#I hate hate hate hate that it is always a white thin model/model like woman

[hshouse]

-

[catierambles]

Witch Hunt Ch. 1

It was a smell you never forgot. Once it was in your nose, you would always know it. Putrid, almost sickly sweet, with a coppery undertone. Several officers keeping the scene secure were either green in the face, or had their shirts over their noses, a couple looked like they had already gotten sick.

Walter did his best to ignore it, putting the mask over his mouth and nose to try to at least dampen it. He also did not need that smell on the back of his tongue. The body itself was in good condition, all things considering. The fact that it was still smoking slightly made him think it was fairly recent.

“We know when it happened?” He asked, crouching down on his haunches.

“People who called it in reported an explosion about thirty minutes ago.” The uniform said, “Blew the windows out, caused some damage to the cars outside. There was no active fire when the firefighters got here, and they found the body.” He looked around, seeing the shattered windows, the glass out on the street and sidewalk with only a couple pieces on the floor. Definitely broken from the inside.

Scorch marks surrounded the body, especially where the...charring was the greatest around the face and neck. Eyes, lips, nose, most of the face really, burned away. What hair was left and not burned was gray. The hands were intact, no sign of fire damage, the skin thin and wrinkled on the backs with thick fingers only slightly marred by arthritis. Older man, most likely. Walter gave the area another sweep, seeing the hand written tags on items in display cases, or ones that had fallen to the floor. A register sat on one counter, older model, everything done by hand. It was closed and he would have someone check, but robbery didn’t seem to be a motive.

And a flamethrower wasn’t exactly the ideal stick-up weapon.

It also wouldn’t have blown the windows out. Not enough damage for a explosive device of some kind. Only the victim and the immediate area showed any real signs of what happened. Pushing up the sleeve of the victim’s shirt with the tip of his pen, he saw bruising around the wrists indicative of being restrained, but there were no restraints on or around the body.

“Ma’am!” The officer at the door snapped and he stood, seeing the woman push past him with an annoyed look. Dark hair was clipped back away from her face, her black suit fitting her in a way that looked tailored.

“Who’s in charge of this scene?” She asked.

“I am.” Walter said, approaching her and pulling the mask down, “And I’ll have to ask you to—”

“Agent Logan, FBI.” She said, pulling a badge from her inner jacket pocket. He held his hand out for it and she gave it to him, watching him look it over and then back up at her.

“How can I help you, Agent?” He asked, handing the badge back. She just looked around him to the body on the floor, tucking the badge back in her pocket.

“Shit.” She said when she turned her attention back to him, he was suddenly struck by the vividness of her turquoise colored eyes, framed by a dark fringe. “What do we know so far?”

“We?” Walter asked, arching a brow.

“Let’s start over.” She said, “As previously stated, I’m Agent Cait Logan with the FBI, and I’ve been tracking a killer who uses this method all over the country. Restrain, torture, electrocute, burn.”

“No sign of electrocution or torture.”

“He burns the face after running a few thousand volts through the temples. Your medical examiner will confirm it. They’ll find no smoke or soot in the lungs, victim was already dead before being set aflame.”

“What does he use to burn them?” Walter asked.

“No idea, I’ll be sure to ask when I catch him.”

“And we know it’s a him?” He asked and she nodded.

“Behavioral Analysts at Quantico pegged him as a white male, about late-30s to early-40s. A narcissist who hates being told no. Shitty at interpersonal relationships, and probably pays the bills by selling stolen items. Robbery isn’t the motive, though, just a means to an end. I’d have your guys find the victims inventory logs, double-check it against what’s still here, put out a BOLO for anything that doesn’t come up.” She said and looked around, “Seeing a lot of old stuff, but not thrift. Antiques. There’ll be pictures for insurances purposes, either here or with the insurance company.”

“How does he choose his victims?”

“It appears to be random. He doesn’t stick to any kind of victimology. I have a theory it’s less who they are, and more what they can give him. Head-shrinkers agree with me.”

“Like what?” Walter asked, “You said robbery wasn’t his focus.”

“It’s not. Again, I’ll ask when I catch him.”

“You’re including us in this investigation?” Walter asked, “Expected you to take over.”

“No.” She said with a snort, “Unlike my esteemed fellows, I don’t think I’m better than local cops just because my jurisdiction is a country, not a county. You have home court advantage. The only think I ask is that I be the one to make the arrest and take custody if and when we find him. Same request I made of all the others.”

“I can agree to that.” He said and she gave him a dazzling smile.

“I look forward to working with you I never got your name.”

“Walter Marshall. Detective Walter Marshall.” He said, finding himself start to return the smile.

“Okay, Detective, let’s get to work.” She moved around him, walking a tight circle around the body but being careful not to smudge the scorch marks. “This is where the victim was lit up, but not where he died. You found signs of restraint?”

“Bruising around the wrists.” Walter said, pulling the mask back up as he joined her. Reaching into his jeans pocket, he pulled out another mask and offered it, but she waved it away.

“Thank you, but I’m fine. I’m a bit nose blind to it now.” She said and he tucked it back in his pocket with a shrug. “He takes his time with his victims so he’ll need seclusion, but still be close by.” Heading deeper into the shop, she stopped by a door, “Did anyone dust this door knob for prints yet?”

“Not yet, still waiting on the techs.” Walter said and she pulled a pair of black nitrile gloves from her suit pocket, putting them on before opening the door.

“There we are.” She said and he joined her. It was a one-person bathroom, thin bits of cord still hanging from the pipe under the sink “He comes in, probably at closing, overpowers the victim, drags him back into the bathroom and ties him up.”

“No blood.” Walter pointed out, “You said he uses torture?”

“Electric shocks, probably a stun gun or a cattle prod. Low voltage at first just to cause pain, and then when he gets what wants, he cranks up the power and well...” She gestured to the body on the floor.

“Why burn them after?” Walter asked, “If they’re already dead, why not just leave them? Why make a show of it?”

“Narcissist, remember? He wants people to find the body as soon as possible, he wants people to know what he did. He doesn’t want to be caught, but he wants people to know it was him so he does things to set him apart from others. To make him unique.”

“He has an ego.”

“Don’t they all.”

[silenthillmutual]

For the violence 🔥: 8, 12, 22, and 25 (concerning either Pathologic or the Souls games)

8: common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

daniil is not a wild partyboy. like that interpretation makes 0 sense for his character. all he does is hyperfocus on defeating death to the detriment of all else. i have literally never understood this vision of him as a hedonist. i get that it's wish fulfillment to make characters wild and provocative but that is just a different character altogether. and it's so bizarre that people will do this when andrey is literally right there. genuinely wondering what fucking game everyone else played.

also do fanon designs count here because i am sick to bastard death of seeing young thin dainty white eileen the crow. actually just sick to bastard death of seeing thin interpretations of characters in any media ever but as of late i'm like would y'all stop de-beefing alfred and solaire. at least with artemy people have the excuse of his model looking thin despite textual evidence supporting him being built like a bear but what is the fucking excuse with the other two. everyone is a coward.

12: the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

something i love actually about patho is that pretty much every character has a lover out there, so even if i don't like them i know someone else does. personally i'm a fan of victor kain, especially in classic where andrey says that victor actually wants to leave town and get an education. i think that's why he is the closest to daniil of the family, but despite seeming like the normalest Kain he is absolutely still deranged. he's just kind of polite about it. i don't know that i have a reason people should like him, though, because generally with my faves i understand why people don't.

closer to the goal here would be specifically classic aglaya, i love her. she's so wordy. it's easy to get lost in her manipulations because she seems so straightfoward. there is truth in what she says, of course, and we as the player know that, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have her own objectives. i think she's fascinating, especially as the routes go on, seeing her lose her patience by the time you get to the changeling route. people always say they want morally gray woman characters and she's one of them!! which is a big reason to like her. she's ruthless but sympathetic. and i think that's very neat.

22: your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

so many people are in a rush to characterize daniil as The Worst Person Ever that they miss my favorite type of daniil quest which is "these kids are doing something dangerous and i must intervene" aka, dadkovsy moments. i'm especially fond of him running off to find these kids' missing dads on day ???? (sometime after the army arrives) because they're crying about it and know he'll help them. i see so many people (cough cough reddit) characterizing daniil as hating children based on a line that as far as i know he never even says in pathologic 2, which he would theoretically say to clara, about not liking children. and it's just people taking that statement at face value while ignoring what actually happens in the game and it's so frustrating to watch people fall for that over and over.

25: common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

i have. so many. i have rewritten this answer like three times now. but i think the thing that really bugs me is when people are like, "no one is talking about / writing fic about / drawing x character because they're too busy talking about / writing about / drawing y character who is boring / evil / morally inferior because they are popular." like i get it. being a fan of a side character sucks. being a fan of a rare pairing sucks. but like. as someone who has in the past and sometimes does still write for side characters and rare pairings, where are you all when it comes to interacting with the content that is being made? people will complain to the ends of the earth about the lack of gen fic. so why the hell aren't any of you commenting on it or sharing it? i have written it. my friends have written it. i know how little interaction it gets. if you want to see it you have to nurture it. like the concept of fandom is built around interaction, if you're not willing to interact then like as a fic author i cannot fucking help you. idk that whole attitude just. grates on me.

[b-lysia]

I think it's weird to pursue someone and then expect them to be the active agent in the process of "courting"

or-

I think it's really fucking weird to obsess over the idea of, someone else wanting you, rather than shooting your shot with someone because you want them.

or-

The process of dating should not look like rabid consumers chasing an advertisement, when we can all just talk to each other.

Fundamentally, this is a consequence of heteronormativity and gender; the Woman is a passive and receptive object of desire, while the Man is the active seeker and pursuer, but I keep seeing the sentiment echo from other sapphics and I...

Fuck I hate that shit so much.

There's no "point" to being a lesbian besides girls fucking girls. It's not a political statement or movement, we are politicized by our nature and it's fundamental opposition to some aspects of Patriarchy (heteronormativity, gender, the dynamics of sexual desire), blah blah blah I've said all this shit before. But it rubs me the wrong way to escape heteronormative dynamics and then not only reassert them, but reassert them based on the same basis as the sphere of influence we're escaping.

Why the fuck are all brown\black\red\yellow\green\purple sapphic characters coded as Men-lite?

Why the fuck is it all the fat sapphic characters? Why the hell is it every character read as a trans fem?

Why's it always the poor-er character between the two?

Why on earth are the soft or subtle, fastidious and dainty, frilly and precious characters only ever; thin, white to light skinned, with light colored or loose hair?

I even see people darkening and lightening characters with canon visible appearances, to code them as more masculine or feminine via the gender dynamics Patriarchy allows and the racist/colorist association of darker skin with masculinity.

Now all that's not to say fat, brown, black, trans, muscly, tall etc people can't be sapphic and have "masculine" personality traits. Or that all slender, light skinned/white sapphic characters have to always be voracious casanovas, and masculine, or else a show/fandom/you is racist.

The hole in my foot would be wider than my twig ahh

But it's weird that I almost never see that. And that when I do, fandoms twist characters to fit those dynamics anyway. Especially knowing how butches, and trans masc or fem, sapphics are treated across the community.

That's all I mean. Patriarchy isn't cute because you slapped a cooler flag on it and called yourself a princess. It's still something we're supposed to be dismantling, and you apparently still have some shit you need to work through.

we cannot defeat freud by remixing his model of society, we have to make something better.

[winterf4iryy]

i’m gonna get on my soapbox and blabber because nobody in real life wants to hear me talk about this so its going on my silly little tumblr.

this whole push back on the new victorias secret is so jarring. the amount of people i’ve seen openly saying “it’s okay for things to be exclusive” and “not everything is meant to be inclusive” ……………….. this is fashion. this is lingerie. this is UNDERWEAR AND BRAS? what is “exclusive” about undergarments can someone please tell me. so many people with different body shapes wear this stuff everyday like oh my god it’s a basic necessity? are you stupid …. and the only excuse they come up with is the fact that they’re meant to be “angels” and “unreal and too beautiful for this world” as if plus size women cannot be / look angelic and otherworldly. to me there’s no way you can criticise victorias secrets use of plus sized models without being fatphobic and overall a fucking moron and annoying and mean. there is absolutely no reason why a lingerie brand should be exclusive and only show one type of body, skin colour, etc. literally no reason. every woman deserves to see themselves represented in the media, LET ALONE AN UNDERGARMENTS COMPANY!!!! i don’t know why some people are so obsessed and infatuated with the idea of going back to the “old” VS as if those women weren’t being starved and weren’t using drugs and constantly having to stick to unhealthy habits to maintain a certain figure. some of you (thin white women) genuinely can’t stand to see plus size women, woc, disabled women, etc, in your space. that’s all it boils down to. you have had that space in the media to yourself for decades and decades and you hate to see it being opened up for people who don’t look like you. and that’s embarrassing and vile. please go outside. and while you’re out there why don’t you look at the world around you and see how many different people there are!!! plus sized women have always existed, they exist now, and they’ll exist in the future and there’s no reason we should be excluding them from something like a fashion show because you don’t want it to be “ruined”. grow up!!!

[mangodestroyer]

Hence why I would say he's more of a teddy bear than a bear-bear. My idea of a bear would be... a little hairier? A little more casual wear? Probably tall rather than short? Someone who has a total dad body. Aziraphale is more of a plump, proper, and pampered British guy. In fact, you would never in a thousand years guess that he's strong enough to casually lift a boulder half his size like it's styrofoam.

I've personally always hated how conventional beauty even became a thing. Even with all these pushes to promote more unconventional forms of attractiveness, people still default to wanting super-model hot individuals. I say this as a person who has a more unconventional appearance, and who constantly shifts between feeling attractive in a very unique way, and feeling hideous because it just doesn't seem to be what people want. Growing up, it always felt like people wanted tall, thin, blonde haired and blue eyed individuals. Sharp, small noses, perfect proportions (which usually means very long legs for AFAB), certain jawlines, etc. It still feels this way tbh (I've never met a person with these qualities who struggled to get into a relationship). It kind of shocks me how many people get bent over not having the perfect partner (although said people who want perfection tend to be really toxic). I refuse to change myself just to be more appealing to the masses (in other words, ridding myself of my personality and rejecting my gender identity by caking myself in make-up). But it sucks knowing that being yourself and just being different means getting overlooked. I also came to realize, months after breaking up with my ex, that there were so many signs that they may have been lying about finding me attractive. Literally everyone who knew about this relationship even told me so. So I'm not only overlooked, I'm just a last resort option for those who don't want to be single.

But then I see people get into relationships with super attractive individuals with a lot going for them who... don't seem like they should be getting those individuals? Sometimes, it's an old man with a 20-year-old woman. Sometimes, it's someone who is both very unfortunate appearance wise and doesn't take care of their hygiene. Sometimes, it's a person who is seriously a dysfunctional wreck and should probably be getting help rather than dating someone. Sometimes, it's a person who refuses to work (despite not having a disability) and spends so much time playing video games. Often times, these people don't even have a good personality, or really anything going for them and can even sometimes be abusive in some way. They're the types of people who make chronically single people who want relationships say, "How am I still single?" Attraction is weird, mysterious thing.

And yeah, I agree. I think conventional beauty is boring. I think lots of people look just fine. Even people who might not be considered very attractive. I think there are also lots of people leading unconventional lifestyles and who have "weird" hobbies who also seem fine. TV shows where everyone is a hot af mf are so Goddamn boring. All the characters look and act the same. Hell, even if Crowley is generally agreed upon to be a sexy beast in the fandom, not everything about him is "perfect" or conventionally good looking. He has crooked teeth, for one. Some people hate crooked teeth. I personally think that adds to his cuteness. Perfect, straight, white teeth are overrated anyway. They look unnatural and creepy on most people imo. I'm sure Aziraphale would agree on that sentiment. He seems that type who would find Crowley's imperfect teeth endearing.

Well, I think it makes sense that a confused, amnesiac Gabriel would be drawn to Aziraphale. Azi kind of has that motherly nature about him. He looks like a very safe person to hang around. I would probably feel very comfortable in his presence too. I've even wondered for the longest time if that's something that drew Crowley to him. Why he approached him on the gate in the first place.

In my human AU, Gabriel is Aziraphale's cousin. They grew up spending a lot of time together. Gabriel acts a little bit like a mean brother to him at times. He also works in a higher ranking position than him at the same company, which probably isn't alright legally (idk all the laws on this) but I see it happen all the time irl. He totally got Aziraphale a job he wants, but is still an annoying jerk to him at times. He also acts like he owns the place and thinks everyone loves him.

I also headcanon Gabriel as being on the bisexual spectrum. I'm not really sure why. A lot of people would probably assume he's straight, but I just get a vibe from him. I feel like he would usually be more attracted to feminine and non-binary individuals. And I could just easily see him having a thing for Crowley. Basically seeing him/they/her as that weird, hot goth girl. I know he wouldn't like the fact that Crowley is put off by him, and makes that pretty obvious. Maybe he's even one of those weird men who feels like women who don't like them are a challenge to overcome. Those controlling types who love free-spirited individuals (which is what I seem to attract if I attract anyone at all). Which is... yuck! That's probably what Lucifer was to Crowley. Controlling.

Aziraphale knows how to treat the lovely Crowley. He's a gentleman. He respects his boundaries, forgives him for not being perfect, and appreciates so much about him. Crowley couldn't ask for better. Like I said, Aziraphale does have a lot going for him, on top of having a great personality and treating people right. Gabriel probably resents the fact that he's able to attract people like Crowley.

Aziraphale is so fuckin' beautiful wtf

[lapetitechatonne]

Can I have this dance?

i am so obsessed with this ship, so here’s some more content.

ao3 link here

Kate’s Masterlist here!

Dani would never admit it, but she enjoyed being able to dress up on occasion. No matter how much she denied it, her time with Vlad made her like the finer things in life. Now, don’t get her wrong, she didn’t crave it like he did, but she could appreciate it.

Still, it felt odd, looking at herself in the mirror.

Her velvet, emerald dress was a simple silhouette, just slightly hugging her curves and a long slit up the leg. Her favorite part was the straps, which less resembled straps and more resembled a diamond necklace. They were a simple chains with beautiful stones that sparkled when she moved.

She put on the thin necklace that matched the straps, as well as a pair of dangly earrings Pamela insisted on. Not that Dani minded, Pamela was a bit much but the woman liked Dani better than any of Sam’s other friends, so she wasn’t unbearable. That was why Dani was going to the gala in the first place, Sam demanded to bring a friend and Dani was the only one Pamela could stand.

Dani slipped on a pair of long pearl-colored gloves and gave herself another once over. Her dark hair was pinned up, curls perfectly falling to frame her face. She liked the contrast against the white of the gloves.

“Are you ready?” Sam asked, her own silky plum dress catching in the light.

“As I’ll ever be.”

---

Mar’i could think of ten thousand things she’d rather be doing than attending another stupid gala. It was so unfair that Mar’i was the only person in her family who knew how to act at them. Like, get it together people, it’s just embarrassing at this point.

Whatever, not that it would change anything. The press was enamored with her every move as not only the first baby to be born into the Wayne family in how long, but also because she was the daughter of a model. Anytime she didn’t show up there were articles about it. Which, rude, where were the articles about Damian and Tim not being there?

Sexist press, with their stupid double standards and their stupid obsession with her.

She hated it here. But at least she got to wear a pretty dress. She liked pretty dresses, even more so if they twirled nice.

“So, any lucky boy yet?” Gag her with a spoon. “You know, your dad used to be quite the heartbreaker in his day. I always thought he’d end up with that Barbra girl myself. Funny how things work out, isn’t it?”

Mar’i focused very hard on not breaking the glass in her hand. God, didn’t these old women have anything better to do than gossip about her love life?

“No, I’m focusing on my studies right now,” She flashed her charming Grayson smile and the old ladies huddled around her cooed about her being so focused.

Mar’i spotted her dad out of the corner of her eye and excused herself. He was retreating to the snack table—not without her damnit.

That was until she collided with another person and spilled her drink on them. Fuck, this was going in the paper, wasn’t it?

---

Dani had no idea this would be so goddamn boring. She was going to die of boredom, again.

Everyone here was old. And annoying. And Sam had been whisked away the moment they got here, so why was Dani even here.

Dani ate another very small snack that she didn’t even try to pronounce, and contemplated just, phasing through the walls. Would anyone see her? Probably not, and Sam was preoccupied so it would be forever until she noticed. But neither of them had their phones so she couldn’t let her know she left without actually talking to her. Damn.

A waiter with a tray of champagne passed her and Dani was tempted to grab one but decided she should probably just find Sam. Escape plan or not, Dani was tired of being alone with these stuffy losers.

Why did they all have to smell like that? It’s like she’s walking through the worst perfume store ever, honestly, you’d think being this rich they could afford something better—

“Shit—” Dani bumped into someone and their drink spilled on her arm, soaking her glove and almost knocking her over. Damn, they were strong.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Dani looked up and immediately felt her body freeze.

The girl’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern, her dark wavey hair half pulled up and half falling down her back. Her lilac tulle dress shimmered in the light—she looked like a fucking fairy.

The most beautiful fairy Dani had ever seen.

“Let me help you clean up, gosh I’m such a klutz.” The girl took Dani’s hand, and she could feel herself blushing.

Dani let the girl pull her through the crowd, careful to not trip on her own goddamn dress. The girl weaved through the crowd with practiced ease, her own t-length dress fluttering with each step. Was it weird that Dani liked the way she walked?—she’d have to ask someone later. Probably Tucker. He’d make fun of her the least.

The crowd started to thin, and suddenly they were in a hallway. They made a couple of turns that Dani didn’t retain at all—Pandora would be disappointed—before stopping at a bathroom.

The girl pulled out a washcloth—from where?—and ran it under the faucet. Dani took that as her queue to take her glove off.

“I really am sorry,” the girl pouted, and Dani could feel her heart beat a little faster.

“It’s okay,” Dani let out a strained laugh, “I was looking for a way out anyway. I’m not great in crowds of people.”

The girl looked up, her bright green eye almost seemed to glow while the glitter around her eyes shimmered in the bathroom lighting. Her smile was warm and welcoming, like she had all the love in the world to give.

“It can be a bit overwhelming, it’s it your first time?”

She put the washcloth down and picked up a hand towel, lightly drying Dani’s arm.

“Yeah, I’m here with a friend, well, really, she’s more my brother’s friend—but I um, I lost her. A while ago.”

She laughed, and Dani decided it was her favorite sound. God, she sounded like one of those bad romance books Jazz thought she hide well. She could practically hear Danny teasing her.

“I’m Mar’i, by the way. Hand me your glove?” Dani fumbled for a second before passing it over.

“I’m Danielle, or Dani—with an i—if you um, want.” Dani blushed, again, god what was wrong with her. Surly she was coming down with something because it was way too hot in here.

“My name’s spelled with an ‘i’ too, isn’t that funny?” Her heart skipped a beat. “Well, it shouldn’t stain,” Mar’i said as she ran the glove under steaming water, “but better to wash it out just in case. My dad’s lost quite a few shirts that way.”

“Well, um, thank you. For helping. Pamela would never forgive me if I ruined her gloves,” Dani laughed, and tried not to be as awkward as she felt, but it was hard with the way she could hear her own heartbeat. Usually, she couldn’t even tell if it was beating to begin with.

She was definitely coming down with something. A ghost sickness? Was the Gotham smog just finally getting to her?

“Well,” Mar’i turned off the water and rung out the glove, “that should do it, but you can’t very well put it back on.” She scrunched her nose and Dani had the sudden urge to reach out and soothe the line on her face. Because that wasn’t weird or anything. “I suppose we can hang it in the kitchen for now, we’ll just have to get it back to you before you leave.” Dani’s heart thumped at the idea of seeing Mar’i again. “Is that alright?”

Dani nodded and Mar’i beamed. Dani found herself grinning back.

“I’ll take you there, so you know the way in case you can’t find me later.”

“Lead the way.” Dani tried not to be too excited about going off with Mar’i. It was just because she was more interesting than anything else here. Yeah, that was it.

---

Mar’i walked out into the hallway and waited a moment for Dani to catch up. She adjusted the neckline of her emerald green, velvet dress, and Mar’i thanked the stars that she didn’t spill any on her dress.

It was a beautiful dress. The thin straps were made of gold chained jewels that matched the small pins that decorated her dark hair. Mar’i tried not to let her breath catch as Dani carefully removed her other glove and folded it up in her hand.

Dani joined her in the hallway, and Mar’i realized she was staring. She felt her cheeks heat up as they walked back the way they came.

“So,” Mar’i turned to see Dani looking around the hallway, “you know this place pretty well. Do you come to these things a lot?”

“I should, it’s my grandpa’s house,” Mar’i laughed. Dani blushed, and it made Mar’i want to tease the girl more. She looked cute like that.

“Oh, well, it’s a um, very nice house.”

Mar’i hummed. “It’s nice, but sometimes a bit too big to be comfortable. It helps that we have a big family, but still.” Huh, that wasn’t something she would usually say. God, she hoped Dani didn’t tell the press she said that, they’d label her an ungrateful snobbish socialite or something like that.

But, for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to be too worried. Something about Dani was just. . . it was different. There was something about the girl that Mar’i couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“Like, it almost feels wrong to take up space, like you don’t belong,” Dani’s voice was quiet and there was a far-off expression on her face that made Mar’i want to pull her close, until she was completely present with Mar’i.

“Yeah,” Mar’i sighed instead, “but Grandpop does his best. He’s good to us like that.”

The troubled expression on Dani’s face got darker, and this time Mar’i didn’t resist the urge to reach out and hold the girl’s hand.

Her hand was cold, but not unpleasant. Like dipping your hand in a cool river, soft and engulfing. It was nice against her naturally warm skin. She took a moment to admire how their hands weaved together. Dani’s was a soft, cool white compared to her own warm brown skin. It was almost poetic, like those poems about the sun and the moon.

Dani’s eyes snapped to her hand, her focus shifted out of whatever made her look so sad. Mar’i was quite please by that, and even more so when Dani began to blush but didn’t move her hand away. Mar’i felt her inner flame flicker, warmth filling her chest.

They finished their walk to the kitchen in silence, luckily it seem all the staff was out serving leaving them alone.

“We can set them over here,” Mar’i laid the damp glove over the back of a dining chair, breaking her hold on Dani’s hand. The rush of heat back to the palm of her hand was uncomfortable, and perhaps a bit sad. Mar’i didn’t want their time together to end.

“Thank you,” Dani’s blue eyes looked up at Mar’i through dark eyelashes—and oh god, Mar’i was a goner. Yep. She had a big ass gay crush on this girl. “You really didn’t have to go through all the trouble of helping me.”

“Sure I did, I’m the one that spilled my champagne on you to begin with,” Mar’i giggled, “just don’t tell my dad. He doesn’t like it when I have a glass, but it’s hard to get through these things without one.”

“Right?” Dani sighed in relief and finally relaxed. Mar’i hadn’t even been aware of the underlying tension in the girl’s body until it was gone. “It’s so boring. You’d think a bunch of rich people could afford something more entertaining.” They both laughed, and Mar’i felt light in a way she usually didn’t at these events.

“It’s always so stuffy, it’s honestly nerve-wracking. I actually can’t remember the last time I had a real conversation at one of these things.”

The blush was back on Dani’s face, and Mar’i just wanted to kiss her little button nose. God, she was such a lesbian.

“Talking to you,” Dani shifted her weight and rubbed the back of her neck, “has been the most fun I’ve had all night.”

Their eyes met and Mar’i grinned.

“If you want,” Mar’i spoke before her rational thinking could stop her, “I can show you around a little bit. I’m sure no one’s missing us, and the gardens are really pretty this time of year.”

Dani looked at her, her crystal blue eyes wide and cherry lips slightly parted. Mar’i could feel her inner flame flare and she had to consciously think about keeping the flames out of her hair. Dani smiled, and Mar’i almost lost her control.

“I’d love to.”

Mar’i smiled so wide it hurt. She took her hand again and pulled her out the back kitchen door. They walked down the path past the greenhouse to the garden below the ballroom balcony. Alfred always made it look extra special for galas.

The spring breeze was cold, but not unpleasant. Small ground lights lined the cobblestone path and illuminated the rose bushed that had just bloomed. They were a mix of reds and pinks, the scent swirled in the air around them.

“Wow,” Dani said looking around in awe, “this is like something out of a picture book.”

“You haven’t even seen the best part yet,” Mar’i laughed. Dani looked at her with wide eyes, and Mar’i wondered if there was any merit to love-at-first-sight. Or if she was just a hopeless lesbian. Probably both.

They continued down the path until they finally came to the center of the garden. The beautiful stone fountain with a small cupid statue on top rained down water that sparkled in the low light. There were flowerbeds lining the rose bushes, yellows and purples contrasting the pinks of the roses.

Mar’i smiled as Dani giggled and pulled them both to the fountain. They could just hear the music drifting out of the ballroom over the rush of water, and Mar’i thought it sounded prettier like this.

Dani reached out and let the water run over her fingers. The look of wonder on her face was worth any backlash of disappearing halfway through the gala. Besides, it’s not as if it was the first time—and probably wouldn’t be the last.

“You can see the stars much better out here,” Dani’s eyes drifted to the sky, “but still not better than at home. Only a few constellations.”

Mar’i looked up at the sky, and despite being familiar with the stars, she couldn’t say she knew many earth constellations. After all, Tameranian space travel was far more advanced and useful.

“You know the constellations?” Dani’s face lit up.

“I love the constellations. I think there’s something wonderful about the idea of stories written in the stars. Like this cluster over here,” Dani pointed and Mar’i moved closer to see where she was pointing at. Dani smelled like lavender and rain, “that’s the Pleiades. The myth is that they were the seven daughters of Atlas, and Orion ruthlessly chased them. They prayed to be free of him, and so Zeus turned them into doves, and then into stars to keep their father company while he held up the heavens. It’s said that the Orion is still chasing after them in the stars.”

Dani’s eyes lit up when she spoke, her free hand waving in the air to emphasis to her words. The carefree smile on her face made Mar’i want to melt.

“How tragic.”

“That’s not even the worst one,” Dani moved, pulling Mar’i along by their joint hands to point at another constellation, “That’s Cassiopeia, and this one,” She moved then again, but this time she let go of Mar’i’s hand and moved behind her, pointing at some stars over her shoulder, “is Andromeda. They’re mother and daughter actually.” Mar’i found it hard to focus on Dani’s words when one of her hands rested on her waist and minty breath tickled her ear. “You see, Cassiopeia was a queen and she claimed she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs, and the nymphs got so mad that they asked Poseidon to punish her. He sent a sea monster to her kingdom, and the only way to stop it was to chain her daughter Andromeda to a cliff and sacrifice her.”

“That seems a bit dramatic.”

“It’s okay,” Dani laughed, “Perseus saved her. He was walk by after killing Medusa and used Medusa’s head to turn the sea monster into stone. Wild shit.”

Mar’i turned to look at Dani, who was still looking up at the stars.

“You really know a lot about them.” Dani blushed and looked at Mar’i, then looked away.

“I like stories,” she said quietly, “I think because there’s so much to learn from them.”

“I think that’s beautiful,” Mar’i said softly. Mar’i turned around fully, offering a hand to Dani. “Would you like to dance?”

Dani nodded placing her hand in Mar’i’s. Mar’i placed a hand on Dani’s waist, Dani’s other hand on Mar’i’s bicep. Dani’s cool touch was relief from the burning fire in her chest threatening to take her over. As they swayed to the music playing distantly in the background Mar’i had to focus on keeping her feet on the ground.

Dani was looking at their feet, even though they moved perfectly in sync. Mar’i felt time stop as a violin solo played in the background and Dani lifted her eyes to meet Mar’i’s. It was like looking into a swirling galaxy and seeing endless opportunities in front of you. Her eyes, they just held so much hope. More than Mar’i ever thought possible.

It made Mar’i’s heart sing and the solar warmth heat her skin. It made her want to fly above the clouds and just laugh with joy. Looking into Dani’s eyes, Mar’i had never felt so free.

---

Dani had never thought herself the romantic type. Sure, she read all the romance books Jazz kept under her bed, and maybe she liked a good romantic comedy—she was a clone not a heathen—but she never saw herself feeling fluttery because a pretty girl asked her to dance in a garden.

She also never imagined that a pretty girl would want to dance with her in a garden. Vlad made it pretty clear that she was unperfect, unlovable. Jazz and Danny and everyone always told her differently, but sometimes she couldn’t shake that tiny voice in the back of her head telling her she was nothing—that she would never be anything.

But here she was—slow dancing in the most beautiful garden she’d ever seen, with a girl that was way out of her league smiling at her like she was something.

The warmth of Mar’i’s hands took the permanent chill out of her skin, like she was a cat laying in the afternoon sun. It made something in her core purr, it wanted closer, closer, to the source. She wondered how it would feel to curl up in Mar’i’s arms and just be.

Dani looked down at their feet as they moved, too afraid that if she looked up, she wouldn’t be able to stop green from flooding her eyes.

The moment she did, it was like the world stopped spinning.

Looking at Mar’i was like looking at the sun, so bright and beautiful that it hurt. Her green eyes were so bright—too bright to be human almost, but Dani didn’t really mind. Because in this moment, Mar’i eyes refracted like emeralds and her lips shined like strawberries, and the only thing Dani could think about was if they would taste like strawberries.

Dani couldn’t be sure who started to lean in first, or when their lips finally meet, but the moment they did Dani’s heart pulse with her core, a rush of blood and ectoplasm flooding through her. The lips on hers were even warmer than she imagined, and she did taste like strawberries and something sugary. Through the dizziness and captivation, Dani pulled Mar’i closer, a hand on the back of the other girl’s neck, a hand resting on her shoulder.

Mar’i’s hand on her waist pulled her in, her other hand came to rest on Dani’s check, and she thought it might have been the gentlest anyone had ever touched her. Not like she was made of glass, but like you would touch a rose petal, searching and delicate and all at once. Dani decided it was her favorite kind of touch.

She leaned into Mar’i’s hand, pulling her even closer until Dani couldn’t tell where she stopped and the other girl began. The smell of roses and lilacs settled in the air between them, anytime Dani took a labored breath she thought it was magical and hoped it lingered.

When they finally broke apart, Dani could barely breathe. The air felt thinner and her world was disoriented, but Mar’i pressed her forehead to Dani’s and every worry washed away. Mar’i nudged Dani’s lips back to hers with a small movement, and this kiss, it was different.

There was still gentleness, but their grasps were tighter and hearts were beating faster. Mar’i bit Dani’s lip and the sound she let out probably wasn’t human, but Mar’i slipped her tongue inside her mouth anyways. She tasted sweeter like this.

“What the fuck—”

Dani’s eyes snapped open, she pulled back from Mar’i, only noticing a moment too late that they’d been hovering at least three feet in the air. Dani fell to the ground, losing her footing in her heels and falling towards the fountain. Mar’i grabbed her arm, but it wasn’t enough to stop the momentum.

They feel into the fountain, Mar’i’s warm body over hers. Damn—she definitely had water in her ears.

“Jesus, Mary, and fucking Joseph, what the fuck?” Dani peaked out from behind the curtain of Mar’i’s hair—so that’s where the lilac smell was going from, focus damnit—to see a slightly disheveled man running up to them. His tie was crooked and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days—maybe Dani could convince him he had a hallucination.

“Uncle Timmy!” Mar’i’s voice shot up a few octaves and Dani could feel her skin getting hotter. “We were just—i mean, it’s not what it looks like.”

Mar’i fumbled over her, and Dani admitted she was slightly enjoying it, before pulling herself over the edge of the fountain. She reached back in and heaved Dani to her feet, almost causing them to tumble back down. God, she was a mess. And now she smelled like—she didn’t know, stale water and leaves? Whatever it was she didn’t appreciate it.

“I can’t believe—do you know how many reporters are here! You could have outed yourself!” Tim—she thought she remembered Pamela talking about a Tim Wayne—whisper shouted at them. He was turning a concerning shade of red.

“It was just a little kiss—” Dani was going to try the ‘you-hallucinated-the-flying’ route.

“A kiss?! Most people don’t kiss three feet in the fucking air,” he threw his hands up before taking a deep breath. “This is fine. Everything is fine. God, Dick’s going to kill you, and then me.”

But why would ‘Dick’ do that when Mar’i wasn’t the one flying? Wait, could she fly?!

“Please don’t tell dad.” Mar’i walked up to him and gave him the cutest puppy dog face Dani had ever seen. If that girl looked at Dani like that? She’d gladly do anything. “It was just a little mistake, please Uncle Timmy?”

Dani could pinpoint the exact moment he caved in his expression.

“Okay, okay, fine. But you two need to go change, before anyone with a camera sees you. Otherwise, we’re all fucked.”

He ushered them back up the manor like he was expecting a reporter to pop out of the bushes at any time. Soon they were back in the kitchen and being pushed down a hallway that Dani hadn’t even noticed. It was a secluded hallway without much décor, obviously made for quicker and more discreet trips around the manor.

Dani could feel herself growing more anxious with every step. She didn’t know how she was going to explain this, and she couldn’t even think about Sam right now. She was so dead. Again.

Tim pushed them into a room—god, he had more nervous energy than one of those tinfoil hat people, he should really see someone about that.

“Okay, both of you stay here, dry off or whatever. I’ll tell them that you weren’t feeling well or something. Yeah. Something.” He was gone as quickly as he came with a slam of the door.

They both stood there, staring at the closed door for a moment. God, what even was her life? This was ridiculous.

“Um, there’s a bathroom through here,” Mar’i gestured to a different door. “I can grab you some clothes?”

“Yeah, that sounds, uh, good?” Dani said, shifting her weight back and forth.

Mar’i nodded and moved to pull some clothes out of a ridiculously big closet. Dani glanced around, noticing the circus posters and star maps she’d never seen on the walls. There were also pictures hung up on a cork board above a desk, lots of Mar’i with various different people. She noted that Tim showed up in a few.

Mar’i riffed around, throwing a piece of clothes on the lavender bedspread, and Dani realized that they were in her room.

Oh.

She was in Mar’i’s room. A pretty girl. That she’d kissed.

When Mar’i turned around holding out a small pile of clothes Dani was certain she looked like a tomato.

“Let me grab a towel before you get in there, feel free to use anything you need,” Mar’i disappeared and reappeared with two fluffy white towels in her hand. “Here, oh um, I’ll knock when I’m done changing.”

“Thanks,” Dani took the towel and walked into the whitest bathroom she’d ever seen. She closed the door and leaned against it, a little afraid to touch anything because of the sparkly pristineness. That was except for the vanity area around the sink that had a bunch of makeup products sprawled out over the surface.

Still, her dress was starting to itch.

Dani huffed, throwing the stuff Mar’i gave her on the closed toilet seat and began peeling off her wet dress. The body-shaping undergarments underneath were even harder to get off than they were to get on—she was never letting Pamela bully her into this shit again—but soon enough she was standing in the strange bathroom naked.

Somehow this wasn’t how she saw her night going.

Dani toweled down, enjoying the soft fluffy fabric against her skin. Normally she would just phase the water off her, but she already had enough she couldn’t explain. That was just asking for trouble.

After she was dry, she put the towel aside and pulled on the clothes Mar’i gave her. The top was a simple black tank top that fit well enough, but she was swimming in the sweatpants. Dani pulled the strings tight and rolled up the cuffs—three fucking times, god she hated being tiny—but she still looked ridiculous.

Well, at least she looked less like a sad wet kitten now.

Dani felt cool water trickle down her neck and realized she hadn’t dried her hair. She started by taking out the pins holding her curls up, which honestly didn’t look too bad. Whatever these Gothamites put in their hairspray really did the trick. She distantly wondered if it would hold up to ectoplasm too because Jazz would kill for some of that.

After getting the pins out Dani shook her head, shaking the curls from their spot glued to her head. She scrunched them with her towel, trying to preserve them at least a little bit.

Mar’i knocked on the door causing Dani to jump a bit. She was tenser than she thought.

“I’m decent if you want to come out. If you’re ready, that is, no pressure.” It sounded like she wasn’t the only nervous one.

Dani took a deep breath and stepped out. Mar’i was standing in front of a mirror towel drying her hair, only in a sweatshirt and shorts. From this view, Dani could appreciate Mar’i’s long brown legs and solid thighs. They looked like they could crush a watermelon—and that certainly did not have Dani drooling a little, thank you very much.

Mar’i turned around, a frown forming on her face, “If those are too big I can try to find something else, I’m sorry, I didn’t even think—”

“Don’t worry,” Dani found herself grinning at Mar’i’s concern, “they’re nice and comfy.”

Mar’i smiled at her, and Dani felt her heart melt a little.

“I’m glad, I still can’t believe that—well, ya know.” Mar’i slouched, her eyes focused on her feet and it didn’t suit the girl at all. Dani decided that Mar’i should never be unhappy or worried, at least not as long as she could help it. Not when her smile was pure sunlight.

“I’m so sorry about that—” Dani began, only to be cut off by Mar’i’s frantic voice.

“You’re sorry, I’m sorry. You never would have lost balance if I hadn’t. . .” Mar’i gestured to the air with her hands, looking genuinely distraught—which only confused Dani.

“That wasn’t your fault, I’m not very good at. . .” Dani gestured to the ground and hoped she conveyed something meaningful.

“Still, I should have been more careful.” If Dani was confused before, she was lost now. Did Mar’i think she was the one that made them float? It wasn’t like kissing Dani would unlock hidden powers—

Oh.

“Can you—ya know?” Dani gestured to the air again. Mar’i tiled her head, her sad expression replaced with confusion.

“Can you?” Mar’i squinted her eyes at Dani.

They stared at each other, the height difference between them becoming very apparent. It hadn’t been bad when she was in her heels, but Dani will be the first to admit that she got the short gene and Mar’i had very nice, very long legs. The other girl stood almost a whole head taller than Dani.

It was kind of hot. Damnit—dumb gay brain, focus. Flying. Right the flying.

“I mean,” Dani had no idea where she was going with this sentence, “I thought that I did the thing, but if you thought that you did the thing, then we both. . .” Nowhere good that’s where. “Ya know. So that means. . .” Dani trailed off.

She had no idea what she was saying. Why did she start talking again?

“I think I get it,” Mar’i said—which, that made one of them—and moved closer so Dani had to look up at her, “so that means we’re. . . I mean we’re the same, I guess?”

Dani frown her eyebrows and tilted her head. “So you’re a—”

“Alien.”

“—ghost?”

Oh, they fucked up. Dani could tell Mar’i was thinking the same thing by the look on her face. It took seconds for it to morph into a concerned frown.

“Wait,” Mar’i reached out slowly giving Dani more than enough time to pull away and grabbed her hand. She gently turned it over, palm up, like she was examining it. When she looked back up Dani thought her eyes looked mistier than before. “You’re—you’re dead?”

She said it like Dani told her she forgot her inhaler, concerned but not overly worried. It made Dani giggle a bit.

“Half. Half-dead. A halfa.” Dani could see the wheels turning in Mar’i’s head. She reached out and took Mar’i’s other hand. “Don’t think about it too hard, it’ll hurt your head,” She placed Mar’i’s warm hand over her heart, and she couldn’t tell if the warmth was from her blush or Mar’i’s skin, “all that matters is that my heart beats. A little slowly, but it’s still there.”

Mar’i’s face softened at the edges, she released Dani’s hand and brought hers up to the back of Dani’s neck. It felt nice there, warmth spreading through her tease shoulder muscles.

“I’m half alien. Tameranian.” Mar’i’s words brushed over Dani’s cheeks and the taller girl leaned down.

“Guess we’re both halfas, huh,” Dani giggled, and this close she could feel the laughter in Mar’i’s chest.

Dani looked up, and once again saw a soft green glow from Mar’i’s eyes.

“You’re eyes. . .” She trailed off, unsure if she was imagining the glow.

“They glow,” Mar’i laughed again, “we hide them with a holo-projector, secret identities, and all that.”

Dani reached up a hand to cup Mar’i’s cheek, “Mine glow too.”

Mar’i smiled and lifted her hand from the back of Dani’s neck to her ear. She pressed her forefinger against her earing, and Dani heard a soft beep before watching the holograph around Mar’i’s eyes fizzle out.

They were so green. Her eye whites were actually a soft green, her iris was a richer green, and Dani found them endlessly fascinating. They weren’t ectoplasm green, despite their persistent glow, instead, they reminded Dani of fresh grass or pine trees.

Dani blinked, finally letting go of the tight control she had over her eyes. Her eyes lit up and Mar’i gasped, eyes fluttering between both of Dani’s like she was trying to take in every detail she could.

Mar’i moved her to Dani’s waist and lighting pulled her in for another kiss. This one was softer, sweeter, than the others, and much shorter. They broke apart, the green glow of their eyes lighting the space between them.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Dani said, still a bit out of breath. She wanted this to stay between them. Their own little secret.

“Pinky promise,” Mar’i giggled, lifting her hand from Dani's chest and holding out her pinky finger.

Dani laughed breathlessly, raising her pinky to clasp Mar’i’s. With their clasped pinkies between them, they leaned in for another kiss.

[leggerefiore]

▲Demon Subway Bosses▽

+ ⚡️A Witchy Friend🌟

cw: demons!, maybe a little dark so be careful

for a lovely friend of mine...

● You had just moved to Nimbasa and found yourself exploring around the area when you spotted her. A beautiful woman sitting alone at a café, her finger tracing over the side of white porcelain. She felt familiar, but you had no idea where you could have seen her. You sat down near her and ordered a rosemary tea. Her eyebrow cocked up at your order. “My friend used to drink it a lot… It has a nice aroma, too,” you offered. She nodded. “Are you looking to be more beautiful or find your true love?” Her blue eyes gazed at you, head resting in her hand. “Mmm… Nah, just looking for some friends in a new place.”

○ Elesa, as you learnt, was easy to get along with. Her personality could vary from a light bubbliness to a strong fierceness in an instant. Her dedication to modelling was something else, too. It almost seemed inhuman. She was excited to show you everywhere in the city. Elesa was your guide and friend. Your time with her was always fun and exciting. You also felt safe with her, too.

⭐️ A time during an outing with her, someone tried to grab at you after you rejected their flirting attempts, but you watched as she stood up tall and gave a piercing glare to the man. He quite literally became paralysed, and she dragged you away from him. After you had got a far enough distance apart, she pulled you into a tight hug and apologised that you had to go through that. You hugged her back and thanked her for helping you. She blushed at that while blinking a few times.

● You find yourself going to more private outings with her. What previously would have been clubs and trips to the amusement park turn into higher end restaurants and intimate walks through the routes outside of Nimbasa. On these walks, you notice how she stops and examines the herbs and flowers on the trails closely. You recalled how she knew some of the symbolism with rosemary during your first interaction, and wonder if she has an interest in herbalism. It wouldn't be strange for a model.

○ Another thing you notice is a strange necklace she always wears, even during shoots. The chain is a blend of gold and silver, and two black and white gems rest on a holder. You asked her about it, but she just said it was a gift from a benefactor she had been close to. It's often you catch her fidgeting with it when she's nervous or upset. You feel like it holds some deeper meaning.

⭐️ You're caught off guard when she takes you out to Castelia Park. It's strangely abandoned, only small pokemon play about in the slightly overgrown grass. The sun hangs brightly above you both as she leads you to a bench. It's quiet for a moment before her hand gently grabs yours. Her eyes close before Elesa turns her full attention to you. “I like you,” your name follows as a beautiful siren's call. You grow flushed at her suddenness, but tell her you feel the same. She leans into your side, a warmth coming over you.

● You're confused why your first official date is to the Battle Subway, but allow it. You challenge the Multi Battle Line together and fight your way through it. At the end lie the relatively famous Subway Boss. Something felt odd, however. The air became thin and frigid, while time seemed to slow. You felt afraid, grasping onto Elesa for support. She held you, but the feeling got worse as those twins stepped toward you.

○ “Your first love… How cute, Elesa!” The one in white chirped, a gloved hand reaching out for you. His eyes which previous seemed a bright silver now appeared a bright alabaster with slit pupils in the middle. You buried your face into her side, trying to hide. His hand combs through your hair while he coos. The other stands stiffly beside his counterpart. “Elesa… Thank you,” his voice sounded like it was in your head, you hated it.

⭐️ “I did a prophecy on your soulmate,” her tone held a chipper tone, but there was an obvious disappointment underneath it, “It was a bit surprising to see my romantic interest, but, well…” Lightly, the inhuman creature that was posing as a human tugged you away from Elesa and into his frigid embrace. His eyes were hypnotising. Pressing you into his shoulder, he hummed, and it relaxed your body. You wanted to be terrified, but a sense of synthesised ease overcame you.

● “Bringing our mate to us was such a great service,” the one in black speaks once more, “Truly, it makes us in debt to you.” He moves to press a gentle hand onto your back. Elesa stands and watches, a silent envy burying itself into her core. A worm to rot the apple. You were the price of her contract to the demon twins before her. “After we bond with them,” the one holding you offers, “We'll let you help them adjust.” She smiles, seeing a look in his eyes that she understand perfectly.

⭐️ Your “bonding” happens in the privacy of their flat, Elesa monitoring nearby to make sure they don't do anything truly damaging to you. Your consciousness fades from the sheer pain of it. Everything burns, but it's so, so cold. You grasp them in an attempt to feel something, but they seem to be in no better shape than you are. It becomes too much.

● You wake up and notice you're lying on something soft. Elesa's arms tighten around you while a pressure is around your waist. One of the demons buries his face into your back. The door opens of the bedroom you are in. Ingo, you recall his name, enters. “Ah, you're awake. How do you feel? Elesa used a healing spell apparently, but we also tried some of our powers…” his voice feels like it's everywhere. You try to hide into Elesa, she's a human like you. Ingo sighs, “Adjustment, she said. You aren't used to how we talk or act. I'm sorry everything is so strange.” He sits on the edge of the bed. You shiver as the other wakes up and pulls you toward him. “We're patient, my dear.”

⭐️ Elesa explains everything to you while both of the demon twins press themselves into your side, refusing to let you go. Demons have soulmates, and these soulmates are so rare and precious that they must immediately bond with them in order to assure their safety and lifespan. Emmet nods at her words before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I know it's strange, but I promise you they won't do anything without your permission. Your comfort means the most to them.” Ingo takes your hand and kisses it softly. You suppose there could be worse situations.

● Slowly, you settle into your life with three strange lovers. Elesa was a witch of sorts, but preferred to focus on her modelling career. Ingo and Emmet were higher ranking demons who lived here only to find their mate. Of course, you didn't really want to go to their dimension, so they stayed in yours. There were a few times they had to leave on business and refused to leave you behind, so you negotiated Elesa into also joining you. Neither of you liked it there, but at least having another person of human perspective was nice. A twin was always at your side. It was much too dangerous to leave their human mate and contractee alone. Both you and the model felt sick when you finally returned to the human world.

○ Overall, you settled into a strangely enjoyable life with them. The twins were strangely possessive when it came to others, but openly sharing you amongst themselves. Elesa didn't mind so much and kept you involved in the human world. Of course, everything got older as many, many years went by, and you never aged. Elesa stayed the same, too. The twins gifting her something for her kindness and friendship. Other demons gossiped about your weird relationship set-up, but it was something you all were content with.

[bluegarners]

“I have your loved one” with Dick and Jason?

heyyy, it's finally here haha! i'm slowly getting to each request lol

here it is on ao3

I Have Your Loved One

It’s Thursday.

Time: 23:47, or 11:47 p.m.

Bludhaven has hit a rough patch in its weather, a vicious storm battering against thin windows and overflowing gutters and drains. It’s one of those storms that brings in the water but no lightning, dark clouds blanketing the entire sky, remorseless and relentless in its pursuit of smothering any light from escaping. The clouds don’t muffle anything though, perhaps amplifying instead the downpour that floods through Bludhaven’s streets and alleyways. Its citizens like to think this is a New Jersey hurricane, freshly mutated and traveled from the east coast into their humble, mildew covered city.

Dick likes the rain. Likes the way it pounds against his apartment, screaming to be let in but just barely warded off by seven inches of concrete and steel. The blinds are closed against the windows, and he has towels pushed up against the sills just in case the sealing lets up. Even if they were open, Dick is sure all he would see is another wall of gray and black, dozens of delicate raindrops splattered against his windows.

Because of the storm currently wreaking havoc in his city, Dick has elected to stay indoors for the time being. Eventually, the rain will let up, its pattern being close to about 05:00, and then he’ll suit up and do a quick patrol before work. For now, he’s content with sitting on his couch and listening to the water smack against the old building and run rivers down the sides. He’d like to sleep through it, a free white noise service at the ready, but his mind simply refuses to allow him to rest just yet. In a few hours, he’s sure he’ll come to hate himself for not taking NyQuil or some other drug to help him fall asleep, but for now… Well, it’s nice. The rain is nice. It’s also very loud.

He misses the first call.

His phone is face down on the kitchen table, about eight feet away from where he lays on the couch, mindlessly staring up at the ceiling. It vibrates, buzzing for thirty seconds, before falling silent.

He misses the second call too.

Thunder rumbles through the black sky, its force shaking the windows and only encouraging the downpour. His phone buzzes again during it, quieting after another thirty seconds.

Dick hears the third call. Hears the tail-end of the buzzing, getting up from his position on the couch and padding over to pick up his phone only to miss the last few seconds. He unlocks his phone, checking the number, and feels something cold settle into his gut when he sees no caller ID. It’s the same person though, all three times, but no voicemail.

He’s about to call the number back, just in case it’s someone he knows and they’re ringing from a payphone or something else, when the no caller ID flashes across his screen for the fourth time.

Dick answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Is this Richard Grayson?”

“Yes, that’s me. Who is this?”

The voice is feminine, a slight, western accent, longer o’s and a faint drawl. Somewhere from Arizona most likely. Lower register too. Older woman, mid-to-late fifties. Smoker.

“That’s good. I was starting to think I had the wrong number, Richard.”

“Yeah, sorry, I just didn’t have my phone on me. You didn’t say earlier, but who is this?”

“That doesn’t matter too much right now. What does matter, though, is this.”

She pauses. There’s shuffling he can hear on the other side. A faint, second voice in the background. No, three voices. At least two others in the room with the woman. He can hear the sounds of an air condition unit rattling.

“I think you might’ve cut off there. What were—”

“I have your loved one, Richard.”

Lightning cracks through Bludhaven.

His stomach falls onto the floor, pooling around his ankles. The storm outside grinds to a halt, the quiet louder than any thunder it’s ever managed to produce, and there’s a high pitched ringing reverberating inside his skull. Dick thinks he might be sick.

“What?” he chokes, the air in the room suffocating and weighing down his lungs. “What did you say?”

“I have your loved one,” the woman repeats, calm and slow. “Your brother, actually. Then again, he tells me you aren’t related by name nor blood, so we’ll settle for a loved one.”

“What do you want?” Dick demands, already scrambling to get to his computer, find where they’ve taken Jason. Find his brother.

“He did say you weren’t one for small talk,” the woman carries on, unhurried and unconcerned. “Your brother isn’t either, hardly said a word all this time.”

“Can I speak to him?”

There’s a small huff on the other end of the call, exhalation and a sigh leaving the woman’s mouth. A cigarette. She’s smoking during this conversation, blowing the smoke into the receiver.

“I don’t know,” she finally answers. There. Dick has his general location. Still in Gotham. He needs the tracker to be more precise though. It’s taking time though. Too much. “Your brother here was pretty convinced you wouldn’t answer after his daddy didn’t pick up. Cried pretty hard about it too.”

“What are you talking about?” Dick grounds out, fearing his phone will crack with how tightly he’s gripping it.

“Well, you weren’t our first choice to call, Richard. I’m sure you understand.”

Dick says nothing, focused on the computer screen in front of him. He should contact Barbara. This would be faster with her. Faster to find Jason.

“We called about seven times,” the woman continues, blowing another puff of smoke out into the phone. “Isn’t that right, boy? We called and called and called. His daddy didn’t pick up once, went straight to voicemail each time. A shame, really.”

There’s a sniffle on the other side of the call and Dick’s heart seizes when he realizes it’s probably Jason.

Batman was currently off-world, all communication with him being strictly between Justice League lines. Bruce Wayne was somewhere in the Bahamas, partying with Italian models and Spanish actresses.

Of course he wouldn’t pick up.

“Can I please talk to him?” Dick asks for the second time, fisting a hand into the couch cushions. “Please, I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

More smoke. “I’ll ask him.”

There’s a muffled thud, the phone most likely having been put down, and quiet voices filter through the line. He can’t hear much of what they’re saying, short bursts of comprehensible syllables before fading back to unintelligible noises. His computer dings with a response from Barbara. She’s going to use one of the J.L satellites to better pin-point Jason’s location. She’s also in communication with the police, reporting a child-abduction.

Keep them talking, she writes. Everything is going to be okay, Dick.

It feels like his heart is beating in his throat and his tongue has swollen to the size of a bowling ball. The storm outside is unrelenting. Lightning hasn’t struck again.

There’s more movement on the other side, clattering and scattered noises. The phone’s been picked up.

“Alright,” the woman says, raspy and uncaring. “The boy says he wants to talk to you, Richard.”

Dick holds his breath, waiting. There’s more noises, a transfer he thinks, and another sniffle interrupts it.

“Hello?” a shaky voice asks into the receiver. Dick feels like crying.

“Jason,” he breathes. “We’re going to get you out of there, alright? You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry,” his brother rattles, a sob latching onto the end. “I’m so sorry, Dick. I-I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” Dick shushes, feeling himself get choked up at the fear in the younger boy’s voice. “I know you didn’t, bud. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“No, not really. I didn’t think you were gonna pick up,” he admits, voice cracking. “B-Bruce didn’t. He didn’t answer, Dick, and I-I thought you weren’t gonna either. I-I thought—”

“I’ll always answer, Jason, I promise. I’m coming for you, okay? I’m going to come get you and we’ll both go home together. Does that sound good, Jay? You’re going to be fine.”

“Okay,” the thirteen year old relents. “You promise though, right? You’re not gonna leave me here?”

“No, Jay, of course not. I’m not going to leave you there, I’m coming to get you. Right now. I promise, okay? Jason, I would never abandon you. You’re my kid-brother and I love you. I’m not going to-”

“As touching as this is,” the woman interrupts, “I think that’s enough.”

“Put Jason back on the phone,” Dick snarls. “I swear, if you lay a hand on him, if you even touch him, I will end you.”

“Sure, honey,” the woman drawls, puffing into the receiver. “Here’s what’s going to happen, so I want you to listen to me.”

His computer dings. It’s Barbara. She’s got the location. It’s close. Not even twenty minutes away. Border between Bludhaven and Gotham. Motel next to the gas station connecting the freeways. Room 13.

He’s out the door and revving up his motorcycle before the woman has even taken a second drag from her cigarette. The rain is beating against him, gloomy street lights flickering through the shrouded dark of the storm. Thank god for Bludhaven sewers, only slightly better than Gotham’s. The water level is only a few millimetres high.

“Now, I don’t want to keep this kid anymore than you want him to stay here with me,” the woman drones. The streets are empty. Dick blows through every red light he comes across. The tires are new, the grip is fine. “So, I think we can make this simple.”

“What do you want?” Dick growls, transferring the call into his helmet. He prays she can’t hear the rain battering against it. “Just tell me what you want already and I’ll give it to you.”

“Don’t rush me,” the woman snaps, and it is then that Dick realizes that this is all probably by chance. This isn’t some criminal mastermind who plotted to find and kidnap the son of a billionaire. This isn’t a case of a rogue villain piecing together vague details and figuring out Batman and company’s identities. It’s simply someone desperate. Someone who saw the opening and took it. The poor planning is evident, practically spelled out in bold print that these people have no real idea what they’re doing.

“Sorry,” Dick bites out, veering through a short-cut that says, in neon orange, Danger. Construction Zone. “Please continue.”

The woman on the line is vindictive though, choosing to remain quiet as the sound of a lighter clicking open tinnies through the call. She takes her time lighting a new cigarette, taking a long, slow drag and holding it in for a few seconds. Dick jerks his bike to the right, narrowly avoiding a large pothole. A passing car blares its horn at him. Finally, the woman exhales. He can hear Jason cough in the background.

“What I want,” she starts, a new color of intrigue hitting the back of her throat. He’s barely ten minutes away now. Could probably half it if he took more backstreets and increased his speed. “Is for my son to be released from prison.”

“Who is your son?” Dick asks, cursing silently as his back tire skids, hydro-planing for a moment. Thunder crashes above him and the rain continues to pelt at his body. It feels like getting hit with a paint-ball gun.

“Landon Jennings. I want you to get him released. I know you have the access to lawyers, probably have debts owed to you from people in high places. I want him released tonight.”

Time: 00:14.

01:14 a.m standard time.

“I can do that,” Dick says, heart beating faster as he sees the sign for the motel, dim in the gray, “but I’ll need a few hours. I need to contact my lawyers. Where is your son stationed?”

An icon appears in the front of his digitized visor. It’s Barbara. She sees him closing in. Police are on route. Seven minutes out. He has the option to wait on them and keep the kidnappers on the line.

“Same place they all go,” the woman barks. “Use that head of yours and figure it out. I want my son out by tonight, or you’re not going to see your brother again. And,” she rushes, “I don’t want the police involved. If you call them, I’ll know, you understand? I don’t want to hurt the kid, but I’m not scared to. My husband is here with me too, so if you try and—”

Okay, so waiting isn’t an option. He’s going in.

“No police,” Dick interrupts. “I understand. Please, don’t hurt him.”

“If you just do what you’re told, then I won’t have to.”

“Thank you,” Dick whispers, gently getting off of his bike and leaving it on the side of the road. He can’t chance them seeing him pulling into the motel lot. “You said your son’s name was Landon? If you don’t mind me asking, what is he charged with?”

“Why do you need to know?”

Dick jogs towards the motel, careful to stay out of direct light. The general office looks closed. Most of the windows facing the lot are shielded by salmon colored curtains. There’s only one floor, thankfully. Dick sees door 13. He’s shaking. His fingers are numb.

“My lawyers said they need to know in order to file for a judge to repeal his sentence.”

“Is that so?” the woman asks, suspicion tailing her voice. She takes a drag from her cigarette, contemplating. Dick’s clothes are soaking wet and he cringes every time his shoes squelch against the concrete. He decides crawling is best, ducking under windows and avoiding peepholes. “Fine then. Landon got falsely accused of statutory rape and breaking and entering. Is that what your damn lawyers are looking for?”

“Yes,” Dick breathes. He’s at door 10. He can see a faint glow coming from behind the curtains of room 13. He’s so close. “Thank you.”

He taps on the side of his helmet, sending a series of numbers that he’s sure Barbara will understand.

23-26-8-37

E-N-T-R

He can’t wait any longer.

While crawling, Dick made sure to get a good look at the motel’s doors and hinges. They’re standard, and though both Gotham and Bludhaven tend to have better locks than most other cities, Dick recognizes the model of the door and the wood it’s made out of. They’re thin enough for him to ram through. The hinges on the sides are rusted over as well, and Dick thinks they might just be weak enough to break. The windows however. The windows are his best bet. He doubts this kind of motel invests in bullet proof glass, and on some of the sills, he can see water damage. They leak. Poorly made. Meaning, if he ran at them, he could break through pretty easily.

But, if that doesn’t work. Or if he’s not fast enough to get on his feet once in. Or if the window is directly in front of Jason and the glass breaks all over him. Or if—

Stop. He can’t think about the what-ifs right now. Dick knows he can do this. Knows how to do this. There isn’t any more time to wait. He promised he would get Jason out of there, and goddamnit, he’s going to keep his promise.

“You’re being really quiet,” the woman mutters. “What’s going—”

Dick takes a deep breath and tenses. The light behind the curtain flickers. He needs to move. Now. Now.

Lightning splits across the sky and Dick can’t tell if it’s the glass shattering or the thunder that makes the other-worldly crack but it doesn’t matter because Dick lands feet first and is tucking and rolling before the occupants have a chance to react.

“Oh my god!” someone screams, but Dick isn’t paying attention to them because his gaze zeroes in on his brother, tiny, thirteen year old Jason, who’s tied up on one of the beds and staring right at him.

He can’t linger long though because he hears the words, “Get the gun!”, and he’s up on his feet again, rushing the closest person. It turns out to be the husband, a balding man with a patchy neck-beard, and Dick bunches up his fist and swings, socking the man in the stomach. He doubles over, wheezing, and Dick can see the small pistol in the man’s right hand, and Dick strikes down on his shoulder, kneeing him simultaneously. The pistol drops and so does the man, groaning, and Dick turns to the woman, who is staring at him like an animal cornered.

“Don’t come any closer!” she yells, pocket knife trembling in her grip as she shoves it in Jason’s face. “I’ll stab him, I will!”

Dick holds up his hands, sidestepping the groaning man. “Put the knife down.”

“No!” the woman argues, a strand of black hair falling into her mouth. “Now I told you- stay there! Don’t fucking move or I’ll kill this kid, you hear! I’ll fucking slice his throat open!”

With how scared the woman is, and how precarious she holds the pocket knife, which Dick can see is dull even from where he’s standing, he knows it’s not an idle threat. Scared people will do anything to get out of the situation they’re in. Scared people are unpredictable and dangerous.

But so is Dick.

So is Jason.

“I’m not going to move,” Dick reassures, eyes flickering towards his brother, “so, please, drop the knife. We can talk this out.”

“Talk?” the woman shrills, jerking the knife closer to Jason’s jawline. “You just killed my husband!”

“I didn’t kill him,” Dick corrects. “He’s just unconscious. Come on now. It’s just you and me. Let’s talk this over. I can still get Landon out if you give me back my brother. It’s as easy as that, alright? Just put down the knife, and we’ll talk. Does that sound okay?”

The woman looks like she’s considering it, the hand holding the knife still trembling, when the first sirens enter the lot. Red and blue light flash through the broken window as rain seeps into the curtains.

“You rat!” she screams, furious and terrified and desperate all at once. “You fucking called the cops! You broke—”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish before Jason snaps his head back, headbutting the woman directly in the nose. He falls to the side, getting out of range of the knife, and Dick takes his cue, leaping forwards and gripping the woman’s wrist and squeezing, weapon falling from her grasp. There’s blood spurting from her nose and Dick throws her to the floor, getting her on her stomach and hands behind her back. He sits on top of her, his weight overpowering any strength she has left, and in the next few seconds, police are banging on the door.

“This is the GCPD! Open up and put your weapons down!”

“You can come in!” Dick shouts, holding the squirming woman in place. “We’re unarmed!”

Things happen quickly after the door bangs open, several officers pouring in like the Bludhaven storm. As soon as an officer handcuffs the woman he’s on top of, Dick is rushing to Jason’s side, another officer cutting away his bindings. His younger brother turns to him, about to say something, but Dick cuts him off with a crushing hug, cradling the back of Jason’s head to rest against his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” Dick whispers, gathering his brother more fully into his arms. “I should’ve been there sooner. God, Jason, I’m so sorry.”

“I-I thought you weren’t going to come for me,” Jason confesses, hiccuping. “When Bruce didn’t pick up, I thought it was because he didn’t want me anymore. I-I told her that, I told her Bruce wasn’t coming but she wouldn’t listen and-and I—”

Dick wraps his arms more securely around the sobbing preteen in response, gently rocking back and forth as the mattress springs squealed under the pressure.

“I know I haven’t always been around,” he says, uncaring about the snot dribbling into his shirt, “and I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t rely on me to come and get you. You’re my brother, though, and I will always come running when you call. No matter what. I promise, Jay. Anywhere, anytime, I promise I’ll be there. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jason wheezes, the adrenaline from before slowly releasing its hold. “I trust you.”

Dick presses his face into his brother’s hair, relief washing over him as his heart slows. He’s never had a sibling before. Things were still tense with Bruce, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a big brother. There isn’t a thing in the world he wouldn’t do for this kid in his arms right now.

“What’re brothers for, right?” he mumbles.

The rain doesn’t stop and pours and pours and pours. Dick just holds Jason tighter.

The real storm was over.

Five months later

It’s Thursday.

Time: 11:47 a.m.

The stone is nice. White marble. Shiny. Expensive.

There are fresh flowers. Roses and yellow daisies. The dirt is still new too. Evidence of freshly upturned earth. Dick reaches down and pulls out a weed that’s sprung up at the corner of the stone. Tosses it away.

He doesn’t have flowers. He has a newspaper in his left hand. Reads: Mourning billionaire sets off on trip to Europe.

Jason died a month before he got back from across the universe.

Anywhere, he had said. Anytime. I promise I’ll be there.

He crumples the newspaper into a tight ball and shoves it into his pocket. Stares at the stone. The sun is out. There are no clouds in the sky. It’s nice.

It’s a nice day.

“Fuck,” Dick mutters, a familiar burn in the back of his eyes. “Fuck.”

Anywhere, anytime.

Dick Grayson is an only child once again.

[incorrectmarvelquotesss]

The Night’s End

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky goes for a walk after a nightmare and stops at a bookshop open at 2 am. ❤️‍🔥📚

Warnings: death, violence, choking, gunshots, blood and bruises, angst, strong language, mentions of physical and mental abuse, PTSD talks, a little fluff

A/N: My first fic! I hope you guys enjoy! I won’t be doing many fics, but for reaching 200 followers I thought why not? This is not edited yet. I’ve got a few requests which I am writing. Once they are done, they’ll be posted. If you want to be tagged in these fics, send an ask. Enjoy!

He watched the body fall to the ground with a soft thud, muffled by the carpet underneath the young man. He stood still even though every part of heart was whispering to him in a loud voice to run to the young man and help him. His brain kept him still, not moving even an inch until the young man took his last breath, draining the life out of him.

He stood still for another second, an instinct that was drilled into him to check if the target was really dead or not. After making sure the young man was dead from the gunshot wound, he walked backwards, slipping the pistol into its holster on his tactical suit. He turned around abruptly, stopping short as he saw a young woman, eyes flickering over the scene. Her eyes darted to him, fearful and shocked.

“Please,” she whispered into the air, voice raspy and shaking. “I won’t tell anyone.”

He cocked his head to the side a little, walking nearer to her. He could smell her strong perfume, scented with citrus fruits of sorts. He walked closer, stopping only a foot away from, watching as a predator would to his prey.

She squirmed and shrank under his gaze, holding onto the doorknob with one hand behind her when it jabbed her back. She clutched her purse in the other hand, knuckles turning white. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her temple. She wiped it hastily with the back of her hand clutching the purse.

“No,” he answered simply before his metal hand darted out to choke the woman. His hand gripped her throat tightly, arm whirring with mechanical parts. It clicked and buzzed as he pushed her head back to the door. This was all second nature to him.

Killing and murder. He was a monster that no one could tame. He knew that and so did Hydra.

Bucky shot up with a gasp, clutching the blanket on the ground. His heart was pounding in his ears with beads of sweat gliding down his forehead. A thin layer of sweat covered his body, glistening in the dim light of the television still playing. He looked up at it, blue eyes still trying to focus on the light, and noticed the soccer match playing. Although he had no interest in it, he watched each movement of the players carefully. He studied each movement before the whistle was blown and it was halftime.

He blew out a breath, a little happy that he could distract himself for a while from his nightmares. More like memories, said a bitter voice at the back of his head. He cringed and felt the gut wrenching feeling making its way to his heart. It happened every night and each night he would feel guilt seep into his bones for his soulmate. His soulmate could probably feel his panic and guilt at the moment, but he was surprised to feel a bit of curiosity that didn’t belong to him.

He felt a tug on his blanket, also tugging him out of his thoughts, and faced the white feline he had adopted a few weeks back. Alpine. Alpine’s big eyes looked up at him, head-butting his flesh hand close to her. He almost smiled as his hand started to scratch Alpine behind her ear and she purred softly. A few seconds later, she left abruptly and jumped onto the couch to go back to sleep.

Bucky let out a huff of breath which he would count as a laugh. He looked to his side where his phone was—not the flip phone he showed to his therapist. This was a sleek, new model of the latest phone in which he used multiple things in, like Tinder. He was trying to get into dating again, mostly hoping that he could find his soulmate.

He was, the least to say, surprised when he found out that he even had a soulmate in this time. He had thought that Dot, the girl he practically swooned over in the 40s, was his only soulmate. He had been so sure. Their tattoos were stars with a simple dot at the top of one of the points. But when he had been in Hydra’s capture, it had changed. Now it was a heart with a simple swirl in it.

He tapped the screen of his phone twice and squinted his eyes at the sudden brightness. The lock screen was a simple picture of Alpine. Well, she was cuddling with Bucky on the couch, but Bucky had cropped himself out of the picture. He looked at the numbers staring back at him.

1:26.

He blinked once and then shut the phone off. He looked out the window and huffed before getting up, shoving the blanket off of his legs. He grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants off of the couch that he had taken off when he brought his blanket out to the living room, sweating from his last nightmare. Memory. He hopped on one foot as he slipped one leg in and then repeated it for the next leg. He grabbed a burgundy hoodie, pulling it over his head as he turned around and picked up his phone—just in case.

Taking one last look at his apartment, he pulled on some socks and shoes and took the keys from the bowl. He opened the door and slid out, keeping his eyes focused on everything around him. Old habits die hard, he thought as he shoved his keys and phone into his pocket, feeling his wallet as he did so. He must have forgotten to take it out yesterday.

He dashed out of the building, waving a little to the secretary at the front desk as politely as he could. She gave him a flirtatious smile, which he ignored because she was married. He didn’t flirt with married women, even if he didn’t flirt anymore these days.

He stepped out of the building, feeling the cool night breeze flow through his hoodie, glad that he didn’t wear a shirt—the cool air felt great against his hot body. The effects of the nightmare were still there; sweat, eyes flickering around, ears on high alert. The moon was shining brightly in the clear sky with splatters of stars like white paint. The stars seemed to twinkle, shimmering like glitter.

Bucky smiled slightly, remembering when Morgan had covered his arm in glitter. He looked down and started to walk down the sidewalk, thinking of his life in the 40s. He had always loved to stargaze and explore more about space. Back in the 40s, everything was on books, but now Bucky could search up everything he wanted, whenever and wherever.

“Hey, you going somewhere?” He looked up to see a man standing on the curb, leaning against a car, talking to a woman. The woman had tensed up and clutched her purse. Bucky slowed down, trying to catch what was gonna happen.

“Just down the block,” she said, voice shaking a little. The man crossed his arms and gestured to his car with his head.

“I’ll drop you off,” his voice was ruff, but there was a slight gentleness and sadness to it. “It ain’t safe out here for a girl like you. My sister wasn’t safe either.”

The woman’s head whipped around to look at the man. Her eyes were searching for a hint of lie, Bucky thought, watching the scene unfold. “I’m sorry,” she said when she thought that the man was sincere.

“It’s alright,” the man said, pushing himself off the car. “Beat the guy when she told me, but the police here didn’t do anything more than a restraining order. I can walk you if you want, unless you're trained in karate or something.” This emitted a laugh out of the woman.

Bucky was almost beside them, keeping his head low. He moved a bit over so that he would walk behind the woman.

“Find your soulmate yet?” He asked, making the woman touch her wrist.

Bucky knew why he had asked that. A soulmate could feel your feelings and pain—not as bad, like a needle—something that Bucky always hated. He felt the guilt whenever he had gotten hurt over a mission or even when he had nightmares, he always thought about his soulmate. On the other hand, he had felt happiness spread throughout his body from his soulmate. There had been a couple of times where he felt a pang of sadness, but it was usually replaced with calm and quietness.

“No,” she replied with a soft voice.

“Me neither,” the man gave a toothy grin as Bucky passed the two. The woman giggled as the man said, “Mine is a circle with an arrow in it. Yours?”

The woman gasped and, Bucky assumed that she pulled up her sleeve, then heard the man chuckle.

Bucky zoned them out, trying to ignore the pang of pain in his chest. He took out his phone, desperately trying to forget about soulmates. He quickly read through all the updates Sam had sent.

Sarah and the kids are doing great. Hope you are, too. <Sent 2d ago

The kids really want you back and guess what? I found her! She’s perfect. Her name’s Aaliyah and I want you to meet her bro. <Sent 1d ago

Bucky sighed, not finding what he was hoping for. But he sent back a text anyway, feeling like he owed Sam a little ‘I’m fine and alive’ text.

That’s amazing! I’ll see you all next Sunday like we planned. You should bring Aaliyah and introduce us. <Delivered 2m ago

He shut off his phone and looked around. He was near the lane of shops and most of them were closed. There was an all-nighter pub and pharmacy, but one particular shop caught his eye. It was a bookshop he had wanted to visit a few times now, but never got the chance. It was still open by the looks of it and Bucky wasn’t doing anything else.

He started towards it, hoping that the lights on meant it was still open. He did wonder why it was open at this odd time, but as he approached the shop it was more clear why. A woman was walking around the shelves, helping sleepy teenagers and adults stay awake and giving them coffee to fuel them.

Her H/C was flowing freely while her E/C were flickering around the shop. Her hands held a stack of books and a tray of coffee. The books were all different topics and authors, Bucky could tell. Her face was soft as she placed a book on a teenager’s table and smiled slightly. The teenager looked up at her and smiled. She said something to him and then smiled before walking around the shelves again. She looked up as if she felt his eyes on her, but she quickly turned when a man came up behind her.

Bucky felt a pang of jealousy in his stomach. It was a feeling that he couldn’t ignore and it only got stronger as the man placed a hand on her arm, rubbing it up and down. She nodded as the man spoke, a smile creeping up on her face. She threw her back laughing, covering her mouth as she shook her head. She looked at the customers, apologizing sheepishly at her outburst. She put the books and empty tray on the counter and put her hands on the man’s shoulder, talking seriously. He nodded once, jaw clenching. She patted his shoulders, a smile back on her face as the man started for the door.

Bucky realized that he had been staring and started to walk towards the door. The man had gotten there first, flinging the door open just as Bucky reached for it. The man smiled tiredly and turned to the side, allowing Bucky to slip by. He nodded as a silent thanks.

“No problem, bud,” he said, nodding slightly, and stepped out the door.

Bucky looked behind him before taking in the bookshop. The big shelves filled the three walls, including behind the counter the woman stood behind, flipping through a book. There were four seats at the three tables that were set in the middle. There were more shelves vertically placed close to two of the walls.

Bucky started to walk but felt a small burn on his wrist. He felt it itch as if he gotten a terrible rash, but it stopped in a heartbeat. He stopped abruptly, knowing exactly what it meant. He pulled his sleeve up, looking down at his flesh wrist where the once black, now gold, soulmate tattoo.

His soulmate was close by.

He looked up and saw the woman staring back at him with wide eyes.

“Hi,” she said breathlessly. Her eyes were scanning his face for any emotion, but Bucky knew she couldn’t. His mask was up, the guard that he would put up when he didn’t want anyone to know how he was feeling. It worked for Steve, Sam, even Natasha. But the woman only shook her head. “Won’t work. I can feel your emotions.”

He nodded once. “I know.” He was feeling joy, but there was more. More emotions flooding him in waves. Anxiousness. Shocked. Guilt.

“Stop thinking for a second,” she whispered, smiling sweetly at him, “and breathe.” He inhaled deeply and held it in for a few seconds before letting it go. He had unconsciously moved closer to the counter and her.

“I’m Bucky,” he blurted out, putting his hand on the counter. She giggled at his flustered face and if Bucky said that wasn’t the most sweetest thing Bucky ever heard, he’d be lying.

“I’m Y/N,” she replied, holding out a hand for him to shake. He glanced at it before putting his hands in hers. “Just a sec.” She had looked over his shoulder and nodded her head. He glanced over his shoulder to see another teenager looking at Y/N with a small desperation in her eyes. Y/N grabbed a book from behind her and then turned around, holding the book up. The teenager ran over and grabbed the book from her hand, hugging her as well. Y/N giggled again and Bucky felt his heart skip a beat.

“What is this?” He asked once the teenager sat down on her seat again. Y/N bit her lip and leaned over the counter, her elbows holding her up.

“A support group of a sort, I guess,” she answered, shrugging slightly. “School’s not exactly relaxing.”

“And staying up late?”

“They’ve got a long weekend.” She giggled again and Bucky could swear his heart actually stopped beating for a second. Bucky gulped and nodded. His mind flashed images of just before; the man, Y/N, her laughter.

“Who was that?” Bucky blurted out before he could bite his tongue. Y/N straightened up, a teasing smile on her face.

“Are you feeling threatened by a teenager?”

He could hear the light teasing behind her words and felt a fondness towards her. It had been a while since someone had joked around with him. He smiled for the first time in a while and shook his head. “I meant the man that left before I came in.”

“Oh!” She laughed, shaking her head and saying, “No, no,” repeatedly. She stopped laughing, giggles still escaping her mouth. “That’s my cousin. He’s closer than a brother, though, TJ.”

Bucky felt his ears and cheeks heat up, turning red, no doubt, with embarrassment. “Okay.” Bucky felt a prickle of guilt behind all the embarrassment, but it didn’t belong to him.

“I’m not lying,” Y/N said, noticing that Bucky could feel her emotion. “I’m just used to joking around and I don’t really know if you’re okay with it or not. It’s just that you got uncomfortable all of a sudden and I thought that… I’m sorry.” She winced at her ramble, but looked at Bucky with soft eyes when he started to chuckle. She bit her lips, holding back her smile at his laughter. It was a sweet sound and she felt as if she could listen to it for eternity.

“It’s fine,” he sighed, eyes twinkling. “It’s been a while since someone joked around the Winter Soldier.” He cringed as he let it slip, shutting his eyes for a second. He opened them, expecting Y/N to be scared or fear him, but he found none of that. Instead he saw and felt her curiosity spark.

“I’ve heard about that,” she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. “You were captured by Hydra and taken control over, but now they have no control over you.” Y/N had left out several parts of his past, but he had a feeling that she knew everything anyway.

Bucky nodded curtly. “Yeah. That’s one way to put it.” She smiled softly at him, hand reaching out for his left one.

She didn’t care, Bucky thought with a small surprise. He didn’t feel any fear or anxiousness from her. It was all admiration and curiosity and warmth.

The dark night that plagued him had finally ended.

[smolvenger]

Stella of Essex or The Vicar's Wife Betrayed, Chapter 5: Yellow Roses

Based off of The Essex Serpent (I would say Fandom but honestly, I love to hate it so here's a Fix It FIc)

Pairing: some Stella/William, mainly Stella/Being Happy, and William/Being Held Accountable and Facing Consequences for Cheating, and eventually Stella/Male OC.

Series Summary: The Essex Serpent is reimagined and told from the perspective of Stella Ransome. And with a new ending. Stella must come to terms with not only her mortality but her husband's heartbreaking affair. A portrait of a woman who became The Ideal Lady her time and marriage required her to be. A picture of a marriage of love and bliss torn apart by a husband's infidelity. Where Stella Ransome, in the midst of devastating heartbreak and a terminal illness, gains her strength, finds her voice, and dares to seek freedom, hope...and even revenge.

Chapter Summary: In which a Widow from London and her son arrive in Aldwinter for The Serpent. Stella and William are introduced to her. But Stella begins to feel odd.

Chapter Warnings: Eventual Major Character Death, Mentions of food, children, religion, mentions of domestic abuse, realistic depictions of corsets, and portrayals of illness. Being Anti William and Anti C*ra so if you like the characters or pairing you have been warned. Divergence from Canon.

Chapter Word Count: 6K (Take a bathroom break)

Ko-Fi Link

A03 Link

Prologue//One//Two//Three//Four

“Ye have heard that it was by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery: but I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery already in his heart.”- Matthew 5: 27-28.

“But if she has no intellectual hold upon her husband’s heart, she must inevitably become that most helpless and pitiable of earthly objects-a slighted wife.”- Sarah Stickney Ellis, from The Women of England: Their Social Duties and Domestic Habits.

I am aware many of you reading this are familiar with the story of The Essex Serpent of Aldwinter. And only a few of you are not. Before I begin the next part, you must be reminded or told of this one fact.

There was no serpent. There never was a serpent.

Despite all our terror at the time, there never was any giant, magical, murderous snake.

No snake killed those bodies.

No snake made Naomi disappear.

Little did we know at the time, we were being afraid of nothing. And what brought her to the town, was nothing.

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To me, her name is too painful to write, much less speak, after what happened. To me, she will always be The Woman. And The Woman she was indeed when she first moved in!

Whenever there is a newcomer, rumors jump around like squirrels. Small towns are especially prone to this when so little happens at a time. I only did what I usually did with newcomers. I would bake my bread. Then I could deliver it as a welcoming present. Especially considering that this was a fellow woman who could be joining our Bible Studies and Sewing circles. No question she would be at church on Sunday. But it was five days until then! She would have to know she was welcome here, most of all by me.

6. Build relationships with women in the church to support, encourage and model Godliness to them.

As I walked down holding the warm pan, Martha passed me and gave me a laugh. Dressed in her walking gown, I noticed a newspaper was tucked under her arm.

“Why, is it for the newcomer? You gave bread to me when I arrived!” she called out.

“Do you…do you know where she lives?” I asked curiously.

I had written down an address on a scrap of paper placed in my pocket, but both of my hands holding a white towel over a hot pan would not grace me with the freedom to retrieve it.

Martha pointed one way and kindly offered to walk me there. We walked up to the little house. I knocked on the door, but there was no response. I knocked again, louder.

“Hello! There’s a visitor!” Martha shouted boisterously.

The only person who opened the door was not a woman, but a young boy. A boy who wasn’t at school. He looked thin and his eyes were wide, his skin sickly pale. Although he looked close to Joanna’s age, he carried himself with an air as if he was far younger with his slumping posture and the way he stared up at us blankly.

“Is your mother here?” I asked warmly.

“My mother’s not here now,” he replied somberly.

“I am Mrs. Stella Ransome; my husband is the vicar of the parish here. I am here to welcome your mother and you to town with this,” I said, offering the bread.

He looked at it and took the pan in his arms, but he did not smile.

“Thank you” he replied quietly.

“Frankie, where is your mother?” Martha asked. “She was here this morning when I spoke to her!”

“She’s off to find the Serpent,” the boy explained.

“And leave you alone? Oh, you poor thing!” I spoke. “Perhaps you should ask your mother to enroll you at school- my own children go there, and they’ll be plenty of other little boys for you to play with! You don’t have to spend all day at home…”

“I’m big enough to be by myself for a little bit, now…” he said.

“And I’m checking in on him, making sure he’s not catching on fire, don’t worry!” Martha added in.

“Oh, well…that is good. You at least can help yourself to some of the bread, Frankie” I said.

“Do make sure you eat that lunch I made you- and Mrs. Ransome was nice enough to give you some bread to go along with it! Have you yet?” Martha asked, placing her arms akimbo.

Frankie shrugged again. He looked down and then back up with no change in his sad, distant face.

“Frankie, I will call on you shortly, and your plate and one slice of that bread should be eaten by now! Don’t tell me you aren’t hungry! Your mother will insist!” Martha scolded.

He closed the door. We walked out into the roads right outside the gate of the house. Out of habit, I looked around the buildings in case anything unusual popped up. Or there were people listening in. But Martha and I were alone.

“She is here for the Serpent?” I asked.

Martha nodded in confirmation.

“Yes, she read our newspaper article and since then, she is obsessed! A most extraordinary, spirited woman, she! She wants to find it…” Martha continued.

“Why?” I asked. “I would want to avoid it.”

The wind blew a little colder. A few orange leaves from the trees fell onto the toes of our shoes. I was shivering inside my coat and scarf.

“For science. She’s a scientist! She loves fossils and history and wants to collect evidence of the serpent, make a name for herself because of it…”

“Why then, that’s very…very noble, I think!” I said.

It was unconventional. I little to never heard of women scientists. She was bound to be quite a character at the Bible Study. Perhaps she would have stories or share a fossil she discovered!

But then again, she was a scientist. She would frown at our Bibles, perhaps, and not participate in our prayers. Perhaps the church was out of the question. I wondered if I would even see her at all.

I did see her. I rushed with my children to church. Happily, we were on time even for Sunday School this time around. As I gathered my own three little ones and walked into the sanctuary, I made my rounds of greetings and chats with the other members.

One gentleman, the local surgeon named Lucas, turned to me with a smile. But today his smile seemed a little too friendly.

“Why, if it isn’t the Fairy Queen of Aldwinter herself!” he greeted.

He leaned forward, eyes shining, and hands in his pockets.

“Thank you, it is good to see you too,” I replied plainly. “And you speak compliments beautifully.”

I turned away promptly but he walked in front of me. His chest was puffed like a rooster.

“And what has the Miss Fairy Queen had next after the service? Plans for the Christmas service and pageant, as per usual from her, hm? Surely, I should be her humble servant and assist her...”

He had quite a nerve, I thought, knowing that my husband was the head of the church and even a few feet away. There was proof of a slight sneeze that echoed off the high ceilings- William was just getting over a cold. But thankfully after three days of me insisting on bedrest and broth, he was well enough to preach.

“I shall tell you what the Fairy Queen shall do after the service, Lucas. She shall l be with her husband,” I said flatly.

He let out an exhale, but his head bowed a little in acknowledgment of fairness. He tried. I gave him no room for encouragement. He respected my refusal. A friend of his, a plump man with a belly and a handlebar mustache tapped over on Lucas’s shoulder. There was a grin on his thin lips.

“Hey…the new woman is here…and she’s a widower too…” he alerted.

Lucas’s head turned and his jaw dropped. Thankfully, he forgot about his brief chase for another hunt!

My eyes followed in curiosity. Could it be? Sure enough, sitting on the pew was Frankie. Next to him was The Woman.

The first thing that struck me was that she was beautiful. Extremely, extremely beautiful. What was most striking was her hair. It was a golden blonde, like the rays of the sun, it was wavy too, making it seem like she glowed. However, although she had put it up like in fashion, strands fell loose around her face and from the style, but never to where it diminished her appearance despite the messiness. In fact, it made her seem romantic and wild. She was slender but still womanly. A straight nose, a creamy, cherubic face, and bright, piercing eyes.

The service began and I took my place again on the first row. William walked up to the pulpit to recite scripture. He spoke with such confidence you would have never known he was sick a few days ago.

“And in the first day there shall be a holy convocation, and in the seventh day there shall be a holy convocation to you; no manner of work shall be done in them, save that which every man must eat, that only may be done of you,” he intoned.

The service began and carried on as usual a parade of hymns, prayers, the choir, the sermon, and so on. I was glad for it again and for having a place to worship and feel refreshed. Even the children seemed calm and more interested today, far from the wailing babies they were in the past. The service ended and I could have my curiosity answered about the newcomer.

10. Stay after service to allow people to get to know you.

Lucas was not the only man affected by her beauty. It seemed nearly every man in the town was coming up to greet her. She would answer politely, if not curtly. I went up to see her, my children nearby, patiently waiting out my rounds of chatting.

“Good day, I wanted to welcome you the other day, but I’m glad you’re here,” I began.

“Thank you,” she replied.

“I am Mrs. Ransome, and these are my children:” I reached out an arm to show them “ Joanna, James, and John here.”

Each one politely introduced themselves and she replied. She gave me her name. Right as I was asking and chatting about how she was finding her new home, I noticed that on the collar of her dress, there was a large purple bruise. I kept trying my best to ignore it. But John could not.

“Why…are you alright Did you…did you fall?” he asked, pointing right at it.

She jumped with a slight panic, finding where my eyes looked, and then tugged her collar above to hide the mark. I looked down a little in embarrassment and hissed his name to behave himself. Meanwhile, Frankie’s eyes grew large and he dropped his jaw. The Woman merely steeled herself.

“Yes.” She answered curtly. “Painful.”

My husband joined my side. There was the introduction and small talk. She was finding her situation well here, comfortable, already good friends with Martha, and her research project was now underway. But it was all still very new for her to get used to.

“You should visit our house, we have a leg of mutton and Stella here makes an excellent cook,” he suggested.

“Yes, when are you free? I’m sure the children would like to play too…” I added on.

“That would be nice, thank you. I can visit Tuesday evening.” She replied.

Once it was confirmed, other women would run to me, barraging me with questions.

“Mrs. Ransome, I’m so thrilled to be pregnant, but I feel so awful all of the time, what must I do?”

“Mrs. Ransome, there’s a girl in Sunday School who keeps crying, what must be done about her?”

“Mrs. Ransome, I need help with the laundry with this broken hand, could you help me?”

I excused myself away to give my answers, volunteer my time, and offer what advice I could give.

“If you feel bad about your pregnancy, run a hot bath and ask for tea or hot cocoa and eat some candy, try not to overexert yourself. That must be Emma! She’s very little, she still misses her mother when they’re separated for a minute! Perhaps offer her some water and remind her she’s safe and if not, then maybe she’s still too little for Sunday school and should wait another year. Oh yes, of course, I can help! I can be there this afternoon!”

On Monday, after school hours, Joanna was off with her friends on her bike again with Johnny at her heels. William was writing his next sermon and preferred to be left in peace when doing so. I took little James, and we went to the beach.

It was an overcast day. Despite the chill, the air was sweet with the water and the sand was fresh.

“See there! See the waves, Jim? Aren’t they pretty?” I pointed out.

He squinted his eyes right at them and nodded with a grin. He took two steps towards it, the wind gusting into his face.

“Yes, very!”

We walked together across the beach, pointing at birds and seashells and discussing his day when I saw a huddled figure. At first, I jumped and grabbed onto my son.

“Mama, what is it?” he asked.

When I looked carefully, it was The Woman. She was down on the ground observing the rocks while scribbling notes onto a journal.

I walked up closer to her, greeting “good afternoon!”

“The Same to you!” she replied. Her head turned towards me in acknowledgment and then back to carefully observing the rock in her hand.

“May I ask, what are you doing?” I questioned.

“I’m researching The Serpent, trying to find tracks,” she explained.

The Woman gave the last note with a flourish of her pen, tucking it behind her ear. She began to wipe any sand off her clothes and stood up. But looking at the mid-body of her dress, I let out a small gasp.

“What is it?” she asked.

“You…I…I’m so sorry it isn’t polite to say so…” I pleaded, taking one step back.

Even James lifted his face up to mine in curiosity as to why. I tried searching around for something to change the subject quickly. But The Woman took a step closer to me in confrontation.

“Why did you gasp, Mrs. Ransome?” she asked.

A glint in her eyes implied she knew why. And no other subject on the clouds or what her son was up to could possibly distract her.

I clutched a little onto James’s arm. The words stuttering got out of me.

“You…you don’t…you don’t have a…you aren’t wearing a…a..” I tried to gesture to the middle of my body with my free hand.

“A corset, you mean? I’m not wearing a corset?” she said.

“Yes.”

Her nostrils flared and her eyebrows lowered in frustration.

“It’s a torture device that only limits women and how we can move and what we can do. I will not wear one as I am researching! Any modern woman refuses them, and I am such!” she huffed.

She glanced down, noticing I was wearing one. Then she looked up, her shoulders relaxing. She reopened her journal.

“I apologize, I have a lot of feelings regarding corsets,” she said.

“I understand,” I replied.

“Now you must please leave me, I have to finish to see if there are any tracks,” she dismissed.

“Good…. good day to you too,” I said, James and walking away from her.

Now, this was an oddity above all else! Not wanting to wear her corset? Did she not want her back and breasts supported? Did she not want to have her clothes look smooth when she put them on? What about when her unmentionable arrived, did she not want the help with the stomach cramps a corset could give? How did her hips ever fare against the weight of her skirts?

Yes, my own corsets made my posture straight and I could not lean down to touch my toes, but I never felt it restrain my movements. I could still walk about and garden fine enough. I saw women ride bikes down the Aldwinter streets while still in corsets. The one I was wearing that day came from a factory run by Madame Valery. It was a woman-made corset! Wouldn’t Madame Valery herself notice if her creations were too restrictive and uncomfortable?

I wanted to tell The Woman that she could wear one and experiment without trouble. She only had to bend her knees to get down onto the ground to observe something. Did she know that she didn’t have to make the laces to tight when she wore one? She could merely adjust the strings so they would fit her to prevent them from slipping off but still fit. Maybe her mother never taught her how, assuming she had one. Maybe she kept buying ones in the wrong size her entire life! Surely, with the right corset on, she could even face The Serpent if she had to capture it, fight it, or run?

But I knew if I even hinted at it, it would only make The Woman more upset and unease any pleasantness there could be between us.

It seemed perhaps her line was directed at me, maybe insulting me and my own choice to wear one. But I did breach a sensitive subject unknowingly. Maybe I Wasn’t the only one that day who noticed it and asked about it. Maybe she was taking out her anger on me without meaning to.

12. Be a blessing to the women in the church; encourage others to do the same.

I asked God to forgive me and to let me turn the other cheek. It was just a mistake of mine. I didn’t know and now I knew never to bring it up with her.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

There was a large Leg of Mutton I purchased from The Butchers on Saturday. And now on Tuesday, I had to make sure there was enough of it for seven of us, as well as side dishes and dessert. I was up to the challenge.

As the door opened, I was still awaiting the completion of our stone oven on the food. I rushed to greet The Woman and Frankie but then had to promptly return to finish the cooking. Then there were the grilled mushrooms, walnuts, bread, and so on. It was stuffy in the kitchen, yet I rolled up my sleeves and carried on. Thank goodness the oven was well prepared for the Herculean task today. It was just like a normal dinner-with just a little bit more thrown in.

Any loose strands that came from my bun, I tucked into my hair and away. So, help me, neither my husband nor she would think me sloppy and uncomely for one moment. May William always think of me as beautiful and perfect, I hoped! I heard the footsteps of my family as well as that of the dog dashing in and out. Any time I stepped out, I got made sure my hair was neat and got rid of my apron, only to tie it back once I returned.

They were all around the couch, discussing among themselves when I walked in, wiping my hands on my apron.

“Dinner will be ready shortly!” I chirruped.

Once we were all setting plates and silverware, The Woman and Frankie took their seats. Frankie seemed to salivate the plate in front of him. The Woman reached to take the water jug before her.

“We must ask for a blessing first,” I reminded everyone.

She froze for a second. Her arm outstretched her sleeve as she was reaching for the jug of water, and I noticed a bruise on her arm. Eyeing down, she noticed it too and retreated her arm.

From her reaction on Sunday, I decided not to mention anything about it. Perhaps another fall.

My three children, William, and I ducked our heads. The Woman and Frankie paused before they followed us.

‘Oh Lord, we ask you, bless our food and bless our guest. Keep us all safe from the Serpent, amen,” William prayed.

As I began my own plate, James turned to The Woman.

“You’re a widow…right?” he asked.

“Yes, I am,” she confirmed, beginning to dig into her pie. Again, the beautiful golden waves from her head fell in loose strands over her.

“So that means your husband is dead…what was he like?” James asked curiously.

She froze. The fork in her hand turned into a grip.

“He was a horrible, horrible man, and I do not wish to speak of him again, thank you. I am sorry, but I did not like him,” she answered plainly.

Oh.

So that explained the bruises, I thought.

James flinched back in shame. I leaned toward him.

“Just apologize…you didn’t know, darling, it was just a mistake,” I whispered.

James kept his head ducked “I’m…I’m sorry…”

“That’s all right, you didn’t know…thank you for the apology… But…you all begin by praying?” she asked.

The bread plate was passed around. William looked at her with slight half exhale, half laugh.

“Why yes, of course, before every meal…” he explained.

John accidentally knocked over his water. I ran up, napkin flying, to dab away at it and clean him up.

“It’s just not natural for me, to need a blessing just to eat,” The Woman said.

I fled to the kitchen and returned with another glass of water for John.

“It’s a way of giving thanks, showing appreciation,” William said.

Thus, began that dinner conversation. William and The Woman were going back and forth, doing most of the talking for us.

She made a point about science.

William made a point about religion.

She made a point about science.

William made a point about religion.

James let out a small burp. I urged him to say “pardon” and dab his mouth with his napkin.

Joanna then turned her head towards the woman. “Have you found anything out about The Serpent, yet?”

Of course, it would get to the serpent. There was much excitement among the local children concerning it. There was a thrill. It was a wild legend. A scary story told around the fire.

The Woman’s eyes glittered toward her and said “I believe there are some tracks in some of the woods, I’ve found…”

“Our woods?” John asked nervously. “The ones you can see from the attic?”

She turned and matter of fact explained to him, “no, it was not located in close proximity to your house…”

We all went around and spoke about what we thought about it. William said it was a creature of God and had to be seen as such. Joanna said it fascinated her. John said it frightened him. James was awe-struck at it. The Woman gave a whole list of theories that went on for ten minutes. Frankie ate his mutton.

I only said, “I only hope it stays away from us and harms no one.”

Once the meal was finished, the boys brought Frankie upstairs to play in their little hideout in the attic. The Woman, Joanna, and William were at the table. She was telling Joanna all about science and Joanna kept bobbing her head as if hypnotized.

I smiled and decided to finish some chocolate biscuits I began that day. Perhaps even that sad, odd Frankie would enjoy them. Maybe even he would smile and know he had a friend in me and speak in a sentence with more than four words.

As I began to pull them off to cool, I heard Joanna’s footsteps upstairs. The Woman and my husband continued their discussion. As I glanced, despite their opposing opinions, he was smiling.

At least there would be peace and no arguing here! I thought gratefully. With someone so passionate about science staying under a religious house, I feared tempers would flare. But so far, there was no shouting and threats. All was good.

I made sure there was sugar powder dusting on top of the biscuits. Using a knife, I found they were the right crispiness. I took a small bite, and it seemed the right flavor. Content, I placed them on a white plate.

William and The Woman were still talking.

Carrying the plate, I passed them and went upstairs to the attic. Joanna was in her room. She took two biscuits with thanks and went to her bed to eat them while reading.

I brought them then to the attic. Once I arrived, I noticed the “club” was formed. The children loved it as a place to gather when they were all younger. It was set up whenever Club was in session. It was a makeshift tent of old bedsheets against doornails on the wall of the attic. A lamp was used for light inside as they were laughing and playing. Their shadows were flashing against it. James was the first to pop his curly head out of the flap.

“Chocolate! Mummy has chocolate!” he cheered.

The boys ran up, with many thanks (and an actual smile from Frankie!), and started to eat them.

“Would you like any, mama?” John asked.

I looked down. I had to make sure everyone else would have some before I took one. Frankie and John had three each, and James had about four. There were four left.

11. Be consistently humble; appreciating everything while demanding very little.

“No, but thank you, you’re a kind boy, Johnny. I must make sure our guests have some before I do.” I spoke.

Meanwhile, The Woman and William continued their talking downstairs. When the plate went down, they chewed on what was left, so hypnotized by their conversation they didn’t hear me sit on the couch next to them. I placed the dessert plate on the small table. They smiled as thanks and ate the biscuits, still deep in discussion. So much so that they didn’t see that they each ate two. No biscuits were spared for me. I said nothing about it.

That evening, William and I lay in bed. We held each other to the crackling fire. The autumnal chill of the outside seemed to creak into our room.

“Stella, she’s going to help me, and we will search for the Serpent,” he announced,

“Oh, that is good. A team together… should be easier on you. She’s clearly an expert, smart. I couldn’t understand half the scientific words she said. She is quite pretty, too…” I replied.

I laid my head on his chest. I looked up to admire the newest addition to my collection of blue porcelain plates just above it on the mantle. I didn’t see his face.

“Yes, it seems every man in town is mad about her,” he commented.

“Lucas is at her heels,” I commented.

“As a man, it’s hard not to blush when she praises you,” he said.

I turned my face to him with a little laugh.

“Oh…a little infatuation?” I asked.

He returned the laugh.

“Yes, I admit! Nothing more! Do you remember your copy of Pride and Prejudice? Aren’t you still infatuated with Mr. Darcy still? And Heathcliff and Colonel Brandon and Edward Ferrers?”

“Yes, I am! Any woman who reads those books keep our little infatuations for those men!” I commented.

Outside we heard the hooting of owls in the night sky.

“You…you are…you are my wife…” he murmured.

“And that I am,” I said. “I may have my infatuation with Colonel Brandon, but when night falls, you are my husband, not he.”

I kissed his cheek and went to sleep, thinking no more of it. My husband is a holy, upright man, I thought. At the end of the day, I was the woman he loved. After all, it was only fair, and I trusted him.

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

Weeks passed. I felt tired yet planned the Christmas service and pageant. The business of December made it fly past. January came and February was at its end with the promise of March. All that time I was doing my usual duties and the search for the Serpent continued. No actual creature had yet to be found, yet every townsperson was on the edge of their seat.

It was promised to be a long winter. Everything was still cold and grey. I was sweeping away at the floors as the children came home from school. I had felt dizzy and a little out of breath, I paused and held the broom, pressing it down to ground myself. But I was glad to see them. Joanna had several books in her hands. She went promptly into the kitchen.

Johnny looked around and then at me. The dog was on his heels, wagging its tail.

“Mama…where’s papa? He wasn’t at home when I get home from school at all this week…” he asked.

“Papa’s doing something very important. He’s with Frankie’s mother- you know her. Remember?” I explained.

“Yes.”

“They’re out searching for The Serpent, your father’s going to consecrate it,” I explained.

He tilted his head, setting himself on the couch. His legs couldn’t reach the floor and swung a little.

“Why aren’t you with him?” he asked.

4. Encourage his advancements while maintaining the balance of his home and family.

I went over to the couch and smiled.

“I’m not clever enough for the science, I admit. And, well, someone must keep an eye on you three and make sure the home is nice for him when he returns,” I replied.

“If he returns!” John asked nervously.

I clutched his hand.

“Your father is not alone, and he’s a smart man. He will be safe. He will come home…how could he not for you? He loves you so very much. He loves all of us, he won’t throw himself into danger without considering us,” I explained.

“Papa’s hunts with the other men, he should just shoot it!” Johnny said.

“Then tell that to him when he returns!” I suggested, I took my hand and rubbed it through his reddish blonde curls.

I heard a CLANK of a pot falling onto the floor with a “Blast!” from Joanna.

I got up and went into the kitchen. Joanna was moving the pots around and on top of the stove, putting various things inside: salt, water, oil, and so on. Many of our pots and pans were brought out and, on the table, there were some books left open to black and white pictures of thermometers. Joanna poured the water jug into the pot and turned the stove on. She never showed much interest whenever I tried to teach her how to cook!

“What are you doing?” I asked.

She looked up at me with a large smile.

“It’s a science experiment! I’m going to see what happens to these when you boil them!” she said, gesturing to the salt, oil, and flour taken from the pantry.

“For school?”

“No! It’s in these!” she pointed to the books and opened to the illustrations.

“Since when have you gained interest in science experiments?” I asked.

She explained to me that it was The Woman who inspired her. Joanna went on about how smart and incredible The Woman was. How she told her about science and experiments and showed her some of her notes even. That Joanna wanted to be just like her when she became older.

“A scientist! Me! Perhaps even a doctor even…”

“You’ll need to go to university usually to learn how to be one. That’s why there aren’t many women who are those things…” I commented.

She gave me a defiant huff, her eyes forward and determined.

“Then I will become the first woman to do it! Why do we have to have so many choices anyway?” she complained before turning her light head back to the experiments.

“Just leave enough so I can make dinner, at least…” I requested, walking away to finish sweeping.

I will confess, I envied The Woman at that moment. I envied how beautiful she was. How she was getting lines of suitors interested in her while my own admirers before being engaged were only a handful. I envied how much my daughter seemed to genuinely worship her rather than feel a sense of love out of plain duty from familial blood. And I envied her boldness, her courage to discover The Serpent.

The Serpent terrified me from what bits I heard. I thought if I were to encounter it, I wouldn’t stand my ground. I would scream and run away. I would grab my children and take them somewhere safe. I would hide. I felt I couldn’t fight it much less research it. The less I knew the better my peace of mind. Yet The Woman did. She wanted to go out and find it. She knew no such fear. She trusted that her own child was safe at home without fear of anything crawling inside with fangs. If it was a Leviathan in the water, she would dive in and swim after it. She could run about the countryside for hours and do as she pleased.

My thoughts were interrupted as I saw James. He wandered to me with a fistful of a bit of chocolate cake. It was the one I baked today as a birthday gift for Mrs. Elliott. It was to be given at her celebration this evening. I laughed at him and wiped away the mess on his cheeks.

“Would you like any, Mama?” he asked.

“No, thank you…” I spoke.

“You didn’t eat at breakfast…” he commented, tilting his head.

“I wasn’t hungry then, darling, but I assure you, I’m fine…”

Even though I envied the boldness of The Woman, I enjoyed my comfortable life. Despite how much of it I had to do, I enjoyed cooking, cleaning, sewing, mending, knitting, gardening, reading the odd book, collecting my blue items, and pressing my flowers. Despite the effort, it would take, I enjoyed attending church, helping plan its picnics and holidays and classes, rereading the Bible, going to women’s circles with my friends, and visiting the people of Aldwinter. Most beautiful and fulfilling of all was being a part of my beautiful family- three healthy children and a handsome, generous, intelligent, open-minded husband who was my entire world. Perhaps she and I were just different in our tastes of what enriched our lives. That was all.

So, I would pray to God to take care and rid me of my envy. Then I would go outside and finish the laundry.

Many who have already read of me and of what happened will say I am a cautionary tale. I was a walking warning to other women. That everything I did, said, and agreed with was something that any woman should not do or else share the fate written about me. Then there were others, and these consisted of my elders, family, and my peers at the time, who would hail me as a Perfect Woman. That I was the Saintliest wife and mother who lived and breathed.

And there are times thinking of this that I wonder, how was it I became both?

When I returned home from the celebration and went upstairs, William was writing at his desk.

“Is it the next sermon?” I asked.

He placed an arm over his papers and turned to me.

“No…it’s a letter about what I have found out about The Leviathan,” he explained.

He said that he was writing to The Woman about a verse he discovered in Psalm 104. He was going to let her know that perhaps The Serpent was The Leviathan and if so, that meant it was a creature that remained strictly in the sea.

“If it is strictly a sea creature, then we will know what it is, and we can warn others not to go swimming there…” he expanded.

“That would be good- the mystery will finally be solved. I still think about the book you told me about writing the first day we met, Will! I think would love it and you always had a gift with the written word. They’d have to publish you, William, they must!” I encouraged him, kissing the top of his curly head.

He smiled up at me from his chair, his arm still blocking the letter. He turned around to complete some more as I took off my coat, hat, and gloves and rested on the chair near the fire. Today the walk to Mrs. Elliott’s house and back felt tiring. I found myself trying to exhale deeper as I sat in my chair.

William turned around, scratched at his beard, and looked at me with worried eyes.

“Stella…you seem a little out of breath….” He mused.

“The party was exciting, and the walk was long, but that was all!” I assured him.

When I woke up the next day, although I knew I slept well, I realized I felt sweaty and exhausted. William was not usually an early riser and dozed contently beside me. As he wished me goodbye to head off for Church and Serpent-related duties, I realized that I had no appetite for Breakfast again.

I mustered myself to eat some fruit and boiled eggs, but I started to cough throughout the meal. The coughing continued throughout the day. And the next.

Then, finally, one day, as I was wiping off the dust from surfaces at home, another fit of coughing began. But my chest was tightened with a stabbing pain. The room spun. My legs felt very weak and were shaking. I kept coughing into my sleeve. I tried to go over to get the drawer in the parlor cabinet for a handkerchief, but it only made the dizziness worse.

My legs gave in, and I fell onto the floor. The room kept spinning, the coughs kept coming and I pulled my sleeve into my mouth to block it. All the while my chest kept hurting. My arms were wobbly as I tried to help myself up and failed to.

When I removed my sleeve from my mouth, there was blood.

I heard someone scream before everything went black.

[lunarliza]

Dirty Little Secret | Chapter One: Blankets

fuckbuddy!JJ x Kook!Reader 

You and JJ are fuck buddies- strictly physical. But what happens when you find yourself falling more and more for everyone’s favorite golden boy even though all he can see you as is a spoiled rich girl? 

You stared at the ticking clock among the sea of giggling preppy girls. Time had to be running in reverse. There was no way you still had an hour left. 

“Alright ladies, let’s now form a single-file line and practice our curtsies,” the cotillion instructor, Linda, ordered. The over-privileged girls hurried to the end of the ballroom, one carelessly stepping over your foot. “Ouch!” 

You glared at their backs and non-existent asses as they scurried, being the last one to sulk to your place behind a tall girl named Caroline. The leggy blonde snickered and leaned back slightly once everyone got into formation. 

“You look like a beat up mule,” she joked. 

You snorted and got on your tip-toes, muttering into her ear. “If I hear the words ‘prim and proper’ one more time, I might actually vomit on the spot.” 

You both peered over to Linda who was busy adjusting some of the girls in the front with her annoying pointer stick. It was only a matter of time before she would eventually get to you and criticize, well, everything. Your posture, clothes, hair, attitude. 

“If you do,” Caroline added, “make sure to get it all on Delilah in the front left. She totally swiped me for runner-up Miss Teen North Carolina last year.” 

You chuckled and shook your head. 

Caroline was probably the only thing getting you through these treacherous debutante lessons. She was your typical tall, thin socialite with a Benz and Prada collection to match. Ironically, you guys had more in common than one would think- hating just about every single girl in the room. It may be for different reasons, but the principle was there. Caroline was as competitive as they come and always had to be the center of attention, not that it was hard given her model height. 

You, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about becoming a high woman in society- evident in your ability to show up 20 minutes late to each lesson and royally screw up the dance number each chance you got. Caroline admired your talent of not giving a fuck and took a liking to you after you posed non-threatening to her spotlight. 

You faked yawned and checked the clock once more. 

“Alright I’ve had enough.” You held out your hand to Linda, causing the pageant girl in front of you to wrinkle her perfectly threaded brows. “Linda, I need to use the restroom,” you announced nonchalantly as everyone’s beetle eyes punctured you. 

“Very well y/n,” the monotonous instructor answered with her thin-framed glasses hanging on her beak nose.  

“See ya next week,” you sneakily whispered to Caroline. You proceeded to hop out of line, snatch your canvas bag at the entrance, and whisk out the door and into the busy street before anyone could see.

It was 3 p.m. on a Thursday afternoon. Your ferry left in an hour, and til then, you were ready to wander around the streets of Chapel Hill. 

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

“How were lessons today?” your mother asked, taking a sip of her 1999 Vineyard Merlot before setting the glass on the black marble table.

“Fine,” you answered, picking at the halibut on your plate. 

Her glasses were perched at the bridge of her nose as she scrolled through items on an iPad. You silently glanced over to your little sister, Macy, who slid her green beans onto your plate and threw you a thankful grin. 

“What did you go over?” your stepdad, Ted, asked half-heartedly as he scrolled through his phone. 

“Uh, we did some curtsies and practiced the dance,” was all you cared to mention as you munched on your sister’s veggies. 

“That’s funny,” your mother lifted her eyes from the screen, “because Linda called and said you went to the restroom and mysteriously disappeared. And you were late.” Her tone was much more adamant at the second part, but your face stayed cool as you took another bite of the awful fish. 

“There was backup when I left the ferry,” you lied and your mother rolled her eyes, tossing the iPad onto the table. 

“Y/n, you need to take this seriously. Ted spent weeks trying to get you into those debutante lessons and we’re paying a fortune for Linda alone!” 

“It’s not my fault she has a stick up her ass just like everyone else there,” you countered. Your mom was seconds away from fuming, so you decided to add a little extra fuel. “Also someone stepped on my foot with their heel so I had to rest it or else I wouldn’t be able to properly do the dance.” 

“Enough of this, y/n,” your mother snapped at your terrible sarcasm. Macy and Ted stopped eating and watched you both with hints of concern. You didn’t understand why it was so startling to them. It was just any other Thursday evening with your mom if you were being honest. 

“If I get another call from Linda, we’re taking away your keys.” 

“Take them,” you said, stepping up from your chair and towards the kitchen. You tossed the half-eaten food into the trash and stuffed the plate into the dishwasher. “Not like I have anywhere better to be on this God-awful island.” 

You rushed to your room upstairs and kicked the door shut behind you. You sank into your bed, face first, and let out the longest, dreadful groan into the comforter. 

This was your life now. After almost a year, you would think that you’d adjust to this pretentious Kook life, but it only made you feel more stranded than ever. It started when your real parents announced their divorce a few years back. Both yours and Macy’s hearts shattered at the news. Your family lived perfectly in a tiny home until you turned thirteen. Your dad- the one who taught you how to ride a bike, swim, fish, and play poker- got a new job where he would go overseas for months on end. You hated not being able to see him and your mom hated it even more- enough to leave him. Your mom ended up taking full custody of you and Macy. Soon after, she met money-bags Ted, and, before you knew it, your bags were sealed packed as you sailed away to a fancy new home along Figure Eight complete with housekeepers, a pool, and etiquette lessons. It was supposed to be this “better lifestyle” your mother tried to paint into your head- but you saw right through it. No matter how green the grass or white the fence, you still felt like you were being locked up on an island you had no interest in exploring. 

Making new friends was also a hassle- first coming in as a high school sophomore, and then not knowing how to engage in Kook-speak with the others. It’s not your fault you weren’t well-versed in luxury cars and handbags. You had one or two friends, but spent most of your days alone. It was well past midnight when you caught yourself drowning in your own self-loathing thoughts. A sudden tap on your window startled you as you turned to find a familiar blonde boy struggling to lift the glass. You watched, unimpressed, as he finally got it open enough to slide his lean body in and land straight onto your window seat. 

“You’re late again, JJ,” you said, getting up to lock your door. 

“Phone died and there’s a guard on duty, so I had to come in through the long way,” JJ stated, plopping himself comfortably on your bed. 

He wore his usual fit- dark cargo shorts and a navy button-up with hardly anything buttoned. He reeked of weed and seawater, wearing a sleazy grin on his face. You wanted to swipe it off. Cocky bastard. 

“For the last time,” you retorted, kicking his feet off your white blankets, “no shoes on my fucking bed.” 

“I love when you talk dirty to me,” JJ snarkily replied as he slipped off his boots.   

This was JJ: your fuck buddy. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly why you were involved with this delinquent of a boy, but he was enough piss off your mom and Ted- not that you would ever tell them. You didn’t know what it was about him, but causally sleeping with JJ made you feel more in control of your life. So, once or twice a week, you two would meet up, do the deed, and go your separate ways without a word. No strings, no feelings, hell, not even a friendship. And not a single soul knew. You both understood the terms of your agreement and will stand by it until the day you both die. “Are you just gonna stand there and stare or are we gonna get to clapping cheeks? I don’t have all night dude,” JJ nagged, interrupting you from your thoughts. 

You flipped him off. “If someone showed up during their regularly scheduled time, I would have had a lot more energy.” You peeled off your cropped tee to reveal a lacy black bralette and climbed into his lap. His hands cupped the globes of your ass before sliding them into your shorts, mouth connecting with your neck. 

“Let’s make this quick,” he added between short breaths, “I have to meet some friends in an hour.” 

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

chapter two

[c-atm]

Connie Maheswaran sighed...She knew this was a bad idea, but no one else was around, and the best friend/ bane of her existence/ big crush/ betrothed had an eye for these things, so his expertise was appreciated.

"So." Steven Universe, gem hybrid, alien prince, sweetheart, and hero to many, started with a grin. Placing his hand on the curve of her back." How skimpy of a bikini are we getting, huh?

She growled dangerously as she felt his hand crept lower." Stop it, you pervert."

Steven just smirked as he lifted his hand back up. That lecherous fox smirk that he only showed her.

"I promise that my intentions are as 'pure' as the lily-white of your clothes." 

Connie arched an eyebrow looking at her yellow polo, black denim shorts, and orange kicks. "What white are you talking about?" She implored.

The alien royalty squeezed the college sophomore bottom. "The thin warm cloth underneath." He whispered into her ear, making her fume with annoyance, bashfulness, and made just a wee bit of an exciting impression… Despite her pouting with puffed blush crossed cheeks and steady brows.

"How the hell do you know?" She questioned, grabbing his wrist and clenched tightly, making the 'big gem on campus' fall to his knees in slight pain.

"Ow, ow, ow! I promise I didn't peek at you while you were getting dressed today."

"But you did peek at me." She arched an eyebrow.

"On accident." He pleaded, " We both know I would never peep on you."

"Now, Steven..."

"Not without an escape route."

Connie took a moment to consider it, but in the end, she decided he was right.

Steven always had a damn way to run away. Not like when they were teens, and she would easily catch and punish him for his transgressions against all womankind. However, they were more innocent, like giving her (not-so unwanted) pecks on her cheek or complimenting her physical growth.

It was the reason her betrothed became her bane before becoming her friend and crush.

Though his actions couldn't be helped, it was ingrained in him. The gem race was very liberated when it came to physical appeal, appreciation, and affection and saw all forms as beautiful. From the first (of what would become semi-normal) time she visited his home planet, it quickly became apparent to her that kissing, touching, and 'raunchy' commentary was commonplace among Homeworld. A lot of sensual and carnal PDA was everyday stuff for gem kind. 

All except fornication in all its forms. 

That was considered divine as gem fusion but way less lax—the ultimate show of reverence for one's unique being. Even stories of one’s actual sexploits were to be kept between partners, no matter how many there were; neither monogamy nor polygamy took precedence on Homeworld.

She let his wrist go with an unamused hum, opting to hold his hand to keep it from wandering.

”Let’s go, my perv.” Connie sighed as she led him further into the store, towards the dressing rooms. She was nearly closing the door behind her as she entered, turning and facing him, hiding with the plywood entrance. "So, against my better judgment, I'm gonna go into the dressing room and wait for you to bring me back some swimwear," Connie informed, blushing. "I need you to take this seriously, ok? No games at all." She muttered.

Steven gasped, placing three fingers on his chest as if he was an offended southern Bellé. "Why madam, I do declare that I will be at my most critical. After all…" He caressed her cheek with a smirk on his face, "the chance to decorate you in my taste doesn't come along often." He grinned as he interlaced his fingers together. "I can see you now in...Hehehe! Oh yes..."

Looking at his bottom lip gnawing, nearly crossed eye blushing expression of perverse elation, Connie almost regrets asking for his advice and help but, there is a reason for that. "Can you not imagine whatever you are imagining and help me?"

He looked up at her pouting profile and smirked lovingly before kissing her forehead. "You're more tempting than anything I can imagine." 

She took a deep breath, rubbing the back of her left calf with her right foot, and idiosyncratic behavior towards surprising affection and praise.

"⁵Just...Stay away from the skimpy swimsuit from earlier."  She warned, burned cheeked as she closed the door behind her, "Himbo hubby."  rubbing her forehead, where the warm sensation of his lips lingered, she grinned. The feeling of pride In her chest.

"Ok... Let's get to business."

Three minutes later, Connie was stripped of her clothing and her pride as she looked at her reflection. Bare to her body and her insecurities. She didn't feel Charming? Girlish? Soft? Cute?

She was never called cute or adorable. No... Words that described her was strong, tall, mature, robust, and built, which was right.

She was six ft by the time she was 16 (she's 6'6 now), always been athletic; being an army brat on an army base until she was 12, strenuous exercise was more than just a habit; it was a lifestyle. Combined with tennis and martial arts, it was easy to understand why her body was built and cut as it was. She had 'mercenaries muscles.' A body made for battle, yet she was 'blessed' with the curvy hips and noticeable bust of her mother's bloodline.

The thing is, she didn't hate her body. She just wasn't privy to the attention she got from it. Most guys were intimidated.

Most girls…' intrigued' to say the least, and then there were some who 'swore' she was 'transitional.' People she affectionately referred to as transphobic bastards.

One cause she was born, lives and will die biologically and mentally as a woman, no matter how 'masculine' she supposedly acts; and more importantly, being trans isn't wrong.

"The scars don't really help either." She mused as she scanned her nude form little scars from her active lifestyle on her stomach.

"I think they give you character, Berry." Steven voiced from behind the door, surprising her enough for her to jump.

"The hell?! How did you get done so fast?!" She nearly shrieked as she turned to the door...Which now had a few swimsuits hang on the knob, " Steven...Did you peek at me?" 

She was greeted by silence.

"Accidentally," 

She gave a slightly exaggerated sigh at his guilty tone to hide the smile on her face. "Really? You don't wanna see me in the buff?"

She could already see the thousand-watt smile on his face.

"Wait, are you saying I can?"

She had to bite her tongue from laughing at his eagerness, "No, sit and wait." She scoffed out a chuckle when she heard him moan, downtrodden. Taking a look at the group of bathing suits in the knob, she went to see which one she definitely will not wear.

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

Steven sat in the pink chair in front of the dressing rooms, legs and arms crossed as he waited for his beauty of a betrothed model for him. He knew she wasn't crazy about her appearance, but he couldn't get enough of it.

The fact Connie tower's him by a whole nine inches. Her 'jacked,' pear-shaped body with its hypnotic curves, especially around her bust, hips, thighs, and butt. Blazing deep-set onyx eyes with thick brows, thin cupid bow lips, her slightly narrowed and flat nose, and loose raven hair in a half-braided ponytail that reached her broad shoulders. An amazing amazon made real. 

Of course, her physique was only part of why he was smitten to what humans would call near 'perverse' moments, strange since earthling takes sex for granted, to the point of making multiple websites about it for profit. 

Planetary cultural differences aside, Connie's physicality was just a complementary mirror to her character. Strong, bold, unique, and mesmerizing. No wonder why Connie steals every room she walks in when she wants to or not. He couldn't help but snicker tenderly at the thought of her before tenderness gave a slight way to hunger at the thought of her in a swimsuit.

"Steven...Can you come here?" 

The hybrid looked with a bit of concern and curiosity at the brown hand waving and shy voice coming from the dressing room.

"Hmm?" He stood and walked to took the gold sprayed knob of the plywood in his hand.

"With your eyes close!"

That made his eyes widen, but he followed her request, closing his pink eyes before entering and closing the door behind him. "You ok, Ni'?"

"I...I need you to promise to be honest with me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just promise. ok?"

"Hmm...I'm opening my eyes."

"Wait. I'm not.."

"...HMM..."

Connie looked towards him in shy withdrawal, holding her left arm, and biting her lip adorned in a blue bikini. The top looked like a cage neck crop top that clipped in the back, and the bottoms were high-waisted with an extra band that crossed around her navel. It was sexy, to say the least, accentuating off all her curves and prominent muscle, flattering her breast, thighs, hips, and butt, without showing too much; it was made for her.

"Well?" She asked, looking at his stare but getting no answer, feeling her cheeks heat in marooned embarrassment. "Is it that bad?"

"Adorable."

Connie's eyes widened, "A-Adorable?" She pursued her lips, looking down at herself. She wasn't used to being called that. 

"Yeah... I mean, yeah, it looks sexy..but it really brings out your softer, sensual charms."

"I...I.." her nose flared as she fought the bubbling feeling in her chest. " You're... You’re not just saying that, right?" She rubbed her left calf with her right ankle.

"I wouldn't lie about this." Steven raised his right hand in a promise.

She crossed her arms, her mouth in a side pout," So...I'm cute in this, then?"

"Are you fishing for compliments?" Steven teased, getting a raised brow look of astonishment from his betrothed

" I..No!" She crossed her arms below her chest, looking away, pouting with puffed blush crossed cheeks and steady brows.  

 Before turning towards the hybrid, just as she was about to attempt to make her point, she was caught off guard by his hand gently but securely grabbing her chin and leading her to move her face up close to his, their nose tips gingerly touching.

It wasn't the first time he did this, and it always made her feel a bit meek. Never unpleasantly, though.

"You're always cute."

The feel of his warm lips sandwiching her top lip with popping clips was new.

New but welcomed. 

[softjeon]

Falling for you | Pt. 1

• Pairing: Jimin x Namjoon • Genre: fluff, nsfw-content  | Rating: Mature | Christmas!AU / Curse!AU • Words: 4,1k | AO3 • Disclaimer: mentioning of blood, accidents, alcohol

written with @cassiavioletblue​

↳  Everyone told him that love was the highest aim, that it was what completes you and made you happy…but he was never lucky like that. It just took a piece of him and left scars on his heart every time. He was done with that. He had given up on love a long time ago so he should stick to it or else not only he would be affected.

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He glanced up at the luxury property as he crossed the street walking towards it. A massive twenty-something story modern building of tinted glass and stone. In front of it, there was a doorman wearing white gloves and dressed in a long red coat hailing for a taxi for an old man, before opening the door for him with a big smile. A shy thank you came from his lips, as he slipped into the building where he felt even more out of place than before. Maybe he should have decided to wear something else? He had never been to this part of the town and had never planned to do so. Usually, he had no business being here. But he really needed the money. 

He frowned, trying to ignore the fact that the chandelier hanging in the lobby probably cost more than he had ever spent in his entire life, walking up to the elevators to push the button, Jimin took a deep breath.

… 

"Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, jingle all the way!" His voice was echoing through the hallway, as Jungkook wiggled happily, dancing around, while holding a bunch of folders in his hands. "Oh, what fun it is to ride…" His singing stopped abruptly, when someone's chest hit his nose, making him stumble back. Jungkooks gaze wandered up the dark blue tie until he met his boss's eyes. "I know, I know. You're more the Halloween type of guy but the spooky season is over, Mr. Kim. Only four more weeks until Christmas!" A big grin appeared on his face as he pushed the folders into Namjoons hold. "No more warlocks, demons or witches. Just cinnamon, cookies, presents ...and love. It's my personal mission to get you into the mood, sir." 

“Then I’m afraid I have to tell you your personal mission is bound to fail spectacularly.” He wipes a bit of glitter from the folders that he has no idea where it came from as Jungkook isn’t carrying actual Christmas decoration but he wouldn’t be surprised if Jungkook love for Christmas would manifest in glitter that magically appears on people who hate Christmas whenever he is near. 

He wonders how someone can be so happy about a season where you have to hear the same songs you had to listen to all the years before, where everyone is stressed but points out that it's about ‘peace and family’ while everyone is getting crazy about how many presents they still have to buy and how much money it’s going to cost. He hates it with a passion, honestly, but keeps it to himself. Maybe it’s also because it’s supposed to be the ‘season of love’ and he closed that chapter a long, long time ago.

Jungkook frowned a little, but it was soon replaced with a smile again. “Are you always this self-fulfilling prophecy type? With this mood, how are you supposed to even enjoy the most wonderful time of the year? He sang the last part of it, posing as he stretched out his arms with jazz hands as if he’d just finished a massive dance piece waiting for his applause. But there was none. “Can’t believe I took the spot,” He sighed dramatically, “If I had known I’d be working for the grinch himself…” Jungkook grinned teasingly, knowing that Namjoon could take a joke - or else he really wouldn’t have been working for him as his personal assistant. It was his dream job actually. 

When he first arrived at the interview, Jungkook didn’t think he’d stand a chance against all the other people with far more expertise than he had. Kim Designs was a very well-known Company, that Jungkook always had admired and in a ‘go big or go home’ moment, he had filled out the application in the middle of the night, a little frustrated and drunk on wine after being dismissed for the nth time by various of companies because of his lack of experience. And to his own surprise, the former assistant had called him in for an interview. The elegance, the simplicity and yet, the intricate little details that were Kim Namjoon’s trademark were always a personal favorite of Jungkook and although he still wasn’t so sure why he had picked him, he was happily working for him now. 

“But you’re coming to the office party, right?” Jungkook asked with a raised eyebrow, before another sigh came from him. “The Christmas party? In your office? That is every year and you never attend?” The ring of the doorbell made Jungkook walk a little more backwards towards the elevator that was about to arrive on their level, without leaving his boss out of view. “I told everyone you were coming this year. Said you were really happy about it!”

Namjoon just pulled a face, “You’re lucky I need you or I would send you straight out to door so you can bring your Christmas-nonsense somewhere else!” The truth was Jungkook was the best that could have happened to this company and he was really fond of him so he would keep him no matter how crazy he would get during those last two months of the year. 

The party would probably be like every year: He paid for it, for delicious food and colorful drinks, for decorations and little surprises - all made by a party company of course so he didn’t have to even step foot in the room. No one expected him to be there anyways, except for Jungkook maybe, who somehow never ran out of hope and determination.

“You can say it, Joon! You love me!” Jungkook winked at him, before turning around swiftly just right at the moment the elevator stopped. He pushed the button and the two metal doors slid open. Knowing about Namjoon’s appointment, Jungkook was keeping a smile on his face, awaiting the substitute maid that Hayoung wanted to send in, while she was on vacation. 

Inside the elevator, he was realizing that he was facing the wrong way, Jimin turned around with blushed cheeks. “I’m here to see Kim Namjoon. I’m supposed to be taking over for Hayoung.” He spoke as calm as he could, trying to cover up the fact how nervous he was. He knew who Kim Namjoon was. Everyone did. 

“That would be me.” Namjoon tried to hide the fact that the person in front of him was nothing like he had expected. Hayoung was a sweet old woman, the motherly type and somehow when she had said she would get someone to cover for her during her holiday Namjoon had thought she would ask a friend, someone her age. However, the boy in front of him couldn’t be older than himself! And he was pretty enough to be a model with full lips and a soft smile that turned a little shy when Namjoon looked too long at him. He cleared his throat, getting himself together before walking ahead. “Let’s go to my office, there we can do the formalities and we can decide when exactly you will start. I suppose Hayoung already explained all your duties to you before she sent you here?”

Jimin gave him a nod, passing Jungkook with a smile, who turned back around to let his eyes wander up and down the maid’s back. His eyes widened as he raised his eyebrows at Namjoon, pursing his lips into an appreciative nod. Pointing at the young man, he gave his boss a thumbs up, his mouth shaping all kinds of ‘wow’ and ‘omg’ words as he walked into the elevator. To top it all off Jungkook began to form hearts with his hands before he started to hum ‘all I want for Christmas’ again.  

Namjoon furrowed his brows, shaking his head at Jungkook to tell him to stop. He received a very confused look from Jimin and realized that the younger’s relaxed and confident facade was slowly but surely starting to crumble. Was he scared of him? It didn’t surprise him when people from outside believed the media that painted him as an ice cold, scary, power hungry man because of his sudden success but he would have thought that Hayoung had told Jimin that he wasn’t like that. He opened the door for Jimin and the younger almost stumbled when he stepped on the carpet. 

What a great start for someone who was supposed to clean his precious apartment… 

Jimin sat down on one of the chairs in front of Namjoon’s desk, folding his hands together to keep them from nervously shaking. Was his expression already a ‘no’? Had he found someone else?

“Hayoung told me everything I need to know.” He began answering Namjoon’s question from before. “What your preferences are, where I can find everything, and she gave me a list of duties that need to be done daily or weekly. Oh, and of course the list of things I shouldn’t touch. She made sure I studied it well, before coming here, so I hope I can replace her for her vacation accordingly.” Jimin took out a thin folder, holding it out for Namjoon to take. “My personal information as requested.”

Namjoon put it aside right away, never taking his gaze from Jimin. He could read that later. What was way more important to him was if he could trust Jimin to stick to the rules, to not sniff around or steal or…worse. “Why did you take this job, Jimin? I’m sure you have better options than cleaning, don’t you?” He cut straight to the point. 

Jimin froze on the spot like a deer in headlights.

“I mainly work as a florist but as you might know, it’s a job you have to do with all of your heart and yet, it doesn’t pay much. That’s how I know Hayoung. She always comes to buy fresh flowers for years. I assume some of them were even for your apartment.” He explained without hesitation. “I’m not really the type to work in a bar or be a waiter. I don’t mind cleaning, though and Hayoung has been speaking so kindly about you.” He smiled at Namjoon, feeling a lot more at ease the more he was talking. “And it’s Christmas, Mr. Kim. I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I could use a little extra money.”

“Money won’t be the problem, I pay well - if you do your job right. If you have a problem or need more cleaning supplies or anything comes up you can talk to me. And I mean talk to me first. My apartment is very personal and private and exclusively visited by me. As you might have guessed there are things that are of utmost importance to me. I am very peculiar about order and privacy and that you keep everything you see and hear to yourself. Do you think you can handle the weight of this responsibility?” He downright stared at Jimin by now who didn’t seem to know where to look.

“Absolutely,” Jimin’s smile reached his ears, looking up at him with a smile, before averting his gaze shyly again. In front of him sat a man with way more influence than he could ever dream of. He could destroy him and his reputation with a snap of his fingers. Jimin had absolutely no interest in angering him. Hayoung had explained it to him perfectly, the need for order and privacy, when it came down to the newest collection. Just one word to the wrong person could mean a great damage for Kim Designs.  

“Then I’m glad to have you here.” He pushed the paperwork over to Jimin. “Please fill those in before you start. The money will be transferred to you at the end of your job. Two weeks, is it? Unless you need it sooner, then I can talk to Jungkook and he will figure something out as I trust you wouldn’t get Hayoung or yourself into trouble by just taking the money and vanishing.”

“That’s fine,” Jimin took a pen and began to fill out the form quickly but thoroughly. “When do you want me to start?” He asked, lifting his head to look at Namjoon again. “Oh, Hayoung hadn’t told me about it, but I happened to notice there was no decoration. Do you want me to set up some Christmas lights? I bet they would look great in your entrance.” 

“No!” He blurted out, startling Jimin so much the pen slipped over the paper. He felt immediately sorry for him. “Ah, sorry for that, it’s just... I don’t really like the whole Christmas ordeal. It’s Jungkook who makes a fuss about it. Jungkook my personal assistant, you’ve seen him pass you at the elevator but I’m sure you’ll get to know him properly some other time, he basically handles my schedule on his own for me.” The alarm on his watch reminded him that he had to be in a zoom meeting in ten minutes, so he got up and Jimin mirrored him right away. “As for when you start, the sooner the better.” He got out his set of spare keys from the drawer and gave them over to Jimin. “These are my keys, don’t lose them or you’ll have to pay for the locksmith. You can let yourself in whenever you want, I often work late so you can clean whenever your other job allows it. Take your time in the beginning, I’d rather pay for an extra hour than coming home to a half-cleaned apartment.”

Still confused about his behavior but with a smile, Jimin took the keys from him. “I will do my best.” Was all he could say, before Namjoon had closed the office door right in his face, leaving Jimin startled once more. 

Taking his bag, Jimin placed it on the kitchen counter and looked around the apartment. He could hear faint noises of a conference call behind the office door and because he didn’t want to be noisy and listen, Jimin took out his notepad, where he had scribbled down everything important that Hayoung had told him. 

The apartment was far bigger than he had imagined, so Jimin was glad for the order of tasks he was given or else he’d have probably felt a little overwhelmed. After dusting off the shelves and cleaning up each and every counter, Jimin was sweeping the floor, making sure he didn’t miss a spot, and everything was back at its place just like before. Not an inch too far to the left or right. Just like Namjoon wanted it. 

Hayoung would have been proud of him, Jimin thought to himself, when he pushed the button of the elevator again, waiting with a content smile. 

…

“So, when was the moment you wanted to tell me Hayoung would send such a bombshell, huh? Is he single? Maybe I could slip my number in...or drop my card here somewhere...He probably is married, right?” Jungkook let out a small whine, as he looked up from his notepad, where he had scribbled down everything Namjoon had said in the last twenty minutes. “You know what you should have done, make him wear a maid’s costume.” He grinned, leaning back a little, “I’m just joking!” Raising his hands in defense, he added quietly, “You can’t deny he’d look good in it, or well, he probably looks good in anything. What was his name again?”

“I didn’t know who Hayoung would send and I also don’t care how he looks.” The last part was a blatant lie, but he knew if he confessed that he thought Jimin was very attractive Jungkook would never let him live it down. Also, he refused imagining Jimin in a maid costume (maybe at home in his bedroom when he was alone...) 

“I don’t know if Jimin is married…” Jimin didn’t wear a ring on his finger but maybe he was wearing it on a necklace under his clothes “...but you better be quick if you want to ask him out because he will only be here for a couple of weeks.”

He placed his pen aside and looked directly at Jungkook. “Is there anything else on my schedule today? If not I’ll leave you to your swooning over Jimin to make some private calls.”

Jungkook shook his head, as he got up and took his bag with him. On his way out, the elevator already opened up before he could even push the button and Jimin smiled right back at him. Jungkook greeted him with a light bow, slipping into the elevator while the other passed him.

Jimin was holding onto something wrapped in paper and only the green ends sticking out told Namjoon what it was: flowers. 

“I thought you might like them on your dinner table?” The younger man walked up to Namjoon, showing him the bouquet of flowers. “Do you like them? I arranged them just how I’d normally do it for Hayoung, just added a little more...now that I know what your lovely home looks like.” His eyes fell onto the phone in the other’s hand and the papers in front of him that indicated the other was still working and quickly added. “Maybe they make working a little easier if you can look at something pretty. I’ll put them in a vase for you and then you can decide.” 

“That’s nice.. thank you.” Namjoon was a little overwhelmed. Normally he asked Hayoung to get flowers for birthdays or celebrations; he rarely got them for himself for no reason. However, Jimin had a well-trained eye and the light, soft colors brightened the room very nicely. The call that he was about to make was forgotten as he put the phone aside, following Jimin into the kitchen where the younger was busy filling the vase. “Did the cleaning go well?” He asked after a moment of silence, because he didn't know how else to start a conversation with Jimin.

“Yeah,“ Jimin cocked his head aside, looking at Namjoon with a smile. “Did I miss anything last night? I’m sorry if I missed a spot, I tried working off the list Hayoung gave me. Maybe you want to look it over and see if everything is included?” He arranged the flowers a little more, so they looked perfect, before turning it around to Namjoon to make him see. “I didn’t vacuum your office though, as you were still working when I was finishing everything. Are you always working this late, Mr. Kim?”

“No, no, it was perfect.” Had he sounded like he was questioning Jimin or wanted to reprimand him? Namjoon pressed his lips together. He really didn’t have a talent for small talk. He could handle a room full of people easily - if it was a meeting. But as soon as he tried to talk casually with someone it backfired.

“You made the right decision, please don’t try to vacuum my office while I’m still in it.” He tried a small smile. “I’m in contact with people from various time zones that's why I’ll have to be in my office during strange hours.” He explained, keeping it to himself that yesterday he had simply lost track of time.

“Just making sure you’re not overworking yourself. Even a busy man like you need to rest. I don’t think you come up with all your ideas on sleep deprivation…” Jimin pushed the vase over to Namjoon carefully. “Do you mind placing it onto the table for me?” He turned around to open the cabinet with the cleaning supplies to get out all the things he needed today. There was no need to do all the rooms daily, so he was switching routines, taking out the piece of paper again to check Hayoung's notes. 

Namjoon didn’t move, holding the vase to his chest but keeping his eyes on Jimin, fixated by the way the younger licked his lips in thoughts while studying his list or how he pushed the hair away from his face. He wondered if it was as soft as it looked…

He was about to head to the stairs that lead to Namjoon’s bedroom, when Jimin noticed the vase still being in his hands. Jimin chuckled, looking up the taller man. “The dinner table, Mr. Kim. Or do you want it to be somewhere else? Should I take them up to your bedroom maybe?” Namjoon’s stare made him nervous, the long gaze he was holding made him avert his own. “Is…is there something on my face?” Jimin wiped over his cheeks nervously. He had quickly eaten some sandwich on his way over here, after he had closed his shop, so he wondered if there was sauce on his face. That would be more than embarrassing!

“Ah, dinner table of course!” He rather had Jimin thinking that he hadn’t been sure where to put the flowers then confess that he had been caught by how beautiful Jimin was. He was also pretty sure that Jimin was doing all those lovely little things that made him so charming without even realizing it. “Your face is fine.” He answered Jimin’s question a little stupidly, leaving it at that without giving another explanation, simply because he didn’t have any that wouldn’t include how he could stare at Jimin for hours without any reason.

Jimin couldn’t help but giggle at Namjoon’s cuteness. It was strange to see a man, who he only thought of a well-known designer, someone wealthy and smart so flustered out of a sudden. It was kind of cute.

Walking up the staircase, Jimin smiled at the other over his shoulder when out of a sudden he stumbled forward and over the rug that was laid out at the top. Falling hard on his knees, Jimin yelped in pain, just for it to turn into laughter, quickly giving Namjoon a sign that he was doing okay. 

Namjoon hurried over to him, nonetheless. “Are you okay? Did you slip?” Jimin fell so quickly that he hadn’t seen anything at all. Hopefully the other wasn’t hurt because - and he felt a little guilty thinking this - if he couldn't come clean then Namjoon would have no possibility to see him again. And he really wanted to see him…

 “I’m fine,” Jimin was about to get up, when Namjoon’s strong grip pulled him up easily. “Oh, please don’t worry.” He quickly waved the other off, I just stumbled over your rug, that’s all. I’m usually not very clumsy, but I think looking one way and going the other is never a good idea.” His eyes fell down to where Namjoon was still holding onto him and his heart skipped a beat, quickly trying to cover the blush appearing on his cheeks while he brushed off his knees. “It’s best I fall up the stairs, not down, right?”

Namjoon chuckled. “If you put it that way then yes, please only fall up the stairs.” They were standing a little too close together from how he had pulled Jimin up but neither of them stepped away. Up close like this he could see Jimin’s eyelashes that fanned out beautifully, hiding Jimin’s eyes with the way the younger was looking down right now. There was a rosy blush high on Jimin’s cheekbones and Namjoon almost brushed over it out of instinct, before he quickly stepped away, shocked by his own desires. What the hell was he doing here?

Jimin flinched from the sudden step back when moments before he had gotten lost in Namjoon’s eyes. “I ehm…I need to be in your bedroom.” He stuttered the words nervously, realizing too late how they sounded. “I mean…clean your bedroom. I wanted to change the sheets and…that’s where I need to be. Not in the sheets, I eh…” Jimin was about to slap himself, feeling his cheeks flush red as he grabbed the cleaning utensils again and taking another step away from Namjoon. 

With that Jimin vanished so quickly Namjoon couldn’t even utter another word. Which was probably better because else he might have told that he would very much like it to have Jimin in his bedroom and in his sheets. 

Namjoon shook his head hoping to get rid of those strange ideas. What was he doing? One night stands where fine but this? This was dangerous. He had given up on love a long time ago so he should stick to it or else not only he would be affected but also Jimin. 

The poor boy had no idea what he had gotten himself into, he was just sweet and charming and Namjoon should make sure to keep his distance from now on if he didn’t want to destroy that.

A/N: Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells... Let’s get into the christmas mood with a little love story shall we ;) Once more we couldn’t keep ourselves from writing our favorite pairings. Thats how it is now lmao. Anyways...why is Namjoon afraid of affecting someone with falling in love? What’s happening there huh???

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[normal-thoughts-official]

Fandom racism anon here and yeah absolutely (I didn't realise I had anon on lol)

Because while LOTR has problems within its themes (ie the orcs can be seen as to be coded as people of colour, especially since they ride elephants) the explicit message of the book is evil bad

Because the only people who work for sauron are evil. There are no morally grey people, they aren't misguided or tricked they just are evil and want to take over the world

And yeah I totally agree that this is more of a literal take on like empirical war (is that the word) and that makes total sense considering Tolkiens history

Whereas I would say that the allegories in shaowhunters is way more based on racial conflict within a country itself especially slavery, I can't remember if this is show Canon but is it that they have the warlock tropheys? I remember that in the books magnus talks about shadowhunters hanging warlock marks on their walls? (sorry to bring the books up)

Idk it's very hollow to me, unlike with LOTR though it's a different allegory it's totally irritating to show many of these supremecists as morally misled. LOTR says bad guys are bad guys, shadowhunters says well yeah they did follow a guy which thinks that downworlders are subhuman and should be eradicated but they just made a mistake

I want to compare this to tfatws which while it isn't really fantasy I just feel like it shows how the priorities of the writer can impact the message of the show so powerfully (I know u aren't up to date so I'm gonna be pretty vague)

There's a scene in tfatws where the new white perfect captain America does something bad and doesn't pay for the consequences - done to comment on white privelege and how America condones white supremacy and how Sam is in comparison to that

Mayrse and Robert revealed to be part of the circle! And paid no consequences Shock horror my parents were the bad guys (even rho they were either implicitly or explicitly extremely racist the entire time) also I haven't finished the seires but do the lightwoods ever try to get their parents to face the consequences?)

Only one actual really critiques the situation and the reality behind it whereas the other one is just to centre the white characters once again and present them in a further sympathetic light

AND ANOTHER THING! I was mostly talking about show Canon here and I'm sorry to bring up the books but I literally can't believe I hadn't picked up in this before.

So like downworlders = people of colour, Simon is a vampire so is coded as a person of colour. However in the books in the last one he stops being a vampire and becomes a shadowhunters instead, coincidentally that's also when he starts dating Izzy HOW IS THIS ABLE TO HAPPEN!!????

I mean I know cassandra clare is lazy right? The original seires is by far the worst of all her writings but come ON!!!!! By the allegory has he become the white man!????? These books made no fuckin sense when I read them at 15 and they make no sense now I'm digressing anyways

I don't know man I wrote this ask because I was trying to find some fantasy book recommendations on booktube and SO MANY of them were about slavery or general ly extrême préjudice with à White protagonist to save this 'poor souls'.

Also I was watching guardians of the galexy the other day and realised nearly every movie set in space is just bigger stakes imperialism - planets instead of countries. Literally star wars, star trek, guardians of the galexy 2, avengers infinity war - all are facing genocidal imperialistic villains without actually paying much, if any attention to those effected

Just writing this ask made me exhausted I'm so tired of lazy writing and exploiting other people's struggle. I'm white and I'm trying to be more critical about the movies, shows and books I watch and read but let me know if I said something off here❤️❤️ you gotta get up to date with tfatws man, Sambucky nation is THRIVING!!!!

i'm not sure i agree that the whole "the evil people are evil" thing is a good thing, because i feel like more often than not making the bad characters just like... unidimensionally evil just means that the reader will be like "lol i could NEVER be that guy" and when it comes to racism that is a dangerous road to take because white people already believe that racism is something that Only The Most Evil People, Ergo, Not Me, Can Do, which makes discussions of stuff like subconscious racial bias and active antiracist work become more difficult because people don't believe they CAN be racist unless they're like, Lord Voldemort

which is not to say that racism should be treated as morally ambiguous, just that the workings of racism should be represented as something that is not done only by the Most Hardcore And Evil, but rather as a part of a system of oppression that affects the way everyone sees the world and interacts with it and lives in it

yes the warlock trophies are mentioned in the show, albeit very quickly (there is a circle member who tells magnus that his cat eyes will make "a nice addition to his collection" and then it's never mentioned again because this is sh and we love using racism for shock value but then not actually treating it as a serious plot point or something that affects oppressed ppl). and you are absolutely right, shadowhunters (and hp, and most fantasy books) has genocide as its core conflict and treats it, like you said, in a very hollow way, treating racism as both not a big deal and not something that is part of a system of oppression, but really the actions of a few Very Bad People. it's almost impressive how they manage to do both at the same time tbh

i think you hit the nail right on the head with this comment, actually. for most of these works, racism is SHOCK VALUE. it's just like "lol isn't it bad that this bad guy wants to kill a gazillion people just because they are muggles? now that is fucked up" but it's not actually an issue. in fact, when this guy is defeated, the whole problem is over! racism is not something that is embedded into that world, it's not a systemic issue, it's not even actually part of what drives the plot. the things that led to this person not only existing but rising to power and gathering enough followers to be a real threat to the whole world are never mentioned. it's like racists are born out of thin air, which is dangerously close to implying that racism is just a natural part of life, tbh

anyway my point is, it is never supposed to be questioned, it is never part of a deeper plot or story, its implications are barely addressed except for a few fleeting comments them and there; so, it's not a critique, it's shock value, even though it is frequently disguised as a critique (which is always empty and shallow anyway. like what is the REAL critique in works like hp or sh/tsc other than "genocide is bad"? wow such a groundbreaking take evelyn)

about simon and the book thing: i actually knew about this and the weird thing about this is that, like... simon is jewish, and he's implied to be ashkenazi (calls his grandma bubbe which is yiddish, which is a language spoken by the ashkenazi ppl), and it seems like cc is always toeing the line between him being accepted by shadowhunters and then not accepted by them, which sounds a lot like antisemitic tropes and history of swinging between (ashkenazi) jewish ppl being seen as the model minority myth and thus used as an example by white christians, and being hated and persecuted. i'm not super qualified to talk about this since i'm not jewish and i'm still learning about/unlearning antisemitism and its tropes, and i don't really have a fully formed thought on that, tbh; it just reminds me of the whole "model minority" swinging, where one second simon is part of the majority, the other he's not, but always he is supposed to give up a part of himself and his identity in other to be "assimilated" by shadowhunter culture. this article (link) covers a book on jewish people and assimilationism into USan culture, this article (link) covers british jews' relationship with being considered an ethnic group, and this article (link) talks a bit about the model minority myth from the perspective of an asian jewish woman

it just really calls to my attention that cc chose to make her ashkenazi jewish character start off as a downworlder and then become a shadowhunter. i don't think she made that decision as a conscious nod to this history, because it would require being informed on antisemitism lol but it's incredible how you can always see bigoted stereotypes shining through her narrative choices completely by accident. it just really shows how ingrained it is in our collective minds and culture

and anyway, making a character go from the oppressed group to just suddenly become the oppressor is just. wtf. not how oppression works, but most of all, really disrespectful, especially because she clearly treats it as an "upgrade"/"glowup" that earns him the Love Of His Life

also, out of curiosity, are you french? it seems like your autocorrect changed a few words and i'm pretty sure extrême and préjudice are the french versions of these words, and since u said ur white, that's where my money would be lol

[poppy-in-the-woods]

Bite me - Chapter 1

Tags: kidnapping, rescuing someone, vampires, biting, being stuck in a bunker.

Word Count: 4328

Author’s note: So, this is my second story inspired by Machine Gun Kelly (or the first one, because I wrote this one first). This one has vampires and I guess it could be classified as a supernatural slow burn romance.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list, and as always, every feedback is appreciated.

Let’s get spooky!

He was completely lost. In a city he did not know, with a cell phone that had almost no battery and a car whose GPS did not work. Maybe it was his fault, maybe he should have known that stopping to ask was not a good idea, but the woman seemed kind, and she was extraordinarily pretty; a statuesque brunette who looked like a runway model.

“I can take you, if you want, it's not far,” the woman had said when she heard the address, “and it’s on my way.”

Nick had heard stories of girls who had picked up hitchhikers and had not been seen again, or had been found dead months later, their bodies mutilated and disfigured. He had also heard stories of couples or families picking up strangers and being brutally murdered. But, although he had heard all those stories he had never heard that the abductor was a woman. Maybe if he had paid more attention to the serial killer documentaries that his friend Mark liked to watch, he would have remembered Aileen Wuornos, but he didn't.

He didn't see it coming. He didn't even had time to draw his gun and try to defend himself against her before she knocked him out. He woke up tied to a bed, in his underwear, and with a piece of duct tape as a gag. The woman was not alone, there were two others with her: a blonde and a curly-haired redhead. All three were beautiful, like something out of a painting, and Nick had the fleeting thought that if he died, he would at least get one last nice picture.

But they didn't kill him. He would have preferred they had, actually.

How long had he been there, tied to that bed, bleeding from several bites? One week, two, maybe? Less? He had completely lost track of time. He would slip in and out of unconsciousness at times, fed and allowed to go to the bathroom without a discernible pattern, and since the room had no windows and the blinds were drawn in the rest of the house, he had no way of knowing if it was day or not.

More than hearing it, he felt it, a small change in the air, so slight that it refused to be a sound: the almost imperceptible footsteps of someone barefoot, someone who did not want to be heard. The vampires never bothered to camouflage the sound of their footsteps, they seemed to like the effect they produced on him, the anticipation of the so hated bite. It couldn't be them, so who was? Was there another human with him? Or had someone broken into the house?

The door swung open, revealing a patch of dark grey, and quickly closed again. Someone began to untie him; small hands, with thin and fast fingers.

"If I remove your gag, will you start screaming?" Asked a female voice. Nick shook his head. “Good boy.”

The girl finished untying him and removed the piece of tape from his mouth. She took out a small round lamp from the bag she was carrying and pressed it. Soft white light flooded the room, bringing enough clarity for Nick to see. He noticed that the girl had her boots tied together by the laces, hanging around her neck.

She searched the room in a hurry. The vampires had taken his things away, but they weren't too far from him: his clothes, his wallet, his cigarettes… even his gun; it was all on top of a chair, a few steps from where he had been tied.

“Dress up quickly. And in silence,” she ordered, handing him his clothes.

Nick did what she told him, or at least, he tried. Meanwhile, she was watching.

“Come on, now that the way is clear.” Nick tried to take a couple of steps, but his knees gave out. She caught him before he fell. “Lean on me and don't look back.”

They stumbled out, making a lot of noise. The dark-haired vampire met them on the ladder, but his rescuer pulled out a gun (Nick's gun, actually) and, while helping him down the ladder, emptied the magazine into the attacker's chest, firing at point-blank range. That made the vampire fall back, screaming.

They stepped over the vampire and walked down the short hall to the front door. The girl kicked it open and they went out into the sun; Nick blinked, the sudden clarity hurting his eyes after so long in the dark. The other vampires must have caught up with their sister, because there were screams behind them.

He was about to pass out as he was dragged into a van parked on the sidewalk.

“Please, hold on a little longer,” she asked him as she helped him up.

He passed out as soon as she pulled, running out of there at full speed. When he woke up, the sun had passed its high point. They had stopped at a gas station, and she brought him some food and drink. The desert surrounded them; they were certainly no longer in Vegas.

“I'm sorry it's not more filling, but we don't have time to wait for something to be made for us,” she apologized, handing him the can and the sandwich.

“Thank you… I'm sorry, I don't know your name.”

“Morrigan Monroe, but everyone calls me Momo. You are Nick, right?” He nodded. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes.”

“Good, because we have to switch cars, so let's go.”

They switched to a jeep. As he ate his turkey sandwich and sipped his Coke, Nick dared to watch his saviour. She was short, juvenile-looking, almost as if she had just passed adolescence, although she was probably in her twenties, and she had extraordinarily white hair and skin, even for an albino. The ashen undertone of her skin was too much like that of her captors.

“You are like them,” she said.

“What?” She asked, not taking her eyes off the road.

“You're a vampire,” Nick said. Fear began to seep into his bloodstream when he saw that she did not deny the accusation. He couldn't go anywhere with the car running.

“I saved you, didn't I?” She replied.

“Why did you do it? And how is it that you can go out into the daylight?”

“Let's go in parts: I've saved you because, even though those three succubae are my family, I don't approve of what they do,” she explained. “You're not the first, you know? But it's wrong. And I couldn't save the others.”

“You could have hurried a bit more,” Nick scolded her.

“I could,” she agreed, “but then we'd both have died. Everything had to be calculated to the millimetre, and although some things have not gone as planned, we are still alive thanks to the fact that when I went for you the sun was high in the sky. Which brings us to your second question. This is what allows me to go out into the daylight,” she said, pulling a flask from her inside jacket pocket.

“Whisky?” He scoffed.

“No, you idiot, angel blood.”

“Where did you get angel blood?”

“I bought it from a rabbi. You can get almost anything on the black market for the supernatural.”

For a moment Nick imagined an angel like the ones in the paintings bleeding from a wrist and an old Jewish man collecting the blood in a golden bowl.

“And where did he get it?”

“I didn't ask him,” she replied, shrugging. “But it's fresh, and taking a sip every hour saves me from being burned by the sun. Speaking of which, cheers!” she added, taking a mouthful from her flask.

Nick caught a glimpse of a drop of the liquid: it was golden, something halfway between molten gold and distilled light.

“It's like a 5000 factor sunscreen for vampires,” he said in wonder.

“Aha. Your bites have opened, when we arrive I will have to heal them.”

Nick shifted restlessly in his seat; the stains on his clothes were tiny, if Momo could see that, what else could she perceive? He didn't like a bit the idea that she could smell his fear, or hear his heartbeat, though he knew she could probably do all of that and more.

They turned off the highway, driving down back roads and finally down a dirt track to a house in the middle of the desert. It was small, one-story, and didn't look very solid.

“We have arrived,” she announced. “Home Sweet Home.”

“It's a joke, isn't it?”

“Appearances aren't everything, Nick,” she said, getting out of the car.

He shrugged, but he followed her anyway; he wasn't going to stay outside when night fell.

The interior of the house presented the same decadent appearance as the exterior, which, coupled with its secluded location, deterred would-be burglars. The furnishings were minimal, old and worn looking, and the appliances looked like something out of a 1950s movie. Nick was sure Mark's grandmother had a fridge like that when they were kids.

“Do you need help with that?” He asked Momo, seeing her reach down to grab the sofa by the frame. She arched an eyebrow in disbelief and moved the couch with one hand. “Okay, I see you don't.”

Underneath was a hatch camouflaged between the floorboards. Momo opened it, revealing a tubular passageway, with metal steps set into the concrete wall, like a manhole.

“Come on in,” she said.

“How are you going to close it and put the sofa on top?” Nick wanted to know, starting to go down.

“Don't worry about it,” she replied, entering as well.

The sofa levitated over the hatch, and she hurried to close it. The sofa fell back into the place it had been, hiding the hatch.

The corridor ended in an unpolished concrete hall with an armoured door, like that of a bank, which had a triple lock: key, numeric keypad and fingerprint reader. Nick noticed that Momo wore the key around her neck, on a chain along with a heart-shaped vial filled with what looked like blood. She then entered an eight-digit code and let the scanner read her left thumbprint.

The door looked heavy, but thanks to the hydraulic mechanism, it opened easily. Momo motioned for him to enter first; Nick shrugged and went inside.

The inside of the bunker did not look the way he would have expected. It was not sterile and metallic or crude and concrete, but rather looked like the interior of a richly furnished hunting lodge.

“Is this place yours?”

“My sire’s, but he lets me use it.”

“Sire,” he repeated, frowning. “What does that mean?”

“It's the word we use to designate the person who turns you. Father or mother would be good synonyms,” she explained.

“You said that vampires are your family, are they your sisters?” He wanted to know, a little apprehensive.

“No, but they are part of my clan. They are the progeny of one of my sire's brothers.”

“So they're your cousins.”

“Yes, my cousins. Now you should take off your clothes so I can examine those bites and heal you,” Momo ordered.

“Surely they can heal by themselves,” he replied defensively. He didn't want to undress in front of her.

“Your leg is getting infected, I can smell it. It’s near a major artery; I would not take risks with septicaemia. Or gangrene,” she added.

“Okay,” Nick said. He didn't know what the hell that septicaemia was, but gangrene scared him.

“Come sit on the couch.”

Nick stripped down to his underwear and sat on the couch. He had a small cluster of bites close together on each arm, on two of the few patches of skin he did not have tattooed, and a third cluster on the inner left thigh, near the groin.

“Gods, they weren't even taking good care of you, huh?” She replied, brushing one of his wounds with the tips of her fingers. Nick flinched. “Let's start with the ones in his arms. Although maybe we should document them first...”

“Is it truly necessary?” He said, grimacing.

“In a case of her word against mine, I am inclined to gather all possible evidence, just in case.”

“Okay then.”

Momo took her cell phone out of her pocket and took pictures of the bites, as well as the rubbing of the cords on his wrists and ankles.

“Done, now we can heal them.”

Nick thought she would go for a first aid kit, but instead of that, Momo pulled out her fangs, pricked her own thumb with one of them and spread her blood over his wound. Nick gasped when he saw it snap shut.

“Wow, that's amazing.”

Momo smiled and proceeded to close the other wound. For the ones in his leg, she did go for a first aid kit and took out gauze and alcohol.

“It's going to sting you a little. Can you lift your leg so I can see it better, please?” Nick did as she asked. “Yes, like this. Spread your knees a little more...”

As she had warned him, it stung when she disinfected the wound, but it was over quickly when she used her blood to close it.

“Much better! Wow, you are very tattooed, huh?” She commented, standing up. Nick shrugged. “Now that you're healed, you could use a shower. You stink a bit.”

“I have no other clothes.”

“I think there must be something of my sire around here that you can use.”

“I'm a tall guy, I don't know...”

“He's tall too,” she interrupted. “I even think he’s a little taller than you. I'll wash your clothes in the meantime, okay? But you desperately need a shower.”

Momo was right, of course: the vampires hadn't taken care of his hygiene while they held him captive, and the desert summer wasn't helping. So Nick followed her into the bathroom.

“You have clean towels here, and there's soap and shampoo in the shower,” she told him. “When you finish, go to the bedroom with the S on the door, there you will find clothes to change into. I'll wait for you in the living room, okay?”

Nick hugged her. Momo was very surprised, but she hugged him too. Her skin was cold, and the contrasting temperatures made him feel the need to pull away from her, but he waited a few more moments. A thank you hug should last more than a couple of seconds, right?

“Thanks. For rescuing me and stuff,” she said.

“It's nothing, really. Now take a shower!” she ordered, amused, and she left the bathroom.

The hot water did wonders for his aching muscles, and since it was not his home and he did not pay the bills, he allowed himself to stay several minutes longer than usual. After the shower, he wrapped himself in a towel and went out into the hall. The door with the S was to the left of him, and when he entered, he found a bedroom decorated with Celtic motifs, lots of dark wood, and shades of green.

He found underwear on the dresser, and after putting on some boxer shorts, he headed for the closet. He found jeans and some T-shirts, not exactly his style, but his size.

He returned to the living room. She was watching TV while she sipped the contents of a thermos, although she did not seem to pay attention to the program, but rather had it as white noise.

“Do you want to eat something?” she asked. “I have some snacks, or the ingredients to make a sandwich, if you want.”

“I'll wait for dinner,” he said, sitting down on the couch with her. “Your sire is a big guy, huh? I had to adjust the belt so that my pants did not fall.”

“Yes he is,” she admitted, smiling fondly. “In his time, he was a hunter and a warrior. He was better fed than others.”

“How old are you?” Nick wanted to know.

She looked at him, and for a moment, she looked like she wasn't going to respond, or that she was going to tell him to get into his own business, yet she just took a sip of her drink.

“I was twenty-five when Sweeney turned me, back in Ireland at the end of the fifteenth century,” she finally said.

“Wow.”

“I shouldn't have lived that long, you know. I'm an albino and that was a sign of bad luck then, or of being the spawn of the devil, but my mother fought tooth and nail for me, and in the end I was allowed to live. At the age of fifteen, my own father accused me of witchcraft. They would have burned me, but Sweeney saved me.”

“Why did he wait ten years to turn you?”

“Well, for two reasons: the first is that it is illegal to turn children, and the second is that I didn't want to be a vampire. I was happy to be a servant in his house. But shortly after the new year, a plague ravaged those lands.”

“Did you get sick?”

“I suppose I got infected in the market, while shopping for the other human inhabitants of the castle, I don't know. But Sweeney didn't want to let me go, so he asked the question again.”

“And you accepted.”

Momo nodded.

“It burned more than the fever, but when it was over, I was like him: cursed forever, immortal, cold,” she explained. “Oh, but the force, the speed, the senses! He taught me to fight, to handle a bow, to hunt. And he renamed me Morrigan, for the Celtic goddess of war and death.”

“What was your name before?”

He knew he had screwed up as soon as he finished speaking, but he couldn't take the words back.

“You don’t ask that, Nick,” she replied, visibly angry. “That name died with me, and almost everyone who knew me by it is dead, so unless you want me to kill you, I won't tell you.”

“Ok, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked.”

“Gods, I don't know why I'm telling you all this...” she sighed.

“Maybe you just want me to like you. You don't want me to be afraid of you, like them.”

“Could be... What's your story?” she wanted to know.

“My tattoos tell my story, I don't have to talk.”

“Okay, Mr. Mysterious, but this is not going to stay this way,” she replied, amused.

“Hey, it's not that I don't enjoy your company, but when can I go home?” Nick asked.

He was thinking that the vacation days he had taken to come to Vegas were probably over. His boss was going to be pissed off when he got back, if he hadn't already fired him, of course.

“Not yet. I have to fix a few things first, to make sure you're safe, or this will all have been for nothing.”

“Do you think they could come after me?”

“I know they don't like having their prey taken from them, and that I emptied a clip on Marie's chest, so she won't be happy with me.”

“Is she still alive?” He asked, amazed. “Or undead, as you vampires say.”

“She's still alive, yes. The bullets are not that effective, unless they are special bullets.”

“And what are you going to do?” He wanted to know. He wasn't liking at all where this was going.

“I can think of several options... and you’ll like none of them.”

“I hope it's not one of those ‘this human is mine’ bullshit,” he said suspiciously. “Don't be offended, but I don't want to be anyone's property, and I don't want a vampire breathing down my neck every night.”

“I’m not offended. But I'm going to protect my investment, so I'll do what I have to do, and if I have to be close to you for the rest of your life...”

“I could report you to the police for harassment, you know?”

“And what would you tell the police?” ‘Agent, I have an insidious feeling that someone is following me,’” she scoffed. “You would never have a way to prove it.”

“You just said you will!”

Momo bit her lip.

“Okay, if you want me to leave you alone I'll do it, but I'd rather you didn't die,” she said at last.

“I am human, someday I will die,” he replied.

“Don't be an asshole, you understood me perfectly. Look, let me try to negotiate with Marie first, and whether or not it goes well, I'll take you home and leave you alone.”

Before Nick could say anything else, Momo's phone started ringing.

“It’s Allegra. The blonde,” she clarified for him, before picking up. She put on the speaker and gestured for him to be quiet. “Hi Allegra, how are you doing?”

“Don't play innocent, Morrigan. I know it was you who stole the tattooed guy from us, and we want you to give it back,” the blonde replied.

“He's not your property, Allegra, and I didn't steal anything, I just rescued him from a situation he clearly hadn't consented to be in.”

“And how do you know? Maybe he wanted to be there.”

“You had him tied to a bed, in his underwear, and you didn't even heal his bites, do you think that someone would be willing to be in that situation?”

“Humans have very weird fetishes,” Allegra excused herself.

“If he really wanted to be there, he would have yelled to let you know as soon as I removed the gag, and he would have refused to come with me,” Momo pointed out.

“Whatever! Marie sends you her regards, by the way,” Allegra said. “She says the next time she sees you, she will fire six shots into your chest, see if you like that.”

“Tell her I'm looking forward to it,” Momo replied, grinning fiercely.

“I hope you have the human well hidden, because being Daddy's little girl is not going to save you this time,” Allegra warned her. “We're going for you, and when we're done, he'll be ours and you'll be dead.”

And she hung up.

“Do you still want me to leave you alone?” Momo asked him.

“No. I don't want to die, please don't let them kidnap me again.”

Fear began to assail him again, and he suddenly felt very grateful to be in a bunker in the middle of nowhere.

“I won't allow it, I swear. Gods, everything has gone so wrong...!” Momo exclaimed, frustrated. “I thought I could negotiate with them, but I guess the shooting has complicated things.”

“You had to, they wouldn't have let us go, and they outnumbered you.”

“Oh, but even if it's not personal, for them it is,” Momo replied.

“It's not the first fight you've had, is it?”

“No. The thing is that there are humans who offer themselves to feed us, we have no need to kidnap anyone, let alone torture that way,” she explained. “But Marie, Allegra and Veronika enjoy instilling fear and torturing people.”

“Is that why you called them succubae?”

“Yes.” Momo seemed to realize something in that moment. “By the gods! Nick, they didn't… they didn't abuse you, did they? Tell me they didn't.”

“Marie liked me a lot, you know. She was the one who bit me on the leg. Every time I thought she was going to bring her hand up to my crotch and touch me, but she never did. They brushed against me, they kissed me… Marie said that when she finished with me I was going to beg, although I don't know how I was going to last that long if I had one of the bites infected,” Nick indicated.

“I suppose they would have healed them as soon as they found out.”

“And start over?” Momo nodded. “How long was I there?” Nick asked.

“Almost ten days.”

“Really? God, it seemed like an eternity!”

“I guess so.”

“We're safe here, right?”

“They can't come in,” Momo confirmed, “but we can't stay forever; we'll run out of supplies at some point.”

“And what do we do?”

“Let's stay here for now, while the food lasts, and I'll find a place we can go next.”

“And after that?” Nick insisted.

“I will have to appeal to the family court. Gather my father and his siblings and present my case. They can't touch us while the process lasts. The result should be in our favour,” she explained.

“What if they still don't leave us alone?”

“Do you remember I told you that there were special bullets to kill vampires?” Nick nodded. “Well, I'll have to get some clips and hope they're enough to stop them.”

“Aren't you a good shot?”

“I'm a top marksman, but it's hard to shoot vampires; we can move at superhuman speed, so the thing of shooting becomes about deducing trajectory to pull the trigger at the right time.”

“I don’t understand.

“You have the starting point and the arrival point. Point A and point B. The bullet should hit somewhere along that trajectory, and smart vampires don't move in a straight line, they move in a zigzag,” she explained. “Have you ever tried shooting something that moves incredibly fast in a zigzag?”

“No, not really,” he admitted.

“It's not easy at all. I was able to shoot Marie because she was at close range, but that won't happen again. For a real duel we prefer bladed weapons, either melee or mid-range, like a sword.”

“Do you fight with swords in the 21st century?” Nick scoffed.

“You can recover from gunshots, but you can’t recover from getting your head off your shoulders,” Momo said.

“True.”

“You should eat something and rest,” she suggested. “You can use Sweeney's bedroom.”

“Are you sure he won’t mind?”

“Yeah, he hasn’t been on this place for a decade. Come on, I'll help you make some dinner.”