#I mean the next biggest fear would be that considered Jack never wants to leave his Sunshine and is able to posses/make people do things

[variousyandereposts]

I am going to be just a tad bit disappointed if we don’t get “I always know that you were a bit ‘possess-ive’” as an option once 'Sunshine’ finds out that Jack can and does possess people like some kind of demon. 

[dwarf-vader-of-middle-earth]

So here's the true story that happened to me and my friends the other night, and I'll be sharing it at the open mic tomorrow!!

Us three friends decided to visit the graveyard, three nights before Halloween. It was one in the morning, Jess as well as Trip were drunk, but myself sober. Surprising, considering I was dressed as a Viking, and known for drinking mead.

Nonetheless, they’d both explored this graveyard on multiple occasions. Gravestones from over 200 years ago stuck up, some dilapidated and falling over. They weren’t the oldest graves I’d stepped on. I had been on some from the 1500s years ago at my aunt’s farm. However, all these were new to me.

Immediately, upon leaving my car, the air felt heavy, and cold, despite being 70 degrees. Presences filled the land around me, and I hesitated.

“The reverend is over there,” Jess told me, pointing to the distance.

I could have sworn I’d seen a shadowy figure kneeling at a grave.

Shaking the feeling off, I followed her point to a location we couldn’t make out in the pitch black of night.

“He’s got a gigantic cross and the biggest grave,” she said.

I gulped. A gay trans pagan crossing the holy ground of a reverend? From the 1800s when being gay was so blasphemous that you’d be killed, not to mention paganism had been nearly wiped out, and also worthy of the most brutal heretical death? I almost doubled over in fear. If there was one thing I wouldn’t fuck with, it wasn’t ghosts. It was churches, and especially the dead who were associated with them. I carried an air about me of everything unholy just for existing…

Together, Trip, Jess, and myself, walked through the beginning of the graveyard. Things seemed normal, but she and Trip warned me, there is a lurker who would follow us around.

The hairs on my arms stood up beneath the gauntlets I wore, and goosebumps covered my body. I barely breathed while we three wandered forth, into the pitch black night, lit only by a nearly full moon and the reflection it had on the clouds above.

As we traversed, more figures appeared within the corners of my vision. Some walking, some just standing, one scampering on all fours across the ground before disappearing behind the grave next to it. I simply nodded, refusing to put energy toward them. However, a suppressive, cold air surrounded us all, and I spoke out. “I’m cold,” I said. My friends knew I was never cold, especially in thick armor and multiple layers of furs on a 70 degree night.

Trip began shivering, rubbing his arms and letting his teeth chatter.

Something was absolutely following us.

We continued despite this, some areas warmer than others, but footsteps followed us. I kept glancing over my shoulder, looking to see what was there, only to find more shaded figures in the corners of my eyes still lurking. But nothing directly behind us. Pebbles moved all around despite there being no wind whatsoever.

Jess led us across several graves, one decorated for Halloween. We smiled at this, cute little ghosts and a jack-o-lantern surrounded by a faux gate sitting before the headstone. All three of us were careful not to step on those melded into the ground itself, but rather around them.

Never desecrate the deceased. Never dishonor them.

From here, we entered a pathway leading to the reverend. Following it precisely, we found ourselves standing before a gigantic wooden cross reaching at least twenty feet into the sky, and a tall grave which looked like it could be a mausoleum in and of itself. The air felt less suppressive, but still hesitant.

At least I knew I was hesitating…

Jess pulled out her spirit box, a device that allows the deceased to talk to us. And immediately, we got a male voice saying, “Hello.”

“Hello,” I said. “I know I’m a very blasphemous person by nature of what I am, but I promise from the depths of my soul, I mean no bad. I just want to say hello.”

“Go away,” he told me immediately after this.

I stumbled backward. I was expecting something, but not such a harsh response.

Jess spoke up. “Do you want us to go away?” she asked.

“Sure,” the same voice responded.

I looked down at my feet, and nodded. “S–sorry…” I told him. “I really didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to say hi…” And suddenly, the air became cold and heavy again.

All of us calmly continued walking onward, and suddenly, responses flooded the box. “Sit!” they said. “Sit! Sit! Sit!”

“We’re not going to sit,” Jess said politely.

“I feel them. Their untold stories,” I told her. “I want to know them all…”

“It’s kind of sad, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “Yeah…”

Nonetheless, we all continued walking. Suddenly, Trip paused. We asked if he was ok, to which he said, “No. I’m going to throw up.”

Hungover, I realized, and patted his shoulder gently as he wretched forward, spewing horrible bile from his mouth. He stood up. It was over a stump he’d gotten sick, not a grave. Nothing had the right to be pissed at us for that.

“We should get back to the car, then,” I told him.

Jess agreed, so we began walking back.

More pebbles rolled far away from us, despite there being nothing visible, and no wind. The air was still, cold, oppressive, and I continued hearing more footsteps.

“Sit!” said the voices through the box again. “Sit! Sit!”

“No, we aren’t going to sit here,” Jess told them once more, and we made our way to the central point of the graveyard where there were two benches, and a small glass pavilion. There, we all sat.

Or at least Jess and I did. Trip immediately kept walking, as though something was following him and he tried to escape. He made his way around it, and disappeared for a moment.

“Trip?” we called out.

Silence.

“Trip? You alright?” I asked.

Pebbles moved behind me, and shadowed figures continued walking as a voice said, “Blood,” through the box.

There, Trip reappeared from behind the glass. He made his way forth, eyes distant and glazed over.

“There were footsteps coming from that direction,” he said, pointing to a place we didn’t walk.

“I know,” I told him. “I didn’t want to scare you by saying anything. You ok?”

“No.”

“Let’s keep heading back, then.”

And together, we continued onward, back toward my car, careful as we cut through the graves to another pathway that we didn’t step on any stones. But as we walked across the final paved road to my car, I spoke out again. “I see stuff over there.” I pointed to the right.

A voice came through the box: “To the right,” he said. Different from any other voice we’d been hearing. And I gave a single nod as something ran past the field, entirely empty otherwise.

Finally, I saw my car. Taking one step toward it, off the pavement of the graveyard, something swiped at my fur wraps and grabbed the right one, and a distinct feeling of a hand on it disappeared within moments. I turned around at this. “Something just tried to grab my leg,” I said.

Jess also turned around. “It’s the lurker,” she told me. Looking into the distance, she said, “You aren’t going to follow us home. Ok? You have to stay here.”

The air freed itself up, returning to how it was before we’d arrived in the graveyard. Warm, humid, 70 degrees. And with that, the three of us entered my car.

Jess lit palo santo, or at least tried to. As I backed out, it wasn’t lighting. The moment we crossed the threshold of the graveyard, it suddenly caught alight, and she waved it around a little. “That was weir–Magnus? Don’t freak out, but do you see something in the rear view mirror? Or the side mirrors?”

I nodded, taking a brief look as I saw a shaded figure there, lurking in the rear view. “Yeah,” I said, driving down the dark, unlit road.

We ignored it, and eventually, it left. But its air still remained until we arrived at Jess’s house… And only then did it go away…

Can't wait for a few hours from now, where I get to host an open mic for my club while dressed as a Viking in plate armor and everything.

[sortasirius]

“Inherit the Earth” and the Fakeout

Absolutely genius.  Amazing, iconic, legendary, something only our showrunner Andrew Dabb can pull off.

"But Lilly, the episode was so bad!  It was just the brothers, they didn’t look for Cas and Eileen!”

YES.  THAT IS EXACTLY THE POINT.  THIS WAS A FAKE ENDING, THE END OF THE SEASON, NOT OF THE SERIES.

Let’s get into it.

An empty world.  No one left but Sam, Dean, and Jack.

So Dean ran, he somehow managed to pick himself up off the floor of the dungeon and meet up with Sam and Jack.  That jacket was this silent reminder.  Remember what I’ve been saying, Cas has occupied the negative space all season, this is no exception.

Dean can’t look either of them in the face, he’s doing that thing, where his eyes move everywhere BUT where he should look. 

“I couldn’t save anybody.”

Sam couldn’t save the world and Dean couldn’t save the one person that means the world to him.

“Where’s Cas?”

“Dean?”

I think it’s there, in that pause where Dean tries to push down the emotions, continue the fight, not think about the memories he left in the bunker, that Jack realizes what must have happened. Jack is the only one that knows about the deal, he has to know what Cas not being there must mean.

“He saved me.  Billie was coming after us.  Cas summoned the Empty.  It took her...and took him.  Cas is gone.”

This may shock you, but I am GLAD they didn’t talk about Cas, especially with what happens at the end of the episode.  Cas is allowed to just take up unsaid space.  It’s obvious he’s missing with the way they blocked things, obvious he’s missing here.  This whole “oh well they don’t care about Cas because they didn’t talk about him”?  Malarkey.

“Jack I’m sorry.”

Guilt.  Regret.  Pain.  Dean will carry this with him for the rest of his life.  Not only that he lost Cas, but that Sam lost Cas, that Jack lost Cas.

That SHOT, with the distance between Jack and Sam where Cas is SUPPOSED TO BE, and then a zoom out to...THE WORLD.

Okay, as usual, Bucklemming has the subtlety of a sledgehammer lmao.

Jack crying???  Praying to Cas????  Bruh?????

Also it’s just straight-up frightening for everything around my boy to die he is my baby son.

Also not to point out the incredibly obvious, but Dean starts drinking immediately, and continues drinking throughout the whole episode.  Grief arc 2.0 babey.

“We can what, Dean?  There’s no one left to save!  Everybody’s gone!”

“You can’t just give up.”

“What other choice do we have!”

Idk why, but for Sam, who’s the constant, the one who’s always had hope, through everything, through all these years, when he finally says this, when he finally loses his hope?  It hits the hardest.  Sam is the leader, so not only is he grieving the loss of Eileen, he is a general grieving the loss of his soldiers, his friends, the world that he feels the duty to save.

When they go to meet Chuck, I just can’t get that image of Dean, leaning against the car, handprint still on his jacket, staring at the ground out of my head.  It takes him a few seconds to catch up to Sam, like he’s pulled out of thoughts like deep dark water.  Remember friends, it doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful.

Chuck wearing BLACK?  FEAR.

“That’s right, the whole Cain and Abel thing.  Us dead, whatever.  I’ll kill Sam, Sam’ll kill me, we’ll kill each other.  Okay, you pick.  But first?  You gotta put everything back the way it was.  The people, the birds...Cas.  You gotta bring him back.”

Willing to kill his brother.  Willing to die.  Tears in his eyes, begging God to bring Cas back.

And Chuck?  Chuck doesn’t care about their surrender, he knows he’s already got them beaten.  He cares about their pain, he cares about them suffering, because to him?  That’s the entertainment.  He’s not entertained by their found family, by their happiness, by their joy.  He wants them to suffer, all of them.

“Eternal shame.  Suffering.  And loneliness.”

And he leaves them with just that.  No hope, no family, just the three of them, broken, alone.  Jack locked in his bedroom, Sam trying desperately to make life “normal” again.  And Dean.  Dean who drank so much he passed out on the floor.

He doesn’t feel terrific, he feels like shit, because not only is he dealing with the shame of an empty planet, he’s dealing with the guilt of being back in the place where the Empty took Cas.

This whole thing with the dog was just absolutely heartwrenching shit and if I didn’t hate Chuck before, him snapping Miracle right in front of an already fragile Dean would seal that deal.

I just want everyone to know that this is a Jake Abel stan account.

“Daddy’s boy” is a big insult for my boy Dean to use considering his own past with his trash abusive father but I’ll allow it.

I do think it’s interesting, ending of his arc aside, that Michael is willing to help them now.  What changed?  Sure, he ended up trying to help Chuck, running back to his father, but why get back in the game?  I wonder if it has anything to do with the loss of Adam.  It’s an interesting parallel, a man loses his angel while an angel loses his human.

Everything is so DARK in the Bunker now too, even the lighting is loud.

When I tell you I lost my shit when I saw Cas was calling Dean, when I heard Misha’s voice??  I knew it didn’t make any sense but I didn’t care, I would’ve been one step behind Dean as he sprinted towards the door.

Fuck you, Eugenie.

I mean it’s torture not only to Dean, who looks beyond fucking crushed when it’s damn Lucifer at the door, but for us too.  Who the FUCK wanted Lucifer back?  And to tease Cas???  Garbage.

I mean...fam.  Listen, we know who’s writing this episode, this whole Betty thing is just like blatantly unnecessary but again, Eugenie loves Lucifer, gotta distract her with a shiny toy lmao.

It was cool to see Michael and Lucifer onscreen together.  It was a cool dynamic that we rarely got to see.

The whole episode is just twist after twist.  Listen, it’s their last episode so I guess they needed to fit in a season worth of twists in one episode.

Bye Lucifer.  We know Eugenie can’t bring him back.  Blessings to all.

This scene with Adam is the FOURTH scene where Dean is drinking...big yikes to my guy’s liver.

Here’s the thing about Michael.  He’s a mirror for Dean in season 5.  Loyal to an absent father.  He has never changed, but Dean has.  Dean is able to acknowledge now, the trauma that his father put him through, he was able to move past the need for pleasing him at any cost.  Michael and Chuck?  Are John and Dean, if Dean had never been allowed to grow.  And Chuck proves, like John did, that he would always put his wants (in John’s case “the mission”) over his children.

Also not to beat a dead horse but Michael’s death was also peak Eugenie.

Sam getting to punch Chuck in the face?  Thank you, he deserves that.

Obviously I don’t love any scene of my boys getting brutally beaten.  But what I love, what I will always love about them, is what Chuck hates about them:  they won’t ever give up.  They know they won’t win against him, they don’t even land any hits, but that’s not what matters.  What matters is their controller doesn’t control them anymore, that they really are free.  No matter how hard they get hit, the get back up.  It is their choice to stand up to him, no matter the cost.

The moment where Sam and Dean are supporting each other, covered in blood, and they look God in the face, and they laugh.  That is why I will love them unconditionally for the rest of my life.  That is who they are, they will never cow to the villain, whether that’s Azazel or Alastair or Zachariah or Lucifer or Amara or Death or Metatron or Cain or God.  They will always choose to stand up.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Because.  You lose.”

Chills.  What a line.

And Chuck is left, small, human, no longer a villain, no longer anything.

Gotta be real, woulda been nice to, idk, not see all this essential plot in a flashback, but I know I can only ask so much of Bucklemming.

For Dean to walk away from killing Chuck, right after he’s called him “the ultimate killer” is quite simply the most beautifully heartwrenching thing I could ever ask for.  Because that’s who Dean was under Chuck, that’s who Chuck wanted him to be.

And he would have before:

But he’s heard some things since then, heard some things about how others see him.  Not as the killer, not as a monster, not as angry and broken or his daddy’s blunt instrument:

I’m not saying that Dean doesn’t kill Chuck for Cas.  He doesn’t kill Chuck because he doesn’t think he has to anymore, he doesn’t kill Chuck because he listened to Cas, he took Cas’ words to heart.  He made the choice not to be the killer.

“See that’s not who I am, that’s not who we are.”

And Chuck is angry, because he thought, after everything, even after losing, that he would still know Dean well enough to know that he would kill him.  But Chuck has never really known Dean, he has never understood where he’s really come from.  Cas understood, Sam and Jack understand, but Chuck never did, and writing off Dean as angry and broken is his biggest mistake, because that’s never been Dean.

“It’s not his power anymore.”

And it’s not just his physical power, it’s his power over the story, over the boys that’s the real power taken from him.

For Jack to be the one to bring everyone back, for him to be the hero of the story?  That’s poetic right there.  Now, I will say, I don’t think this story ends with him as God, because for him, the child, to take on this burden, it doesn’t make a ton of sense to me for his arc, but we shall see next week.  It felt pretty tied up, but there’s one major loose end: and that’s Jack seeing Cas again.

“Just you and me, going wherever the story takes us.  Just us.”

“Finally free.”

This doesn’t feel triumphant to me, it doesn’t feel like relief.  It feels like they’ve settled, like this is the best they’re going to get, so they might as well make the best of it, at least they have each other.

For Cas and Jack to be carved into the table?  I cry.

And for the montage, very similar to “Swan Song” to be set to “Runnin on Empty”?  Sorry but that’s just too sus to be ignored.

They packaged this episode as an ending, because for many, it might be.  The season’s story, the season about fighting Chuck is over.  So, you might be asking (or, well, screaming, judging by my replies lol), what’s left?  And that’s a good question, Chuck has been defeated, so what is left?  What’s left is what’s really mattered all season: the relationships that have been crafted over the years.  Dean and Sam’s unhappiness at the end of the episode, where “just you and me” sounded more of a grudging acceptance than anything else, is one of the clues that has to be looked at.  Why didn’t Sam find Eileen, why didn’t Jack bring back Cas?  Those two characters specifically are the ones we need to watch out for.  As I’ve said over and over again, peace, contentment, satisfaction, those don’t come from Sam and Dean on the open road together anymore.  They have a family, more of a family than they did when they started hunting together all those years ago, and that family is what holds them together.  They need each other, of course, but each other isn’t enough anymore.  Sam needs Eileen, Dean needs Cas.  That is where they will find their peace.

This episode, as many written by Bucklemming was sloppy, rushed, packed full of shit, and had little gems that we can talk about forever, but that was the end of the season, and next week?  Andrew Dabb brings us home, where Dean and Sam will finally be able to choose what they want for themselves, and that, my friends, is Eileen and Cas.

[passable-talent]

ya boi is back with a new niche character played by hayden christensen for yall to enjoy.

CW: blood, wounds, cursing, piercings, tattoos, guns, fighting, deaths of unnamed characters

AJ x gn!reader - Takers (2010). the stupid hat grew on me.

dedicated as always to @haydens-moles and @iscariot-rising for being my friends and for appreciating hayden as much as I do

The story of your life, as you loved to explain it, boiled down to a little math joke. Excited five, you called it, or it’s official terminology- five factorial. Written as “5!”, hence the awful pun.

“Factorials,” you’d say, “for those that don’t remember, are a multiplication of every number up to the one that’s being discussed. As such, five factorial is five, times four, times three, times two, times one.”

Your life, your excited five, was as follows: five major scars, four tattoos, three piercings, two eyebrow slits.

“The one is usually ignored,” you’d say, “as it makes no multiplicative difference. That’s why I don’t have a ‘one’.”

In August, 2009, you got your ‘one’. Its a doozy. But we’re not there yet.

~~~

Five major scars.

December 25, 1983. It’s your first Christmas. Your parents think you’re just being a cranky infant, but something way more serious is going on- they find out the next day that you’ve got RSV, a respiratory virus that’s especially dangerous for infants. You spend the next three years periodically using a ventilator whenever the coughing acts up. You don’t remember much of it, other than the vaguely crayon-looking piece of the machine, but you can’t forget that it happened, due to the pretty white scar over the bridge of your nose. It’s not such a gnarly wound as it is a reminder- not of the ventilator that wore through your skin thanks to frequent use, but of the virus that almost took your life only a few months after it had begun.

July 28, 1993. You’re seven years old, staying at your grandmother’s house with your cousin, who’s six months older than you. You’re playing cops and robbers- he’s the cop. The forest streaks by as you run the length of the property, slightly faster than him, but he catches you and throws you down. You land on your back on a jagged rock, not only painfully impacting your spine but digging deeply into your muscles beside it. It was the first hospital visit you remember, and the dark, long scar halfway between your tailbone and your shoulders reminds you never to fall without controlling it.

January 15, 1998. You’re in sophomore year of high school, and not the most popular. You like to play by the rules, and some asshole junior decides that he doesn’t like the way you won’t let him cheat off of your trigonometry homework, and decides that a knife is the best way to settle the problem. Those homework answers weren’t worth the long white line over all four of the knuckles of your left hand, but it is a pretty little reminder that lowlifes do what they want. And law enforcement, or whatever your school called the ‘anti-bullying league’, does jack shit about it.

October 30, 2002. You’re almost done with your certification to become a cop- thank god. You couldn’t stand the people who were to become your graduate class. They were so ready to become cops just to bully people, just to get to weild an iron fist and hide their bloodlust behind the law. Not you- you’re here to do some real good. That’s what they don’t like about you. And that’s why Fred Young splits open your cheek when just he’s supposed to be practicing his sparring. It’s an ugly scar, needed six stitches, but it’s a reminder that even the cops aren’t always the good guys.

May 14, 2004. You’re a new cop, working under detective Wells. There’s a robbery of a jewelry store a few blocks from where you’re patrolling, and as you’re making your way to the scene, a man in a fedora runs smack into you, taking you both to the ground. Broken glass digs into your shoulder, but he apologizes, and his blue eyes look so genuine. He’s afraid. You’d not realize until a month later that he wasn’t a scared bystander, but in fact one of the thieves. The fifth of your scars matches your first meeting with AJ- who would, by the end of the summer, become one of the most important people in your life.

~~~

Four tattoos.

August 4, 1999- Left wrist, inside knob of the bone. The little symbol had represented something to you when you were sixteen, but it had long lost whatever meaning you’d given it. Now, it was just a pattern to pass your thumb over whenever you got restless.

February 16, 2002- The cap of the right shoulder. It was your bunk number, from when you were training to be a cop. Nothing extravagant, but it was supposed to represent the beginning of the rest of your life- it was supposed to represent your calling.

June 1, 2004- Left arm, the outside of the forearm. Bleeding from your first tattoo was a new one, the largest one on your body. It was geometrical and high contrast, black lines loosely following your veins up toward your elbow, as though that left hand was bringing darkness into your body. It did- you shot with your left hand.

July 17, 2004- Right collarbone. A single, circular monogram, made up of six letters.

T A K E R S.

~~~

Three piercings.

April 7, 1989. Your father took you to get your ears pierced, but insisted upon arrival that it was too expensive to get both done, so you only got your left. The assymetrical style would have to grow on you- at six years old, you hated it.

May 19, 2003. You couldn’t have piercings at the academy, they were unprofessional, they were dangerous. So the night of graduation, you went out and got a hole punched into your nostril- the pain made tears well up, but more than anything, it was the satisfaction of giving a pretty little ‘fuck you’ to your superiors, who you’d never see again.

July 18, 2006. AJ takes you to a fancy beauty salon for an eyebrow bar after hearing maybe once that you’d wanted another piercing. You knew you were in love with him- who else in your life had ever paid such close attention to you?

~~~

Two eyebrow slits.

June 23, 2004. You leave the police force. You tell Wells that it’s because you’re pissed you can’t find the guys that robbed the jewelry store, but that’s not even close to the truth. You’ve found them- hell, you got a good look at one of them on the very day of the robbery. But you’ve done the looking, and didn’t have the heart to bring them in. They had families. They donated ten percent of every heist to a charity. They did more for the community than the police you worked for, and they did it clean- they didn’t hurt anybody, if they didn’t have to. They did what you’d hoped to do, when you joined the force. What you’d never gotten to do. Eyebrow slits were considered extremely unprofessional, so the moment you were free of your two week notice, you split open your right eyebrow. It would give a good balance to the bar piercing you hoped to put through your left someday.

March 4, 2007. You’re cleaning up your slit when AJ walks into the room and stands behind you so that you can see him through the mirror. You keep your eyes on the trimmer you’re so delicately running over your skin, but when he opens up a little felt box with a pretty ring inside, you whirl around with such panic that you make the slit approximately half an inch wider than it should’ve been. Lilli helped you fill in the gap for the engagement photos, but you decided to keep a second slit on the other end of the unfortunate shave- a little reminder of the evening in which he proposed to you.

~~~

“The one is usually ignored,” you’d say, “as it makes no multiplicative difference. That’s why I don’t have a ‘one’.”

On August 27, 2009, you got your ‘one’.

You’d been out of the game for two years, choosing not to take a cut of the winnings. You’d advise, you’d plan, you’d set up, but you did not want to be on site when the heist went down. The boys had it taken care of, and you butted heads with Jesse far too often for anyone’s comfort.

You especially couldn’t work on this project, thanks to a little fucker named Ghost- he didn’t trust you, as a member of the Takers he’d never met, and you didn’t trust him, as a criminal you’d never grown to respect.

You knew that most of them didn’t trust Ghost either, but everything he brought forward checked out- AJ must’ve mumbled the plan thirty times in his sleep in the five days from its suggestion to its fruition. There were no holes. Knowing Gordon and John, they had some ‘insurance’ for Ghost, anyway. In case it went wrong.

Still, you stayed at the Hotel Roosevelt through it all. You were their sitter, keeping the hotel room warm and ready for their arrival. They arrived back one by one- and like usual, AJ got there first. He, Gordon, and John were usually the first to get out, but he always made it back to the room first, because that way he could get some time with you. That way, he could have a private reunion, fresh off of a job.

“Hey, baby,” he said as he closed the door, and you waited for him to turn his eyes to you before you gave him a smile. He threw down his bag onto one of the chairs, and it landed with a heavy thump, but you’d long grown used to the sound of the score. However much he pulled, good for him. You were just happy to slip your arms around his neck and feel him kiss the scar on your cheekbone before sliding his lips to yours.

He always kissed different right after a job- before the boys had all gotten back, before the total was counted. He had a confidence to his movement, but there was fear, insecurity, just a tinge. He wasn’t just a taker, he was a man, who had worries and risks just like every other man.

You were out of the game for a few reasons. They had it taken care of. You butted heads with Jesse. You didn’t trust Ghost. But you knew that you were AJ’s biggest fear- you knew that if you got hurt on a job, he’d never forgive himself.

So he kissed you, he held you close, he reminded himself that you were here, you were fine. His long fingers seems to take up half your back, and his hair was already in his face, as though you’d tugged it there yourself.

With just one more pass of your lips over his, you pulled away.

“How’d it go?” You asked with a soft voice, rolling your first finger through the curls at the back of his neck.

“Could’ve gone better,” he said with a chuckle, “but we got it done.” You heard a knock at the door, and Gordon was the next arrival- then John, then Jake, then Ghost. Jesse came last, and with him, a whole host of new problems.

A bullet splintered the door and caught AJ somewhere under the ribcage. Everyone hit the floor, diving behind couches, and you popped your head up long enough to see AJ launch over the kitchen island. The room shattered into gunfire and feathers from expensive pillows, glass shards littering the ground like raindrops. It all moved so fast, and the air exploded into noise. You could barely track AJ through it all, he was so far away, all the way across the room. And you wanted to keep your eye straight down the barrel of your gun.

“AJ!” Jesse called from beside you, hidden behind a brown leather couch, “You okay?” You looked around the side of it, and saw him ten feet from you, the longest ten feet of your life, behind the kitchen island. He was struggling, on his hands and knees.

“Get up,” you snarled, knowing he’d already taken a hit.

“Out the back!” John ordered from the doorway behind you, and you started to realize the moment, the dangerous, heavy moment. AJ was all the way across the room- he couldn’t cross it. Not with these mobsters holding ground.

“Let’s go!” Gordon shouted, and your eyes connected with AJ’s. He saw the same thing you did.

“Go,” he said, voice calm, and it cut through the chaos of the room, cut through every hardened lesson ever pounded into you, cut through every wall you’d ever built around you, around your heart. “I’m coming.”

AJ was a good liar. But he couldn’t lie to you.

“No,” you growled through gritted teeth, and you made a rash decision.

You’d always been good at gymnastics. You had strong control over the movement of your body, and had, ever since you’d learned from your cousin throwing you down onto that stone that split open your back. You could move and slink and roll and dive in ways that would keep you not only from falling, but even from being noticed.

Using the chaos as your cover, you did a tight diving roll across the room to him, slipping between shelters unscathed. This brought you just a bit closer to the mobsters, but further from the back door exit that Gordon had been trying to guide you toward. You’d chose AJ over your safety any day- the surprise and the fear in his eyes said that he wished you wouldn’t.

Making sure you had enough ammo, you considered your final move- this didn’t end until these mobsters did. There were five of them left, after all this commotion: four in the room, one in the hall. You couldn’t take all five, not with their guns being so much more than yours, but you could take out a few. You could shift attention, you could buy time.

And hopefully, you could stay breathing, too. That’d be nice.

“Stay down,” you hissed, leaving AJ behind the island where he’d be forgotten about, or assumed dead. Then, you rounded the corner and rolled to the feet of the closest mobster. As you came out of the roll you caught his legs in yours, wrenching them from under him and taking him to the ground with one of the first moves you’d learned in basic training. He hit the wall hard, and was unconscious by the time he landed- the same could not be said for his friends.

From your right, you could see Gordon, still firing, still hopeful for your and AJ’s escape. Your shoulders were above the couch, so you knew he saw as you turned your weapon to the second mobster before he could turn to you, and stopped his heart.

Your commotion had caught the attention of the other three who still remained. You whirled around and raised your gun to one of them, but they managed it first.

Gordon had to swallow back his horror as he saw a bullet enter the front of your side profile, and blood explode from the back. He took out the mobster who still had his attention on you- but your shoulders smacked to the ground outside of his view, and he closed the door.

Luckily, their aim was spotty. You now had a useless left arm, but you were still breathing. Not that you’d let the one remaining mobster notice that.

You and AJ played dead, only a few feet from each other, but the kitchen island becoming a thicker wall than any you’d ever been split by. As you stared blankly at the ceiling, taking shallow breaths hidden by the folds of your shirt, you hoped he didn’t think you were dead. You hoped he wasn’t bleeding out.

After what felt like agonizingly long minutes, the shooting finally stopped, and the door opened again. Gordon was the first to enter the room, and rounded the couch to you, grief in his eyes, expecting the worst.

But you could give him a smile.

“Surprise,” you groaned, and he lit up in relief, helping you sit up with your good arm.

“Look at you, playing dirty,” he said with a laugh, “I thought you were gone for sure.”

“AJ,” you heard Jake say from across the room, and finally AJ could sit up from where you’d forced him down. The two of you had both bled straight through your shirts, but there wasn’t any time for sweet reunions- everyone had to get out, and fast.

AJ left his car wherever it was. John gave the two of you a ride to the airstrip where Gordon was going to disappear for a while, and on the way you and AJ attempted to give each other first aid until the personnel on the plane could take care of it.

Eventually, you leaned against his left, and he against your right, your wounds still stinging and sticky with blood, but manageable, for as long as they needed to be.

The night didn’t get any easier, but that didn’t matter- you were home free, they’d managed the job, and Ghost was out of the picture, and neither of you were going to die.

And someday, when you felt brave enough to recount your near-death, near-loss, near-jailed experience, you’d say:

Five major scars, four tattoos, three piercings, two eyebrow slits. And one gun shot wound.

-🦌 Roe

[quirkwizard]

Spoiled Sushi

For a while, a certain article has been vexing me. One that seems to have a great misunderstanding of the series it was writing about, missing obvious points and core parts of the worldbuilding. No, it wasn’t by CBR, nor was it by Screenrant. But it was by Cruchyroll of all places. They decided to make an article about the Top 5 Misused Quirks in My Hero Academia. It was not good and has been bugging me. So I decided to give them a taste of their own medicine. I mean they try to shut down whoever even attempts to do what they do, so why not make fun of them for trying to do what I do? Plus you guys seem to like it when I’m snarky, so this could be fun for everyone.

For clarity’s sake, this was written at the beginning of 2019, when the most recent chapter was Chapter 214 and the the anime had only reached Season 3. I’m keeping that in mind as I write. I will also be skipping around some of the parts of the article as I am talking about it. If its not worth mentioning, I won’t bring it up, simple as that. For instance, I’m skipping the intro because it is completely superfluous and would only serve to make a completely different fanbase mad. Might as well, most of what I am passing up are just dumb jokes. But if you are curious... don’t waste your time reading this. Your time is valuable and you have better things to do then read this article.

5. Kurogiri Can Create Free, Renewable Energy

“In all seriousness, though, Kurogiri is probably one of the most powerful characters in the anime, with their being virtually no limit to how far he can extend his Warp Gate portals.”

I mean there are certainly limits for his Quirk. Besides the need to know the coordinates or see where he is moving, there’s obviously a limit to how much he can spread out his body.

“Why then doesn’t he use them to create near-infinite energy? Open two portals one above another, throw in a heavy object inside and watch it fall endlessly. Devise a way to hook a dynamo or something to it and, bam, you have free power that would make Kurogiri a billionaire overnight and a hero to the entire planet.”

This idea has so many problems that I don’t even know where to begin.

One, if this could work, it likely wouldn’t make a lot of energy. Besides the various physics problems involved in this, Kurogiri would just be one guy doing this, meaning that it’s unlikely he’d be able to make enough power to matter.

Two, Kurogiri would still need rest as he is a living being, meaning he wouldn’t to keep up this theoretical contraption forever and you’d get even less energy relying on him. At most, it would work best in a small bunker as a last resort.

Three, that sounds like it would be a lot more dangerous then it would be worth for the energy made. If Kurogiri would to lose focus for a moment, the portals fall apart and there would just be a lot of damage from this heavy object moving at high speeds.

“Even if Kurogiri only cares about taking down All Might, it would still be much easier to do if he had a literal mountain of money/public goodwill at his side.”

What kind of bizzaro universe are you living in where the guy who makes energy could possibly turn public option about the very well liked Number 1 Hero that saves lives every day? That’s literally what Lex Luthor does and people hate him for it.

4. Koji Koda Could Help Feed Billions Of People

“Koji is the resident Class 1-A stoner (get it? he's made of rock? come on) with the power to control ANY creature in the animal kingdom. This would logically also include spiders, meaning that Koji could literally end all street crime in, like, 5 minutes tops by swallowing all the criminals up in a giant arachno-tsunami.”

While this article is infuriating in many ways, it did give us the mental image of an “arachno-tsunami”. Which is totally worth sitting through this jumbled mess of words and ignorance.

“But, you see, Koji is just too shy and nice to be an effective hero. He wants to do good but he just doesn’t have that fighter instinct in him. Which is why he should instead use his Anivoice Quirk to revolutionize agriculture all around the world.”

You can be an effective hero and not beat people up. Sure, it certainly can come up in the job description, but that isn’t all of what a hero is meant to do. Koda’s Quirk makes him great at information gathering and rescue work, two very important aspects of hero work that suit his personality perfectly.

“Give him a megaphone and fly him over American fields, telling feral pigs to stop causing $1.5 billion worth of damage a year in destroyed crops. Fly him to Australia to tell the invasive cane toads and rabbits to kindly lemming themselves off a cliff. Have him tell the aggressive lionfish the get the hell out of the Atlantic. FORCE HIM TO GET OVER HIS FEAR OF BUGS AND MAKE AGRICULTURAL PESTS A THING OF THE PAST. “

There is no possible way Koda could be everywhere at once to pull that off. And considering that the average human voice can only carry for about a mile, IE, about the average size of a single farm. You know, because animals need to hear his voice in order to receive his commands. So even if it was limited to a single farm, its unlikely to do much to help. But by far the biggest issue with this entire plan is that what Koda does to an animal is not permanent. The second his control is interrupted, the animals return to normal, bound to just go back to whatever they were doing before. 

So if Koda tries to change anything, its just going to end up undone by the time he leaves, just delaying the inevitable problem that comes from these animals. So even if Koda told the pigs to go away, they’d likely be back by the next day, destroying farmland like nothing happened. Even then, because of the previous limitations, he’d still have to go farm by farm to pull it off. That’s not even mentioning all of the other suggestions. Honestly, if you wanted to do something with Quirk, you should just convince all the animals to line up during hunting season. Dark, yes, but it least it would offer a more permanent solution then what the writer is suggesting.

“If Koji was utilized properly, he could travel the world undoing mankind’s mistakes and creating organic, pesticide-free crops instead of doing what he does now, which is largely sitting around on his ass roleplaying Snow White.”

Which, in spite of many fans joking about his Quirk, has shown to be very helpful quite a few times.

3. Inko Midoriya Would Have Made A Great Nurse

“Izuku’s mother in My Hero Academia has mainly done two things so far: jack and squat.”

I mean she did design Izuku’s costume, even if it got replaced, its is still a corner stone of his design, and she offered a good amount of drama after the fight with All Might and All For One. 

“She did try to be a good mother but kind of failed at that when she tearfully apologized to her son because he was born without a Quirk, essentially telling him: “I’m so sorry I gave birth to such a loser.””

Would you believe that this one line was what really prompted me to talk about this? Because that is probably one of the worst takes I have ever in relation to this series. If you honestly believed that is what Inko was doing, the woman who practically raised her child by herself and constantly talks about much she cares for him, you must be watching the wrong series. That’s the only way I could explain why that is.

“So, she doesn’t really have much going on in her life. That’s why she should try nursing instead. I realize that becoming a nurse takes a lot of hard work and dedication, but Inko would be a natural fit for it. Despite her initial shortcomings, she is a very caring person with loads of empathy.” 

Inko’s empathic? Could have fooled me. I mean she did feel the need to apologize to her son for giving birth to a loser. No, I am not over that, how could you have possibly gotten that from the scene?!

“She also has the power of limited telekinesis. Inko can move small objects over short distances, and while that would not be helpful for stopping crime, it would be great for, say, removing kidney stones. Or things stuck in people’s throats. Or coins from children’s stomachs.”

Trying to use a Quirk like this in any kind of medical procedure is laughable at best and dangerous at worst. Imagine if Inko had to remove a bullet from someone. From what we see, the process of her moving objects is slow and need several pulls from her to attract the object to her. So if she’s going to try to pull it out and its going to get caught on something, causing more damage to the person she is trying to save. She’s basically going to be keying the insides of whoever she is trying to operate on.

The entire reasons doctors, especially surgeons, train for so long is because the human body can be extremely delicate. It needs a lot of care and time so the doctors don’t make things worse for the patients. It’s why surgeons need to have such steady hands and a lot of time even to due minor procedures. But trying to do that with a Quirk is just going to cause more problems then it can solve. Doing that with a Quirk like Inko’s just lacks a lot of the precision and dexterity necessary to pull this off.

2. Uraraka Should Go Work For A Shipping Company

“Ochaco Uraraka has one of the most well-rounded Quirks out of all the main characters: Zero Gravity. With it, she can make objects and people float, which is great for offense, defense, and rescue operations. As a superheroine, she is doing everything right with her Quirk.”

I mean “Zero Gravity” can kind of be used offensively, but not effectively as other Quirks. Its why she did all of that training with Gun Head to make up for her lack of an offensive presence. Eh, two of three ain’t bad. I’ll take what I can get.

“I just think Uraraka should never have become a superheroine in the first place. Uraraka has actually always been honest about her motivation: she wants dem YEN YEN BILLS YO (for her struggling family.)”

That’s because hero work is an extremely frugal business even super minor heroes can still seem to make a decent living out of it.

“But regular jobs also exist in that world, and that must include shipping companies that would instantly hire Uraraka to Zero-G their freighters, trucks, and planes. Even if she cannot make them float, she can still remove enough gravity from them to save the company tons of fuel. Company profit margins are razor thin.”

First off, its mentioned several times that if you want to use a Quirk for a job, you need to have a hero license. Its to make sure you know how to use your Quirk properly so you don’t end up hurting someone with your powers. So for her to even try this, she needs to go through hero school anyway. Might as well get the most out of it. Second, Uraraka cannot lower the gravity of her target. Either the object is floating or it isn’t floating. There is no in between for Uraraka. 

Third, given what we’ve seen from Uraraka, there is no possible way that she could ever lift that much. She’s barely able to lift three lower numbered robots and that was only for a few seconds. So, at the most, she can lift a few tons. How exactly do you expect her to work with something like a cargo plane, which, on its own, can weight over forty five tons, not including fuel or any extra cargo?

Which is another thing I noticed throughout the article: the writer seems to severely overestimate how effective Quirks actually are. The range and scope of Quirks is much smaller then other power systems, even when compared to similar “low level” series like HunterxHunter. Like every kind of application listed goes far beyond what most Quirks are capable of, such as forgetting certain drawbacks. And that is most notable with the last suggestion.

1. Momo Could Solve Literally All The World’s Problems

I bet Kohei Horikoshi was really proud of himself when he came up with Momo Yaoyorozu’s design: No, see, she HAS to dress scantily because her Quirk is Creation, i.e. the ability to create any object she wants through her skin, which must be constantly exposed. Peachy.”

Oh boy, it wouldn’t be any sort of discussion about Momo without beating that long dead horse. What’s next? Bakugou angry? Izuku cry? 

“Momo can apparently create anything as long as she understands its composition, and seeing as she’s made an ethanol spray can, infrared goggles, a lighter, and a tracker, it seems like there’s nothing she cannot make.”

Oh boy, it wouldn’t be any sort of discussion about Momo without a grievous misunderstanding of how her Quirk works either. Maybe they are in the fandom. As I have mentioned in my Momo Misconceptions post, Momo needs fat to make what she does. She’s not an alchemist where she can just clap her hands and make whatever she wants. If she doesn’t have enough fat, she cannot make items. By those very rules, some things are just out of her reach because it would just take too much fat. It’s why she limits herself to simpler items.

“Cool. MAKE US SOME HELIUM THEN. The world is running out of the gas and we need it for MRI scanners and the like. Momo could make more of it.”

Actually, we don’t even know for sure if Momo is capable of making gases. All we have seen her make is solids and a few liquids. There is the lighter she made, but that could easily run on lighter fluid.

“Or thorium. She could make thorium that we could use to make thorium-based reactors that are apparently way safer than uranium ones.”

Thorium isn’t even that rare, just as about as common as lead and three times as common as uranium. Even if it was a problem, it would likely kill her, either from burning through all of her fat or from the exposure to radiation.

“Medicine, fresh water, cheap electronics that we could send to developing countries: Momo could crank all of those out in an afternoon.“

Yes, in theory, Momo could do that, but not the extent that she would make a major difference in the world like they are suggesting. There are just more practical and better long term solutions then trying to force a single person to do all of that. It’s almost as if Momo is a regular human being who has limitations you need to keep in mind when making these ill informed suggestions.

“And while spending your life as a walking Everything Faucet might not seem that glamorous, it actually has the potential to change the entire planet for the better.”

Given the kind of set up and effort that would be required to even attempt that, I think “horrific” would be a more appropriate descriptor since it would be done to a living, thinking person.

Honestly, I think that most of these people are doing more with their Quirks now then with any of these suggestions. At least, when you actually think about the rules and limits of the characters. Sure, Inko isn’t doing much, but she is a civilian with a fairly weak Quirk. Kurogiri acts as a major player within the League, getting them around quickly and evading capture. I mean he is using his power to help out a bunch of villains, but my point still stands that he is not “misusing” his Quirk.

In fact, a majority of the people on this list are doing more to help people and save lives by being heroes. Given the limitations of their abilities, using them to stop superpowered criminals who risking damaging the people around and helping victims of these crimes is doing then any of those roles in spite of the fact that the article tries its best to downplay that these people are already saving lives. So, in reality, they are doing far more to help people then doing any of these ideas, you damp sock of a writer.

[yugfics]

You Have an Argument in Public jackson wang 

Jackson was pissed.

He rolled an ice cube around his mouth with his tongue, trying to tear his mind away from what was working him up. Because he hated the feeling of being mad at you, and he hated the feeling of being mad at his best friend.

But the sound of you and Mark's laughter continued to reach him, continued to build up in him anger, a feeling that seemed to weigh heavily in his chest, and all he wanted was to pull the both of you apart.

He was completely aware that he was being jealous, maybe a little selfish, but he couldn't help it.

Trying to tune out the both of you, he attempted to listen to one of the other conversations that were taking place simultaneously.

The eight of you were at a restaurant you all constantly went to together, and you'd decided to sit opposite your boyfriend instead of next to him, resulting in Mark sitting next to you, and the both of you finding it much more pleasant to talk to each other than anyone else at the table.

Jackson knew that you'd been friends with Mark the longest, and he was partially the reason you both got together, but he couldn't help but notice the way that sometimes the both of you looked more like a couple than himself and you.

And he couldn't help but wonder if Mark made you happier. He couldn't help but consider the possibility that you might leave him.

All those thoughts did nothing to lighten his mood, and he stood up, leaving the table and going to the toilet.

*** When he returned, the rest of you were getting ready to leave. He took his things and you appeared by his side as you all left the restaurant, making your way down the sidewalk.

"Hey," you began, giggling, as you walked closer to your boyfriend, wanting to tell him something, completely oblivious to his emotions. "There was this really funny thing Mark told me..."

You went on to relate something, your explanation broken by involuntary giggles, but Jackson could barely listen, barely hear over the sound of his own thoughts.

"Why don't you go talk to Mark if you like him so much?!"

He'd gone and done it.

You stopped walking and looked at him, confused. He refused to look you in the eye, and the other members had heard the sound of Jackson raising his voice, not what he'd said. They continued walking after a moment or two, not wanting to be nosy.

"What?" you asked. "What do you mean?"

"Let it go," he forced out, trying his best not to start spilling his insecurities then and there. He began to walk, but you grabbed his arm. "Jackson? Why are you being like this?"

He stepped away from you, pulling his arm out of your grip. "Maybe it's because..." he tried to guard his tongue, but the words came pouring out on their own accord. "Maybe it's because you and Mark are always so close! Because the two of you are always together! Do you stop to think how that makes me feel?!"

"He's my best friend, Jackson!"

"And I'm your boyfriend,"

"I know you can be jealous, but at least be reasonable! What do you want me to do? Stop hanging out with him?"

There was silence as Jackson angrily averted his eyes from yours, jaw clenched.

His silence was enough answer. "Don't you think that's a little selfish?" you asked.

"I don't want to do this right now, y/n," he finished, before he continued walking and you followed suit some distance behind him.

The two of you did not speak to each other on the way back to the cars, and the tension was thick enough to make Got6 feel uncomfortable. Mark had tried to ask you what was wrong, but you didn't really have much motivation to speak to the cause of the argument.

The car ride back was awkward and silent since Jaebeom was dropping the both of you off at Jackson's place. As soon as you got there, your boyfriend entered the house, leaving you to walk slowly behind, and when you got upstairs you saw that he'd locked himself in his studio.

*** Don't you think that's a little selfish?

Jackson spun his pen around his fingers as he stared at his half finished song. All he could think of, though, was your argument, and he felt that familiar weight in his chest. This time it wasn't from annoyance or irritation, but from sadness.

The thought, his biggest fear, of him losing you seemed even more real at that moment. Frustration, anger, fear and sadness fought against each other until he couldn't take it anymore. His pen flew across the room, colliding with the wall and landing on the floor as he ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to steady his breaths.

It didn't work.

Elbows on the table, he held his head in his hands, tears that'd been threatening to escape finally doing so. He was alone, alone with his feeling and thoughts, and he let himself cry.

*** Hours passed.

It was nearly midnight when you got tired of the silence. Neither of you were going to benefit from ignoring each other. Jackson's outburst had come completely out of nowhere, and the topic must've been on his mind for quite some time.

Knowing Jackson, you knew he didn't like to admit when he was insecure about something, but he had to know you were his girlfriend and he could tell you anything.

You approached his studio door, and took a breath, hesitating slightly before knocking. No reply.

"Jack? I... Can we talk? Please?" you asked.

There was silence for what seemed like forever before the door opened and you came face to face with your boyfriend. Your boyfriend who you noticed immediately had been crying.

"Jack..." you began softly, reaching out to hold his hand, and pulling him towards the small couch in his room. You both sat down.

After a moment of silence, you sighed and turned towards him. "What happened?"

There was no reply for a few moments as all he seemed to do was just stare at the floor. Then he spoke, glancing at you momentarily. "It was stupid, and it won't happen again,"

"You know you can tell me anything, right? You don't have to keep it in, if something's bothering you. Nobody's perfect, and everyone has insecurities. I won't think less of you, Jackson, I love you no matter what,"

He sighed, and hesitated. "Mark. And you. I just feel like you're always together. And you look more of a couple than we do," his voice began to waver. "And I wonder if he... makes you happier than I do. I just... I just don't want you to leave me,"

Your heart broke as you listened to him, hurt that he'd felt that way. Shaking your head, you grasped his arm. "Jackson, look at me,"

He did, and you reached towards his face, wiping a tear that'd begun to fall. "I love you. Completely. Only you. I would never leave you, okay? You're everything to me, the same way I'm everything to you. Yes, I'm comfortable around Mark, but I don't feel the same way about the both of you. He doesn't give me butterflies whenever we're close, he doesn't know me the way you do, and I don't see him the way I see you. Jackson, I don't see anyone the same way I see you. You're special to me. I love you,"

You hugged him and he did the same back, his chin resting on your shoulder. "I love you too," he replied, quietly, relieved, the weight in his chest gone.

Pulling away, you both looked at each other with teary eyes. You laughed and sniffed, wiping them away. After a moment of silence, you spoke with a smile. "Cuddles?"

Jackson got up, a smile on his face as well as he picked you up from the couch, carrying you in his arms towards your shared bedroom. "Cuddles,"

_____________ this is @yug.fics on instagram!

[mandadoration]

you’re a fine girl - iii

summary: Agent Whiskey would really like you to say his real name for once, and you refuse, playing this little game of his until he finally makes you say it. The circumstances for it aren’t exactly ideal, though. 

word count: 1, 909

pairing: agent whiskey (Jack Daniels) x reader

warnings: canon-typical violence (and then some), swearing

chapters: i | ii | iii

Read this on AO3

As much as you want to, you can’t find the power to visit Whiskey while he’s recovering. He’s fine, obviously, with the medical advancements and Soda’s expert skill, he’ll be up in no time. But every time you stand in the elevator, hand hovering over the button for level sub-4, you feel sick.  You retreat back to your office and ignore the video calls from Ginger and Soda. You’ve even gone as far as to shove Whiskey’s black Stetson in a cabinet under your desk, and you consider doing the same to the necklace he had given you, but instead opt to just wear it and tuck it into your shirt out of sight. It weighs heavy against your neck, but it makes you feel the slightest bit better. Maybe you can just ignore everything until you finally grow a pair and do something about the worry that’s been nagging at you. 

You, however, cannot ignore Ginger and Soda when they walk into your office unannounced. 

“Can I help you?” you ask tiredly, taking off your Statesman issued glasses to rub your eyes. 

“What's wrong with you?” Soda asks bluntly, and Ginger smacks him. “What? I’m being honest. You’re holeing yourself up in your office more than usual.” Ginger rolls her eyes. 

“What he meant to say,” she stresses, “is that you’ve been… down ever since Whiskey came back Saturday.” You sigh and put your glasses back on. “We’re worried. This isn’t like you.”

“I’ve been working,” you say. A total, complete lie, and they know it too. “There’s a lot of paperwork that comes with severe injuries sustained in the field.” Not a lie. “Besides, why would… There’s no reason for me to go to the medical wing.” The biggest lie. 

“Brandy--”

“Whiskey’s been asking for you,” Soda blurts out, and Ginger smacks him again. “Ow! Quit that!” You tense and crumple a paper in your hand as anxiety swells in your chest. Well, there goes the contingency plan mock-up you had made for Ale’s mission. 

“Why?” you ask before you can stop yourself. Ginger stops her harassing to stare at you incredulously. 

“Seriously?” she sighs. “You don’t know?” You throw your hands up in the air. 

“Once again!” you say, almost hysterically. “What am I supposed to know? Everyone keeps asking me that, I really don’t know what the fuck--”

“For an intelligence supervisor, you’re really fucking stupid,” Soda says, and Ginger doesn’t hit him this time, instead nodding in agreement. You’re taken aback. 

“Excuse me?”

But Ginger and Soda are soon manhandling you out of your office and shoving you into the elevator, paying no attention to your complaints as they head to sub-4 and practically drag you to Whiskey’s recovery room, ignoring the curious stares that follow the three of you. They push you in, and shut the door, and your heart leaps to your throat when the lock clicks. You bang against the wall. 

“Let me the hell out!” you shout, but all you can hear on the other side of the door are the receding footsteps of the traitors you call friends. “I swear to God, I will make your life a living hell when I get out of here--”

“Brandy?”

If your heart was hammering before, it completely stops at the sound of his voice. There’s the shuffling of sheets behind you, and you slowly turn around with wide eyes as the blood drains from your face as Whiskey strains to sit himself up, looking much worse for wear that you had initially feared. You really should stop him from overexerting himself, but you’re glued to the floor. “What are you doing here?” he asks. His voice sounds so tired, and it’s only made worse when he tries to crack a smile. “Here to see little ol’ me?” he rasps, but dissolves into a coughing fit, holding his ribs as his face contorts in pain. Once he calms down, he looks up at you again, and frowns. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

“I think I should be the one asking you that,” you finally say, voice small as you slowly make your way over to him. You keep a good distance away from him still. 

“‘m better now that I’ve seen you,” Whiskey says, running a hand over his face. He motions to the chair next to him. “Take a seat, darling, you’re making me anxious.” Your eyes dart over to it, and then back to his face, and eventually lower yourself into it. 

“What happened?” you ask. Whiskey winces. 

“Dealers somehow found out I was there to take down their operation,” he explains. “Got ambushed, got the shit kicked out of me, got the hell outta dodge.” He chuckles. “Told ya I didn’t want to go back.” You play with the impeccably white trim of his hospital blanket.

“Why didn’t you tell us as soon as you got on the plane that you were hurt?” you whisper. Whiskey runs the hand not stabbed full of IVs through his greasy hair. 

“I knew you would worry.”

“It was irresponsible of you.”

“And it was irresponsible of you to not take care of yourself,” he says sharply. “Seltzer’s been telling me how you’ve locked yourself away since I got here.” You curl inwards and lean away from the bed. Whiskey sighs. “I do apologize, sweetheart,” he says after a moment. “I’m going crazy from being stuck in here. Didn’t mean to snap at you.” 

“It’s fine,” you mutter. You’ve had your fair share of bedrest, and it is not fun. He shakes his head. 

“No, it’s not,” he says. “There’s no excuse for treating you like that.” A beat. 

“I said that you didn’t have to get me anything,” you say to change the subject. 

“And I said that you couldn’t stop me,” he laughs, but it wheezes out. Whiskey slowly reaches a hand out, pausing when you tense up, but keeps going when you don’t stop him. He loops his forefinger under the chain that’s peeking out of your collar and pulls it out from under your shirt. “You like it?” he asks, and he sounds uncharacteristically nervous, and he’s playing with the collar of your shirt instead of pulling his hand away. “I know-- Well, I don’t see you wearing any fancy jewelry or nothing, but I saw this and thought the opportunity was too perfect. Like, c’mon, it’s a braided chain--”

“‘Made of finest silver from the north of Spain’?” you finish. You’ve gotten countless jokes about the song, but it’s endearing when it comes from him. He quirks a smile. “Andalucia is technically Southern Spain, Agent Whiskey.” His smile drops. “N-not that I mind,” you stammer, afraid you’ve said something horrifically wrong. 

“I know you don’t,” Whiskey sighs. You purse your lips. 

“Then what’s wrong?” He shrugs. 

“I guess I dreamt you saying my name in the elevator,” he says, following it with an empty laugh as he looks away. “Ain’t that the cruelest trick the Sandman could play? He’s always been a son of a bitch to me. It had sounded so sweet...” You swallow and grab his hand where it rests on your collarbone, and you scoot your chair closer until your knees press against the edge of the bed. You hear his heart rate jump up on the monitor. 

“I… It wasn't… It wasn’t a dream.” Whiskey turns your hand over until he can lace his fingers through yours. 

“No?” he murmurs, and he brings your hand to his lips as he presses a kiss to it. He closes his eyes and keeps your hand there for a moment before letting it rest in his lap. “Mind reacquainting me with the way my name sounds coming from your lips?” Your mouth is suddenly very dry, but you lick your lips and the way you feel warm with how his eyes watch you is enough to give you the little push you need. 

“Jack.”

It’s barely audible over the rapid beeping of the monitor, but a pained noise emanates from his chest, and the hold on your hand tightens. “Again.”

Then louder this time, “Jack.” A disbelieving laugh. 

“Again.”

“Jack.”

And Jack Daniels yanks you closer to him until you’re halfway on the bed to bring you in a bruising kiss that steals the breath from your lungs, an arm wrapped around your waist as he presses as much of his body to yours as he can without yanking the IVs out. His heart rate is through the roof, rapidly beeping on the screen next to him. Jack’s mouth is warm and yours is pliant as he nips at your bottom lip, digging his fingers into your side. His voice is growling when he says, “Good girl,” against your lips.  

You’re one second away from slinging your leg around his hips to straddle him when Vermouth bursts in with wild eyes and a flushed face. 

“Whiskey! What’s wrong-- Oh.”

You nearly throw yourself out of Whiskey’s embrace, but he keeps you close as he glares daggers at the cowering medical assistant standing in the doorway. “You ever hear of knocking?” he drawls. Vermouth’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. 

“It’s just that-- Well, your heart rate it, um, we thought that you were, uh-- We thought you were in danger,” they stutter. Whiskey motions around the room. 

“Do you see any dangers here?” Vermouth makes a ‘kind of?’ motion with their hands. 

“You really shouldn’t be overworking yourself--”

“Kid, I’m fine,” Whiskey interrupts. “Now, shoo,” he says, “get,” and waves his hand at Vermouth, who has never looked more eager to leave the situation. And they’ve seen a lot of shit. You bury your head into his shoulder as you sigh. While Vermouth wouldn’t be coming back any time soon, you know they’re blabbing about what they’ve seen to anyone and everyone. 

“That was so embarrassing,” you whisper.  

Whiskey just laughs, pets your hair, and lets you keep your head where it is, only moving when you slide in the narrow bed next to him when your leg goes numb. The worry that’s been constricting around your heart starts to loosen with every breath he takes in, and he must sense that because he holds you as close as he can, minding the bandages and stitches and his bruised ribs. “You’re mighty affectionate today.” 

“I’m allowed to be after the emotional trauma you put me through,” you mumble. “I still have your hat.” Whiskey just hums and runs his fingers over the skin of your upper arm. He clears his throat. 

“Brandy, I… I have to tell you something,” he says, and there’s that nervousness from the day he was scheduled to leave. His heart rate picks up again, and he presses kiss to your hair to give him a moment to gather his thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Whiskey says, “what you mean to me, and I know I’ve been a real ass sometimes, but I promise you, it’s all in good humor.” You’re glad you’re not hooked up to a monitor because your heart is pounding in your ears. “And… and I can’t promise anything, not after--” His voice catches, and he clears his throat. “But I, um, what I’m trying to say is--” You take pity on him and reach up to kiss the underside of his jaw, rough with stubble. 

“Don’t you know, Whiskey?” you say. “I already know.”

---

Forever Tag: @mabelleen @mando-vibes @isaissafail @adikaofmandalore @lavenderl3mons

you’re a fine girl Tag: @mrsparknuts @jokersdoll @ariasfandom​ @blondecity​ @yodaswrinkles​ @everythingaboutnothingstuff​ @cloud-of-roses​

[hopevalley]

The Real Problem with the Love Triangle

Here we are, in Season 8, and I feel like I’ve finally settled on what it is I hate about the love triangle.

I mean, there are a lot of things wrong with it. It divides the fans, it splits the attention of the scenes between two “potential” romances instead of one certain one, and, perhaps one of its biggest offenses: it’s in the spotlight due to the fact that the plotline was given to the main character.

I could talk about all of these, and I could do it all day, but let’s just look at them quickly (because I do feel there’s a bigger issue than any of these at play, here).

It divides the fans. Yikes? They clearly expected some kind of...I don’t know, Twilight-era Team Jacob/Team Edward split, but Twilight’s endgame was always painfully clear. It’s not that fans weren’t disappointed by the reality when it hit, but...I don’t think many people were...genuinely surprised by it, either. Splitting the fans of an already itty-bitty teeny-tiny fandom was maybe not the best idea, but I guess I can see why they took the risk. After so many characters left the show in S5 (Frank, Dottie, Phillip, Shane, Jack) they probably felt they had to do something drastic to keep the fans invested in the show.

It splits the screentime between two potential romances instead of one certain one. This is less yikes in some ways and moreso in others. The biggest issue with this is mostly that When Calls the Heart has limited screentime to begin with, so splitting screentime and therefore also believable development of any romance makes everything take twice as long to happen, which can either bog down the show (if they take the time to do things correctly) or everything will feel rushed (if they skip proper character development).

It’s in the spotlight. Obviously they had to do this to get attention from the fans, but I can’t help but think that a genuine love triangle for a side character/background character might have been a more appealing option story-wise. Having the focus of the triangle be on Elizabeth means that most of the fans are very invested in their choice...which is GREAT up until the point where it’s suddenly not anymore. Writing yourself into a position where approximately half of the fanbase will be disappointed, perhaps even to the loss of their viewership when things don’t go their way (this is always a risk) is...maybe not the best idea. I can’t imagine anyone would quit over a minor love triangle storyline (for example, Bill/Molly/AJ or Fiona/Kevin/Hickam). Sure, you won’t have the level of engagement in the fans that Lucas/Elizabeth/Nathan brings to the table, but I think it could be fun while also not really risking anything. Not many people would stop watching if Fiona picked Hickam over Kevin, you know?

There are other problems with the love triangle and the concept/use of it, but I think the writers at least tried to make it feel balanced. Did they succeed? Well, that’s personal opinion, so I won’t get into that, but you can tell the effort was there from the start.

So we have a love triangle. Lucas and Nathan are both vying for Elizabeth’s affection, and the crux of Season 8 is: she needs to choose one of them.

Which brings me to my thesis statement.

The problem with the love triangle is that the choice is limited to two options.

She chooses Nathan.

She chooses Lucas.

I think logically as a fan and as a writer who occasionally does enjoy trashy tropes, it’s really no surprise that one of these choices is going to be endgame. What’s annoying—what hurts the love triangle the most—is that they are also the only options presented to the audience. They are the only options Elizabeth and those around her are openly considering.

In reality, there are at least three options.

She chooses Nathan.

She chooses Lucas.

She chooses nobody/to remain single.

We all know When Calls the Heart is a romantic “period drama” so naturally the writers leaned into writing the romance. And again, we know that one of these men is endgame.

But when you’re writing something like this, a plotline that is most assuredly risking future viewership to some degree, you can’t really forget that Staying Single is equally as good an option as Lucas or Nathan.

It’s made worse with things like time skips. Elizabeth has had plenty of time to make a choice if she wanted to make one. She’s obviously not that attached to either man if she’s just going to leave them hanging like that. I think it could be argued that she’s avoided letting herself get too emotionally intimate with either of them on purpose—because she’s scared to try again after what happened to Jack, she’s afraid of having to feel like that again—but that lends credence to my thesis: if she’s not that emotionally attached, and she’s not ready to actually move forward romantically, then...Staying Single is looking like a great option.

But...not one character in the show has told her that. No one encourages it. Not Rosemary (which I sort of expect), not Bill or Henry or Florence (who all seem likely candidates), not anyone. It’s not like Elizabeth’s still heavily mourning Jack (if so, I could see her friends eagerly encouraging her past that). She seems perfectly content by herself and is seemingly doing a good job of raising her son. She doesn’t need a man. She doesn’t act like she wants one.

So why does she have to choose between TWO of them?

What could fix it? Not much at this point. Elizabeth said ages ago that she was ready to move on, or at least try, and that was followed up by all of her friends (Rosemary and Clara specifically) being extremely pushy about how she needed to find romance again. Not once were all of her fears/anxieties seriously discussed and validated.

The best they can do now is have someone close to Elizabeth point out that if she’s not ready to move on, or simply doesn’t want to get involved in a romance again, she doesn’t have to pick anyone (but should be honest with both Lucas and Nathan that she’s not looking for that kind of commitment in her life). It’s also possible that Elizabeth herself could come to this conclusion and speak it aloud to a friend like Rosemary. Just because both men are interested doesn’t mean she has to pick either of them.

I know the fans have been really frustrated at the triangle, specifically how drawn-out it’s been, but I think the reason for that is that Elizabeth’s character has been written in this...really confusing sort of way where...she’s understandably not ready to move on right after her husband has passed away, but even though she’s still in mourning the “potential suitors” get shoved down her throat (and ours) for two full seasons. We (and she, by extension) never get the idea that she could just choose to stay single. The next “logical” step is to choose a man. And that would be fine if she were like Mary Dunbar from the first season, but...she’s the main character. We should see her considering all of her choices.

And like, not to be a fun-killer, but...everything from the past few seasons makes me think she’d just be happier single. That’s the issue, too, with not giving Elizabeth “staying single” as a valid choice: we’re all kind of at a point where we all see how poor her relationship to both suitors is and we’re like, “Hey...maybe neither of them are good options for her at this point in her life.”

Certainly the ensemble-style show lately has contributed to less screentime for Elizabeth and therefore also Lucas/Elizabeth and Nathan/Elizabeth stuff, but I think this could all be fixed if...her choice wasn’t between the two of them, but between choosing to date again vs. choosing not to. She has a career. She has a child. She has a lot of friends. She doesn’t NEED a man, so I want “choosing a man” to feel like...she actually WANTS to date. She WANTS to be romanced. She WANTS physical affection/sex/to be loved and cared for in a romantic fashion.

If I felt that Elizabeth was wholly into the idea of romance and dating and finding someone to live out the rest of her life with, then I might feel good about the love triangle, and about her trying to decide which of two decent men she’d like to allow to court her first.

But because she doesn’t seem eager to court or date, we feel like she never made the decision to move on, and as a result of all of this and the writers trying to keep the love triangle balanced (which unintentionally makes her seem equally DISINTERESTED IN BOTH MEN), her relationships with both Lucas and Nathan feel flat and uninspiring. 

TL;DR? The love triangle should have been presented from the start as Nathan vs. Lucas vs. Staying Single, and then we wouldn’t be in a situation where she’s known these men for two+ years and has been ready to move on for more than one of those years, and still doesn’t feel like she knows either man well enough to choose which of them she might like to court.

If we would have started with three choices, she could have spent all of Season 6 working on eliminating one of the options (staying single, in this case) while also being open to CLOSE friendship with both Lucas and Nathan*. Then, in Season 7, she could find that while it’s flattering to have the attention of two good men, it’s emotionally draining and anxiety-inducing to feel she has to choose between them as she likes them both a great deal and doesn’t want to hurt either of them.

*I think they were sort of trying for this, but it fell flat. It would have been ideal to have Lucas and Nathan confide in Elizabeth about deeply personal/emotional things that never leave those scenes. Fears, concerns, they could have some inside jokes... In order for a love triangle that lasts a long time to work, she has to feel very close to both men...and right now she doesn’t feel close to either of them.

As an aside, the love triangle would definitely feel softer around the edges if it wasn’t pushed from Day 1 as a Thing They Were Doing. Elizabeth forming close friendships with two men without TPTB ever saying anything about romance (let alone a love triangle) would have given the characters time to feel like they’re friends first. What we got was romance shoved down our throat (à la “Elizabeth’s still in mourning because her husband seriously just died BUT ALSO LOOK AT THESE TWO NEW MEN... WHICH WILL SHE CHOOSE WHEN SHE’S READY TO MOVE ON?!”) which put too much pressure on the triangle and the characters/interactions from the get-go. It felt like they jumped from brand-new acquaintances to love interests in the span of five minutes...which is, you know...bad.

[silverlysilence]

Hidden at Hogwarts

So @fabllama02 recently reblogged a post about how the RotBTD Hogwarts AUs got their Houses all wrong (though it does mention how Hiccup was sorted correctly in Ravenclaw and I was like, WTF?!  Most of the art I see is with Hiccup as Hufflepuff, which is believable, but Ravenclaw is obviously the right choice there, but I’m digressing).

Anyways, it points out how Jack Frost should be in Hufflepuff and that got me thinking...

Jackson Overland was by no means the best student to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  He probably would have been sorted into Ravenclaw House if that were the case but neither had he received a Troll or Dreadful on his any of his O.W.L.s.  The worst he got was a Poor in History of Magic but he blamed having a ghost for a professor for that one.  The rest of his O.W.L. were Acceptable or Exceeds Expectations with an Outstanding in Transfiguration that surprised even himself.

Still, despite it being only a few weeks into his sixth year, Jackson was already counting down the days until the end of the term.  Most students would balk at wanting to leave Hogwarts—well, at least when it wasn’t exam time—because it was the best school in all of Europe. However, the majority of the school had something he didn’t. 

Friends.

Oh, don’t get him wrong, Jackson did have friends.  A lot of them if he was being honest but none of them went to Hogwarts.  They either attended regular school or went to one of the other two prestigious European schools of magic.  He was fine with that, in the beginning, since he received acceptance letters from both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons as well and could have followed his friends if he desired to.

But Jackson Overland was stubborn and he wanted to attend the alma mater he read about from his mother’s schoolgirl diary. The young ten-year-old him believed he would make new lifelong friends at Hogwarts and then he’d wouldn’t be sad his other friends weren’t there with him.  The train ride had been a great start, he’d bounced around from compartment to compartment, talking with anyone willing and learning a fair share of Hogwarts outside of what he’d learned from books and secondhand accounts.

Then his Sorting took place.

Ravenclaw was the first to be discarded for the simple reason that he didn’t seek knowledge for the joy of knowing as many of the House so often did and he wasn’t one to believe intelligence was everything.  Knowing didn’t matter when one didn’t have the courage or drive to do something with it.  He was sad, though. Sad that Ravenclaw was immediately taken off the table when air was their element, that stung since he did so love being up in the air, surrounded by the winds.

He wasn’t surprised that Gryffindor was the next House to be rejected.  Jackson could be brave and daring when he needed too, but only when it involved others. Not only that, but fire wasn’t his thing and with it being Gryfindor’s corresponding element, he could live without being a member of the House.

That left two options that the Hat painstakingly struggled with: Hufflepuff and Slytherin.

Hufflepuffs were hard-working, dedicate, patience, and loyalty.  All of which could describe Jackson to the letter, when he felt like it.  He could be dedicated and hard-working if that meant more time for fun.  He had patience—how else could he survive year from year at Hogwarts without being patient?—and was fiercely loyal.  Even better, earth was the element for Hufflepuff.

Before he could get too excited over that fact, the Hat began considering the last option.  

Slytherin House.

Jackson actually knew more about the House than any of the others.  His mother’s diary described many of late nights sitting under one of the silver lamps hanging from the ceiling in the Slytherin’s cold common room. Cold because the common room lies beneath the element of their House, water from the Black Lake, but the warmth of her words spoke of fondness for her House. He might not have the same ambition to become the world’s youngest Potion Mistress as his mother, but his determination and need to toe the line in regards to the rules—he was testing their elasticity—was something they both had in common. Add in his cunningness and resourcefulness nature when pulling off a prank that even impressed the sole portrait—hidden in an antechamber of one of the countless secret passageways Jackson passed his time searching—of a younger Salazar Slytherin and he could very well fit in with people of similiar values.

In the end, the Hat had allowed him to choose and he’d chosen loyalty.  Loyalty to a mother he had vague memories of and a diary full of stories he often dreamed about.

Jackson Overland was draped in the silver and greens of the Slytherin House that night sealing his fate.

The next morning, as he giddily bounced through the halls, cheerfully greeting anyone he passed, he noticed the change.  Where the same students had been happy to help and answer his exuberant questions on the train, they took one look at the colors of his tie and turned up their noses, ignoring him. It soon became apparent by choosing Slytherin, he had effectively alienated the other three-fourths of Hogwarts.  It was disheartening and had him dragging his feet as he tried again and again with other members of the various Houses only to be met with the same result.

At least he had his own House.  The House his mother loved so dearly.  There was just one problem.  A small difference between his mother and him.

Phoebe Black was as Pure-blood as they came and from The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black before she’d been struck off the tapestry.

Jackson Overland was a Half-blood.

Nothing more than a Mudblood in the eyes of his Housemates.  

He quickly learned none of them would approach him outside the confines of the dormitories in fear of another student of a different House or teacher seeing them and tarnishing the reputation of Slytherin, inside was another matter.  His homework would always disappear, ink bottles shattered and quills snapped. None of his school robes were destroyed as that would reflect badly on the House and possibly lose them points, his muggle clothes, on the other hand, were mere rags.  Worse was their constant taunts and name-calling.

It was no wonder Jackson had taken to hiding away in Hogwarts as much as possible.  When he wasn’t in class or sleeping behind heavily warded curtains, he was invisible.  Practically a ghost.  For Merlin’s sake, Profession Binns routinely forgot he was a student and would give him Ghost Letters as reading material.  

Thankfully, The Grey Lady caught him attempting to decipher the ghostly writing to no avail one day and kindly read the translucent notes out loud for him to copy down on a sheet of parchment.  He thanked her by placing a single lily flower in the small niche window seat she so often haunted.  Since then, it had become a tradition, when Jackson received Ghost Letters, the Grey Lady would read them aloud for him, and a lily would be put in place the next day.

A process he was repeating once more, gently tucking the Moonbeam Lily that in no way shape or form came from the Forbidden Forest next to the blue and silver pillow. Making sure flower was visible and would be easily spotted, he quickly retreated to one of the hidden passages Salazar informed him of and waited. He didn’t have to wait too long for the Grey Lady to float down the hallway, passing his hiding spot, where she came to a halt next to the window.  

Amber eyes gleamed in happiness when he saw lips forever in a grim expression tilt upwards. Jackson didn’t know if she knew he always stuck around long enough—sometimes hours—just to see her reaction.  To him, it was the best part, because if it made the usual solemn ghost happy for a small moment and that made him happy.

He was just about to take a step back and head down the path at his back when a polite nasally voice drifted down the hall, rooting the brunet to the spot. He couldn’t see the person but the distinguishable clinking of metal against stone every other step was a dead giveaway.  Amber eyes immediately caught sight as tall auburn-haired wearing the same blue and bronze ties as the bulky blond at his side as they made their way pasted his hiding place, animatedly discussing the Triwizard Tournament announcement.  Undoubtedly on their way to their common room to get quills and ink to submit their names into the Goblet of Fire.

It was only after they were long gone, voices but a distant memory that Jackson let out his breath.

“Why do you not talk to him?”

Jackson didn’t jump, but it was a near thing.  Instead, he leaned up against the wall and allowed himself to slide down, sitting in the darkness with only the silvery-grey light cast from the Grey Lady for light.  Drawing his knees to himself, he rested his arms on top and buried his head as if that would further hide him from the world.

“I’d rather not,” the brunet shrugged languidly.

“I do not understand. You often stare at him, and speak fondly of his deeds, but you never approach him,” the Grey Lady glided over towards the teenager.  “Why is that?”

“Because Hiccup bloody Haddock doesn’t know I existed despite having the biggest crush on him?” Jackson mumbled into his arms.

“Yet I have heard you fondly speak of the first time you saw him on multiple occasions.”

“Again, he didn’t know I was there,” Jackson hummed, the memory of his fourth year unbiddenly rise to the surface.

He had just fled Charms class, slipping into the nearest hidden passageway leading to the kitchens for some lunch away from the Great Hall when he heard the deep nasally voice doing a poor imitation of a Scottish accent.  Normally, he would have kept on walking, the prospect of learning a few new recipes from the eager House Elves more of a lure, but the laughter of children had his curiosity peeked.  

Following the laughter led him to a brick wall, but a tap from his wand on an indented stone had the brick sliding back, giving him a glimpse inside the usually unused classroom currently filled with a group first and second years—ties of all colors sans the stark greens and silver of his own—sitting in a circle as a teenager—lacking the telltale tie and all important crest emblazoned robes—read from a book in one hand while waving his wand about in the other hand as he paced inside the circle.

The floating veils above the auburn hair swirled before one floated down, passing by another heading upwards to rejoin the group.  The teenager began reading again as the veil floated around the circle for all the children to get a good look at and when he was finished describing the properties, he asked the group for the name of the plant.  One of the Hufflepuff offered up a name but the teen’s voice took on the horrible Scottish accent once more as he listed how her answer was wrong in a humorous, fun way as to not embarrass her.  

It was in that moment, watching the unknown teen spend his lunch hour teaching the younger students about the various potion ingredients and their properties their Potions Master should have taught them—the bastard hadn’t, Jackson knew that from his experience dealing with the man in his capacity as both a professor and Head of House Slytherin—in preparation for the upcoming exams that his interest in the teen grew.

From then on, Jackson kept an eye out for the auburn-haired teen and observed.  The next time amber eyes caught a glimpse of him it was with him fumbling with his blue and bronze tie as he hurried into the fifth year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class a few seconds before the bell rang.  Jackson was a bit surprised that the unknown teen was a year ahead of him, instead of behind as he initially thought, but he wasn’t surprised to find out he was a Ravenclaw.  A week later, the Slytherin learn his name from his hefty blonde Housemate shouting it from across the courtyard as he pulled the notorious Thorston twins from House Hufflepuff after.

Amber eyes had dimmed upon seeing the Ravenclaw walking towards the trio of blondes with a Gryffindor on either side of him.  The small fledgling of hope worming its way into his heart quickly shattered.  There was no way he could become friends with the kind-hearted auburn-haired teen.  Not with two Gryffindors as friends—best of friends from the looks of how they hung off of each other and a little more on the blonde’s part if he had to guess—because while members of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff could be friendly and open with their childhood Slytherins friends and family, Gryffindor and Slytherins did not mix.

At all.

The two Houses always thought the worst of each other, blaming them for everything and since Jackson was lumped together with the other Slytherins, he received more than his fair share of accusations by the House. Another reason he tried so hard to be invisible inside the wall of Hogwarts and stay invisible he would continue to do.  Jackson let the hope die and kept his distance. He could not, keep himself from watching over Hiccup though, and with each new thing he learned about the loyal, intelligent, brave Ravenclaw, the larger his crush grew.

“I could speak to him for you; if you so wish?” the Grey Lady offered.

“Milady, I appreciate you’re offer, but Hiccup Haddock is better off not knowing Jackson Overland.”

[doof-doofblog]

"This Is Going To Be The Best Wedding Ever!"

Thursday 28th January 2021

Hello everyone! Hope you've all had a good week, the weekend is almost upon us! I have to say I'm really looking forward this post, something tells me that something huge is about to happen, something some of us Ballum fans have been waiting for for a very long time!! I can't contain my excitement, let's not waste any time and jump straight in!

The first thing I want to mention is the confrontation between Denise and Lucas. Over the past few weeks, Denise has been struggling coming to terms with the fact that her daughter has rekindled her relationship with her Father. It worries Denise completely for Chelsea's safety. However, after learning that Lucas has been sleeping rough, just so he can stay away and in an attempt to keep Chelsea from harm after his attack, Chelsea tries to plead to her Mother to let Lucas stay with her. Of course you can completely understand Denise's decline, after what he put her through in the past, I don't blame her for being scared. But after some wise words from Patrick, she agrees to let Lucas have his say. In this particular episode, Denise - along with Jack and Patrick, sit at a table with Lucas and Chelsea. Lucas voices how he has turned his life around (supposedly) again! How Chelsea's forgiveness has made him see sense. Interestingly however, when Denise mentions his son Jordan, that he only went to Chelsea after his own son rejected him, Lucas drops the huge bombshell that Jordan has passed away due to a heroin overdose! Clearly Denise is devastated by the news, Lucas seems to blame himself for his son's death, acknowledging that he learnt things through his Dad, which ended up with bad habits and them him taking this overdose. It's devastating to hear that they've killed off Jordan off screen, it would've been interesting to see his reaction to Lucas's reconnection with Chelsea. What do you guys think? Should they have killed off Jordan?! Later on, Denise is discussing with Jack what they're supposed to do to keep Chelsea safe, she worries that she's already pushed her daughter away further into her Father's arms, what else is she supposed to do to make her see that her Dad is just pure evil? Jack then suggests that the only way to keep an eye on both of them, is to offer Lucas one of his flats on the Square, that way they can make sure Chelsea is safe, as well as keeping an eye on Lucas. I think this could be very interesting, also Chelsea's secret is still puzzling me, I'm really eager to find out what she's really hiding. Something tells me that she simply hasn't forgiven her Dad is just putting on a front, but why? What is she really doing? Wanting revenge?! What do you guys think?

The second thing I have to mention is Mick! When he first see him in this episode, he's looks to be very anxious as it looks as if this is the day he's going to head to the police station and report Katy of her crimes. Of course he fears how his actions could affect Frankie, but Linda informs him that if he doesn't report Katy now, then he probably feel that he never will. As Mick looks out the window, he sees Frankie waiting for him, as they spot each other, she pleads to him to not go to the police, but Mick can only utter the words "I'm sorry!" - he knows it's what he has to do! When Mick gets to the station, I have to mention the editing, the camera work, the close ups, the slow speech, the heavy breathing and fidgeting from Mick. Almost looking as if he's going to have another panic attack, or is it perhaps anxiety? Either way, I just thought the whole camera work and editing was brilliant, really made you feel what Mick was feeling! As the lady put Mick at ease and made him comfortable, he began to reveal that he was sexually abused as a child by Katy. During this moment where Mick is at the police station, Frankie is on her own by the swings as Callum finds her. Eventually, they get onto the subject about Mick as Callum reassures her that no matter what Mick goes through in his own personal life, he always puts someone else first, whether it be a family member or a friend. These words seem to really strike a cord with Frankie and she says her goodbyes to Callum. Returning to the station, as the lady questioning Mick takes the evidence given, Mick questions what happens next and whether they'll arrest Katy. She admits that there are more procedures to follow, but he's made the biggest step in talking to someone and reporting the crime. As Mick leaves the police station, I get the feeling that you can't help but really feel for him, he catches his breath and gasps for air, almost as if he's finally lifted the huge weight off of his shoulders. Suddenly from across the road, Frankie lifts herself up from sitting on the pavement as she waits for her Dad to leave the station. Mick is absolutely stunned to see her there - this moment absolutely moved me, almost got me tearing up! - Without a single word to each other, Frankie slips her arms around Mick's waist and holds him in a very tight hug. Both of them have tears running down their cheeks, you can really sense that Frankie knows that her Dad has had to the right thing for him. She understands and fully supports his decision to report her Mum for what she did to him and potentially other victims! I thought that particular scene was absolutely beautiful, very moving!

Before we focus on the main event, I feel like I have to mention Whitney! From the beginning of the episode, we can see that Callum is contemplating proposing to Ben (Unbeknown to him that Ben also has plans to propose to him). Callum seems to be thinking about his past and also seems to be thinking about Ben's daft attempt at a proposal the previous day. As he sits alone with his thoughts in the Cafe, Whitney notices and approaches him, asking him what his boyfriend had done now. When he admits that Ben had proposed, but without the bells and whistles, Whitney states that it's Ben Mitchell that they're talking about. To be fair, Ben has never been known to be romantic or do things with hearts and roses. It's then that she actually admits they he and Ben make a really good couple, almost acknowledging that she gives her blessing for Callum to marry the love of his life. As she does so, Whitney gets a notification and informs her ex-fiance' that she's been asked out on a date. Callum encourages her to go for it, mentioning that they both deserve a bit of happiness. However, when Whitney is back at Gray's apartment and he mentions to her that the children are planning a movie night, Whitney  apologises that she can't make it and informs Gray that she has a date. Oooh okay, this is where things get interesting. Gray is surprised at her news, he seems to put on a front and mentions that he's happy for her, but just warns her to be careful. Interestingly, Whitney seems to acknowledge Gray's concern and decides to cancel her date and to stay with Gray and children for the evening instead. The first thing that is blatantly obvious is that Gray is happy that she's changed her mind - uh-oh, do you think Whitney and Gray may become a couple? Will feelings start to spark between them? I mean it would be kind of bad considering that both have a connection with Chantelle, will Whitney feel guilty for betraying her deceased friend? But more importantly, will Whitney be Gray's next victim, could she be the one to reveal his big secrets?!

The next thing I want to mention is Honey and Jay, before Lexi rallies round all the members of the family to build up Ben's surprise for Callum, Honey and Jay have a brief discussion. Honey seems to be fretting that Lola will inform Billy about her and Jay's romance before they get a chance to. It's then that they make the mutual agreement to approach Billy together and inform him together that they are in fact seeing each other. Later on when Lexi is prepping the Prince Albert with her family, Honey take Billy to one side asking whether they could have a private word together later in the evening. Poor Billy, he instantly assumes that Honey is wanting to get back with him, he voices his excitement to Lola, even thought she knows what's going on, she warns him not to get his hopes up. Later on Billy can't seem to contain his excitement, and will the romance circling around them, he opens up to Honey and admits that he wants to get back together with her. Honey is instantly stunned and shocked, to save him the embarrassment, she informs Billy that them getting back together is never going to happen. Jay notices the confrontation and approaches them both, as Billy looks over to Jay, Honey admits that she and Jay are actually seeing each other. Billy is instantly crushed by the information, I was kind of expecting him to flip, but he simply walks away in absolute disbelief! I did hear rumours that because of this, Billy life is to circle into something dark - possible become some kind of drug dealer or something? Of course this is just rumour and I'm not too sure whether anything has been confirmed, but because of this revelation, Billy life is going to circle out of control.  

Awwwwww!! Ballum, Ballum, BALLUM!!!! How adorable were they in this episode, please?! Lexi, Ben and Lola have gathered their close family involved to give Callum such a huge surprise. I just want to mention briefly how much I love Lexi, she's such a little star! Bossing people about and making sure she is the one in charge of the huge surprise, her sass is just brilliant!! Definitely takes after her parents, don't you agree?!  The plan originally was for Ben to bring Callum to the Prince Albert where he would propose to his boyfriend in a lavish surprise! However, after contemplating his own thoughts and receiving Whitney's blessing, Ben meets Callum in the gardens in the middle of the Square. Ben has all intensions to bring his boyfriend back to the club, but Callum seems to have his own plans. He stands up and gives a huge speech, informing Ben how much he become comfortable in himself and how much he feels to be able to be himself now since he came out. They reflect on Callum coming out to his Dad and how Phil punched him for being homophobic, on when Ben was shot by Hunter and Callum fretted he was going to lose his Ben ... it's fair to say that they have both been through so much together. Callum then goes down on knee and asks Ben to marry him - I have to say Ben's reaction really made me giggle, poor Callum has no idea what surprise they've been preparing for him. Ben groans and notifies the Lexi is going to be annoyed with his boyfriend - he walks off, leaving Callum absolutely dumbfounded asking himself "What did I do?" - Ha! The poor bloke! However when Callum eventually arrives at the Prince Albert without Ben in sight and sees the huge surprise he had in store for him, all his friends and family holding up a huge banner saying "Will You Marry Me?" he completely realises what mistake he's made! Desperately he tries to get hold of Ben, only to find that he's waiting on the balcony of the club for him, holding a huge hunch of roses.

Callum hurries to the balcony, completely stunned by how much his boyfriend has gone to to make the ultimate romantic proposal. I love how they both kind of have no idea where to go with this, as they know they both want to propose to one another. Ben takes this moment to give his speech to Callum, informing him that neither of them are perfect, but there's no other man he'd stand on a freezing cold balcony with a huge bunch of roses for than him. As Callum beams a huge smile, Lexi appears down below, watching the event take place. What also really warms my heart is Lexi even accepting Callum, voicing that she wouldn't want anyone else to be her other Dad! (CUTE!) As the smile are giggle together, in unison, both Ben and Callum propose and accept, sealing the moment with a kiss! Lexi excitedly informs the rest of the family - Lola, Jay, Honey, Rainie and Stuart all fall out onto the Square as Lexi excitedly presses a button and fireworks sparkle over the Square to celebrate Ben and Callum's engagement. Such a beautiful beautiful moment, the couple entwine their fingers and Ben rests his head affectionately on Callum's shoulder as they watch the fireworks flood the sky.

I have to say it's lovely to see this episode end on such a beautiful, happy ending. I don't think I've ever been excited for a wedding since the last gay wedding between Christian and Syed! Let's just keep our fingers crossed that their wedding will go to plan, this is EastEnders so who knows what will happen? the only thing I want to say is that I kind of wished that Phil and Kathy were there to see their son get engaged? Know what I mean? Phil especially, seeing his son getting engaged to the love of his life would be such a huge moment between Ben and Phil, I feel. What do you guys think? I'm sure Phil will be there at his sons wedding, let's just pray that everything will go to plan! 

Overall I found it a really touching episode, also especially between Mick and Frankie. I'm really intrigued to see what happens next! All the current storylines, I am really enjoying and every one of them could have a huge twist. I really can't wait to see them all unfold. What do you think? What are your theories and predictions? Please feel free on leaving me a comment or a message, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thank you all so much for reading, I hope you enjoy the rest of your day and I'll be back very soon! Love you all xXx

[eclecticlanie]

Child Spirit claps back!

OK! SOOOO. A little back story first. I left my first husband 10 years ago. I left EVERYTHING with him except my daughter. I use to write novels (never published), songs, poems, draw all sorts of artwork, and my clothes were my life (I was particular about my fashion choices). I left everything: books, original artworks, basically my soul and identity. When I left I did not write or do any art ever again. I had to focus on being a first time mother, go to work full time, and school full time. I had a new identity that left no time or room for who I was from that day forward.

 My Hubs (2nd husband) produces Drum and Bass music and has since he was a teen. I support and help him as much as I can doing whatever I can (singing, speaking, picking out sounds, synths, etc; telling him to remove certain things that don’t work well, so on so forth). He has always taken music seriously and wanted to go much further than he has with it in the past but has held himself back due to fears of being in public eyes and what the media could do to him. Understandable. 

We decided recently to go for it-to take this to the next level if we could. In this process, Hubs decides I need to unpack that 10 years of exiling my talents. He bought me a notebook and now hounds me to speak to him so he can write or have me write my own songs and poems again. I say hounds but really he is trying to inspire me and find me a muse, there is no true negative connotation on it. I am just naturally pessimistic. Hubs is most definitely an optimist and before anyone asks, yes, sometimes it makes me sick (figuratively). In reality we balance each other extremely well. I never have had a more healthy relationship with anyone other than my mother in my life with the exception being Hubs. He is my everything, next to our kids. 

So that brings us to today. We, Hubs and I, are in the kitchen. I am cooking ground beef to make tacos on the stove. We were talking about how I don’t like my voice on recording but I do like it raw and natural and how I don’t understand why I feel I sound different on recording versus not recording. I then decide we need to discuss what we want to change and not to change if we happen to go next level with this music endeavor. As I leave the stove and go into the fridge (literally the fridge is next to the stove so it is only one step away) to make a glass of soda, I ask, “If we do go next level what do we want to stay the same and what do we want to have change?”

I turn around with the soda bottle in hand to go to the counter where my glass is waiting and Hubs is standing. I see a child standing next to him that isn’t mine with sandy brown or sandy blonde hair down to its cheeks. I’m not entirely sure which would better describe the kids hair. I assume it’s a non-binary child right off the bat. This child scares the shit out of me. It was not there prior to this moment. I never have seen this child before in my life and it is standing next to Hubs. I let out a short loud scream upon seeing this child and at this exact moment the child swings it’s hand and hits my Hubs glass of soda out of his own hands. The glass went up then hit the floor. It did not shatter, break, or crack. It was in one piece. Soda was on my upper and lower cabinets, on the floor and the side of the stove. The child was gone. Vanished. 

“What was that?” Hubs looked at me. 

“I don’t know why i screamed like that.” I tried to rationalize with myself, “It was a child.”

I pour myself a glass of soda and go back to cooking. Hubs and I discuss what just happened and didn’t continue the previous conversation we were trying to have about our possible future. We agree to invite the ghost upstairs to have a conversation via tarot after we eat dinner. Tacos took maybe another 3 minutes to cook and construct. We ate at the stove and the kids ate at the dining table. So a whole ten minutes maybe passed before we ran upstairs and grabbed my Nightmare Before Christmas Tarot Deck, pendulum, and pendulum board. 

I’m sitting on the bed and my back is killing me. This spirit is sucking my energy to stay present so I can receive it’s message. I start shuffling and right out of the gate cards are spilling.

The first five:

1. XIX The Sun: 

Directly from the guidebook: 

“When cloudy skies pass, the sun comes out, shining warmth and happiness on everyone’s lives. The excitement, renewed energy, and joy Jack experiences when he discovers Christmas Town perfectly embody the energy of the Sun tarot card. 

Upright: If you’ve been sad or troubled lately, the Sun is a sign you’re about to feel a very positive shift in your life. Use this rejuvenating energy to reconnect with good friends and enjoy yourself. There’s so much enthusiasm in this tarot card. It signifies a powerful time for inspired brainstorming.” 

Interpretation: I believe this represents both the child I seen and the situation. The child had no ill or negative feeling. It was a joyful and happy child. As for the situation, the Sun is calling me out on how I’m very negative and down on myself and that positive things are happening in my life. I need to start removing myself from being pessimistic and join ‘Team Optimistic’ by following through and doing as my Hubs has been pushing me to do. 

2. XVIII The Moon (Reversed):

Directly from the guidebook:

“Moonlight illuminates Jack in the graveyard as he reflects on his feelings. The moon represents a great lament, the subconscious, and intuition.”

“Reversed: In order to move forward, you need to be honest about your feelings, with yourself and others. Expressing yourself will life a weight off your chest and get you out of a melancholy headspace. The Sun is about to come out, and a new day will bring new possibilities.” 

Interpretation: I was in the process of expressing my feelings on my voice right before the glass was thrown. I was being negative and hurtful to myself. The child did not like it and that is why they hit the glass to gain attention and to give me this message thus “the sun is about to come out”. I will be enlightened by the other side as to their feelings rather than focus on my own. 

3. X of Needles:

Directly from the guidebook:

“Upright: X of Needles indicates something is coming to a painful ending. Whether this refers to a friendship, relationship, project, or job, you may be left with heavy emotions. Give yourself time to grieve, but trust that it’s for the best. Fresh beginnings are ahead!”

Interpretation: The 10 years I am unpacking is the means to an end. The hurt will end. I’ve hurt myself enough. My talents no longer need to be buried and not used. They are valid and need to be expressed. They will bleed and feel rushed because the flood gates are now open.

4. Queen of Needles:

Directly from the guidebook: 

“Upright: The Queen of Needles is intelligent, intellectual, and sensible. She takes time to make up her own mind and isn’t easily swayed by trends, fads, or popular opinion. Fair and practical, the Queen of Needles shouldn’t be underestimated. This card is a call to remember how strong you really are.” 

Interpretation: The child is 

5. III of Needles (Reversed): 

Directly from the guidebook:

“Reversed: III of Needles reversed symbolizes coming to terms with the past It’s time to pluck the needles out of your heart, and let it heal. Nurse your wounds and go forward.”

Interpretation: I need to let myself move forward and not punish myself. I need to allow my gifts to thrive and be of use in my life. 

I decided to use the Pendulum board a little bit to confirm everything I had seen. I asked the spirit if I was correct with the sandy brown-blonde hair color. The pendulum swung ‘yes’. I continued, “Definitely not a red head then.” The crystal swung ‘no.’ “Is there more you want to tell me?” ‘Yes.’ I picked up the cards and started shuffling again. Five more cards popped out. 

6. IX The Hermit:

Directly from the guidebook:

“The Hermit is a thoughtful, introverted figure who likes to spend his time ruminating alone--like the Creature Under the Stairs.

Upright: Now’s the time to get inspired by example and withdraw for some quiet alone time. The Hermit calls for reflection, so do a bit of soul-searching. Consider your current position, goals, and dreams. Remember your past, and learn from it so you can bring those lessons with you into a successful future.”

Interpretation: The child wants me to really look deep into myself and accept who I am. 

7. III The Empress (Reversed):

Directly from the guidebook:

“The Empress is a maternal, nurturing figure who enjoys self-indulgence and life’s creature comforts. Our Empress is the Corpse Mom, who is often seen leading her child on a leash.”

“Reversed: Are you being too hard on yourself? You may have been feeling self-critical lately, but beating yourself up about perceived failures and flaws won’t help. Be patient, and give yourself room to make mistakes--they’re learning opportunities.”

Interpretation: I couldn’t have interpreted this card any other way than as they described. I needed to stop bullying myself. The child seemed very adamant with this message.

8. IX of Needles (Reversed):

Directly from the guidebook:

“Reversed: Has your confidence been dealt a blow recently? If you’re feeling low, you may be your own biggest bully. Start focusing on your positive qualities instead of fixating on your perceived negative ones. A shift in perspective is what’s needed to get you out of despair.”

Interpretation: Again, I couldn’t have interpreted this card any differently. I need to get my head out of my ass.

9. VI of Needles:

Directly from the guidebook:

“VI of Needles usually indicates you’ve been through a difficult time. Have you recently been in conflict with someone or experienced an unexpected setback? It’s time to pick up the pieces and get on track again.”

Interpretation: I need to make peace with myself, pick up the pieces I left behind and put them where they belong in my life-not outside of it.

10. Queen of Candles (Reversed):

Directly from the guidebook: 

“Reversed: The reversed Queen of Candles lacks self-confidence. Have you been giving too much attention to the opinions of others? Don’t stifle your ideas and lose your voice. Make time for a bit of soul-searching, and express yourself. Don’t worry what others may think. You have so much to offer!”

Interpretation: Another hard one! All jokes aside, this child couldn’t have been more direct. I need to keep my opinion on myself out of the picture. I need to use my voice-literally. I need to see the value in me and gain confidence. 

I then started telling the spirit I really understood the first time around about their message. Hubs is half laughing at me that I got called out by a child ghost. I continue to state out loud that I understand I need to be nicer to myself and use my talents with the focus of the future in mind. I also state that my back is really starting to kill me and that i would like it to leave if it had nothing more to say. I start shuffling and what do you know... Five more cards...

11. XIIII Death (Reversed):

Directly from the guidebook: 

“Death is often a feared tarot card, but that’s just because its misunderstood. It’s a card of transformation and transition-beginnings and endings. Like the creaky, old gates in Halloween Town’s cemetery, the Death tarot card is a spooky symbol of change and transformation.”

“Reversed: Are you putting off a life-changing decision? Resisting change is impossible and will only cause harm in the long run. Letting go of the familiar can be tough, but trust that accepting transition will make way for positive, fresh beginnings.”

Interpretation: Clearly a change is coming. Whether it be my attitude about myself or how I manage my mental health? Only time will tell. 

12. IV of Needles (Reversed):

Directly from the guidebook:

“Reversed: Here, the restful energy of the IV of Needles card becomes static. Are you feeling stuck? Have you reached a plateau? It’s important to shake yourself out of your routine. When you take a different perspective, you’ll see you have all kinds of opportunities around you.”

Interpretation: I need to look outside of the box when I think about myself.

13. XIV Temperance (Reversed):

Directly from the guidebook:

“Like pouring magical potions into a cauldron, Temperance represents the act of combining different elements together in perfect harmony.”

“Reversed: If life is feeling hectic, it’s time to bring things back into balance. Pay attention to areas of your life that may be a little neglected. The recipe for success requires a pinch of self-reflection and a dash of Temperance. stir thoroughly, and enjoy.”

Interpretation: I need to balance my negativity with positivity. 

14. IV of Candles:

Directly from the guidebook:

“IV of Candles represents celebration. People are recognizing your accomplishments! You’re feeling stable, secure, and comfortable. Be proud of yourself and enjoy the attention, but remember there is still work to be done when the party’s over.”

Interpretation: Although, at our current status as a family, we are successful and doing decent for ourselves but, individually, we can always work and build our characters. 

15. III of Presents (Reversed): 

Directly from the guidebook:

“Reversed: Reversed, III of Presents represents an imbalance within a professional or financial collaboration. If you’re working with others on a project, make sure everyone’s doing their part. Disaster strikes when things become inequitable. Prioritizing teamwork will get you where you want to go.”

Interpretation: I need to be more open about my thoughts, opinions, hopes, fears, etc towards Hubs on this new adventure. 

With this I felt a lot of my back pain let up. I started to slip the cards back into the deck and shuffle them again just to give them an after reading cleanse. Hubs randomly states he was thinking about splurging on a cyber whip rave toy and then another two cards popped out. 

16. XX Judgement:

Directly from guidebook:

“We all have pivotal decisions to make in our lives. Will yours land you on the naughty list or the nice list?

Upright: Now isn’t the time to be hasty and impulsive. Consider your actions and choices carefully, and take time to think things through. Remember that all actions have reactions. Be sensible, and stay true to your conscience.”

Interpretation: The Childs leaving statement is to be mindful as well as ‘you do you’. Apparently, Party time is not on its list of things to do. I may have taken this a little condescendingly. This ghost doesn’t like to have fun. 

17. IV of Presents (Reversed):

Directly from the guidebook:

“Reversed: Is your relationship with money healthy? Is it getting you where you want to go? If not, it may be time to look over your budget and reevaluate your priorities. Make sure you’re not spending frivolously if your cash flow can’t support it right now.”

Interpretation: The spirit child was telling us to maybe not go out and buy a light up whip to dance with. No parties for you! Well... In our house, raves will persevere! GLOW STICKS OUT! RAVE ON! 

[angelicthor]

religion

pairing: thor odinson x reader

summary: set directly after Thor: Ragnarok (Infinity War? I don’t know her). You and Thor have always had a complicated relationship but when he comes to you years after disappearing telling you about the destruction of his home world, you’ll do just about anything to make him feel better.

warnings/genre: +18 only, smut, slight angst. 

masterlist

a/n: thor deserves all the love in the world. i said what i said. send tweet. 

Cause you’re my religion You’re how I’m living When all my friends say I should take some space Well I can’t envision, that for a minute When I’m down on my knees, you’re how I pray Hallelujah, I need your love

The hotel door shut behind you with a soft click and you placed your gun on the table beside your bed, the assignment was a success and you text Steve on your secure line to let him know, agreeing to meet up with him again tomorrow to head towards wherever you were needed next. The UN may have disbanded the avengers but that didn’t mean you weren’t still needed. People would always need protecting and there were things out there that police, militaries, and all the spy organisations in the world couldn’t combat.

You poured yourself a drink from the bottle of Jack stashed in your bag, stretching out the kinks in your back before you swallowed the bitter alcohol in one swig, recoiling slightly at the taste as your face contorted in disgust. Placing the empty tumbler on the side you advanced on the en-suite, carelessly leaving a trail of clothes behind you as you headed straight towards the shower, leaning against the bathroom countertop as you waited for the water to warm.

All things considered, you couldn’t really complain about your current setting; since you’d repudiated the accords you’d been forced to stay in much worse accommodation. You supposed it came with the territory of being a wanted criminal. At least in this hotel you got a window wall that let in natural light and opened onto a balcony overlooking the city. Yeah, you’d definitely been in worse places.

Stepping under the spray of the showerhead, you pressed your hand against the chipped tiles in front of you, bowing your head as you let the warm water wash away the stress of the day. Pushing your wet hair from your face, you finished your shower and reached for the towel on the rack before wrapping it around yourself and heading back into your room to retrieve your sleep shirt and shorts.

You furrowed your brows at the darkness of the room, you hadn’t bothered to leave a light on given that it was mid-summer and the sun was out in full force, not a cloud in the sky before you had entered the bathroom, but now the skies were a bleak grey, the sun nowhere to be seen and you could feel the beginning of a storm in the air.

Strange, you mused, you could have sworn the forecast was nothing but blazing sun for the next few weeks.

Deeming thoughts about the changing weather useless, you pushed them from your mind, drying yourself off and pulling the shirt over your head and shorts up your legs, hoping that the temperature didn’t drop with the lack of visible sun as they were all you had to sleep in. You had just pulled back the covers when the first strike of lightening hit, the powerful bright bolts of electricity splitting the grey sky apart, lighting up the room with its intensity before the rumbling roll of thunder shook the entire city.

The storm caused memories of days long gone to resurface in your mind. Memories you needed to forget. You couldn’t focus on them, not now, couldn’t focus on –

You needed to forget.

Unlike most in Berlin that night, the ruckus of the storm lulled you to sleep, the sound comforting and familiar providing you with the perfect ambiance for your well-earned rest, letting out a content sigh as your body melted into the mattress.

Some hours later, you jolted awake at a violent clap of thunder, disorientated as rain pelted against the glass, another fork of lightning splicing through the sky and lighting up your otherwise pitch-black room for only a moment. But it wasn’t that what awoke you. No, the all-too familiar feeling of someone’s stare burning into your body was what roused you from your sleep and you knew exactly who it was.

He was here.

Only his silhouette was visible against the bright flashes in the sky where he stood on the balcony, rain soaking him as he stood there unsure of himself. Heart-racing, uncertain as to why he was here but knowing that whatever happened must have been been bad, you slowly climbed from your bed, sliding the glass door open and stepping out into the cold night, clothes becoming drenched from the torrential downfall in mere seconds, but you didn’t even pay it any mind. Nothing else mattered now. He was back.

Your God of Thunder.

Your love.

Your Thor.

You had a complicated relationship with the Asgardian to say the least, never really knowing where either of you stood. Labels like teammate or friend would never be able to fully explain what Thor meant to you, you shared a bond far too deep and meaningful for such trivial categorisations. You were perfectly attuned to each other, both on and off the battlefield, you made a couple like no other, your biggest supporters when things went right and each other’s sanctuary when they did not. Your connection to Thor was unparalleled to anything you had every experienced in your life. But then he had to leave, trouble in other realms needed his attention and you didn’t know when – if he would return.

You wanted to go with him more than anything, but you were needed too much on earth, after Ultron it was too much of a risk for three of the avengers to disappear, and so you reluctantly stayed, heart aching as you came to a harsh truth: your fantasies of a life with Thor would remain entirely that – fantasies. He couldn’t leave the nine realms to fall into chaos, he couldn’t favour earth out of all them, regardless if he took his birth-right as king or not. That wasn’t in his nature. It was one of the reasons you loved him.

No, Thor’s place would always be with Asgard, protecting everyone in every realm. It had to be.

But he was here, face crestfallen and shoulders slumped forward in defeat, a sight even you had never seen on your thunderer before. You tentatively reached out to cup his face in your hand, noticing for the first time that the hair that was stuck down to his face was much shorter than when he left, his beard somewhat thicker than you remember but you gasped when you noticed the patch adorning his right eye, a jagged scar cutting through the soft skin of his cheek that resembled the very lightning he commanded.  

“Thor,” You whispered, fearing if you were any louder you may startle the man. Squeezing his eye shut, Thor nuzzled into your palm, his larger hand coming up to cover yours before he met your gaze, eye bloodshot with unshed tears as the dam finally broke, his face crumbling as the weight of everything he had been through came crashing down on him and he collapsed in your arms, shoulders shaking as sobs tore from his throat, hands clinging desperately to your form as you quickly wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace, leading him into your hotel room and placing him on your bed.

Thor opened his mouth to speak again but no words came out, staring straight ahead of him as if he was processing a great deal unaware of where he even was. You quickly darted into the bathroom, pulling a dry towel from the rail and hurried back to Thor who had remained motionless.

You slowly approached him, afraid of startling him out of his stupor and gently knelt in front of him. You dabbed the towel along his brow, pushing his hair back to stop any more water from dripping down his face before you took notice of his t-shirt and jeans that clung to him like a second skin. Frowning at his state of attire, you gently pulled his face down to focus on you, thumbs massaging his cheeks in feather-light circles.

“Thor, honey, you have to take your clothes off ok? You’re soaking wet.”  

He numbly nodded at your request but made no effort to move and so you did it for him, lifting the shirt off his body, and letting it fall to the floor with a thud, moving to undo his belt and slowly pull down his drenched jeans thankful when he lifted his bum of the bed to make it easier for you. You were thankful he had not worn his armour, knowing how difficult that would have been to remove, You pulled his shoes from his feet and placed them neatly together at the side of the bed, picking up his discarded clothes to dry in the bath, noticing the similar state of your own clothes and throwing them in there as well, leaving you naked before the God, not for the first time.

When you returned, Thor had the towel you had given him wrapped around his shoulders, clutching it tightly in his fists as more tears fell from his eye. Noticing you were back in the room, Thor quickly wiped his tears away and your heart twisted at the sight, he had to be strong for so many people but never for you – not like this.

“I went to the compound to try and find you, but no one was there.”

“The Avengers disbanded - it’s a long story, one that doesn’t matter to me right now,” You murmured, sitting beside Thor and tracing your fingers down his arm to try and relax him, “Thor what happened?”

“Asgard’s gone,” He choked out, burying his head in his hands as you gaped at him.

Asgard couldn’t be gone. That wasn’t possible. Was it?

“It-it was the only way we could defeat her, but it cost everything Y/N, everything.”

Thor told you everything about his sister who he hadn’t even known existed, the hidden history of his home and his father, how he’d died, and how Asgard really came to be, he told you of the prophecy – ragnarok – and how it came true, how his world, his home, was destroyed in fire and burnt to ashes, nothing remaining but the Asgardians on the ship that was currently cloaked and hovering over Norway.

You heart broke with every word he spoke; he’d been through so much, too much, and hadn’t been given a moment to process a moment of it. His pain and grief and anger all pouring from him as he finally unleashed what he had to keep restrained for so long.

Tugging on his hand, you turned him to face you, crawling up the bed to rest against the pillows, Thor automatically resting his head on your chest as he’d done many times before, his bulkier frame lying heavily on yours as he listened to the soothing thud of your heartbeat in his ear. Stroking your hands up and down his back, you worked out the knots and tension that were present in his muscles, nails lightly scratching the tanned skin as he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tightly to him.

The silence in the room was only disrupted by Thor’s ragged breaths and choked sobs until he mumbled something unintelligible where his head was buried in your chest, your hands stalling their ministrations on his back as you waited for him to repeat what he had said.

Lifting his head, Thor rested his chin on your chest as he stared up at you with bloodshot eyes, the sorrow and guilt he carried so visible in the lines of his face. “The Garden,” he repeated before elaborating, “My mother’s garden; it was the one place in all of Asgard that was entirely hers, it became her memorial after she passed and now – now it’s gone. Everything’s gone. The schools and sanatoriums and the palace and people’s homes, it’s all gone. I should have done more. I could have saved it, but I didn’t; I wasn’t strong enough.”

Thor shifted off you, sitting on the edge of the bed as he buried his head in his hands, gripping at the short strands of his hair. Try as you might you couldn’t understand his struggle. He’d been forced to do the impossible, watch his home, everything he had every known, be destroyed before his eyes because it was needed to be done.

So much had been torn from him and you didn’t know how to ease his pain.

Slowly you crawled behind him, kneeling on the bed as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, littering kisses along his neck as you felt the taut muscles relax at the touch of your lips against his skin.

“You did what you had to do Thor, you saved your people and that’s what matters,” You pressed a kiss to his cheek as he lifted his head slightly to peak at you from the corner of his eye as you shifted to sit beside him. “You’re their prince and you did what a good prince should do, regardless of the cost, Asgard still lives in its people and that’s down to you love.”

Thor shot you a strained smile, cupping your face in his callused hand before he met your lips in a languid kiss, pouring his gratitude into the embrace, his tongue stroking into your mouth as he pulled you onto his lap. You pulled away, pressing a few gentle kisses to his lips as you rested your forehead against his, fingers carding through his short strands.

“They made me King,” He muttered against your lips and your actions stalled at the revelation.

You knew how big this was for him; Thor was destined to be King since he was born but ever since he had been banished to earth he had realised what a huge responsibility it was, his ego had deflated, and he was concerned with the weight of the role, that he wouldn’t be enough to be a good king. You knew he was afraid of letting his people and his family down again, but you knew better, you knew he would be an amazing king, his recent sacrifice was just proof of that.

Nothing you could think of would reassure him, you had no idea what to say to convince him that he could do this and make him believe that everything would be ok. But you did know how to distract him from all of this, even if it was for just a moment.

“King huh?” You whispered as you kissed along his jaw. “So, should I kneel before my King?” Your voice sultry as you slowly slid from his lap and sank to your knees between his spread legs.

Your hands stroked up and down his thighs, nails lightly nicking the skin as his muscles twitched under your touch, his length hardening in the confines of his boxers as you stared up at him with wide innocent eyes. “Y/N,” Thor sighed out, breath laboured and heavy as you kissed your way up his thighs, mouthing at his cock through the fabric of his underwear, his hands twitching at his sides as he yearned to cusp the back of your neck and manoeuvre you to where he desperately needed your touch. “You don’t need to do this.”

You hummed as you tugged down the rim of his boxers until his hard cock was freed, “But I want to.”

Without waiting for a response, you licked up his cock where it rested against his lower abdomen from the base of his shaft to the tip before wrapping your lips around the head and slowly working him further and further into your mouth, spurred on by the deep rumbling groan that erupted from deep within Thor’s chest.

You slowly began to bob your head up and down his thick length, hand working the part of his cock you couldn’t fit in your mouth, feeling him harden even more on your tongue as you traced the pulsing vein on the underside of his cock, flicking at the sensitive spot beneath his bulbous head as he gasped, his hips jolting into your eager mouth.

Thor pushed the unruly strands of hair back from your face, gripping the back of your head to help guide your movements as you stared up at him from where you were kneeling, watching his face contort in pleasure, eyes screwed shut as his bit down on his lower lip to stifle his groans, his chest rising and falling harshly as his skin gleamed with sweat.

With a grunt, Thor pulled you off him, lifting you off him as if you weighed nothing and attacked your lips with his, his spit-slicked cock caught between you as his hands wandered your body before settling on your ass. His lips trailed down your neck before nibbling at your collarbone, your hips rolling against his on instinct, your wet folds gliding over his cock making you both gasp.

“Y/N please, love, I need to be inside you,” Thor moaned, hands gripping your waist even harder.

You nodded eagerly, wrapping your legs tightly around his hips as he gently lay you down on the pillows, kicking his boxers off and positioning himself between your spread legs, propping his arms on either side of your head as he dipped down to capture your lips in a kiss, stroking his tongue into your mouth as you moaned at the contact, his hips thrusting against yours so the head of his cock nudged at your clit.

Thor cupped your cheek, forcing you to look into his eyes as he gripped his cock, trailing the head against your glistening folds before positioning himself at your entrance and slowly pushing forward, hooking your leg higher over his hip as he filled you, your breath hitching as you adjusted to the satisfying stretch.

You were both panting heavily at the feeling of being so intimately connected and you bucked your hips when you felt ready, needing Thor to move and you got your wish, a strangled groan falling from his lips as he began to roll his hips into yours in time with the echoing thunder outside. Your head fell back onto the pillow with a sigh as your back arched in pleasure, Thor holding you close to him with an arm around your waist as he laved your breasts with attention, suckling on your nipple as he began to thrust harder into you.

The springs in the bed began to squeak with every movement you made, the headboard banging against the wall in a steady rhythm as your high-pitched cries and Thor’s deep growls resonated around the room, the air between you charged with electricity.

Thor’s thick cock filled you perfectly, nudging against your g-spot with every thrust of his hips into yours, your toes curling as the pressure in your core began to build, hands clawing at the expanse of his bare back causing him to drive even harder into you, his hand moving to massage your breast, fingers tweaking at your nipple as his other hand trailed across your hipbone to circle your clit, his movements losing their finesse as he felt his end approach.

“Y/N, love, let go for me, please let go for me,” Thor pleaded, voice thick with lust as he felt you clench around his cock.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck as you release washed over you like a tidal wave, pulling you under until you were drowning in a sea of euphoria, wanton moans falling unabashedly from your lips as you released around his sensitive cock, cunt throbbing, triggering his own orgasm as his hips sloppily thrust into yours a few final time before he came with a shout, filling you with his cum as his body fell lax on top of yours.

The weight of his body crushing yours was a welcome comfort after being away from him for so long, the reassurance that he was real and there with you and his cock was still buried deep within you making a rush of warmth spread throughout your chest.

With a huff, Thor carefully pulled out of you before collapsing at your side, automatically wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you until you were pressed tightly against him, head resting over his chest listening to his racing heart as your legs tangled with his. His fingers stroked up and down your back as your own drew invisible patterns across his chest, the sound of the dying thunder and rain pounding against the glass the only sounds in the room apart from your ragged breathing.

“Thank you,” Thor murmured against your forehead, lips grazing the skin as he spoke.

You grinned as you cuddled closer to him; “Trust me it was my pleasure.”

Thor’s rumbling chuckle shook his chest as he lightly swatted at your ass. “Cheeky,” He chastised, voice laced with humour as he titled your head back to meet your lips in a passionate kiss.

“What’s going to happen now?” You whispered as he broke away, looking away from him in fear of the answer.

“I go back to my people,” Thor sighed, swallowing against the lump in his throat at the gargantuan task before him, “I’ll try to create a new Asgard, Ragnarok means the end but it also means rebirth. Our story isn’t over yet, maybe we can right the wrongs of our past.”

You nodded, tears brimming in your eyes at the thought of him leaving you once more, when the sun finally rose he would return to his people as their king and you would return to yours as their protector. You both had lives you simply couldn’t run from.

“Come with me.”

“What? Thor I-”

“I know you have responsibilities here and I’m not asking you to abandon them Y/N. Just come with me; Asgard is on Midgard now my love, the stars don’t separate us anymore, we can be together without ignoring our duties. I love you and I don’t want to be without you anymore so come with me.”

You were shocked at Thor’s proposal, staring up at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw, his own expression holding so much hope that you would say yes. Could this work? Thor was right, Asgard was on earth now, you wouldn’t be an entirely different realm away from where you needed to be. The possibility of being able to be with Thor caused your heart to race with excitement, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you looked up at the man you had loved for so long and you knew you weren’t going to let him go again. You couldn’t.

“Ok, let’s do it.”

[anubislover]

Halloween AU Fic: Hide and Seek with the Heart Stealer

Bright moonlight shone over the old cemetery, carved headstones old and new casting shadows like soldiers in long, neat rows. Translucent spirits floated about, some wailing in despair, others striking up conversations as they went on a leisurely stroll. A few zombies shuffled about aimlessly, searching for human flesh, and a werewolf could be heard howling in the distance.

Normally, Nami wouldn’t come within miles of such a spooky place; despite being a witch, she was a notorious scaredy-cat. But there was one thing that could make even the most haunted graveyard bearable: treasure. Luffy, her grim reaper friend, had complained to her about how he’d attempted to ferry the spirit of a selfish miser, but the old man had refused to move on, too obsessed with the chest of gold he’d had buried with him. At the word “gold” the greedy witch had eagerly volunteered to relieve the ghost of his worldly attachments, much to Luffy’s obvious delight.

Map of the property in hand, she carefully crept through the cemetery, everything from her long, sunset-colored hair to her high-heeled feet cloaked in a powerful invisibility spell. Even with her magic, and despite having years of experience breaking and entering into more guarded places than this, she knew to be cautious. She wasn’t worried about the ghosts, as the golden, enchanted Jack-O-Lantern charm at her waste would keep her from being possessed, and the zombies were easily avoided so long as she kept her eyes open.

No, her biggest concern was the undertaker who ran this particular necropolis. Those guardians of the dead were considered strange, even amongst the supernatural community; no one quite knew for sure where they came from, and they weren’t exactly social beings, mostly rarely straying from their territories for more than a few hours. Nami had always been told that if you ever saw one out and about, it was best you run, because horrifying trouble was afoot. Really, only reapers were known to socialize with them regularly, and that was purely as a business arrangement.

The undertaker that called this graveyard his territory was notoriously creepy—rumor had it he enjoyed collecting the hearts of trespassers. His abilities made him especially troublesome; her fellow witch, Robin, had warned that he could see through even the best illusions if he suspected something was off in his domain, and he was known for cutting people into pieces and rearranging their limbs. There was also gossip circulating that he was something of a mad doctor, performing dark experiments on his victims.

So, despite her spectacular skillset, she remained alert as she tiptoed past the crumbling mausoleum in the center of the graveyard, hoping she could get in and out before the heart stealer could notice her. Luffy had assured her that the undertaker wasn’t as bad as all that, that he’d never seen him steal any hearts, and he kept to himself most of the time anyway, but Nami was fairly certain the reaper didn’t realize that he wasn’t bothered only because Luffy was doing his job. That, or the undertaker didn’t want to deal with such a hyperactive being.

Wind tousling her short, ruffled, black and purple skirt and the lapels of her matching crop top, she briefly wondered if she should have brought a sweater. Cute as her outfit was, the icy touch of the restless dead made ever her usually hot blood go cold. She dared not cast a Heat Egg to warm herself, though; that would break the mirage, and most definitely attract attention.

Some company would be nice, she thought, rubbing her arms. Unfortunately, her friends would be more of a hinderance than a help. Luffy would probably run off to push zombies back into their graves. Demon Hunter Zoro would have gotten lost within minutes. Franky and Brooke wouldn’t have looked out of place among the dead, but the cyborg was too loud, and the skeleton would have driven her crazy with requests to see her panties and skull jokes. Robin might have been more manageable, but her morbid sense of humor would have kept Nami on edge all night. Sanji the werewolf would have gladly protected her with his life, but his fawning and constant declarations of love ruined any semblance of stealth.

So, forced to go it alone, the mikan-haired witch cautiously navigated the maze of headstones, until finally the scent of fresh-turned earth tickled her nose. A glance at her map confirmed it; she’d arrived at the miser’s grave. The marker was simple, cheap, and had no flowers or signs of mourners—typical of someone who had valued money more than living, determined to take it with him to the grave. Normally, Nami wouldn’t stoop to robbing the dead, but that was because most were smart enough to not demand they be buried with a chest of gold, instead leaving it to their loved ones. What good would it do anyone buried in a grave, least of all him? It was better for everyone that she dig it up and go on a shopping spree, redistributing that wealth and showing the old miser’s spirit that money was great, but only if you used it to enjoy life. Once that happened and the old fool was free of his material attachments, Luffy would be able to guide him to the afterlife. Really, everyone won.

Warily, she looked around. The zombies were shuffling about on the other side of the cemetery, and the ghosts were too wrapped up in their own affairs to notice her. There was also no sign of the mysterious undertaker, a fact that allowed her heart to stop pounding like a marathon runner’s.

“Treasure, treasure, treasure!” she whispered giddily, breaking the invisibility spell to instead enchant a nearby shovel. Next, her wand was transformed into a second shovel, and she immediately set to digging. She doubted the old man would have paid for a particularly deep grave, but she had no interest in wasting time, especially now that she was out in the open.

In less than an hour her shovel was halted by a dull thunk, and she bounced on her toes in glee, thrilled she’d finally hit gold. Eagerly, she pried open the coffin, though her cheer was dampened as the scent of early decay and embalming chemicals wafted into her nose.

Yeech! Glad I got to him before he got too rotted, she thought, holding her breath as she yanked the small wooden chest out of his stiff arms, though she grinned as she heard the tell-tale clink of coins within. Climbing out of the grave, she took a moment to study the lock; nothing impossible or magical, thankfully, but it was intricate enough that she’d have to bring it home, lest she linger too long.

“At last she crawls out of the grave she dug herself,” came a cool, baritone voice behind her.

Whirling around, Nami quickly transformed her wand into a staff, hoping she’s simply been caught be a nosy ghost. Alas, it seemed her luck had finally run out; leaning against the headstone was the infamous undertaker. His long, charcoal coat was tattered along the edges, and his matching top hat had long, diagonal tears that indicated he’d once fought a particularly vicious beast. Slung across his back was a black, polished coffin wrapped in chains. Dark bags under his eyes and the narrowness of his face should have made him look gaunt, but the sly smirk, olive skin, and glittering gold eyes counteracted it, making him unnaturally handsome. Ominously, he had DEATH tattooed across his long fingers, and she could see crosses and other designs inked into his muscular forearms, exposed by his rolled-up sleeves.

He assessed the beautiful thief with interest. “Most graverobbers don’t come this far into my territory, Miss Witch, and I have to commend your illusions—I hadn’t even realized you’d snuck in until you started digging. Of course, the moment anyone breaks ground in my territory, not even the best spell can hide them.”

Swallowing hard, Nami took a cautious step away from the open grave. Inwardly, she cursed her lack of forethought; of course there would be some sort of magical alarm to alert the graveyard’s guardian of thieves and desecraters. It had been foolish to assume that, just because she’d gotten so far in undetected, that she was in the clear. Life was never that easy, especially for her. But she’d been so eager to get her hands on the treasure before someone else could, so over-confident in her skills, that she rushed in without thinking. Who was she, Luffy?!

Knowing she had no chance in a fight, she went to the old stand-by; charm her way out of trouble. “Coming from someone as famously powerful as you, that means a lot,” she cooed, leaning against her staff in a way that seemed casual, but positioned her right forearm beneath her generous bust to give it that little extra lift. She was pleased to note that Law’s gaze immediately dropped to her chest. He may live among corpses, but he’s certainly not dead, she thought cheekily. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you, mister…”

“Dr. Trafalgar Law,” he stated, tipping the brim of his hat. “And will you give me your name, or shall I just call you Miss Witch?”

Looking up at him through dark lashes, she gave a coy smile. “Well, you are the dark and mysterious undertaker; if I gave you my name I’d have no more secrets, and that just doesn’t seem fair.”

His smirk widened at her answer. “Oh, I’m sure you’ve got secrets aplenty behind those pretty eyes.”

Her giggle was calculatingly shy. “How sweet! I really am sorry to have disturbed you, though. Were you sleeping?” She might actually feel bad if she had; those rings under his eyes screamed “insomniac.” Perhaps she’d do him a favor and cast a sleep spell over him to make sure he could enjoy a nice cat nap while she left.

“No, I was conducting some experiments,” he replied casually. “I was testing how a beating heart reacted to electrical shocks. Unfortunately, your arrival distracted me at a rather inopportune moment, and now I’m in need of a new, fresh heart.”

Like a bucket of ice water, fear washed down Nami’s spine. Suddenly, the way he was looking at her chest was a lot less encouraging.

“Well, I hear the local butcher’s shop sells pig hearts at a decent price. If you hurry, you might get there before it closes,” she coaxed, desperately trying to keep her newfound terror from showing on her face, even as cold sweat formed on the back of her neck. It seemed those rumors might have some merit after all.

Law took a slow step forward, chuckling when Nami instinctively took one back. As his head tilted, the brim of his hat cast a menacing shadow over his eyes. “I’m in no rush, especially when I’ve got such a lovely guest to entertain. It’s not every night a witch comes calling, after all.”

“Unfortunately, this witch has a busy schedule, and I’d hate to overstay my welcome.”

“Yes, I’m sure picking the lock to that chest will take all night,” he said, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his voice. “Perhaps I could save you some time—I have the key tucked away in my lab. If you’d be kind enough to aid me in my research, I’d be happy to give it to you as payment.”

She could only imagine what kind of wicked experiments he had planned for her, and she gripped her staff tighter. Her every instinct was to turn it into a broom and fly away, but she knew the second she tried, he’d strike, and she doubted she was strong or fast enough to escape if he got hold of her. “That’s very generous of you, but I doubt I’d be much help. I’m not very well-versed in the sciences.”

“Nonsense. Mugiwara-ya is always going on about how smart you are, and your weather spells could prove quite useful, especially if you can produce lightning.”

“I—what?”

His gentlemanly grin morphed into something more devious and threatening. “Your idiot friend has a nasty habit of incessantly talking my ear off about his beloved nakama. Is it true you once robbed Thriller Bark? That’s quite the accomplishment, Nami-ya.”

“You knew who I was the whole time!” she screeched, pointing her finger at him accusingly.

That was a mistake, as Law’s hand snapped out like a whip, grabbing her wrist and yanking her forward until she was pressed flush to his chest, his other arm wrapping around her lower back to entrap her. The staff was knocked carelessly to the ground, where it reverted back to the small blue wand with a pop. “Of course I knew,” he chuckled lowly, his hot breath tickling her ear as he gazed down at her smugly, hunger and amusement glittering in his amber eyes. “There aren’t many witches bold enough to attempt to steal from my territory, and what hot-blooded male hasn’t seen your bounty poster?”

Despite the dangerous situation she was in, Nami couldn’t stop the faint blush from rising to her cheeks. Up close like this, there was no way to ignore the strong line of his jaw, the wolfish flash of teeth, or the intensity of his eyes. Even in her three-inch heels he loomed over her, frightening but somehow equally enticing. Had they met at a bar instead of a graveyard, she wouldn’t mind being in his muscular arms, and might even press a teasing kiss or three to his smooth, tan throat.

Swallowing hard, she forced herself to remain calm. “Well, then, if you know who I am and you know Luffy, then you should realize that I’m here doing him a favor. He can’t reap the old man’s soul if he’s still got worldly attachments, so he asked me to take them off his hands.”

“An honorable motive, but if that’s the case, why didn’t Mugiwara-ya ask me to do it? Or at least inform me ahead of time of the plan? And given your reputation, how do I know this was the only grave you planned on robbing? It all seems a little too convenient.”

Nami could have screamed. Why didn’t Luffy do any of that? Really, the undertaker should have been his first choice for help, not a known thief.

Openly admiring the witch held captive in his arms, Law continued, “I find myself at a crossroads, Nami-ya; by rights, I should punish you for trespassing and stealing from my charges. I’m sure I’ll hear the old man’s groaning for days because you managed to dig up his plot and find his treasure. Typically, I demand an organ or two as recompense.” The heart stealer chuckled as he felt the shiver of fear rock her whole body, her free hand shooting up to futilely push at his chest in an attempt to make him release her. “On the other hand, the old bastard had been pretty rude when picking out his spot, and I’m sure if I removed any vital body part, Mugiwara-ya and your friends would be coming for my head.”

“Then how about you let me go? I promise I won’t tell, so nobody will think you’ve gone soft and try to steal from your territory in the future,” she pleaded, mentally making a note to thank Luffy for his inadvertent protection after she beat his face in for getting her into this situation.

“I have a better idea; it’s impressive that you managed to get this far, which shows your magic is powerful, or you’re at least clever enough to use it to its fullest potential. So, I propose we play a little game. You hide, and I’ll try to find you.”

Nami ceased struggling, caught off guard by the sheer absurdity of his suggestion. “Hide and seek? What are we, children?”

“Would you prefer I treat you like the other morons who dared desecrate my home?” he retorted harshly. When she quivered in response, his calm, arrogant grin returned. “We’ll have three rounds—five minutes each—and if I can’t locate you even once, you’ll walk out of here alive, fully intact, and with treasure and key in hand.”

Such a deal seemed deceptively simple, and Nami knew a hustle when she heard it. No one proposed a game they couldn’t win, least of all supernatural creatures like them. “And if you win?”

The arm around her lower back shifted, his large hand resting on her exposed waist, calloused thumb rubbing teasing little circles beside her navel, coaxing another shiver from his prey. “I’ll admit, I’ve always wanted to study a witch’s heart,” he relished the way her brown eyes widened in panic, “but again, Mugiwara-ya would hound me to give it back before I could make any real use of it.” Releasing her wrist to rub his chin, he considered her carefully before his mouth stretched into a wide leer. “Since you tried to steal from one of my charges, it only seems fair that, each time I catch you, I get to steal something from you.”

As much as she hated the idea of losing any of her possessions, the thought of him taking her heart was far scarier. Teeth digging into her bottom lip, she weighed her options. “I can use magic, right?”

“Of course. It’d be too easy, otherwise, and I want to see if you’re as powerful as Mugiwara-ya brags. I’ll even give you a 20-second head start before each round,” he replied, curling a strand of silken, sunset hair around his left index finger.

Sneaking around and avoiding creeps like him is my specialty, she thought. Besides, I can easily just hop on my broom and fly right out of here.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Nami met his piercing gaze head-on. “One condition—you can’t take my wand or anti-possession charm.”

The hand caressing her hair dropped to play with the little golden pumpkin at her waist. “A reasonable request. I’d hate for the ghosts to interfere with our game, after all.”

“Then you’ve got a deal. Three rounds of hide-and-seek, and win or lose, I get to leave alive and with all my body parts in their correct places. Otherwise, Luffy will come kick your ass.”

Reluctantly, Law released her, and as the ghostly chill of the cemetery brushed her skin, she almost wished she could stay in his arms. He exuded more body heat than she’d expected—weren’t undertakers supposed to be as cold as the dead they kept?

Unwrapping the chain around his shoulder, the coffin dropped to the ground with a menacing thud. Turning around, he folded his arms across the top, resting his head on them to cover his eyes. “Best start running, Nami-ya. Unless you’re that eager for me to catch you.”

The second the first number left his lips, the witch snatched up the chest and her discarded wand, transforming the latter into a sleek wooden broom. Climbing on, she pushed off the ground with all her might, shooting into the air like a firework. Not wasting time, she flew as high and far as she could, heart pounding as she spotted the front gates, determined to cross the border of the cemetery and finally escape. Like hell she was going to stick around and play games with a creep like that!

Unfortunately, when the edge of the property was mere feet away, she was suddenly surrounded by a strange, blue bubble, and in less than a second her broom vanished from underneath her. A moment passed where she seemed to float in mid-air before gravity claimed her, sending her plummeting towards the cold, dead earth. Screaming, Nami was certain the next time she opened her eyes, Luffy would be standing before her, tasked with collecting her soul. After all, not even a witch could easily survive falling a hundred feet and cracking her skull open.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her, and after a few moments, she realized she was no longer falling. Cracking an eye open, she was startled to find herself cradled in Law’s arms, safely on the ground, her broom and the treasure resting at his feet.

Smirking down at her, he said, “Flying out of the cemetery wasn’t a bad idea, but you never should have attempted it while carrying the chest. It made it extremely easy to find you.”

“Wha—how?!” she asked, wildly gesturing to the sky.

Insufferably smug. That was the only way she could describe him as he replied, “Everything inside this graveyard is under my control. I can find anything and anyone and shift things around at my leisure. I can empty locked coffins, uproot trees, and even pluck tricky little witches out of the sky.”

Frustrated—not just at the unfairness of Law’s powers but at herself for not anticipating just how much power an undertaker would have inside his own territory—she squirmed in his arms, fighting to get down. The ghoulish man refused to relinquish his prize, though, and simply held her tighter. “Ah, ah, ah, Nami-ya. I found you, and I refuse to start the next round until I’ve claimed my reward.”

Autumn brown eyes flashed in anger, but she knew she didn’t have a choice. Arms crossing, she pouted. “Fine. Just remember the wand and charm are off-limits.”

“Don’t worry; I’ve got something better in mind,” he whispered, leaning close so his steamy breath danced across her lips, throat, and collarbone.

Before she could question him, he closed those last few inches, pressing his mouth to hers in a hot, deceptively gentle kiss. His lips were slightly chapped, but they slanted over her soft pout almost perfectly. When she didn’t resist—too shocked to fully grasp that the mysterious being who held her captive was kissing her of all things—his lips parted, taking a moment to teasingly nibble her plush, rose-pink bottom lip. The slight sting made her heart stutter, and unconsciously she clenched the lapel of his coat in a delicate fist.

It only lasted about ten seconds, but when he pulled away, it took Nami a moment to find her voice. “The hell was that?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I stole a kiss.”

Nami stared, gob smacked. This guy had a pair of brass balls on him the size of Franky’s fists, that was for sure! She usually wasn’t one for letting a man kiss her—most who tried wound up with a crack in their skull and a lightning bolt through their nervous system. But Law…

He just caught me off guard, she justified, glaring up at him, even as her heart rattled against her ribcage. I most definitely didn’t enjoy it.

Ignoring her sneer, he carefully set the witch back on her feet, though it didn’t escape her notice how he continued to hold her close, letting her soft curves slide along his body. Nami told herself she was not impressed with the muscles she felt beneath his white dress shirt—plenty of guys had washboard abs!

Once he knew she was steady, he turned away. “Time for round two. Leave the treasure here; it’ll be too easy if you carry it around, and I want to see whether Mugiwara-ya’s full of shit when he brags about you.”

Part of her hated the idea of leaving her ill-gotten goods behind, but she comforted herself with the knowledge that, so long as she won, she’d get the gold back. Heeding his advice, Nami cast her best invisibility spell before dashing off as fast as her long legs could carry her. Frantically looking around, she spotted a copse of gnarled trees not too far off, perfect for taking shelter in.

Darting between the twisted trunks, part of her couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty of the place. I guess even a graveyard has its bright spots, she mused. The October chill had turned the leaves red, gold, and orange, matching her hair and probably serving as the only real splash of color in the dead and grey yard. It was both amusing and comforting that, if her invisibility spell somehow wore off, she could probably climb a tree to blend in.

She was almost tempted as a thorny bush briefly snagged the hem of her skirt. Carefully detangling it, she was grateful it hadn’t cut her—among the supernatural, if someone got hold of your blood, they could track you easily, whether by smell or spell. Law already had the home field advantage, and she refused to hand over another.

Heavy footsteps startled her out of her thoughts, and she turned to find Law strolling into the trees, glancing about so casually she nearly forgot she was invisible. “I know you’re in here, Nami-ya.” He patted the trunk of a gnarled elm. “Unless these old things have started growing fruit, your scent is quite distinctive. Ozone and mikans—a stunning combination.”

Mentally, she cursed herself. She’d done her best to wash away the lingering aroma of her weather magic and potions, but the man had a nose that rivaled a werewolf’s. Or maybe it just stood out because he was normally surrounded by the scent of death? Either way, it appeared she’d be found once more.

Not yet! Nami assured herself. Just because he knew she was there didn’t mean he had caught her. A little spell could distract him long enough for her to sneak away and find a new hiding place. After all, she only had to elude him for five minutes. If she was smart, she could keep just enough distance and run out the clock. Quietly pulling out her wand, she aimed a gust of wind towards some distant thorn bushes, pleased at the way they rustled noisily.

The moment she saw Law’s course divert to the sound, she carefully tiptoed towards the edge of the trees, minding where she stepped to avoid snapping any twigs. Unfortunately, a low branch caught her skirt, and as the fabric ripped, she knew the undertaker would hear the sharp, out-of-place noise.

Choosing to run rather than stay and be caught, she bolted, but just as she’d crossed into the open graveyard, she stumbled, tripping over a fallen headstone and plunging to the hard ground. She bit back a yelp as she felt a rock cut into her knee and another scrape her elbow. Before she could regain her feet, Law was literally on top of her, grasping at her invisible, squirming form and pinning her with his body weight.

“Drop the illusion—you’re caught, and I need to see how badly you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine!” she argued, struggling beneath him.

“I can smell the blood, Nami-ya, and if we don’t bandage your injury, you’ll attract all manner of creatures. Things far worse than me.”

She shuddered. He had a point. Vampires, werewolves, and all sorts of other monsters would flock to her location if she spilled more than a few drops of blood. It was one of the dangers of being a witch—she was closer to human than most supernatural beings, and therefore often seen as prey. Some creatures even found the taste of magic in a witch’s flesh to be a fine seasoning and hunted them specifically, while others sought to enslave them. Luffy had saved her from one such monster—a shark demon named Arlong.

So as much as she wanted to defy Law and try to make a run for it, she knew it was better to take her chances with the undertaker than whatever foul beings she might attract. At least he knew Luffy would kick his ass if he dared cause the woman further harm.

Breaking the spell that surrounded her, the witch’s beautiful body was once more exposed to his intense gaze. Getting off her, Law tsked as he studied her scraped elbow. “Here,” he murmured, pulling a roll of white bandages from his coat pocket, along with a small bottle of pale green liquid. “Let’s clean that up before it gets infected. Zombies pass through here frequently, and sometimes bits of rotten flesh fall off and seep into the ground. I’d hate for you to catch some horrible infection.”

“Thanks,” she whispered, surprised at his consideration.

Ripping off a small piece of the gauze, he soaked it in the potion before rubbing it over the injured skin. Nami hissed slightly at the sting, and for a moment, she imagined he looked apologetic before he began wrapping her elbow in the soft bandages.

“Not a bad job hiding this time, though the trees were kind obvious. Still, your Mirage Tempo spell is as strong as he said. There wasn’t even a shadow or a ripple when you moved. Guess Mugiwara-ya was right to brag about you.”

“Does Luffy come here that much?” she asked, eyes fixated on the precise but gentle manner he treated her arm. It was hypnotic, in a way, seeing how evenly the layers of linen fell on top of each other.

“You have no idea. At first it was annoying how often he’d hang about jabbering on about his nakama, but I guess he grew on me; kind of like a tumor.”

There was no stopping her giggle. “Yeah, that’s a fair description.”

“He talks about you the most. I guess he realized the best way to get me to actually pay attention is when the punchline is him getting his ass kicked by a pretty witch. Plus, I liked that most of your victories came for actually using your brain.”

Full lips quirked at the compliment. “I’m surprised he hasn’t introduced us. Normally, when he makes a new friend, he’ll throw some kind of party to show them off.”

“My duties mean I can’t leave the cemetery too often; otherwise grave robbers will ransack the place while the zombies and restless spirits would roam free and cause all kinds of trouble for everyone. Besides, most don’t care for the company of an undertaker—people tend to run away if they see us coming. Makes me rather unpopular at parties.”

A twinge of sympathy pricked her heart. Law may have been a cocky jackass, but she couldn’t imagine dealing with that kind of responsibility or stigma. Her own life was filled with freedom and laughter and nakama and adventure, and while sometimes she was certain her friends’ recklessness would lead her to an early grave, she wouldn’t trade it for the world. And she was now ashamed to admit, she’d certainly bought into some of the unwarranted prejudice without even questioning it. “That…sounds lonely.”

One shoulder raised in a shrug, though he didn’t meet her gaze. “I prefer not being bothered, but that obnoxious reaper has gotten it into his head that we’re friends ever since I saved his life.”

Like a lightning bolt had been blasted through her spine, she jerked forward in realization. “Wait—you’re Tora-o?”

He grimaced. “Damn fool refuses to get my name right.”

“Luffy’s been going on about you for months! He said you were a doctor!” she accused.

“I am a doctor—I’m just also an undertaker.” Moving down to clean up her leg, he continued, “And did you really expect some normal human surgeon would be able to fix him up? The damage he’d sustained was remarkable. Had it not been for the Will of D, he’d be deep in the bowls of Hell, not badgering me when he should be reaping souls.”

Rosy lips pursing, she nodded in agreement. Those with the “D” initial were rumored to have devil blood in them, making them particularly strong and dangerous. It was even said that they could look into your very soul and uncover your deepest secrets. She’d never believed such stories until she met Monkey D. Luffy and witnessed the insane things he could do. That didn’t mean he was invincible, though, and she’d spent over a month feeling guilty that she hadn’t been around to help him during his time of need.

“Well, then, thank you for saving him, Dr. Law,” she said, voice sincere and soft. Whether Luffy was part Devil or not, she owed him more than she could ever repay, and he did always seem to have a knack for sensing if a person was trustworthy or not. If this man was really the one who saved him, the one he’d been raving about and declaring his new friend, perhaps he wasn’t as sadistic and cruel as he was made out to be. “He’s a pain, but he’s one of my best friends, and I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmured, tying off the bandage around her knee. “But if your thanks are freely given, I’ll have to claim something else as my prize.”

With her guard down, Nami was easy prey. He lunged forward, burying one hand in her mikan hair while the other clamped over her hip, dragging her into his lap. Hungrily, his mouth captured hers, biting at her bottom lip in a sensual demand for her submission.

For her part, the fiery woman did her best to keep her mouth closed, unwilling to let him have his way without a fight. Amused at her feeble defiance, Law chuckled low in his throat as his left hand stroked a hot trail up her bare midriff to shamelessly squeeze a soft breast. Outraged and a little aroused, she tried to pull back, but the right hand entangled in her vibrant waves held her in place, forcing her to do little more than gasp from the hot pleasure that shot from her sensitive chest to pool in her lower belly.

Taking his chance, Law’s slick tongue darted between her parted lips to dance with hers, dominating and devouring her soft gasps. He tasted like cinnamon and spiced rum, and was that brimstone that lingered in the back of her throat? It was utterly heady and enticing and she couldn’t stop herself from kissing him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and battling his slick tongue until her lungs were screaming for oxygen and they both had no choice but to break apart, panting and desperately gulping down the cold autumn air.

Pupils blown wide, chest heaving, and lips bruised, Nami was amazed at how aroused she was from his kiss. Normally, she was the one who teased and tempted, but she never gave in to her own desires. Sure, Law was handsome with a dangerous appeal, but that usually wasn’t enough to make her want to indulge in the sexual vices many of her kind relished in.

“That time, I stole your breath away. I wonder what I should take for my last prize,” he growled, yellow eyes bright and lust practically dripping from each word like molten honey.

“Nothing,” she panted, “because I’m going to win.”

His laugh was low, confident, and sent a spike of heat between her thighs. “Pride goes before the fall, Nami-ya. I’ve won twice—what makes you think you can beat me now?”

A seductive, calculating smile curled her lips. “Because now I know your weakness.”

Smirking at her proclamation, he helped her stand, his movements smooth and graceful and predatory. “That so?”

“Yeah, so quit wasting time and start counting.”

The fire in her eyes pleased him. Turning away and covering his eyes, he began the countdown to the final round.

Nami smirked in earnest, only bothering to put about a dozen or so feet between them before pulling out her wand and getting to work. This time, she wouldn’t settle for just invisibility—she would cast every veil and illusion she knew.

First, a thick stream of fog poured from the tip, filling the graveyard with a near-impenetrable miasma. She even went the extra mile and gave it a mikan aroma, hiding her own scent in the process. Once she was satisfied, she set about creating mirages of herself to dart about and distract him. Next, she used a little bit of heat to burn the piece of bloody gauze she’d swiped from him his pocket during their kiss; perhaps he hadn’t planned on using it to find her, but she wouldn’t take the chance. With the ashes scattered to the winds, she concentrated on casting her invisibility spell, pleased when she no longer left so much as a shadow. Finally, she added one last touch—tiny clouds under her feet, allowing her to hover just above the grass so she’d leave no footprints, break no ground, and make no noise.

This much magic at once was sure to bite her in the ass later; her stamina wasn’t exactly at Zoro or Luffy’s level, but at this point, more than treasure was at stake. Now, she fought for her pride. The desire to show up that smug undertaker and prove her reaper friend’s claims that she was one of the smartest, most talented witches around trumped even a mountain of gold.

The witch was done running, and Dr. Trafalgar Law was going to learn not to mess with her.

“Three. Two. One. Ready or not, here I come,” he finished in that low baritone voice. Turning around, he blinked in surprise at the half-dozen Namis that stood before him, identical, catlike smiles on their faces. “Well. You’re definitely ready.”

Without a word, the mirages ran off into the fog, each in a different direction. A low chuckle escaped his throat as he gave chase, unknowingly passing the real witch.

Extremely pleased with herself, she took a seat on a nearby headstone. Her copies would fade quickly, as they couldn’t maintain their form if they got too far from the original, but it was enough to send Law on a wild goose chase and throw him off her trail. It was a big graveyard, and even after he realized he’d been fooled, he’d likely waste his time searching the more obvious hiding spots, like the mausoleum or the copse of trees again. All she had to do was sit pretty and wait.

Unfortunately, after only a minute and a half, she was already bored. Yes, the thick fog was excellent for hiding in and getting smug heart stealers lost, but it blocked out any scenery beyond about ten feet, leading to her staring at nothing but dull, grey graves. Maybe it was because the night so far had been such an adrenaline rush, but the sudden lack of stimulation left her anxious and unsatisfied.

Kind of wishing I hadn’t been so efficient, she thought with a sigh.

Footsteps echoed through the fog, and her heart leapt. Law’s silhouette broke through the dense veil of mist, and she felt oddly relieved. She rationalized it as preferring to know where he was so he couldn’t catch her by surprise, but really, deep down she was just glad she wouldn’t end up dying of boredom before she could rub it in his face that she’d won.

Creeping behind him, the little voice of caution she normally listened to asked why she wasn’t trying to sneak away from him—the undertaker was still a dangerous opponent, after all. A thousand voices answered, her pride declaring that it would be more satisfying to show him up with how close she’d been the whole time. Her rational side chimed in that Law would be expecting her to run to the gates or other obvious hiding spots, so the smartest thing was to stay close where he’d never think to look. One more voice pointed out that, dangerous as Law was, if Luffy trusted him, she really had nothing to fear even if he did catch her, so why waste the energy running?

The fog swirling around them blocked out even the brilliant light of the moon, and the man before her paused, peering about, trying to choose his next course of action. The look on his face was one of genuine confusion, brow furrowed and lips pursed as he tried to determine her movements. Nami wondered if he’d intentionally come back to where they’d started—he lived in the graveyard, after all, and probably could navigate it blindfolded, as the thick fog didn’t seem to effect how easily he sidestepped every rock and grave. He was as graceful as a shark in the water, perfectly at home in his element.

She really should just leave him be, not take any chances, but something in her took over, and her hand reached out, batting the top hat off his head like a cat knocking over a vase.

She leapt to the side just as he whirled around, grasping at the empty air. She stifled a giggle at the irritation on his face when he realized she’d tricked him.

“Getting confident, are we?” he murmured, carefully scanning the area, searching for the slightest clue as to where she hid. The quick response showed he’d absolutely expected she would be there, but the way he looked right past her betrayed how little that knowledge meant when he couldn’t find her.

Amused and pleased that she finally had the upper hand over the thus-far unflappable undertaker, her lips curled into a feline smirk. Carefully and silently, she wove another mirror image of herself, and together, they snuck up towards his back. Nami gave his coat a playful yank before skittering away, watching as he attempted to grab the illusion, only to be angry and disappointed as it dissolved into a fine mist the moment he touched it.

He almost looked like a little boy pouting that he’d been denied a treat, and she audibly chuckled at the comparison.

That was a mistake, as he quickly dashed towards the noise, Nami only just dodging his lunging form. Stumbling slightly, he growled, but the smirk had returned.

Ok, better take this seriously, she thought, creating two more copies as she backed away.

He seemed to have caught onto her trick, though, ignoring the mirages to search for any sign of an invisible enchantress. “Clever as a cat, and twice as cute. Much as I’m sure this is plenty of guys’ fantasy, I’d much rather get my hands on the real Nami-ya.”

Mockingly, one of the doppelgangers struck a rather provocative pose, licking its lips enticingly and running its hands along its curves, capturing Law’s full attention.

It didn’t escape the real Nami’s notice that he was watching the display with barely contained hunger. “When I find you, you’re in so much trouble,” he rasped.

An idea popped into her head, and she instantly channeled her energy into creating more illusions, surrounding him with mirages of the beautiful witch he sought. Each one posed and strutted about attractively, giving “come hither” gestures and inviting stares.

Law didn’t move, simply watching the visions of Nami as they danced around him. He may know they were just illusions and were only there to distract him, but like he said, this was most guys’ fantasy. His eyes ogled each one, taking in every dip and curve, admiring the sensual show they gave. A faint flush had risen to his cheeks, his breathing was irregular, and though his eyes remained fixated on the illusions, a tattooed hand reached up to undo one of the top buttons of his white dress shirt, fanning the fabric against his skin as if it were a scorching summer afternoon.

For her part, Nami was starting to feel a little hot under the collar, too. Watching Law watch her was…arousing. His reaction was different than most of the men she’d encountered; blood didn’t gush from his nose, he didn’t turn into a slobbering idiot, and he wasn’t making crass, gross comments. He was just silently appreciating her sensual beauty, clearly turned on but patient enough to sit back and enjoy the show without losing his head, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

A bead of sweat trickled down her cheek as her breathing grew ragged, and the witch quickly realized it wasn’t just from arousal—casting so many illusions, especially after the powerful weather and invisibility spells, was draining her magical reserves faster than she’d anticipated. She knew she’d have to drop either the copies or the veil hiding her from view; there was a full minute left before the game was over, and she wasn’t certain she could maintain it all for that long.

Deciding to sacrifice her invisibility, she snuck behind Law before dropping the veil, joining the virtual harem of Namis, arching sexily against a gravestone to blend in. He spun slowly in a circle, studying each beautiful body with clear appreciation, before halting suddenly.

“Decided to join the fun, did you? Did you get tired of watching me from the sidelines?”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she was grateful she wasn’t the one he was looking at, as it would have instantly given her away.

“There’s one more of you than a minute ago, so either you decided to give me one more lovely vision to appreciate or staying invisible for so long was taking its toll. Given how little time is left, I’d say the latter.” Licking his lips, he nodded. “By my count, you’ve got twenty seconds left. You’re absolutely as good as I heard, and you’ve provided a hell of a distraction for the evening, but it’s time we finish this.”

Before she could even think to ask what he meant and blow her cover, he murmured, “Room,” and the blue bubble from before engulfed the area, encasing Nami and all her doubles.

“Scan.”

Instantly, the weather witch stood before him, and tired as she was, she didn’t resist when his arms encircled her, yanking her forward and molding her soft curves to his hard, muscular frame. Instead she banished her doppelgangers, sagging slightly in relief at no longer having to expend her energy on them.

“Caught you, Nami-ya,” he murmured, voice dark with promise as his hot breath tickled her ear. “Now I get to claim my final prize.”

Heart pounding in anticipation, she couldn’t help but shiver at the promise in his voice. Much as she hated losing, her first two forfeits had been so sinfully delicious that she was quite eager to find out what he had in store for the grand finale. Closing russet eyes, she waited with bated breath for him to claim his prize.

After a full minute of silence, Nami cracked an eye open, curious as to why she wasn’t being ravished. To her shock and disappointment, Law stepped away, tossing a gold bangle into the air and catching it effortlessly. “I think I’ll take this. Gold for gold seems fair, doesn’t it?”

Upon realizing that he’d taken Nojiko’s bracelet from her wrist, cold fury swept through her like January wind. “Give that back!”

“Why would I do that?” he asked, giving it another toss. “The only things off-limits were your wand and charm—surely a thief like you has plenty of bracelets at home.”

“It was a gift from my sister,” she snapped, lunging forward, but he merely lifted it high in the air, using his impressive height to dangle it just out of her reach. No matter how she stretched and strained, the simple gold ring eluded her grasp.

“Is it really so special?” he grunted as she attempted to climb his lean frame like a tree. She doubted he was really complaining; the feel of her luscious curves rubbing against him was turning him on if the telltale bulge pressing into her hip was any indication.

Hatching a plan, the sunset-haired woman grasped his coat, sighing in his ear, “It’s precious to me—you can have anything else, but please, give it back.”

“Tempting, but we agreed I’d steal something—offering me anything I want defeats the purpose. Besides, why steal what you’d willingly give?”

Inside she was seething, but externally she remained coy and submissive, giving in to her earlier urge of trailing her lips along his Adam’s apple. “Please, Law-kun,” she whimpered, flicking the very tip of her tongue against his skin. He tasted like rain and fresh-turned earth, a delicious contradiction she found herself relishing, going in for a firmer lick. This time, she caught a hint of ice and electricity, and she nearly moaned at the tantalizingly dangerous flavors. He tasted like a storm, and as a weather witch, she couldn’t help the giddy anticipation that ran through her.

Throat muscles contracting, his arm slowly lowered, hand at her waist grasping her hip in a bruising grip. “Are you a witch or a damn succubus?” he growled, arching his head back to give her more access to his vulnerable flesh.

At that point, it would have been easy to grab the bracelet and run, but honestly, she was way too turned on. Watching him grow so visibly aroused as her provocative copies teased and tempted him was hotter than any strip show. She’d always found more pleasure in gold and the thrill of a good con than in the sins of the flesh, but tonight, she was feeling greedy in a different way. Perhaps what enticed her most was the fact that she’d finally found a man who was as intelligent as he was handsome, who could actually challenge her in a battle of wits and wills. If she couldn’t walk away with the treasure chest, she’d settle for hot, carnal satisfaction.

Apparently he was in agreement, as he lowered them both to the ground, wrapping her long, powerful legs around his waist as he pulled her in for a smoldering, lustful kiss. His hot, wet tongue stroked along her own as his hands roamed her delicious body eagerly, squeezing and massaging every inch of sensitive flesh they could reach.

Straddling him, Nami couldn’t help but feel like the richest woman in the world as she buried one hand in his soft hair while the other scratched his nipple through his shirt, coaxing a deep moan from him. Involuntarily, he bucked beneath her, and she smirked, pulling away to taunt, “Been some time since you’ve had a woman, hasn’t it?”

His glare could have terrified a sea monster, but he admitted, “Like I said, I don’t get many visitors.” Biting along her jaw, his hands cupped and fondled her chest, chuckling as he pinched the diamond-hard peaks. “And you’ve got no room to talk. With how responsive you are, you haven’t been bedded in ages, either.”

“Maybe,” she squeaked when his tongue delved into her ear. In retaliation, she ran her nails across his scalp as she suckled his pounding pulse-point, pleased when he moaned.

“Then I guess we’re both a little pent up.”

Satisfied with the dark purple bruise she’d marked him with, her lips delicately trailed up his cheek. “Bet I can make you cum first,” she panted in his ear. “Winner takes all.”

“You sure about that?” Grasping her hips tightly, he ground his obvious erection against her sensitive core, smirking at the way her hazelnut eyes rolled back in pleasure. “Then you’ve got a deal.”

A sharp whine escaped her throat as he gave another heady grind, and Law chuckled, mouth latching onto the pale column of her throat, sucking and biting as he continued to roll his hips in a slow, steady rhythm. “Fucking hell,” he growled against her skin as she matched his rhythm, bucking and grinding in a desperate bid to tease him to completion. “That’s it Nami-ya—ride me. Wish I was inside you right now. I’d fill you up and fuck you senseless, give you more pleasure than you can handle. You’d like that, wouldn’t you sweetheart?”

Swallowing hard, she couldn’t help but imagine how that would feel. Based on his height and what she could feel tucked away in his jeans, he’d be deliciously hard and girthy, stretching her until she reached that delightful crux of pain and pleasure. Heat and pressure built up between her thighs as she envisioned having him eager and naked beneath her.

“Yeah,” she moaned breathily, nibbling his ear, tongue playing with the duo of gold hoops, “but I bet what you really want is me tied to your bed, naked and screaming your name. Your own, sexy, bewitching fuck toy, wet and waiting for you every night.”

“Fuck!” he grunted, rhythm stuttering briefly as his dirty fantasy was turned against him. Eyes clamping shut, it took him a moment to regain control, but when they opened, they had a truly devilish glint. “Damn right I do. I’ve got all kinds of whips and chains for the occasion. Other toys, too, that’ll take you right to the brink.” Slowly, his hands left her hips to provocatively squeeze the firm meat of her ass, even as the tempo of his rolling hips increased. “By the time I’m through with you, not an inch of skin will go unmarked. No hole unfucked. And you wouldn’t even want to leave, because you’ll be too busy begging me for more.”

Small, white teeth dug into her plump bottom lip as she felt his hips adjust their angle to rub just the right spot with every thrust, his filthy words making her embarrassingly wet. If he went into any more detail, she was done for, and she refused to lose this time. So, burying a hand in his midnight blue hair, she pulled him in for a wicked kiss, silencing his words and forcing his tongue to try a new trick, like thrusting in and out of her mouth in time to his hips. Sensing how close he was to the edge, she raked her nails down his back just as his teeth pierced the delicate, swollen flesh of her lower lip. The taste of blood mixed with one last rough, sensual grind made her see stars, and her hips began spasming, a dry orgasm overwhelming her.

Law clearly wasn’t much better, as he pulled away from her mouth to throw his head back in a loud cry, hips bucking and jerking against her erratically.

After several long, pleasurable moments, the pair came down from their high. As they sat there, breaths hot and heavy and exhausted, Nami’s head lolled against Law’s shoulder, while he struggled to keep upright, both their bodies lethargic and full of lead.

Finally, he murmured, “Seems it’s a tie.”

“Guess so.”

Cool, smooth metal slipped onto her wrist. “You can have your sister’s bracelet back; I don’t really have a use for it, anyway.”

“Thanks,” she sighed happily. A voice in the back of her head said she should probably get up, to leave before any regret could set in, but the rest of her was far too comfortable in his arms. She’d never been one for pillow talk, but she felt…safe in his embrace. Wanted. “I’ll stick to robbing the living, so you won’t have to worry about me digging up your graves again.”

The hum he let out sounded vaguely disappointed. “You know, even if you hadn’t broken ground, I would have noticed you. A vibrant thing like you stands out in a place like this.”

“Yeah, I guess without my Mirage Tempo, I’d be shit out of luck for camouflage.” Carefully, she adjusted her position, settling in so she could talk to him more easily.

Tattooed, muscular arms tightened around her trim waist, as if worried she was about to try and leave. “True, but that’s not what I meant. You’re warm and full of life; you attract attention like a lighthouse in the fog, drawing lost souls to you.”

An orange eyebrow raised at his response. Luffy had said something similar when they’d first met, but from Law, it sounded a lot more wistful. “So, you’re saying I should stay out of graveyards. Got it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

Annoyed at just how reluctant he was to just say what was obviously on the tip of his tongue, she grabbed his chin, forcing him to look her dead in the eye. “Law, do you want me to come back and visit you?”

It was clear he wanted to avert his gaze, but with no choice but to stare into her russet brown irises, he gave a defeated sigh. “I’m fine being left alone. Used to it. But I suppose if I must have visitors, you’d make far better company than Mugiwara-ya. Less noisy, at least.”

That brought a little grin to her face. “Probably. He totally set us up, didn’t he?”

“I have no doubt, especially since he tricked Zoro-ya and Black Leg-ya into wandering in last week.”

“Then you knew his plan the whole time?” she screeched, furious that she’d been tricked.

Once more his grip tightened, unwilling to let her storm off. “I guessed. It could have been coincidence, but knowing that idiot, he figured if he couldn’t bring me to his nakama, he’d send them to me. I doubt he planned this, though,” he said, indicating their entangled limbs and sticky laps.

With an annoyed huff, she rested her head back on his shoulder. “Why the game, though?”

“I really was curious if you were as good as he claimed, and I thought it might be amusing—especially after that first kiss,” he said, devilish grin returning to his lips.

“Cocky asshole,” Nami grumbled.

“Witchy graverobber,” he countered affectionately before brushing a kiss to her sweaty forehead. “Speaking of, getting rid of that gold really is a good idea—part of my job is making sure spirits don’t lose their chance to pass on to the afterlife. If Mugiwara-ya thinks you using the money for a shopping spree will help, I’ll let you have it, but only on one condition.”

“Which is?”

Carefully removing her from his lap, Law stood and hoisted her to her feet. “Come visit me again. Your idiot friend clearly thinks I can use the company—”

“We’ve played enough games for one night, Torao-kun; just say it’s because you want me to spend time with you.”

“Don’t order me around, Nami-ya,” he growled menacingly, but when she refused to back down, he sighed. “Fine. Come by and visit me every once in a while, and the treasure’s yours, plus I’ll let you know of any other greedy old bastards that need you to break them of their material chains.”

Grinning, she stood up on her tiptoes, pressing a quick peck to his jaw. “Deal. And maybe next time I’ll bring Luffy; we can kick his ass together.”

The smirk he gave her was dangerous and oh-so-sexy as the purple aura encased them up to the mausoleum, the treasure chest and a small brass key dropping into her hands. “It’s a date.”

A thought came to her, and her brow furrowed in confusion. “Hey, since you forfeited the bracelet, you didn’t get your last prize, did you?”

“What, are you saying I didn’t steal your heart?”

“Sorry, that’s locked up tight,” she replied as she tapped her chest, though she couldn’t help the cheeky smile that lifted the corners of her lips.

Law’s was just as smug. “Then I guess I’ll have to try harder next time.”

The End

[metalandmagi]

Fall 2019 Anime Worth Watching

Wondering what anime to watch now that the jam packed summer season is over? Never fear, we’re into the fall, and there’s even more great shows this season! It’s my last rec list of the year so we’re in the home stretch now!

Full disclaimer, this season is packed with great shows, but a lot of these are not available on Crunchyroll...so here’s a link to a list of where you can watch everything legally on streaming! And I’ll but an (*) by everything that IS on Crunchyroll.

And here’s my recs for every season this year:

Summer 2019

Spring 2019

Winter 2019

And here’s my master list for 2020

New shows!

Chuubyou Gekihatsu-Boy (Outburst Dreamer Boy): A comedy in which a normal girl just wants a peaceful high school life, but finds herself surrounded by a group of ridiculous, overly dramatic boys who are all part of the “hero club” who try to make her school life better by helping her make friends. This is all well and good, but all the boys are delusional in one way or another. For example, one thinks he and his friends are basically Power Rangers, and another is obsessed with fabricating dramatic fake anime backstories for himself. It’s Ouran High School Host Club without the hosting. It’s absolutely hilarious, but it’s really flying under the radar because it’s not on Crunchyroll.

Kabukichou Sherlock: A surprisingly comedic modern version of Sherlock Holmes that takes place in the seedier portions of Japan in which a bunch of the city’s quirky detectives try and hunt down Jack the Ripper. I was not expecting this to be nearly as good as it was. The characters are great, Mrs. Hudson is a transvestite cabaret singer, the soundtrack is bomb, it’s an original anime by Production I.G. AND SHERLOCK EXPLAINS HIS DETECTIVE PROCESS THROUGH MYSTERY SOLVING RAKUGO!!!! 

Babylon: NO, NOT FATE BABYLONIA! This is a mystery/thriller involving a case of illegal clinical research for a pharmaceutical company that leads down a rabbit hole full of murder, suicide, and political intrigue. IT’S LIKE DEATH NOTE AND MONSTER HAD A BABY AND IT’S FREAKING AMAZING! I haven’t been this interested in a mystery/crime anime since Erased. The first episode will definitely leave you...hanging…. The only problem is it’s not on Crunchyroll, so I have a feeling most people won’t know about it because it’s on freaking Amazon Prime!

Hoshiai no Sora (Stars Align): A coming of age sports anime in which a boys soft tennis team sucks so bad that the school will disband them if they don’t win a tournament. And the team captain is so desperate for serious members, he literally pays his childhood friend who recently moved back into town to play on the team. And said childhood friend has an incredibly interesting backstory and struggling family life that ropes you in right away. How is soft tennis different from regular tennis? No clue, but this show is awesome! You can tell by the first episode it is going to be a great coming of age story, with more mature themes of abuse and class difference.

And it’s not the only sports anime with Sora in the title...

*Ahiru no Sora (Sora the Duck): Another sports anime, in which a short, spikey haired boy wants to play basketball (yeah yeah very original) but discovers that his high school basketball team is full of punks! It’s basically what would happen if Izuku Midoriya wanted to be a basketball player. The first few minutes are basically every sports anime you’ve ever seen, BUT it really lives up to its potential by the end of the first episode. It has a likable protagonist, good animation, and the female characters all wear realistic clothes to play basketball in! If you’re a piece of sports anime trash like me, this is definitely the show for you!

No Gun Life: In a detective noir world where everyone has basically become a cyborg, a guy with a gun for a head works to uncover the plans of an evil organization.  That’s it, that’s the whole thing. It’s made by Madhouse AND IT’S A CYBORG WITH A GUN FOR A HEAD! What else do you need?!

Beastars: IT’S JUST ANIME ZOOTOPIA! I’m not even kidding. It’s a school based mystery involving anthropomorphic animals who are faced with the murder of one of their classmates and the disruption of the peaceful coexistence of all types of animals in the school. It involves the whole predator vs prey dynamic and how appearances are deceiving, all with a jarringly serious tone considering everyone’s an animal. The only thing that doesn’t sit right with me is the use of 3D animation...which I notoriously despise no matter how great the show is. But even I am willing to put aside my hatred to keep watching this anime. The characters are interesting, it’s shot really creatively, and I love how ridiculously seriously it takes itself. Apparently it’s going to be on Netflix at some point.

*Shin Chuuka Ichiban (True Cooking Master Boy): It’s Food Wars’ less porny sibling that takes place in 19th century China, where a young boy named Mao is a master chef who travels around spreading his love for cooking! This is a reboot/continuation of an anime based on a manga from the 90s so there’s a really fun retro art style that’s nice to see updated. Apparently it picks up in the middle of the original story, but I haven’t felt like it’s necessary to see the source material to enjoy it or understand it. Also the soundtrack is bomb! It’s a great shounen to watch if you want more cross-cultural cooking anime that’s not straight up porn in your life, and it will definitely make you hungry!

Next seasons and Continuations!

 And don’t forget the summer leftovers, and some shows are getting continuations!

*Chihayafuru season 3: This is an incredibly fantastic underrated sports/club anime about a girl named Chihaya who struggles to find members for her karuta club after her best friend who made her fall in love with the game moves away. Never heard of “karuta”? It’s a physically and mentally challenging traditional Japanese game involving 100 poems written on cards that the players must memorize and locate before their opponent….it makes more sense when you see it I promise. This show is goddamn amazing, with incredibly realistic characters, an amazing game that most people don’t know about, gorgeous animation. It’s hilarious, it’s dramatic, it’s sad, and it’s uplifting all at once. 

This doesn’t premier until October 23, (so you’ve got time to binge the first 2 seasons!) but this is by far my most anticipated show of the season and quite possibly the entire year! I’VE BEEN WAITING SO MANY YEARS FOR ANOTHER SEASON, AND I’M SO PSYCHED!

Kono Oto Tomare (Stop this Sound) season 2: Speaking of club related anime, in case you missed the first season earlier this year, this is an anime about a boy who tries to recruit members for his high school koto club after all his senpais graduate. What’s a koto club you ask? It’s a large Japanese string instrument that no one cares about or plays anymore of course! Their club is endearingly terrible, with literally only one competent person on the team, but they’re aiming for nationals anyway, because...of course they are. This show seems pretty textbook at first, but it really grows on you the further you get. There are great character dynamics, it’s fun, it’s sweet, and there’s cool music that people don’t hear a lot of! If you like sports or club focused anime, give this one a chance!

*Dr. Stone: An action adventure in which all of humanity is mysteriously turned to stone one day. When a genius high school boy named Senku and his….not so genius friend Taiju awaken 3,700 years in the future, the two must rebuild civilization and turn the world back to normal with the power of science! I know pretty much everyone is watching this already, but I just want to reiterate how amazing it is. It is mysterious, educational, hilarious, and it really makes you think about civilization as we know it today. It was one of the best (if not the best) new show of the summer, and I’m so glad it’s getting a full run!

Vinland Saga: THE VIKING ANIME IS GETTING A FULL RUN!!!!!!!! In case you missed this gem in the summer, it’s a historical drama about a young boy named Thorfinn and his journey to avenge his father’s death and become a great warrior. And it’s all while traveling with his enemies through Northern Europe. It’s a fantastic dark, realistic story in a historical setting that filled the void left by Dororo. Plus it’s animated by Wit, so it looks beautiful. The music is great, the characters are intriguing, the story is interesting, AND IT HAS AN AMAZING ANTAGONIST! It has hype written all over it, so I’m pumped for the rest of the season! Unfortunately, you can only find it legally on Amazon Prime, so that’s why no one’s watching it.

*Fire Force: The (unfortunately timed) action/drama where fire fighters with super powers must protect Tokyo from people who are spontaneously combusting and uncover the evil rooted within their own organization. It’s made by the same person who created Soul Eater, and it definitely shows. The animation is high flying and out of this world. It’s worth watching for the action alone. But be warned, the plot and characters are it’s biggest weakness. It will jump between gratuitous fanservice and hijinks and then rocket into moral dilemmas and disturbing situations with no warning. BUT I still like watching it for the action, and in these later episodes the plot has steered itself back on track a lot more, and I’m way more interested in where the story is going now. I’m hoping that means the second half will give us a better sense of the characters. It also has a top tier muscular waifu! 

*My Hero Academia season 4: I’m sure everyone’s already going to be watching MHA, but I guess I’d have my anime fan badge revoked if I didn’t at least mention this one. I may not read the manga, but I know this arc is going to be a good one! I firmly believe this will be a modern classic, so if you haven’t checked it out yet, it’s really worth watching.

And that’s it for this season. I’ll probably do a list at the end of the year of my top shows of 2019, but otherwise, see you in the winter of 2020!

[lala-the-rebel]

Take Me Back

(a fic completely based on this post)

Summary: Now that Virgil's been away from the dark sides for a while, he does miss them more than he cares to admit. But he's not gonna let them know that. Not until he absolutely has to.

And, unfortunately for him, he does.

Word Count: 2,634 (if I wasn't on mobile there would be a cut)

Ship: pretty much platonic anxceit

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, (mostly) sympathetic Deceit, mentions of Remus/the Duke, mild cursing (any I missed please lemme know!)

Tags: @fandersunite @korsaromantic66 @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @fellinfire @alifeuncolored

---

It had been some time since Virgil left the dark sides. And he had grown to miss them more than he cared to admit.

He kept convincing himself that staying with them was doing more harm than good. That was the whole reason why he left in the first place, right? To make things better? For him? For everyone else?

He kept telling himself that. It worked for a while until the one time it didn't.

Sure, the light sides had treated him as if he was always a part of their family, but it didn't always feel right. Especially when they did family things without you, and you knew about it, and they knew you knew, but they didn't do anything to include you. That was when it hurt.

It reminded him that he really did miss what he used to have. They wouldn't have done that to him. He really was family to them. They would include him in everything they could, even if he did protest it a bit. It annoyed him at the time, but looking back now, he appreciated it. Not being listened to almost felt better than being listened to. Even though he complained, he still wanted to do things. He was glad that the light sides respected his boundaries, but there were times when he almost wished they didn't do it as much as they did. 

He didn't want to think about how much he missed the others, but he did. And the more he did, the more depressed he got. He couldn't go back now. They probably looked down on him for leaving without explanation. Even if he had explained it to them, would they have understood? 

The thoughts wracked his brain so much that it was hard to get to sleep. He woke up feeling really unrested, so he decided to make himself some coffee to try getting through the day. He was surprisingly the first one up, or at least the first up and out of their room. As he waited for his coffee to brew, he let his mind wander. It wouldn't have hurt to visit the dark side common room, would it? What's the worst thing he could do there? What's the worst thing they could do to him for being there?

He would just be in and out. One short look. Just to see if things had changed. Nothing wrong with that, right?

He kept mentally telling himself that as he sunk out into the other room. When he arrived, he expected the worst. He expected at least one of them to pop out and scare him. He got nothing. They were probably off in their rooms like everyone else was, he figured.

He looked around, taking in the landscape. Nothing really changed. Still trashed as hell, maybe even more than usual. He didn't doubt that it was because Deceit had given up on cleaning it again. He remembered how the same thing happened before he left. He and Remus would band together to wreak as much havoc in the room as they could, and Deceit cleaned it up every time. It became such a hassle at one point that he had given up until the clutter bugged him. That, and neither of the other two were bothered to pick it up themselves.

A bittersweet feeling rushed over him as he remembered that. He wondered if Remus actually continued doing it after he left, or if he stopped because it wasn't the same as before. Virgil wouldn't have known because he never talked to any of them besides the few times in the videos. He could very well have changed that now, but he didn't.

He was supposed to just be in and out. No visiting. Visiting would give him emotions. He didn't want those. He wanted to stop doubting if he made the right choice or not, and if that meant not visiting the other two, then that would be the end of it.

To get his mind off of things, he decided to walk around, as quietly as he could, of course. Get a full glance of everything while he could. He made a lap around the room, ending by the stairs. He saw a familiar sweater piled on the ground next to them. Upon further inspection, he realized it belonged to Deceit.

It wouldn't have hurt to take it, would it?

He snatched the sweater as quick as he could and sunk out. He then rushed to his room, totally unnoticed unlike what he feared. He inspected the sweater in detail. It was black and gray, striped, torn in a few spots, and a bit too big, but Virgil liked it nonetheless. It was definitely something he would own. He threw it in the dirty laundry, figuring it needed at least one wash cycle, and went back to go get his coffee that he unintentionally abandoned. As he drank it, the others finally made their arrivals, getting to their usual business. He watched it all from the sidelines, only interacting when one of the others addressed him. He didn't gather much besides the fact that a video was going to be filmed in the next few days. It didn't really bother him, so he went on with his day as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.

That night, he somehow managed to sleep soundly; the visit from earlier cleared things up just a bit. It gave him the reassurance than at least nothing changed there physically. It was a small step of progress, but he took what he could get.

When he woke up the next day, he found the sweater he stole in his clean laundry. He almost forgotten he had taken it until then. Something told him he should have worn it that day, so he did under his usual hoodie. He was complimented on it more than anything, which to him was a sign that they definitely didn't know it wasn't his. If they did, they didn't say anything to him at least. Along with that, it kinda helped relieve some of that homesickness he felt. At least, that's what it felt like to him. He didn't know what to call it. He just knew that wearing it made him feel better than he did the day before, and that's what mattered to him more than anything.

The temptation to go back to the room after that didn't take long to return. He fought it off for as long as he could, but one sleepless night ended that streak. He figured another venture to the room wouldn't hurt. When he got there, Deceit was around, asleep on the couch. Virgil decided to sneak past him up to the rooms so that he wouldn't wake him. He was successful, but he still kept cautious in case Remus would pop out at him. Thankfully, he didn't, so Virgil did some more snooping around. He even stole a few more pieces of clothing just for the hell of it before returning to his room and knocking out.

The cycle kind of continued for a while after that. He didn't get caught, mostly because he was sneaking out at night when no one else should have been awake. And any of the clothes he gathered hardly raised suspicion; the others simply thought the outfits were his own entirely.

Then came the dreaded day of video filming. They had worked for most of the morning, so they were taking a break for at least a couple hours. And during that break was when it all went down.

They all decided to relax while they could. Roman and Patton put on a movie while Logan made himself coffee and caught up on other work. Virgil changed into a different outfit and chilled out by the stairs on his phone, barely listening to anything going on around him. It wasn't until Deceit arrived that he finally did.

"Well, don't you all look very productive," the dark side sneered.

Logan heard him and sighed. "What do you want, Deceit?" At the mention of his name, Patton and Roman jumped up from their spots on the couch while Virgil merely looked up at him with disinterest.

"What are you doing here, Jack the Fibber?" Roman retorted.

"What? Am I not allowed to just simply hang out?"

"That's not part of your usual behavior around us, so that is mostly the reason for their concerns, I'm sure," Logan explained without missing a beat. "Plus, you have your own designated space to hang out, so there is no real need to intrude into ours."

"Yeah, what he said!" Roman agreed.

Deceit glared at Logan before continuing. "Well, maybe I want to change that behavior. You know I can't not be nice to you of all people, Roman."

"Really?"

"That's the biggest batch of bullshit I've ever heard," Virgil piped up. "We all know you get your kicks on teasing Roman because half the time he can't tell if you're lying or not."

"I do not-"

"Yeah, okay. That's not what you've told me, but sure."

Deceit sighed. "Information can easily be outdated, Virgil, so don't be too sure you know everything you think you do."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure on that, considering literally everyone here knows you as a liar. There's no way you can prove what you said was true and you know it."

"I mean, his statement does have some truth to it," Logan interrupted.

"Shut up, Logan! I'm trying to prove my point here!" Virgil barked.

"How pathetic. Blocking out the truth so that you have what you think is a solid argument? Sounds like we have a hypocrite here," Deceit said with a laugh. "Getting on me for the exact same thing you do fits that definition, don't you think? Or, is it a double standard because you're a light side now?"

Virgil had enough. "Just shut your damn mouth up! No one wants to argue with you over stupid shit. If that's all you came here for, then leave. We don't want that here."

Deceit turned to him, rolling his eyes and smirking. "I rest my case- wait." He did a double take. "Is that my sweater you're wearing?" Virgil's eyes went wide as he took in what Deceit said. He felt everyone's eyes staring him down as they awaited his answer. He didn't speak, which prompted Deceit to ask another question. "Is that where they've been going? Have you been stealing them? Have you been stealing my stuff?"

"N-no." He avoided the looks he was getting. "It's...it's mine."

"Seems like someone's taken over the resident liar position," Deceit remarked. He stared Virgil down until he looked him in the eye, and when he did, he gave him a simple eyebrow raise. "But if you insist, then I'll let it go." He continued to stare at Virgil, noticing his teary eyes.

Virgil met his gaze until he couldn't bear to do it anymore. He couldn't bear to be there anymore. "I'm...gonna go to my room," he said solemnly before sinking out. He heard the others telling him to come back, but he ignored them. There was no way he was going to explain this to them if they weren't going to understand. 

He didn't sink out to his room. He ended up sinking out to the dark side common room unintentionally. He didn't care as long as he could get away. He curled himself into a ball and slowly let the tears go.

It didn't take long for Deceit to pop up after him. He looked at Virgil, unsure of what to say. Virgil had known he was there, but didn't acknowledge him. Instead, he just curled even more into himself, hoping he would go away.

He didn't. "You know, last time I checked, this isn't your room." Virgil didn't answer. He sighed, then knelt down to Virgil's eye level. He stared him down, despite being ignored. Talking was worth a shot. "I...apologize if what I said has upset you." He got Virgil's attention, but the other side remained silent. Deceit continued. "I didn't mean to call you out in front of...them."

"Yeah, right," Virgil mumbled.

"I'm serious. I'm not that much of an asshole, believe it or not. If I didn't notice it then, I wouldn't have said anything until later. But I did, and I impulsively said something. And, now I know I shouldn't have. I hope you don't hate me too much more for it."

Virgil finally looked him in the eye, unsure of his sincerity. Sure, it was written pretty clearly on his face, but he was a master of deception. Virgil wanted to doubt that what he said was true, but he didn't for now. Something told him not to. "You mean it?"

A nod. "Absolutely. And I assure you, I'm not lying."

Hearing that made him tear up even more. For once, Deceit sounded serious when he said it. No sarcastic edge, no over-the-top line delivery, nothing. Just pure emotion. Something in the way he said it made Virgil believe that he had really still cared for him a bit, even though his actions said otherwise. It was more than likely just an act at that point. Just to save face for the light sides. Both of them being dark sides made them as close to family as they could get, and the bond they had couldn't be easily broken, no matter how long ago Virgil left. They both knew that on some level.

And doing that compelled Virgil to do something he hadn't done in a while. He leaned forward and latched onto Deceit, hugging him. He was surprised at first, but he knew Virgil needed it and returned it. He could feel the other's chest heaving as he sobbed into him, but he didn't care one bit. He could tell Virgil needed it. He helped calm him down before he started talking again.

"I'm not mad at you for taking my stuff, by the way. You could have just asked me for it if you wanted it so bad."

"I know, but...I…I had a reason for it," Virgil mumbled.

"Which was?"

Virgil finally pulled away and looked at him. His eyeshadow was definitely smudged now, but that was easily fixable. He wiped his nose with his hoodie sleeve and got to explaining. "I...I miss you guys."

"You...do?"

Virgil nodded with a sniff. "I miss doing stuff with you and being with you because the others don't do as much stuff with me anymore because I said one time that I didn't want to do anything and they took it literally." He swiped his nose again. "And it made me really...sad, so to feel better, I've been coming down here and sneaking around and stealing your stuff and wearing it so that I have something to remind me of you guys. Of...home, I guess." A sniff. "I left because I thought I was hurting you guys, but it looks like I'm just hurting myself, y'know, figuratively. And I don't wanna come back completely, but...I guess I just wanna visit sometimes if that's okay with you. I just want you...to take me back as family."

Deceit nodded, taking in everything he said. "You hurt us more by leaving and not saying anything. But, now that you have, I do forgive you. And I understand." He was teary-eyed now. "And you're welcome back home any time. You haven't stopped being family, trust me."

Virgil went and hugged him again, and he immediately hugged him back. "Thank you. So much."

"You're definitely welcome. Now, I do want those stolen sweaters back, if you don't mind."

[draconia-bsd]

FkuMori- New Year's Kiss

Hey, hi, hello, I have no justification for writing somethig so painfully long, but I hope you like it @vanafloria ♡ uwu

Crimson sunlight barged through the forest of skyscrapers and motels, allowing only a few remaining rays to stumble in a wide white office of a new clinic center, meeting their end either on a tidy desk or on a spotless lab coat of dr. Mori. He owned and managed the whole complex for barely eight months now, and despite it seeming out of place, the surrounding neighbourhood warmly welcomed this new branch of the health industry. Before its arrival, small gangs had a habbit of housebreaking and robbing the entire area, spreading fear amongst its residents and ultimately leading to a decay in economy, which most considered beyond repair. Yet, thanks to the generous heart of this ex war doctor, these problems were solved in the shortest possible time, leading quite a large number of people into an almost religious worship of his being. Fully aware of the fact, Mori dedicated vast amounts of energy in maintaining his public image- as long as the ordinary people were happy with his honey-glazed mask and dulcet words no problems will be caused, they will act as sheep following their shepherd through the fog. This logic, however, was not something he shared with his employees, more precisely his bodyguard, Fukuzawa- a man roughly his own age, but of strong stature. He oftentimes communicated in such a blunt and harsh manner that Mori felt obliged to step in the conversation for the tensions to settle. It was exhausting, especially after explaining him the meaning of his actions numerous times, but in the end, he couldn't afford better. Not only from a materialistic standpoint, but also because Fukuzawa was the best man in his line of work, rising up almost to a level of legend. Even upon a mere mention of his nickname, "The Silver Wolf", most of the underworld's bravest members would quiver, for the man's natural bloodthirst was a force colder and more ruthless than a Russian winter. He was far too valuable for Mori to dismiss and leave in another person's grasp.

In spite of this minor problem though, the business ran precisely as intended. The whole area became a neutral zone after doctor himself spread the word of his refusal to associate with the law enforcement. Sure, he faced hardships and doubt at first, but being spared and trusted by the two biggest crime organisations in town helped significantly. Everyone he knew now thought he was just a simple man who wanted to help people, which, in a way, wasn't even that far from the truth. Thinking about this, Mori didn't even realise he neglected his work until the phone-alarm notified him it was time for his lunchbreak. Feeling only slight discomfort about the matter, he swiftly he draped himself within his feather jacket and headed straight to the nearby bakery. Having stepped outside, his eyes narrowed due to the force of a razor sharp wind jolting his hair, leaving him with a view field wide just enough to get him to the desired destination. The bakery was small, albeit tastefully decorated. It possessed a rustic aesthetic, with its wooden, dark amber walls and shelves that blended so well with them it would be impossible to imagine one without the other, alongside two big square windows, one placed next to the door and the other on the West wall, allowing sunlight to highlight all of the beauty inside. Naturally, as it was Christmas time, decorations added to the aesthetics too, making even the baked goods taste more delicious than usual.

Upon entering, Mori fixed his hair and stepped into the line for making orders. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to get, but the queue was long enough for him to comfortably decide, or so he thought. Suddenly, an old woman came up to him and started a smalltalk asking him about the clinic and poking fun at his hair that he "ought to shorten". This was all an everyday occurrence to which he had gotten used to, up until one question.

"So, how will you spend the New Year's eve, dear?" she said with genuine curiosity.

"Oh, as usual, I shall occupy myself with work." the doctor replied and he truly did mean it. Over time holidays lost their value to him, and while a necessity in this society, he did not enjoy them for the most part, as he felt even more empty during those times, thus trying not to pay them too much attention was the best possible solution.

"Oooh." mumbled the lady "That's noble, but it must be terribly lonely, especially after having spent Christmas at work as well."

Admittedly, Mori was stunned by her bluntness, but he couldn't deny her words, even with his employees by his side, he felt the same as always during this time period. Still, he had to reply with something, so he conveniently used the exact thing he was thinking about for inspiration.

"Don't worry, Fukuzawa will be with me. After all, we are like brothers." he exclaimed, but for some reason didn't understand why he only mentioned this one man.

While they could surely be brothers by age, there wasn't much, apart from his skills, that dazzled him about Fukuzawa. So, brushing this off as a simple element of chitchatting, he continued to talk to the lady until he took his order and left the bakery, sprinting back to his office.

Having walked so fast he almost had difficulty maintaining a normal breathing pattern, he stopped in the entry room to gain some strength. It was now noticeably warmer compared ti the outside, but still, he felt no need to take off his jacked as he felt winter might bite down to his bones. Sitting there like a student in the school yard, he started thinking about his words once again. This time he had the freedom to explore all the possibilities, and an interesting idea occured to him. Mori then finished his meal as usual and headed back to his office, having a few buissnes partners already waiting for him. Unon greeting them politely,he called on Fukuzawa to guard the room until the meeting was over.

...

As dawn neared it's peak, the doctors hands lost their usual composure and craved for a resting place to stop their fatigue caused tremor, but contrary to his body's wishes, Mori took care of his equipment, changed his clothes and ramained to wait for the new shift to start. He didn't have to do this, obviously, but a part of him thought it was right and he hadn't done anything like that in a while. His mind was absent as he gazed into the rising Sun, mesmerised by it's colours and the flickering snow contrasting it. Losing track of time, and eventually his consciousness, the next thing amethyst eyes saw were white strands of hair shimmering next to them, appearing so light and soft they may have been unreal for all Mori knew. This fascination could have continued, but soon a deep voice broke off the illusion and reality came back into place. Fukuzawa was arched over his employer, looking at the weak body with concern.

"Shouldn't you go home and rest properly?" he asked as the younger man shook from his drowse and offered a hand to help him get out of his chair.

It took him quite a while to voice his answer, but nevertheless, Mori agreed with this and the two decided to head towards their homes together. However unusual it may seem, this isn't the first time they travelled together, it happened every once in a while and they would often engage in awkward conversations during it, but lately their communication improved (partially because of their debates about the neighbourhoods residents) so it was definitely a nice opportunity to snatch. Mori freezed as soon as he stepped outside, giving him a subjective feeling that his eyebags suddenly became a few shades darker. Jokingly commenting on this, he was greeted with an attempt of a reply "That's why you shouldn't wear jackets inside." and a smile. Fukuzawa may have been older, but he was definitely the one who had to learn when it came to these things. Still, Mori didn't mind his bodyguard's awkwardness when it was directed at him. He could never pinpoint the exact emotion he felt at those moments, but he knew it was something warm and for a long time he didn't think anything of it, but as of yesterday he became quite keen on exploring it, so he lead the conversation further until the blue eyes had lost their usual harshness. It is true that most of the trip had already passed by that point, but at least it was worthy. Now was the right time to ask:

"Say, what are your plans for the New Year's eve?" Mori continued with his usual tone.

"I assume I will spend it working." Fukuzawa replied coldly, retrieving to his natural attitude.

"Well if that's so, wouldn't you like to make me company during the countdown? It's not like we will leave the clinic, but it's nice to celebrate a bit, no?"

"I- I would have to agree, but what about the patients or the lurking danger?" the silver haired man asked with a serious voices , averting his sky blue orbs to his side.

"Hmm, a few drunks here and there shouldn't be much of a problem. I've had these experiences before, you know?" Mori proclaimed in a pensive tone.

"I don't see anything wrong with it then." Fukuzawa said, much to Mori's delight.

As planned, two men parted ways soon after, heading for their respective homes for a good rest, but somehow neither felt tired anymore.

...

Before coming to his clinic that evening, Mori stoped by an acquaintance's shop at the back of an alley near the town center. The man was a smuggling genius, holding seven mass storages, both in and out of the city, filled with opiates of various kinds, but at this small shop he brought only the finest of alcohol- be it original or fake, he had it all, oftentimes so well matched in characteristics that the drink's authenticity was for the consumer to evaluate. Despite this tho, he would never put Mori in the said position, for he owed him greatly. The store itself had two levels, the lower being almost twice as big as the one above, but nonetheless well-equipped with rare finds. Overall aesthetic was quite modern, filled with various shades grey as well as few metallic surfaces (shelves and the register most notably), but it would've been extremely bland if there werent a few pop art paintings hanging on the walls and bringing some actual colour in the room. Not really how most would imagine a liquor store, but it possessed a certain charm, especially for upstart people who stood in awe upon entering, with greedy eyes drinking from every bottle they recognized from a magazine they read before that one party in order to impress a lovely nobleman. But unlike these people, Mori wasn't all that impressed by this space, he already set his goal and this was simply the best way to fulfil it. He followed his acquaintance to a certain part of the store and upon a short wait, the man came back with what the doctor wanted- a bottle of Highland Park '68 . With a delighted smirk on his face Mori expressed his gratefulness and exchanged a few business related ideas with the smuggler.

Having put the bottle of expensive whisky in his bag, he set for the clinic, arriving earlier than usual although there wasn't much he planned to do but sorting some paperwork. Emerged in work, time flew by and before he knew it the clock hit nine, marking the beginning of Fukuzawa's work hours. Forseeably, he arrived on time and made his presence known to Mori immediately. Though his tone and words were professional, there were hints of insecurity behind them as he didn't quite know how to hold himself that night. As it is only natural, the dark haired man noticed this and decided to put his plan to action. Dramatically proclaiming his exhaustion, Mori suggested they both take a glass of whisky and without hesitation Fukuzawa accepted this offer. After all, the Silver Wolf was no stranger to alcohol, most notably spirits. He didn't know exactly why he liked this type of liquor to such an extent, but he never concerned himself with that question- the taste and the high was all that mattered, and surprisingly, this drink possessed both of the said qualities. Sitting in chairs, much like a doctor and a patient would, they sipped their drinks slowly, expressing thoughts of it's taste, colour and scent, but other than that the conversation seemed to end, making the whole situation awkward for a short while- until the rush of alcohol hit them. It did require two glasses of whisky, but it was worthy, as Fukuzawa relaxed significantly after every sip he took. Mori wasn't much of a drinker himself, so seeing this big, strong man getting tipsy before him was a pleasant surprise, and not only that, but his cheeks were slightly red emphasizing his blue eyes to the point where Mori had to put extreme effort not to stare at their beauty. Instead, the doctor started talking about their common mentor- Natsume Soseki. This proved to be a good topic of choice as Fukuzawa lead the story of their meeting and later anecdotes from trainings. Like the one time his sensei tried to catch a butterfly with his bare hands, or the time he casually lounged not on the regular sitting area of the couch but on it's back. This made Mori laugh more than he had imagined, to the point his abdominal muscles hurt, actually. This reminded him of his experience with Natsume-sensei, so naturally, he decided to share his discovery of the mentors unreasonably big collection of cardboard boxes.

Stories of their mentor soon turned into jokes, but after continuous use of whisky, the conversation took a more serious turn. They didn't remember how they got to the topic of loneliness, but it was obvious neither of them particularly enjoyed the subject.

"Loneliness increases inner strength and individuality, but our human nature is always there to chain our improvement." Fukuzawa claimed.

"Isn't it also in our human nature to adapt and evolve? While it is necessary, is it truly the only way we can help our growth? After all, even plants die if watered too much, don't they?" the younger man replied, but was met with silence.

"Well, it is New Year's eve after all, we shouldn't be talking about such things!" Mori added in a silvery voice, putting his usual smile on.

Forcing a smile on his face, the older of the two extended his arm to get his glass "If that's the case, why don't you pour me another one, doctor?"

Almost mechanically doing as he was asked, Mori suddenly remembered "Ah, wait!" he exclaimed as he jerked the bottle "It's not midnight yet, we should wait for the countdown, look how little we have left!"

Blue orbs focused on the bottle and blinked in surprise "Wow, that much? I mean, we drank that much."

Mori laughed to this reaction and fell off his chair from the force he used to nod his head, which in response caused Fukuzawa to snort as he lent him a helping hand. As expected from a drunk person though, the fallen didn't get up, but instead pulled the the other one down with him. With both of them on the floor now, they continued giggling like a pair of teenagers smoking behind their school, hoping not to get caught. It was strange how well they can get along, given the chance. As they sat next to each other, Fukuzawa took Mori's hand without a word and moved it close to him, causing the other man to blush, but before he could do anything the Silver Wolf narrowed his eyes and drew his head close to the handwatch to examine it.

"Two more minutes until countdown!" he said as he turned around to face Mori, who at this point had a perplexed look on his face and was only able to utter an "oh".

Fukuzawa then quickly crawled to the table an brought the bottle to a still confused doctor.

"Eh and the glasses?" Mori asked.

"Ugh. Who cares." the other replied with a sigh.

With their eyes fixed on the watch, these two anxiously waited for the final ten seconds. It seemed that time passed much slower now that they stopped talking, but that didn't really bother Mori. He could feel the pressure of his head leaning against the other and soft white hair caressing his cheek- in a way, he even wanted this to continue. Alas, the time they waited for came and both of them counted until zero, but before doctor wished his bodyguard a happy New Year, Fukuzawa was already taking a sup of the old whisky. It was unlike his usual, compound self, to disrespect a custom, but he was extremely drunk by this point, so the younger man took it as such. Sensing that the time is right, he started gently removing the bottle from Fukuzawa's mouth, advising him not to swallow the drink as he cupped the confused man's face and moved his own body close to his, giving him a deep and slow kiss. It was bitter and it burned, but he would give anything to do it over and over again.

"Happy New Year." he said weakly upon breaking the kiss and catching his breath.

"Yeah. You too." a flustered Fukuzawa replied, still in shock over what had just happened.

After remaining in the same position for a few seconds, Mori decided to back away, thinking this was all a bad idea to begin with, but as he was about to move, he felt strong arms holding him back and draging him even closer to them.

"Mmm? What?" he asked teasingly, but his lips were locked in a kiss before he knew it.

Who coud have guessed such passion laid behind those cold blue eyes? Those who seemed so detached and out of reach, slowly luring him into lust day by day... are they even the same as these fierce, devine eyes before him? Mori wondered, but that was a question that had to wait for the next day. All he craved now was to be liberated from his bottled up desires, and his saviour was ready.