid on the left side of his face that fell to his chin, and he had sharp pointed teeth. He had gotten the strength to crawl into a corner of the stall, still shaking and coughing. There was a clear rope burn around his neck, and the noose he had tied was still loosely clinging to him. She flipped the taser that she had grabbed once more in her hand before putting it up to her head.

The next moment, Fukawa realized that she was in front of the person who she saved. She kneeled on the ground, slapping him. He looked up, absolutely terrified.

“AAA-“ He started to yell before hacking once again, and bringing his hand up to his throat. Fukawa glanced around before handing him a water bottle she had foraged off the shelves.

"Y-you better drink this. I don't have a lot, so you have to earn your keep and come with me.” She stated, not paying mind to the shocked look she was getting. The man took the bottle shakily, eyeing it to see if it had been tampered with. When he realized it was essentially brand new, he wasted no time screwing the cap off and bringing it to his mouth. After a few big gulps, he pocketed it, shaking less now. Fukawa felt him tug at her shirt, making her whip around. He got up slowly, dusting himself off and fiddling with the rope he had draped and tied around his throat. He stuck it into a bag when he untied it completely, looking a little disappointed it wasn’t as long as before.

“Who... are you?” the man asked slowly. His voice seemed to have left him, as he strained to get words out despite the pain it was bringing to his vocal cords.

“You’ll probably forget after I tell you. It’s Touko Fukawa, though. I’d ask your name, but we’re sort of in the middle of the apocalypse and I don’t feel like getting killed after risking my life to save you.” Fukawa quickly took his hand and yanked him out, pushing the zombies out of the way instead of her original tactic of blending in. The guy looked out behind him as he followed, trying to hold back a scream as he looked to see a giant group of the undead hustling towards them.

Fukawa ignored the loud groans they were making when she saw Kokichi motioning for them to hurry up. He was already by the car, stabbing a couple of zombies with the knitting needle from before. It snapped and he cursed, grabbing a shopping cart and flinging it onto the ones closest to him. The two finally reached the car, and Kokichi put the pedal to the medal, squealing away from sight.

It had been silent for a few minutes before the guy in the back spoke up.

“Are you guys gonna kill me?” He said, his voice sounding less strained than before. Fukawa shot a glare back at him.

“Look. You were gonna kill you. We gain nothing from having you die. Calm down, you shark-toothed imbecile.” They all sat in more labored silence until the man in the back decided to speak up. “So, I know you’re Touko, but... uh...?” He looked cautiously at the grape driving the car.

“Ohhhh, you wanna get to know me? Is it because I’m so alluring that you just can’t stand it anymore? I’m Kokichi Ouma, and I was pretty well known as the ultimate supreme leader back before all of this happened,” He stated, not really caring about the shocked gasps coming from both of the passengers.

“You. You’re an ultimate?” Fukawa asked, a pointed glare at Kokichi. He nodded and shrugged.

“No worries, I know you’re an ultimate too. Lemon head told me all about you, actually.” Kokichi paused as he gripped the steering wheel tightly, not losing his smile. “As fun as it would be to talk about the past, something tells me you don’t want to scare edgy pink lemonade anymore than you already have.”

“I have a name, y’know, along with an ultimate talent myself! You’re lucky that you picked up Kazuichi Souda, the ultimate mechanic!” He smiled, pulling a thumbs up. There was a beat of silence, and Kazuichi could feel the silence eating at him. Before he could comment on it, Kokichi laughed, his eyes squeezed shut.

“So lemme get this straight: you look like you just walked out of the Animorphs series with those teeth, have survived ten days straight probably using your cowardice to hide in a single Y’allmart until the horde infested it, and your talent is being able to fix dinky Honda Civics? What. A. Talent.” He wiped a tear from his eye, shaking his head. Toko held her tongue, watching the mechanic in the back seat try not to get agitated.

“Hey, I’m useful for more than fixing up tiny cars that can’t survive more than a gentle graze on a passenger door! I can fix up stuff as small as a watch like Kuzuryuu wears to a plane!” He groaned in the back, crossing his arms and looking out the window like a moping teenager wishing they were in a sad music video.

“You may be able to do that, but I’m pretty sure being a mechanic doesn’t help if you don’t even have the necessary tools to fix something. How do you not have a car, exactly?” Toko muttered, fiddling with the hem of her skirt.

“Look, it isn’t my fault some blue-haired chick and Teruteru left me behind, stealing my car and all!” Kazuichi pouted, clenching his fists. He realized how worked up he was getting and sighed, taking off his beanie. “All those modifications, wasted on a cosplayer and a chef. They wouldn’t even know how to use my car to its full potential.”

“Says every pretentious driver of a Tesla ever.” Toko grumbled. She relaxed when she realized either no one heard it or felt the need to comment on it. The piano music filled the silence as they moved forward, the empty roads stretching far ahead of them. Eventually, every note of the music faded out of existence, becoming mere background noise for the weary travelers. Toko thought about how fitting it would be for a touching story about how three strangers worked together to get to somewhere safer, scoffing out loud at the idea. She was above writing something so completely predictable.

“So, uh, not to be that person and all, but I really have to pee,” Kazuichi piped up in the back, crossing his legs together. Expecting to be made fun of, he simply got a hum of agreement from Kokichi.

“We need to stop anyways, and try to find somewhere to get some gas. We could seriously use it. You’d know how to siphon gas, right pinky?” Kokichi asked in a contrasting serious tone. The mechanic didn’t get much time to answer as they pulled into a Shell gas station, littered with abandoned cars and stains on the ground. Whatever zombie-related incident had happened here didn’t happen recently, Toko figured. She got out of the car, watching Kazuichi fumble to open the car door since Kokichi hadn’t turned it off yet.

“We have time, Soda can. There isn’t anything to worry about right now, so it would be wiser to wait till the car is off, don’t you think?” Kokichi shook his head slowly, turning the key and taking it out of the ignition. Kazuichi didn’t respond, wasting no time to get out of the car. Kokichi popped the trunk, revealing an extra tire, extra food, a few rags, and a couple tubes, one short, one long. He cracked his knuckles and looked around the area, spotting an empty gas container. He walked over to it, picking it up in one hand. Turning his head over his shoulder, he could see Toko and Kokichi talking about what to do about food.

“But what if others come through here? Wouldn’t it be a good idea to-to make sure they have something for themselves?” Toko argued, throwing her hands behind her in fists.

“What if we run out of food and can’t find any later? We’re looking out for ourselves first, not anyone else. That’s what your blonde cracker of a boyfriend or whatever he is would have done,” Kokichi replied, his temper slowly being lost the further the argument went on. Kazuichi would normally have broken up the fight, but found some comfort in people bickering. It reminded him of how he and Nagito didn’t necessarily get along, but still were able to coexist. Focusing back on the task at hand, Kazuichi settled in front of a random car.

Setting down the container near the car, he took the two tubes and fed them into the gas compartment. He put his mouth on the shorter tube and blew as hard as he could. Soon enough, he saw the fluid flow through the other into the container. He listened to the gentle drops on the bottom of the gas can, visibly relaxing. He put his hand on his neck, only to remember how he almost asphyxiated himself only hours beforehand. He shivered, seeing the reflection of himself in the car. The rope burn was still visible, even when he attempted to pop his collar out. He turned his attention back to the car, realizing it was almost completely finished. He put his thumb on the longer tube, pulling it out of the car. He looked up, realizing the fighting had stopped. Toko was next to him at a different car, mimicking his movements.

“So you know a trick or two about siphoning, huh?” He asked, attempting to make some small talk. She shrugged, watching the gas go through the tube.

“When you write, you research things so they’re as accurate as possible. Why do you think people found such appeal in my novel, ‘So Lingers the Ocean?’” She replied, moving a bit of hair out of her face. Kazuichi nodded, moving over to the other car beside her.

“Well, I may never have been an avid reader myself, but I’m sure it takes a lot of time to come up with all of that. I’ve never been good with words, either, so I guess it’s nice to have someone who is.” Kazuichi smiled, and Toko stopped for a moment. The positivity brought Komaru’s smiling face back into her mind, and she softened her look at the mechanic if only for a moment. She was going to say something, but was cut off by Kokichi whistling to get their attention.

“I’d love to continue this chit chat, but I think we should leave. I think we’ll have company if we don’t, otherwise.” He motioned to the highway, crawling with more zombies than before. They nodded, grabbing the gas, the food that they could, and whatever goodies they could obtain from the other cars before jumping into the car. With urgency moving him, Kokichi shoved the key into the car, turning it and stepping on the pedal. The car skidded away from the action, Kokichi laughing as he swerved back onto the highway. With that, all of their nerves dissipated. Toko’s shoulders relaxed, and Kazuichi grabbed his wrench from his pocket, feeling all the ridges on his tool.

“I know that traveling to Canada takes precedence over a lot of other things, but we’ll be fatigued if we don’t find somewhere to actually rest,” Toko said, glancing over at Kokichi.

“I know, I know. Sooner or later, we will. I’ve got a specific place in mind, so just hold on till we get there,” He bit his lip, focusing more on the road ahead of them. Toko leaned back in her seat, staring at the roof of the car. There were so many questions she had, but couldn’t ask at the moment. She would wait until they weren’t depending on the driver being able to safely escort them.

The hours eventually blended together until Kokichi hit the brakes on the car and turned off the AC. Kazuichi stirred in the back, rubbing his head. Toko snapped out of her daydreams, watching Kokichi turn off the car and get out. He stretched his arms, letting her see how tattered his clothes were. His small frame was more apparent when he wasn’t in the midst of moving around quickly. In front of him were multiple small buildings, people walking between them, and a campfire.

“Welcome to the trader camp. I have a stockpile of food, and the reason is so we can stay at places like these. I know, I know. I’m a genius, no need to thank me.” Kazuichi practically rolled out of the car, his hand still on his head. Toko got out and stood awkwardly  behind the two males. She peeked around, looking out of curiosity for any familiar faces. They all looked as though they were stuck on the pasts they had made for themselves, all tired and broken. She squinted at the sight of the one head turned towards them, wide-eyed. A small girl eyed Kokichi, lazily looking up at his clothes.

“Kokichi, you really need to wash your clothes. They look gross,” she uttered lazily. He looked down at her and gasped.

“Wooooow, I can’t believe you’re in one piece! I missed you sooo much!!!” Kokichi erupted into a fountain of crocodile tears, running to her with open arms. The red-headed girl didn’t get enough time to react, and was in a bear hug she struggled to get out of. She squirmed as Kokichi somehow managed to lift her into the air.

“Let go of me! This is no way to treat a great and powerful mage!” She yelled, flailing about in vain. He finally put her on the ground and she checked her clothes quickly to see the damage done. She picked her hat off the ground, wiping the rim of it off.

“I’m sorry, I can’t believe someone as bossy as him could have friends. Who are you, exactly?” Toko questioned, turning the girl’s attention to her. She took a breath in, muttering something about not having enough mana for all of the excitement.

“Nyeh, I’m Himiko. I can’t say I’m really friends with Kokichi, but a familiar face is a familiar face.” She looked off into the distance absentmindedly, her finger on her lips. Toko remembered the same aloof vibe from Kyoko, but shook the thought of her old classmate out of her head. It wouldn’t do her any good to wonder how she was doing.

“What are you saying? We were besties-- wait, is she here?” Kokichi whipped his head around, a paranoid expression taking over his face. Himiko sighed loudly as she shook her head.

“We got separated by a horde, and Tenko told me that there would be a place nearby that would house me if I said she would give them food for my stay. I’m not sure what she’s doing, but I’m sure she’s fine if that’s why you were curious.” She nodded to herself as she spoke, affirming to herself that she was correct.

“Oh no, that’s not why I asked! I just didn’t want to get pummeled into the ground for hugging you against your will. You know better than I do that I probably wouldn’t be standing if she had seen it,” Kokichi grinned. “I’m sure that wherever she is, her degenerate male senses are going off the charts.”

“Look, I have no clue what that even means, but can we please find somewhere to wash our clothes? I still look like a mess, and this stench is absolutely horrible.” Toko motioned to her messy clothing, trying not to think about how unsightly her master would see her as. Himiko looked at her, nodding as she rubbed her eyes.

“Yeah, we have that. You’ll probably need to wash yourself too, considering that, no offense, you reek worse than those stinkbugs Gonta has,” she said, adding a leisurely hand movement in front of her nose. Toko felt herself want to snap at her, but decided that any protest may put her out of a place to rest. Himiko started walking in the direction of one of the smaller buildings. Toko picked up her pace so she could make sure she didn’t get left behind, fidgeting to get inside the building.

Kazuichi stood, watching Kokichi look around for somewhere to sit down. There were a lot of unfamiliar faces to him, but he couldn’t help but pick out the messy brown hair in front of a campfire, feasting on some food. Akane popped in to his head, carelessly munching on whatever dish the perverted chef had made. He knew that she would probably be doing fine in an apocalypse, all things considered. The thought of her being dead seemed impossible-- especially with Nekomaru, those two could burst through an entire day-long siege of the undead if they so desired.

He snapped out of his pondering to realize that Kokichi was already talking with some other people around the place. He panicked, finally bringing himself to try and be useful. He started chatting up some of the other people around, asking if they needed any work done on whatever car they were using. He got some food out of his labor, even if the tasks weren’t that grueling.

A couple hours had passed before they all reconvened. Fukawa’s skirt had been sewn up by someone so she wouldn’t seem as obscene. She was well aware that they would probably just get torn again, yet she couldn’t bring herself to deny the lady who offered. She looked at Kokichi, who looked in a lot better condition than before. She figured that getting attention from more than a couple people perked him up, noting the way he was more energetic and bouncy with his movements.

“Aaaaand… you’re dirty. You really didn’t take a chance to use some clean water to not look like some hobo?” Toko groaned as Kazuichi walked up to them all, smiling. She expected some sort of defensive statement, but all she got was a whistle and a smile as he put his hands on his hips.

“Working on cars for other people put me back in my element, so I don’t mind looking like this. Jumpsuits are made to get dirty, anyways.”

“Sure they are, but should the guy we caught hanging around in a bathroom be doing things that could harm him?” Kokichi chimed in, hiding behind Toko. She shrugged his hands off her arm, resisting the urge to hiss at him.

“Look, I just didn’t feel like having my life taken by a horde of undead people who look like they came out of that one Michael Jackson music video.” Kazuichi shuddered thinking about the video, considering it always creeped him out more than he would normally admit.

“Ohhh, are you like space case with a big case of scaredy cat syndrome? You even make freaky faces like him!” Kokichi struck a pose as his eyes widened in excitement. “You even tried to go out like a coward; you guys must be related somehow!”

“Do we seriously have to make fun of me right now? Can’t we find something else to do?” Kazuichi asked quietly, pulling his beanie down, sniffling. Kokichi pointed to an area by the fire, an empty log waiting for them.

“Fine by me, so long as we eat some food and enjoy some warmth. It’s bound to get colder tonight, so I’ll be over there if you need me,” Kokichi scampered over to the area, gleefully putting his hands near the fire. Toko and Kazuichi looked at each other with some hesitation before following the leader’s steps.

The rest of the night was filled with small talk, food, and rest. They knew that the road ahead of them was far longer than they could hope to accomplish by themselves. In their slumber before they awoke, they peacefully dreamt of a world where they could finally relax after not being able to get any breaks.

[snarky-badger]

@kkillercroc Sorry for the late reply - forgot to check the notes on that ask reply I did! Bad Badger.

Still working on that Arbiter/OFC fic. Might never finish it, but I do have smut written! There’s a snippet of the fic below! Enjoy the smut. >:D 

(though it’s not the finished product. There will be revisions in the future)

Unnamed Halo Arbiter (Thel’ Vadam) X OFC Fic (SoulMate/SoulMark AU because I can.)

EDITED five minutes after posting to add more ficcage.

EDITED again because I stupidly forgot an entire paragraph. *headdesk*

Thel led her to his quarters, and Annora froze in the doorway, blinking at the massive room. An extravagant bed was off to the right, with an oddly shaped couch to the left and another doorway further in that led to a separate room - possibly the lavatory. "Holy crap. This place is bigger than my old apartment."

"It is usually reserved for the Commander of this vessel," Thel told her as he tiredly moved over to the armor rack, unlatching his chest piece before shrugging out of it. "The title of 'Arbiter' is changing, returning to the old ways where being an Arbiter was the highest possible honor a Sangheili could attain. Rtas would see me become Commander of the Sangheili forces."

Annora stepped into the room, the doors sliding shut behind her. "And what do you want?"

"I.... do not know. I wish my people free of the Covenants threats and lies, but even if I were to kill the Prophet of Truth, it would not stop the Brutes from waging war against us. Nor would it reunite all Sangheili - many believe us heretics for breaking away from the Covenant."

"The Prophets lied to you all for so long, twisting everything to suit their needs.... It's all some of them know now. Abandoning all that, stepping into a new life without those guiding hands - it's daunting. Not everything has that strength."

A sigh left the massive form. "I did not have that strength," Thel admitted, working at the armor that stretched down his left arm. "Even when both the Chief and the Gravemind spoke the truth, I did not believe either until the very end."

"But when it counted, you stepped up to the challenge," she murmured, walking over to him and reaching up to touch his shoulder, smiling a little when he turned towards her, eyes weary. "That counts for something."

"Does it?"

The tired tone of his voice made her frown and move her hand to his face, fingers lightly brushing across his cheek. "What's wrong? Talk to me."

He rose a massive hand to capture hers, tugging her glove off so he could nuzzle at the skin of her palm. "What if their faith is misplaced? I was a Supreme Commander, yes, but so much has changed. What if I cannot live up to the expectations placed upon me? There will be Civil War amongst the Sangheili, and an easily broken truce with Humanity. So much could go wrong."

"That Rank was stolen from you because they needed someone to blame for their mistakes. You're still intelligent and brave and honorable, not even the Prophets can take that from you."

"Sia'ree, I killed billions of your kind. I am not the right person to broker peace between our people."

"Then help save billions now. I'm not saying it'll be easy - nothing worthwhile ever is. Look at what's happening now, human and Sangheili fighting together against the Flood and the Covenant. It proves that peace is possible, doesn't it?"

"And when there is no common enemy to distract us all from our learned hatred?"

She smiled and rose up onto her tiptoes to place a gentle kiss to the right side of his mandibles. "Then that's when the real work starts."

Thel blinked, tilting his head at her. "That was a sign of affection."

She grinned teasingly. "Was it?"

A growl left him when she started to step away, and he caught her around her waist, hearing her laughter as he tugged her close again. He nuzzled into her, breathing in the scent of battle and sweat and female before daring to nip at her neck. "You are trying to distract me."

Annora curled her arms around his waist in a hug, mimicing him and nuzzling at his throat. "Is it working?"

"Mmm. Yes." He slid his hands up her back, tugging at the armor she still wore, claws poking and prodding - ignoring her giggles and wriggling - until he found the odd buckles and started to work them loose. He removed the pack she wore, then loosened her upper armor, helping her shuck out of the entire torso piece and setting it to the side next to her helmet.

She was removing her arm guards when he turned back to her, so he knelt to remove her leg guards, growling again when his hands enountered blood soaked fabric on her right leg.

"You are bleeding."

"Yeah, I know. Biofoam doesn't last more than a few hours. It's starting to dissolve."

He was careful in helping her out of her boots, claws fumbling with the latches there, reaching up to hold her waist to steady her as she stepped out of them. Frowning, Thel had her turn so he could see the bandage wrapped around her calf through the tear in her pants, grumbling at the amount of blood there. "What caused this?"

"Goddamn Brute Spiker." She blinked at the angry snarl that left him. "It isn't as bad as it looks though. It just bleeds a lot because it's in the muscle and every movement aggravates the wound."

"It needs tending."

"I've got more bandages in my kit."

"Shower first."

"What?" Annora turned wide eyes to him as he rose and went to lock the door before starting to strip out of his underarmor. Blushing, she quickly did an about-face when he started shoving the material down past his hips.

He let out an amused chuckle, and she saw him shove the jumpsuit into a panel in the wall before he stepped towards her. She studiously kept her eyes on the floor, or the wall, anywhere but at him as Thel moved in front of her.

"Am I so unsightly, sia'ree?"

"What? No! I just...." She looked at him, keeping her gaze above the waist, thank you very much. Though his muscled chest - alien but still familiar enough - was distracting. "You're naked."

"That I am. Though I am sheathed, so there is nothing to be embarrassed about."

Her brain went 'sheathed?' at the same time that her treacherous eyes glanced down, and yeah, there was nothing there save a barely visible slit. "Uh huh."

"Am I so different from a human male?"

His curious tone drew her gaze. "Um, yeah. Men don't.... They kinda.... dangle?"

He barked a laugh. "You jest."

"Haven't you wondered why some soldiers tried to kick you Sangheili between the legs as a last resort?" she asked with a smirk. "That's because if you kick a male human there, they'll go down like a ton of bricks. It's external, and really sensitive. Especially to blunt trauma. Well, any trauma, I'd imagine."

He snickered. "I may have to tell Rtas," he chuckled, before returning to the point at hand. "In any case, that does not mean you cannot shower with me. We are Bonded, Annora. I would look upon my sia'ree and know her."

She fidgeted. "You'll be disappointed."

"I doubt that. Am I so horrible to look at?"

Against her will, her eyes took him in, from his amber eyes, to his mandibles, down, across his chest, and further, past his hips to his digigrade legs and odd feet. "No."

"Then nor shall you be. Now, how do I divest you of this? Or must I cut it off?"

"Don't destroy my clothes," left her in a pout as Annora untucked her tee from her pants, feeling the heat of a blush on her face as she pulled her shirt off. His warm hands palmed her toned stomach, long fingers almost curling around her entire rib cage, thumbs brushing against the band of her bra, just under her breasts.

Hands shaking a little, she undid her belt, shivering when Thel pushed her pants off her hips and down her legs, and she kicked them to the side, glad, at least, that she'd had those hair removal treatments all those years ago on her legs, groin and under arms.

"So soft," Thel murmured, sliding his hands up her thighs and back to her waist. He could almost encircle her entire waist with his hands, she was so small compared to him. Humming, he plucked at the odd material over her chest that hid the glands there. He knew, of course, from intelligence on humanity that they were there so females could nurse their young, such an odd way of raising children. "This too, sia'ree. I want to see all of you."

Annora swallowed thickly, but reached back to unhook her bra, using her right arm to hide herself as she slid the bra off and tossed it towards her pile of clothes before shimmying out of her underwear. Thel purred again, eyes gentle, and she let him pull her into another hug, skin to hide, her head nestled under his chin. Felt him nuzzle at her short hair again as she slowly curled her own arms around his waist, the warmth of him helping sooth her rattled nerves.

"Different is not bad," he rumbled to her, using her own words against her. Pulled away to meet her gaze, chuckling at the wary look she gave him as he took her in. She was smaller than him, but lithely muscled, deceptively strong, and he let his fingertips stroke over the curves of muscle on her arms, then down her back, drinking in the feeling of so soft skin. "Did you think I would find you ugly?"

She glanced away nervously. "Little bit."

He let out a purr, one hand rising to cup her cheek against his palm. "You are lean and strong and curved, like a blade. Soft, like the doarmir fur cloak I used to own. Brave and honorable, like a Sangheili Warrior, yet tempered by compassion. You are far from ugly, sia'ree."

He led her into the shower, palming the controls. Hot liquid rained down, and he adjusted the heat of it to something more appropriate to delicate human skin before pulling her in with him. She made a disgruntled noise as the spray hit her in the face, and he chuckled, moving to block the water with his body, arms reaching out to pull her to his chest again.

Slowly, he moved his hands down her back, from her shoulders to her waist, kneading sore muscles and stroking soft skin. It took a moment, but she gathered her courage, hesitantly moving to copy the touches on him, and he purred, feeling the odd sensation of her Healer powers seep into his flesh.

"Little higher," he rumbled, hearing her chuckle as she stretched up to reach his shoulders, slim fingers, so different from his but oddly perfected for this, digging into the knots of muscle there and coaxing them to relax. Another pulse of her Healing ability made him groan, and he leaned down to nuzzle at her, nipping at the spot below her left ear. "Show me how to touch you."

Annora shivered at his voice purring into her ear, but smiled as she slid her hands over his shoulders and down his chest, lightly scratching him with her nails. He moaned, nuzzling at her again, breath hot against her neck. Blushing, she took his right hand and guided it to her left breast, showing him how to brush his fingers across her nipple, how to knead, and she gasped when he lightly mouthed at her shoulder as he followed her directions.

He smirked against her skin when she uttered a soft moan, brushing his forethumb across the pebbled tip of her left chest mound. She was so soft there, like the finest bedding, and he pulled away to meet her gaze, smirking again as he leaned down to gently nip at that soft flesh. That pulled another wordless sound of pleasure from her, her hands slicking over his head and down his neck, fingers gripping at his shoulders, and it was only because he was blocking the water with his body, only because he was so close to her that he caught the spicy scent of her arousal.

Thrumming another purr, Thel slid his left hand down, palming her abdomen and that odd divot there, before going lower, to the junction between her legs. She wasn't much different from Sangheili females there, though he was surprised to find that she was open to him, just warmth and slickness and, ah, there.

She gasped his name as he gently slid a forefinger into her, testing her, careful of his claws. She was small, and tight, muscles fluttering around his digit as her hips rolled into his palm, and he wondered if it would even be possible to mate with her, she was so tight. Even if it was impossible, the noises and her scent of arousal proved he could at least give her pleasure.

And then Annora slid her own palm down, fingers tracing his sheath, and he groaned, lowly, voice echoing in the shower as he tossed his head back. Felt himself spread, felt himself expand and slide out into her hand, firm and ready, and those fingers, Ancestors, small and too many, but as she slid her hand along his length all he could do was growl a curse.

Size, size was going to be a problem, she realized. His finger alone was large, but Thel himself was thicker than a human male, longer, with ridges along his curved length, with an oddly shaped head. Was just as sensitive, maybe more so. The torrent of growls and moans that left him as she slicked her hand up and down his cock, thumbing his tip, made her ears ring.

Suddenly, she found herself thrown over his shoulder, treated to the not unwelcome sight of his back and ass as she was carried out of the shower and over to the bed. Heard his growl as he dropped her onto it before crawling over her, pausing over her core to inhale deeply.

If this was going to happen, Thel knew he'd have to be careful. Despite her scent driving him mad, he moved up to nuzzle at her chest again, sliding a digit back into her and slowly pumping it. She mewled, gasping, her pupils blown wide with desire when he rose his head to look at her, the sight pulling another rumble from him.

"T-there's a nub, just in front--"

Her voice cut off with a cry when he set his forethumb against it, rubbing her in time with his thrusting digit.  Her arms wrapped around him tight as he moved up to nuzzle at her neck again, and Thel nipped at her, experimentally, chuckling when she dug her weak claws into his back and arched into his chest.

This was definitely going to work.

Her scent spiked at the same time that she cried out again, inner muscles fluttering and clenching around his digit. He kept moving throughout her climax, stretching it out, until she gasped and went limp, panting for air.

Purring, he pulled his hand from her, eyeing the slickness there before he rose his fingers to his mouth, mandibles flaring as he savored her taste - musky, with a sweet, slightly salty tang, like an after dinner treat.

Annora shivered at the heat in his gaze when Thel turned his full attention to her again, opening her arms and sighing when he leaned down into the hug, nuzzling at her again.

"Will you have me, Annora Phoenix?"

His tone was formal, deep with lust, but tight. Consent, obviously, had a large part to play in Sangheili bedplay. "Always," she murmured in reply, smiling at him when he cupped her face in his large hands, thumbs caressing her cheeks. "Though, can I suggest something?"

"Of course."

She smirked a little. "Roll onto your back for me?"

He clicked his mandibles, curious, but wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his back, looking up at her as she shifted above him, fingers sliding across his length again as she rose on her knees. Realizing she meant to control the speed of their union, Thel grasped her hip in one hand and his length in the other, aiding her in lining him up. "I do not wish to hurt you, sia'ree."

"You won't. Just, slow, okay?" Annora shifted a little, felt the head of him poke at her entrance, then lowered herself. There was a bit of resistance before his odd tip popped into her, and she groaned as she felt herself stretch wide to accomodate him, her hands splayed on his abdomen to balance herself.

A growl rumbled out of him, hands clenching on her waist. The urge to thrust up into her heat was powerful, instinct screaming that he take his mate now, but years of built up willpower kept him still, aware that he would harm her if he did so. "A-Annorrrrra....."

"Gods you're big," she whimpered, hips slowly rolling as she took him another inch, muscles fluttering. He writhed under her a bit, huffing his breath, growling, and she cried out when he moved a hand a little lower to place his thumb over her clit, rubbing her in time with his breathing.

She was going to be the death of him. Though, in all honesty, dying from a bought of mating was a much better way to go than death by battle or Flood, in Thel's current opinion. She was tight around him, inner muscles fluttering and twitching as she slowly took him in. It was maddening, but concern kept him still, even though the stress of it had him panting and growling like an animal.

Finally, finally, Annora took the final bit of him, eyes sliding shut as her back arched. He was touching places in her that she'd never known, her muscles stretched wide to accommodate him. Each and every once of those ridges had hit her g-spot as he'd slid into her, and with his thumb still rubbing circles on her clit, all she could do was tense and cry out as another orgasm crashed through her.

Feeling her clench around him pulled a snarl from Thel, claws digging into her hips a little as he rolled his hips to hers, desperate for any sort of friction. Panting, nearly wild, he managed to hold back as she stretched out over him, her arms curling around his neck as she nuzzled at him.

He snarled at the feeling, moaning when she ground her pelvis to his. "A-Annora.... Do not tease me, sia'ree!"

She gave him a mischiveous smile and purposefully tensed her inner muscles around him. "Who's teasing?"

Growling, he held her hip tight and flipped them over, looming over her, his right hand braced against the bed to keep his greater weight off of her. Slowly, so slowly - despite everything screaming at him to do otherwise - Thel withdrew a little then thrust back in, moaning with relief at the much needed friction. "Please, sia'ree, tell me I can take you now. All this teasing--!"

Annora reached up to hold him, nuzzling at him the way he'd done to her. "Take me, Thel."

It was all the permission he needed. Growling, he allowed himself to move, stiltedly, trying to keep things slow, hips pulling back and thrusting forwards into her heat. She moaned his name, and he felt her shift, her legs curling around his waist, pulling him closer still, and he splayed his left hand on her back, keeping her pressed as close as possible as he moved in earnest.

Those ridges rubbed her in ways she hadn't thought possible. Every slide and thrust pulling cries and whimpers from her as he rutted into her. Could only hold on to him as he pounded forward, his left hand dropping to her hip to pull and push her onto him with every thrust in and out.

Heard him growl, deep, the sound making his chest vibrate against hers, and she dug her nails into his back when she felt him swell inside her even more, his tip flaring as he came, heat flooding her. The sensation tipped her already sensitive body over the edge again, her cry muted by his howl when she clenched around him again, shuddering.

Panting, trembling, Thel barely managed to catch himself before he fell onto her, groaning as he twitched inside her, continuing to spill himself into her. She was limp and spent under him, her hands weakly holding onto his shoulders as she caught her breath, that odd red flush colouring her face.

Purring, he held her hip to keep her pressed close as her legs slipped from around him, then rolled onto his side, nuzzling at her and drinking in the intoxicating scents in the air: their sweat and the smell of mating making his head spin pleasantly.

Annora giggled a little. "Wow."

His chuckle was deep and satisfied. "Indeed. And you were worried." He leaned in when she beckoned, thrumming another purr when she kissed the side of his mandibles, then his cheek, her hands sliding down his back to his waist. He was still flared inside her, could feel the wetness on their legs as his seed seeped out of her as he contined to fill her. "Another shower might be needed."

She trembled at the continued sensation of pulsing warmth. "Speaking of, how long--?"

"Mm, another minute or so. Though we will be tied for longer." He rose a hand to her face. "Does it hurt?"

"No. Far from it."

He chuckled at how she shivered when he pressed his hips to hers, filing that away for the future. "I should mention that Sangheili rarely tie to their bedmates. It it something meant for breeding. Usually we can control whether we flare or not. But you, with all your teasing...."

"Oh sure, blame the newbie," she retorted with a laugh, running her hands up his chest, fingers exploring the different swells of alien muscle.

Mandibles clicking in a smirk, Thel leaned down to nip at the spot behind her ear, purring when she shivered again. "When this fight is over and we are hopefully victorious, I intend to keep you in my bed for days," he rumbled into her ear, growling at the spike in her scent of arousal.

"Who's teasing now?" Annora gasped, listening to his laugh as he gathered her into his arms and cuddled her to his chest, nuzzling at the top of her head. She releaxed into him, pressing a kiss to the Mark of Shame on his left pectoral, the startled purr that left him making his chest vibrate against her lips.

tbc