#The World Is Big and Salvation Lurks Around the Corner

[of-tatooine]

mercy. | chapter 17 - dark

heart warming moments brought darkness with them.

SPRING

The road never seemed to end.

In this world where living at the edge is the new normal, there was always one more road undiscovered. Countless miles and miles of highway, of randomized criss-crossing patterns of partially destroyed, non-functioning piles of steel adorned with corpses of the undead. A lot of unknowns could pop up any time a survivor ended up finding a working car by sheer luck and decided to cruise on the highway in the hopes of reaching a better, safer life in another state. Hunters loved to lurk around the corners of what’s left of the interstate highway system of the country, setting up their traps at the seemingly benign exits to lure their prey.

You would have known. There was a brief time you had set them up yourself.

Where would the road take you after this - months and seasons of protecting the little girl and man who rescued you? Was there any salvation after all that you have done, all the gory acts that you committed, mostly for your own survival above all? Was saving this little girl who was holding onto your hand softly as her feet matched your steps, redemption enough? Would stitching him in the cold basement just so he could hold onto dear life a little bit longer, redeem your long-overdue sins?

With the thought of every throat you cut, finger broken and kneecap shattered, the answer of the questions floating in your being seemed to lean towards a stark negative - there would be no redemption for a corrupted soul like you. As the strong bang from the bombs you had planted and the countless shots you had fired rang your ears, the sins seemed even more unforgivable, relentless and cruel.

Then came the visions of the grateful smile on a one-handed man whose limb you had cut to tie him back to mortal life after a nasty bite. The appreciative nods of soldiers as you patched them up with year’s ease. The soft breathing against your chest as you cradled Ellie in your arms, holding her safe from danger. The calloused yet tender touch on your cheek after reaching a moment of safety from days of torture and dread. Visions, thoughts and memories intertwined - they gave your insides a certain comforting warmth, luring you to the path of light, whispering that everything will be alright soon.

That you will be safe in his arms.

Sometimes we have to walk through the dark to get to the light.

Cracked concrete paved the way underneath mucky boots, a certain hint of newfound warmth in the spring breeze. The sharp sunshine of peak daytime hit your bare skin uncovered by the scuffed, thin white shirt that had long lost its’ vibrant hue - it was a very welcome sensation spreading through after the winter’s harsh snow and frosty breeze. No matter how much the sunshine soaked into your scarred skin, it could never make you forget the frostbite on your fingers as you clawed through the pure white snow, staining it with the relative warmth of the crimson red seeping through your fingers.

Mere sunshine could not make you forget the coldness of the blade in the meat freezer as it rummaged through your own flesh. The beads of cold, cold sweat running down your forehead, the breathy gasps evaporating into the thin air as they violently held her in front of your eyes, her little body jerking with the impact.

The sudden frost covering the eyes of David as he saw the healed bite on her forearm.

“You’re deep in thought today.”

Brain appalled for a brief moment as you blinked fast twice, your senses got it together just in time to catch the little girl staring up at you with those big green eyes laced with a hint of concern, her left hand clinging onto your right - not for immediate safety but for her peace of mind and comfort, you would come to the conclusion. It had been a newly-developed habit for Ellie to hold onto your hand in some situations where an unknown loomed in the horizon, which you welcomed with open arms, and could not help but think about the horrors that the girl had faced in this cruel world that morphed her from the stubborn, sharp-tongued little lady. It was moments like this where it truly materialized in her daily behavior - the soft pitter patters of her feet as she clung to you walking under rain, pulled just a little closer under the salvaged, tattered sleeping bag, never knowing if you would be able to pull through the night. Her whistling attempts, her way of keeping anxiety far from her soul that kept on getting better and better every single day of practice as Joel drove you all through the unknown pavements.

The little girl’s observation had also stirred attention from the man leading the way, making the broad shoulders turn slightly as his eyes latched onto yours, similar hints of concern edging the green.

He knew.

He knew exactly what made you stutter during the past days of the journey up to Salt Lake, why your otherwise laughter-filled voice was toned down to softly spoken, concise but thoughtful words, sometimes at the edge of a whisper that only his attentive ears caught. Exactly why both of you took turns in gently watching as the girl fell blissfully asleep in the backseat - unaware, even for a little bit, of the atrocities around her, of the uncertainty of the future, of the worries that engulfed your mental. At peace, dreaming about bigger, better, prettier things. Exactly why you clasped onto his calloused hand so hard in the nighttime as his other one held the steering wheel straight.

He knew there was one question consuming you alive lately, with every step closer to the supposed hospital would house the salvation of whatever was left of humankind. A species that has committed many sins before and after, atrocities bleeding their hands yet not stopping in the sheer hope of survival. Destroying everything in their wrath, trees, buildings, humans, animals. Taking lives without asking questions, without guilt beating their cold, lonely hearts.

He knew your purpose, and he knew his. Crystal clear, ringing loud in his mind ever since the day. To him, no distracting thought could falter or tremble the one goal he worked towards with blood, sweat and tears every morning and night. His eyes burnt with fire to keep both of you safe, and to get that little girl wherever she so desired to go. Just to see a little smile on her face, knowing that she would be serving for the greater good.

And to hopefully see her proud of him one day, one far, far away day, when all is well, and he is holding your soft hand close to his beating heart on your porch, pink lights dancing in your eyes, smiling in the sunset.

For now, all he had was dreams. Distant dreams and persistent hopes that fueled him through the roughest of situations. He often found himself asking the universe the same question over and over again in the back of his mind, begging to clear the dust to reach to the light emanating from the dreams to keep them alive.

The question, the answer to which seemed to terrify you more and more with every thought erupting.

“What’s gonna happen to her?”

He softly nodded to you, lips softly curled in a smile, reassuring you that the storms in your eyes are bound to see daylight soon.

Instilling strength in you, your turned to face Ellie who was intensely waiting for your reaction in that childish, innocent smile she had.

“I’m excited to see where this leads. You, however, snored way deep in your dreams last night.”

Chuckles echoed in the air as you walked together down the cracking concrete exit ramp, through the abandoned cars with stolen doors and open hoods, buses covered in moss under the shade of highway signs, still holding up strong to your surprise. A small billboard with a passenger airplane caught Ellie’s eye, tugging you along gently as Joel followed with his fingertips lingering on your side, both intently listening to the flying dream of a kid who had never seen an airplane before, and probably would not.

It made your cold soul warm up with a gentle summer heat, hearing her imagination roar. Her youthful voice paired well with the sun shining down the trees growing through the concrete on any exposed soil, reconquering the earth in a graveyard of a metal city. It gave you power to go on, for now.

“What are they going to do to her?”

As your group made way towards the remnants of downtown, your boots led you through the doors opening to a rooftop overlooking the surrounding buildings, much to Ellie’s happiness as she took in the sights and rushed to view. A sudden fear, driven by instinct took a sharp breath and tensed up your body to follow in case of imminent danger.

However, you did not have to. Joel stuck by you, sensing your hand linger on the back of your belt where you sported your weapon of choice for the day, and gave you a knowing smile as he took your hand into his, slowly leading you to the edge where the sun hit your face.

You’re safe. We’re safe.

You released a silent breath of relief, your empty hand reaching to wrap around his covered arm to pull him closer to your side.

For now.

Both pairs of weary eyes followed the happy child, who joined both of you in realizing that the below courtyard must have belonged to a zoo of some kind, and the nature protected a number of exotic animals -  including some giraffes that were steadily making their way towards your lookout as they chewed on leaves.

“Ever seen a giraffe before?” Joel asked you, unable to hide the smile in his voice, pulling you closer to stand in front of his warm, lean body as he kept on holding your hand with his other placed on your waist.

You had not.

The beloved sense of safety rained down on you, with his touch and the beautiful sight of Ellie petting the giraffe whose neck leaned slightly to reach the girl’s height.

Words were not enough at that moment in time to describe the happiness and excitement lighting up Ellie’s face. It was yet another moment of pure, innocent joy she blessed you with, watching her interact with untouched, unharmed parts of the world. Slowly fixing the broken souls behind her, piece by piece.

“You cuties,” she cooed at them.

Joel’s chest vibrated against your back as a small laughter came out of him, one of a father lovingly watching over a daughter, seeing just how happy she could get. It made you smile uncontrollably, looking up at him lightly over your shoulder to catch the look in his eyes, the moment etching onto the brightest corners of your mind.

Little did you guess, it was only about to get better.

Joel’s fingers gently tilted your head upwards to him, hesitant but willing, his bright eyes looking for confirmation in yours for a split second. He didn’t have to try as the smile on your lips could light up the whole world - he realized he had never seen your genuine smile. At that moment, he wished you smiled more, and he wanted to make damn sure that you always found a reason to.

At that moment, he so wanted to be the reason as he dipped down and landed a long-awaited kiss on your lips, his beard gently scratching your soft skin in a new sensation, his taste salty yet sweet. His calloused hand slowly finding his way to rest on your cheek, pulling you closer like he had wanted to for too many nights before. The warmth of his body next to yours as his lips moved in unison to deepen the kiss sent shivers down your spine, the joy of having someone that seemed so far yet now, so close.

A soft hum of a whistle had both of you slowly break off the kiss, your eyes fluttering open with an entranced look in your eyes as he smiled down at you, telling you all that you needed to hear without uttering a single word.

He had wanted to do this for a long time.

The whistle suddenly picked up and turned into a cheer.

“About damn time.”

The little girl threw a little clap your way, slowly making her exit down the stairs only for both of you to follow, laughing out of your hearts.

Hold on.

Water dripped down and covered your whole body, chest heaving with exertion, hands in a death grip holding onto the rusted metal - the only thing keeping you breathing. Blood trickled down your face and arms as it mixed with rain and sewer water. Bruises already forming from falling into that damn bus, small pieces of glass on your boots from kicking the window.

Whatever breath you had left in your lungs struggled to get out, gasping, coughing and hurting. Your limbs crawled over to the rocks, dragging your body as you began to come to your senses and frantically looked around for your companions.

The strong current almost still carried the screams of Ellie and Joel trying to reach you, to hold onto each other, fighting against the flowing waters. Joel trying to catch her hand before both of you got engulfed in the strong force, driven in the current.

She can’t swim.

The world flashed in front of your eyes as Joel dragged the little girl to the edge of the waters onto the concrete with a heaving gasp, immediately holding her face and starting to give her a heart massage, no doubt trying to stay calm but failing as his voice faltered.

“C’mon, c’mon.”

Whatever strength you had with shaky limbs had you rush over to her, holding her head steady while Joel attempted to resuscitate her. Tears began to form in your eyes as you searched for any glimpse of hope in Joel’s rugged face, hands pumping the little girl’s chest to give her breath.

“No, no, no.”

“Hands up in the air!”

Your head bolted to the source of the voice, your unoccupied arm instinctively shielding the two - body frozen when you saw two gun barrels held towards you.

“She ain’t breathin,” helplessly grunted Joel as he desperately continued his motions.

Brain in overdrive, your hand went to your holster right before your entire world was buried in total darkness.

[cavenewstimes]

Bulgaria’s Stephan Komandarev & Eli Skorcheva Want To Help Older People Get The Dignity They Deserve With ‘Blaga’s Lessons’ – Contenders International

Filmmaker Stephan Komandarev, whose credits consist of 2 previous Bulgarian Oscar entries consisting of the shortlisted The World is Big and Salvation Lurks Around the Corner, covered a film trilogy about the social ills of post-communist society with Blaga’s Lessons, about the traumatic journey of a retired instructor through the unsafe world of phone rip-offs …Read More

[mymiliblog]

Jan. 2

[gregor-samsung]

Светът е голям и спасение дебне отвсякъде [The World Is Big and Salvation Lurks Around the Corner] (Stefan Komandarev, 2008)

[whimsywispsblog]

Fault in Our Stars

Warning: PTSD, references to childhood abuse and trauma, sexual trauma and depression.

Inspired by: @vukis2

Lips quivering. Tears trailing. Body shaking from the cold and fear. Eyes widened- alarmed and frightened.

Running into the dark forest was definitely a bad idea. But what was Donna to do other than run? Run for her dear life? Run away somewhere- somewhere away from the lands infested with blood-sucking vampiric creatures that feasted on her family's blood, leaving her the youngest and the damaged for last.

Damaged. Ruined. In every sense. In every way, a woman is not to be ruined.

The hazy light of the gloomy skies shaded by the canopies of the tall and twisted brown trees lit the dark path ahead. Each step was taken carefully as the rustling of the carpet of dried leaves, and twigs below Donna's feet gave a crisp crackle, each sound making the girl turn back while tightly squeezing the arm of her ragged doll, Angie. And the sounds of the high-pitched giggles turned into ear-piercing shrieks. In the dark forests, vile creatures lurk in every corner, staggering and tottering in the shadows hunting their doomed prey. A forest lore, narrated by every village person. Or was it a forewarning left to the villagers by the unfortunate quarries who could never return to see another sunrise?

Most never knew which, but that day, Donna realised that it was the latter.

The dark forests always played with its victims' minds: most never escaped from its evil clutches, and the ones that did, they were driven to insanity by never-ending nightmares of its devilish creatures. There was no escape.

Donna stopped as she heard sudden footsteps approaching. They were fast, very fast.

'Run.' 'Run.' 'Run.' She kept commanding her body, but her legs shook and felt heavy, making the girl fall on her knees. The girl refused to turn back, and she closed her eyes. The wind was strong, pushing her backwards as if tempting her to open her eyes and see what stood behind her.

And then, the sounds of the ravens squawking, but in human tongue filled the languid air of the forests. Their crows were so frightening, so horrifying that they made poor Donna's flesh bleed and cut.

//"She the woman who made the Devil destroy the paradise for a kiss,"//

"I did not fall. I did not fall." The girl repeated the sentence over and over again, clutching Angie close to her breasts. The ravens flew around her, its sharp beaks piercing through her tender skin, its shrill squeaks hurting her sensitive ears, the pitch getting louder and louder until it started ringing in her ears. They started ripping her hair from her scalp and skinning her thighs, relishing in her decaying flesh.

The girl then let out a loud scream.

"HE PUSHED ME!"

//"No one questions the Devil, whore!"//

And with that, it was back to the eerie tranquillity of the forests.

Eyes watching. Ears listening. Tongues wetting. Stomachs growling.

She was tired. Scared. But determined to escape from the forests' demons. But would she?

Donna shook her head sideways, swallowing all her doubts. She was going to escape and start her life anew, somewhere far, far away. In lands where she was not damaged. Not cursed. But welcomed with open hearts and warm smiles. And with that, she pushed herself up, not letting her mind succumb to the dark pits of self-doubt.

The frigid air bit into the girl's tender skin through her ripped clothes and burnt her lungs while numbing her nose. The girl hugged herself, trying to keep the cold away. Lips pale, eyes swollen, hair covered in icicles, and her body covered in dried blood and mud. It seemed like the path went on forever, and the sky-kissing mountains were just an illusion.

The earthy smell after the first rainfall that loomed over the dark lands slowly faded away as a more metallic smell with burnt char took over—burning flesh. Someone or something was close.

Donna chanted words of Orison to her creator- for protection. For courage. For salvation. And if the Gods chose to cut her thread of fate, then so be it. She was ready to welcome the torment of hell that awaited her. Somewhere away from the abhorrent lands that she walked on. Was walking on. Her trembling hands tightly clasped on Angie's neck while her steps became slower and more cautious.

The girl found a rock big enough to hide behind as the smell got stronger and sounds of inhuman growls got louder. She didn't want to see them as she shut her eyes tightly, her prayers chanted at a frantic pace bobbing her head back and forth. Until. A human voice caught her attention- a voice which she regretted listening to.

"Take the fat one. That's all you will get for the night," A bunch of snarls poured out from all directions until the person finally screamed, "SHUT UP! Go find more food somewhere else!"

The sound of soft whimpers made Donna peek from behind the rock. In a wooden cage were 6 small-sized men, looking down at the creatures in fear. They were the dwarfs. On the ground was a giant dwarf that shouted for mercy, as his limbs were torn from all sides and his body ripped with the splatter of blood and his insides. Donna held back her urge to gasp, biting her tongue so hard that she felt the taste of blood in her mouth.

"Oi fish freak!" Donna's attention shifted from the mutilated remnants of the corpse to that of a man, tall and sturdy with messy, greasy grey hair covered by a hat. He wore a long brown coat that swayed with his every movement. He had a gigantic hammer in his hand, one that made the girl tremble in fear. Not only could this man control a horde of dangerous human-eating monsters, but he was also burly, judging by the size of the metallic hammer.

"Hey, moron! Yeah, you! Come here ya quim!" A blob-like grotesque creature stumbled towards the man. It looked so ugly and ghastly that Donna felt the contents of her stomach rise to her throat.

"Fry these midgets and send them to Miranda." The fish-creature bowed its entire body as if nodding to the man. The man with the hammer turned away, facing the rock as a slight smirk appeared on his face, and that scared Donna. Did he see her?

Donna pulled herself behind the rock as she breathed in heavily, hoping that he hadn't seen her. She felt something warm and wet on her shoulder, and she slowly looked up. To her horror, one of those creatures stood behind her, looking at her famished. The girl let out a loud scream, pulling Angie close to her chest. But before the creature could put its sharp rotten nails on her, its head was smashed by something, making its blood splash all over her. The girl, who was still in shock, stared at the creature's headless remains, her body trembling like a leaf and her heartbeat thudding loudly.

Suddenly, her hair was grabbed, and she was picked up like a rag doll. Her eyes stayed fixated on the mushy brown ground, but a gloved hand grabbed her face and forced her to look at the person. It was the man with a hammer.

"Mhmm...Young blood," He said, observing the girl's face. His eyes landed on her ruby-red necklace. "Scarlet, eh." The man dropped Donna, and she landed with a soft grunt. He bent down to her level, watching her closely. The girl was about to beg for grace. The sounds of painful screams made her turn towards the horrific scene. The dwarfs were set on fire, all of them hurdling close to each other, screaming into each other's bodies as if sharing their pain and death.

The man in front of her grabbed her face and made him look at her again, pulling out something from his coat. An apple. Delightfully red. He brought the fruit closer to the girl's lips. Without wasting another second, Donna grabbed the apple from his hand and bit into its scrumptious flesh, greedily and ravenously. Without chewing properly, she bit into more and more until she choked a few pieces out.

The man watched the girl eat in dark amusement. A raven perched on his shoulder, crowing in his ears, making him grimace.

"Yeah yeah, it's poisoned." He said, shooing the raven away. The girl was just halfway through her apple, but she felt dizzy and sick. It was as if the world was spinning at such a fast pace, and she felt as if she was losing control of her body. The man effortlessly put the girl on his shoulder and walked away while magically getting his hammer to fly right into his hands.

...

Donna's eyes fluttered open to the sound of people talking and the muffled mewls of a younger person, probably a girl. She felt hot, and an unusual but familiar pain tingled throughout her body, pulsating through each nerve excruciatingly. The girl tried to move her wrists, but there was something tight and sharp clamped around her wrists, restraining any movement.

Angie...Angie wasn't there in her hands. Donna bolted up, alarmed and terrified. The room she was in was quite cold, dark and damp, like the inside of a cave. It was dimly lit by the lamps on the walls. In front of her stood a woman with raven feathers unfurled behind her. To her right was the hammer-man, telling the woman about something. Between them was another chained girl with platinum blonde hair, bloodied, bruised and naked. Probably a survivor. Or a prey.

The lady with the raven feathers grabbed the blonde girl's face and lifted her up, her feet away from the ground.

"Young Rose...Fresh virgin blood," The woman mused with a slight grin, squeezing the girl, Rose's face. The woman brought her closer, taking a deep whiff of the girl's neck. "She smells delicious. Girls! Come here!" The woman shouted, and out of the shadows glided three women, giggling and jumping with their faces covered in blood. As they walked, a swarm of flies surrounded them and, out of their sleeves, fell off maggots- wet and slimy.

The raven woman threw Rose in their direction, and the poor girl fell with a loud thud. "Her blood, please." The woman ordered the three girls.

"Of course, Mother Miranda!" The girls giggled and laughed, taking Rose and throwing her to a bed of needles and kept pushing her deeper into the sharp metal, impaling the helpless girl's body. The cave echoed with the laughter of the insect-witches and the weak cries of dying Rose.

Donna watched the scene in horror and started crawling backwards until her back hit the wall.  The raven lady, Mother Miranda, turned her attention to Donna, looking at her with steely darkened eyes. The woman disappeared into a murder of crows and suddenly appeared in front of the girl and kneeled down to her eye level. Her pale and cold fingers grabbed the girl's jaw and pulled her forward, observing her closely.

"What is your name, child?"

"D-Donna", The girl stuttered, shaking uncontrollably. "Donna Beneviento."

"Ah, House Beneviento! My daughters and their spawns recently ravaged their Village and families," Mother Miranda chimed, looking at the three insect-witches who kept stabbing Rose's mutilated corpse with their large metallic nails. "Young Rose was from there."

"W-Why d-do you kill?" Mother Miranda smiled at the girl as she pushed the stray strands of her hair behind her ear.

"Human fear and blood keep us alive." The woman traced her fingers across Donna's cheekbones. "We were damned by the Old Gods, the ones who were in favour of your wretched kind."

"Y-you are all m-monsters!" Donna choked out, pushing herself away from the woman's touch. Mother Miranda grabbed a fistful of the girl's hair and pulled her close, biting the girl's neck. Donna let out a piercing scream, trying to pull herself away from the woman.

"Ah, that's a first. You're not Virgin blood. Unchaste!" Miranda raised an eyebrow and looked at the girl in disgust.

//"Stained and the tarnished scent of the vile harlot"//

A tiny scar near the girl's left eye caught Miranda's attention. The woman roughly pushed her hair away and looked at Donna's blistered scar in revulsion. "And she is a cripple."

"Not a virtuous Doll, eh?" The hammer man chimed, looking at Donna in amusement, but once his eye landed on her scar, his smile dropped.

Doll...Doll...Angie! Donna gasped and looked up at the hammer man in distress. "Angie! Where is Angie, my doll?!"

"Burning." Mother Miranda replied with an indifferent expression.

"W-What? N-no! NO!" Donna screamed and shouted, trying to push herself upon Miranda, but the woman was strong. Without much effort, she slapped Donna, making the girl break down into a whimpering mess.

Angie. The only remnant of her innocence now burnt away in the heat.

"This one's of no use to me."

"But she smells so delightful!" Said one of the insect witches, sniffing her around and licking the blood of the wound where Miranda had bitten her.

"Indeed she is, child. But your Mother won't be pleased with any of you drinking impure blood," Miranda spat, looking at Donna in contempt. Donna looked down, ashamed and embarrassed at the way they kept taunting her. Just like how she was harassed in her Village for something that wasn't even her fault...

'I did not fall...I did not fall...'

"Alright then, she can be a nice play-thing for the Lycans." The hammer man said, putting his hammer on the ground and resting his weight on it.

"Fine then, Heisenberg. The girl's fate is in your hands." Mother Miranda got up, glaring at the girl.

His name is...Heisenberg? Familiar name.

The man nodded, grabbed the girl's chain. He pulled the chain sharply with a slight grunt, making the girl stumble and dragged her across the sharp stony ground. Donna let out soft mewls of pain.

"Quit your whining!" He said as he dragged her slower this time, making every inch of her skin throb, red and wet.

-

Sounds of metal grinding metal stirred the girl from her disturbed slumber. She wasn't sure how she slept off. She was still shackled in chains, but instead of being seated in front of a Cult family, she sat alone in a chamber, cold. And wet.

"Ah, you're up!" A loud, boisterous sound made the girl flinch lightly. She slowly tilted her head up to look at the person.

Heisenberg. Smirking and eyes glinting with mischief. He held out a water jug to the girl. Although she desperately needed it to quench her thirst and wet her dried mouth, after the poisoned apple, she was afraid.

"Relax, there's nothing in the water," Heisenberg rolled his eyes in annoyance. The girl hesitated to take the glass from him, which caused the man to groan in frustration and sipped a little of the water. "See? I am alive. It's normal water,"

Donna quickly grabbed the jug from him with trembling hands and drank the water, messily and shakily, the water running down her neck. She drank in so fast that the poor girl choked on water, coughing up some of it.

Heisenberg chuckled, sliding a plate of stale bread and some bright coloured fruit. The girl didn't wait for another second and quickly devoured the food down, juice of the squished fruit staining her skin and clothes. Heisenberg observed the girl quietly with a neutral expression. Pulling out a cigarette, he lit it up, smoking in a direction away from the girl's face.

"W-Why a-are y-you not killing m-me?" Donna's soft stutters pulled the man out of his thoughts. He rubbed his eyes as he contemplated her question, letting out a soft yawn.

"Didn't you hear what I told Miranda?" Donna nodded her head sideways, making the man sigh. "A play-thing for the beasts."

"W-Will they...k-kill me?"

"That depends." Heisenberg shrugged, walking away from the room. "Oh, and the chains will stay. " He said, closing the door behind him.

Donna pulled her legs close to her chest, tears trailing down her eyes. Her skin was bruised and bloodied, her clothes tattered, she stank, she was starved, she was tortured, and she was ruined. Too much for a lifetime.

The sound of the crow of a raven made the girl lookup. 'How did that bird get in?' The girl thought, looking at the bird baffled. The raven had red eyes and looked at the girl menacingly. It let out one more shrill crow and dove straight towards her, its sharp beak pointing at her. Donna curled into her legs and let out a whimper, too tired to scream. But the attack never happened. Instead, a laugh- malicious and vulgar- emerged. Donna looked up, and there stood the Hag.

//Broken disgusting whore! Shame on you!//

Donna didn't fight back. She stayed quiet, thinking of her time at home, back in the Village. The Hag continued with her taunts and screams, her ravens poking the girl's delicate flesh, but the girl was too tired, too lost. Too broken.

"I know," Donna whispered, fresh hot tears trailing down her cheek as she remembered the night, back in the Village, when she got the Stigma of the Fallen Maiden- The whore.

Bodies sticking together with sweat. A heavy weight on her chest crushing the delicate flesh of her breasts. Hair yanked and tugged with a few strands ripped off. Teeth biting deep into her skin, blood flowing out of it. An unbearable pain as she felt herself lose her chastity and virtue...No longer virginal and innocent. She was marked and claimed by another man.

//You are no graceful deer like a faithful virtuous maiden! You intoxicate them with your ardour! You vile demon!//

"I know," Donna whispered again, her eyes heavy and burning and swollen. She cried no more. She couldn't. There was nothing to cry for. She was forever going to be this- a whore.

"Oi Hag! Get the fuck outta here! Go teach your lessons about virtues and morality to those Demitrescu girls." It was Heisenberg. The Hag turned back at the man and laughed loudly and sharply, making both Donna and Heisenberg wince in pain. The older woman burst into raven feathers, disappearing from the room.  Heisenberg turned his attention towards Donna. He took a few steps towards her until he was close enough.

"I know what happened that night," He said, looking dead into Donna's shocked eyes. How did he know? The man sat down, placing his hammer by his side and taking his hat off, running his hand through his hair.

"H-how did y-you know?" Donna asked, looking up to the man.

"Tales like these spread fast through the Village and beyond." He shrugged. Donna nodded, her eyes glued to the cold ground, observing its cracks and crevices.  "You don't remember me do you?" Donna looked at the man. The name Heisenberg did ring a bell for her. But she couldn't recall from where. "Ya remember the name, Karl?"

Karl...Karl...Heisenberg...

Karl Heisenberg! Heisenberg's son!

Donna nodded her head lightly, old memories of their time together as children returning to her. It was him.

The only child in the Village who was never afraid of her or treated her differently. Every time they were together, Karl's father would forcefully pull him away, shouting and screaming and hitting him for playing with the Spawn of Demon. But that never stopped Karl from going back to her.

Until.

They turned 16. She was a woman, and he was a man. She grew beautiful, and he grew taller.

She couldn't remember much, except one night during the Village's ritual: Young women who bled for the first time.

It was in the outskirts of the woods. Young Karl and Young Donna. Sitting by the rock. Moonlight dancing on their youthful flustered faces. Karl's gentle hand on her cheek, pulling her closer. And closer. And closer. Lips just touching. So soft.

"You disgusting boy!" And after that, all she remembered was being pushed away by Karl's father, her head hitting the ground sharply. And Karl's faint cries, "Donna!"

"W-Where d-did you go after that day?" Donna asked, her hands deeply buried into the fabric of her clothes.

"Father sent me away to another Village, to live with my uncle. Cruel man- known to straighten up Wild Things. But I just ran away." He shrugged.  There was a silence between the pair. But this was a comfortable one—just the sounds of their breathing, with the gentle whistle of the winds outside.

"Why here?"

"Mhmm?" Heisenberg peered at Donna, rubbing his scruff. "Ah well, like you, that useless Hag caught me. But things are fine here. I get a roof on my head, food and clothes. No whores though," He snickered but immediately stopped seeing Donna flinch at the word. "If you want to survive here, don't let that hag get to you."

"Do you have any advice on how I'll survive you?" The girl asked.

"Huh. Why do ya ask?"

"You say I am a play-thing for the Lycans. You said they might eat me."

"Ah, that. Yes, the Lycans do enjoy the company. They're just dogs." He said nonchalantly, waving his hand.

"But I don't want to stay here."

"Unfortunately, Donna, for people like you and me who are called 'wild' and 'vile', this is the only place that we get close to home." Donna looked away, feeling fresh hot tears prickling in her eyes.

"There's no 'we', Karl," The girl snapped. Karl hid his surprise at her sudden change of demeanour behind an irritated scowl. "I am everything you're not. I am not a vile whore-"

"GODDAMIT DONNA", Karl stood up, throwing away his hammer in frustration, breaking something nearby. "How long, how fucking long are you gonna keep crying about that bullshit?! It happened. You were fucked, whether you like it or not. Going around telling everyone that you aren't a whore won't change anything-"

"I know," Donna whispered, shivering from cold and fear. "Believe me, I know." The woman looked up to Karl, staring deep into his eyes. "But that doesn't make me a whore. That doesn't make me vile."

"Then you fucking accept the circumstances. It is written in our fates." Heisenberg sighed.

Donna stared at Heisenberg, pained by the helplessness that radiated off him, as the memory played in her mind.

Fate...

"Karl, your father won't let me be with you. Forget being near you. Your reputation will be tarnished because of me. The Village thinks I am cursed," Said a 15-year-old Donna. It was nighttime during one of their many midnight trysts in the woods. When the Villagers were fast asleep, and no one tried to hurt the couple.

"To hell with the Villagers and my father. They can say whatever the fuck they want, but I will have this life my way, and I will take you with me." Donna smiled softly, feeling her heart fluttering at her lover's determination and adamance to want a life with her despite all the difficulties they would face.

"But what if this is how things have to be? What if it is just...written in our stars?"

"Well then, fuck the stars. It's our lives. No one has a say in it. You choose your path and if that makes you happy, then fuck everything else. You choose your fate," He said, planting a soft peck on her cheek.

"You told me that day, we choose our fate, Karl," Heisenberg grunted, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Yea. I fucking did. Now, where has it got us both, hm?"

Donna stood up from her place shakily and limped towards Karl until she could feel the tug of her shackles. She was close enough. She raised a hand towards the man's face, but before she could touch him, his hand shot up and grasped hers.

"Don't", He growled, his ocean-blue eyes piercing into hers, trying to intimidate her.

"Please," She whispered, wriggling her hands a little, making the man drop his hand, letting the woman touch his face.

Donna slowly traced his scars. A story behind every one of them. Some she knew, some she did not. Karl didn't flinch as she kept caressing his rough skin with her softer, bruised fingers. He just looked at her as if searching in her for the old Donna he knew. The old Donna would dream with him about a beautiful future they would never have. He found her.

But to Donna, she never saw her old Karl. The one who dared to dream despite their doomed circumstances. He was now a broken man. A hopeless man who had seen and been through enough. A man who forgot what it was to experience bliss.

"I don't know if I will ever get to live this life with you, the way we dreamed. But...If there is still some life in you, I'd like that." Donna said, pulling her hand slowly trailing to Karl's chest, feeling the soft, slow thud of his heartbeat. With a wave of his hand, Donna's shackles broke. Karl slowly encircled his arms around her waist, gently but firmly and pulled her closer. With a hand cupping her cheek, he looked at her.

"I would have loved that. But look at me now. I am one of them." He said, his hand lingering on a cut on her cheek that she got because of him when he dragged her towards the factory. "But you. You can live on. A better life."

"I could have, but that better life that I wanted," Donna paused, breathing in as she felt her words being swallowed. "I wanted it with you."

"But I can't give that to you, Donna."

"Then give it to me here. Right here." Donna said, inching closer to Karl, feeling his hot breath on her cold damped skin. Karl pulled her close and rested his head on her forehead, closing his eyes and feeling the warmth and comfort he got from her.

"Get some rest. By tomorrow, you will be better." Karl said, pulling away from her. Donna held his hands tight, afraid to let him go. Afraid to lose him again.

"W-What do you mean?" Karl slowly loosened her grip on his hands and smiled at her softly. Picking up his hat and hammer, he walked out of the room, shutting it from outside. Donna sat down, confused and dejected. Lying down on the cold floor, the girl shut her eyes tightly and sobbed, her wails and whimpers slowly lulling her to sleep.

-

It was as if the ground below her was shaking. She didn't know what it was. Donna jerked awake as she felt a sudden push from below. The girl gasped, looking around. It wasn't the room where Karl had kept her. It was...smaller and more cramped and...moving?

"Ah, Lady Beneviento! You are awake!" A jovial and cheery voice pulled Donna's attention. It was a man, friendly and big.

"W-Who are you, and where am I?"

"I am the Duke, a humble merchant, and you are in my carriage. Lord Heisenberg asked me to take you to the other side of the forest."

"Karl? Karl, where is he?!" Donna asked, looking around frantically.

"He couldn't make it," Duke said apologetically. "He wants you to take that little box. That should help you earn a living, not luxurious, but enough to survive," Donna looked to her right and there it was, the box. She opened it, and inside was Karl's chain that he wore every day, some coins and some ornaments. And a small doll that resembled Angie. But prettier and newer.

"What happened back there?"

"Lady Miranda caught him trying to escape. Ah, it looks like we're here!"

"Duke. Can I go back?"

"I'd suggest you not. He wants you to stay alive, my Lady. Best you honour his wishes. Do this for him" Donna looked at the chain, tracing the engravings on it. The girl looked into the box and saw a small note in it.

Thank you for setting me free. I hope to see you in another life where we will be together, just like we dreamt.

The girl pulled the note to her chest, feeling a strange pain in her body. She felt heavy. She felt like she was breaking apart. She felt as if she couldn't breathe. Duke looked at the girl sadly. He couldn't help her, and he wasn't sure how to.

"Thank you," Donna muttered, stepping out of the carriage with the box in her hand. Ahead she saw a little Village. A chance for a new life, but one without Karl. How could she live without him?

'Best you honour his wishes. Do this for him.'

"Okay, Karl." Donna sniffed, a bittersweet smile on her face, as she walked towards the Village, her hand tightly clutching the chain. As she approached, a man, probably the gatekeeper, stopped her.

"Who are you, and state your purpose."

"Donna. Donna Heisenberg. I seek refuge in your Village. Mine was destroyed by monsters." The gatekeeper nodded and took a moment to observe her ragged state, his eyes softening as he noticed her bruises and blood.

"Alright, follow me. You can speak to his Majesty." Donna nodded, smiling softly.

A new life. A better life. For Karl.

In the woods, near the factory lay Karl Heisenberg, bloodied and stabbed on the ground. He held a glove tightly in his hand. Donna's glove. The one he pulled from her when his father forcefully separated him from Donna. Rubbing his thumb across the soft material of the glove, Karl smiled, looking up to the heavens, his vision fading away slowly.

"Thank you, Donna."

[baepsaesbae]

Before (Heal Me, Kill Me Prequel)

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x OC named Maggie (thanks @kimtaehyunq)

Genre— SMUT, Angst, Vampire!Tae au, Victorian era au

Warnings— Explicit unprotected sex (but like pretty vanilla and loving), some violence and death

Word Count— 4.8k

Summary— Taehyung was a vampire with nothing but time and boredom on his hands. He’s going on his monthly feeding adventures when he comes across a rather peculiar prey. 

A/N— This was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away and made a full prequel oops. The Heal Me, Kill Me series will be posting starting in October! The pairing will be Kim Taehyung x reader so it’ll be the usual y/n stuff. Thanks for reading, feedback is always welcome~

It was a dark and stormy night. Ok, well it wasn’t stormy, but at least it was nighttime. The year was 1863. Taehyung made his way down to the sketchy part of town, eager for a meal. Opium was all the rage nowadays, but Taehyung despised it. It tainted people, making them even more unbearable than he thought was possible. He drew the line past alcoholics, though he still wasn’t fond of them. However, people were even easier to persuade with absinthe coursing through their veins. 

“Hey handsome, looking for some fun?” a woman approached him from the shadows, her knockers practically spilling out of her corset. She reeked of all sorts of carcinogenic substances. 

“Away with ye, painted Jezebel,” Taehyung shooed her away, and she instantly stood up straight and walked in the opposite direction with a clouded look in her eyes. 

It was hard to come by a decent meal these days. Unfortunately, sticking to the slums was his best option. No one cared if a poor commoner went missing. At least he only had to partake in such grizzly actions about once a month. Any longer than that and he’d be in big trouble (or more accurately, random people who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time would be in big trouble).

Something caught Taehyung’s attention. He lifted his chin and took a deep inhale of a sweet aroma that wafted through the air. It was the scent of something he’d never dream of finding in the slums; an untainted individual. Untainted in the sense of a perfectly pure body, not once given into sinful indulgences. 

Taehyung quickly followed the smell, growing more excited with each step. Through the narrowly winding alleyways and past some rather alarming scenes, Taehyung did not stop. He could barely keep himself from salivating once he arrived at the source. 

There she was. A beacon of light in the dreary depths of a neglected corner of the world. Taehyung curiously observed her as she fluttered from body to body, carefully checking pulses and offering aid. He couldn’t help but scoff at her earnesty. There was no use in saving these people. They were beyond salvation. Yet, he silently watched her work as she hauled around her makeshift med kit. That was a mistake. The more he watched her, the more personal interest he took. 

After devising a plan, Taehyung was ready to make his move. He started at the opposite end of the street, intending to meet up with her somewhere in the middle. He crouched beside each body with an extended hand; random passerbys would see a well dressed man committing charity work out of the goodness of his heart. That was his intention, though he was merely hypnotizing each person into a deep slumber if they weren’t already passed out. 

“Are you looking for someone, sir?” the young woman piped up behind him.

“Not in particular,” Taehyung coolly answered as he stood up to face her.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but may I ask what someone like you is doing in a place like this if you’re not looking for someone in particular?” she crossed her arms with distrust.

“Is it a crime to want to help out the less fortunate? What we’re doing doesn’t seem to be much different. May I ask what a young girl like you is doing out here all alone in the middle of the night? It can be very dangerous,” his deep voice resonated in the air. 

“Oh. You’re helping them too? I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean any harm. People like you just don’t really come down here unless it’s for certain unspeakable acts,” she bowed her head apologetically. 

“Unspeakable? You help the people who partake in such acts,” Taehyung observed keenly, “Why bring them aid?”

“If I don’t, no one else will,” the girl answered solemnly. 

“That simple hm? You seek nothing in return? Or is your vice that of self appointed importance?” Taehyung slowly approached the girl. 

“I help them because they need it. Because they’d die without someone like me,” the girl held her ground.

“How admirable. I’m impressed, young miss. Please don’t think I was insulting you, I’m genuinely fascinated by you. Would you care to accompany me for dinner?” he extended his arm to her ever so slightly. 

“It’s a bit late for dinner isn’t it?” she responded timidly. 

“I suppose calling it a midnight snack would be more fitting. Your answer?” Taehyung asked calmly, concealing his impatience. 

“Forgive my apprehension. I’m sure you’re a fine gentleman, it’s just that this isn’t a place one would normally find fine gentlemen. I’ll gladly join you for breakfast in the morning,” she countered.

Taehyung’s eye twitched with frustration, but luckily it was too dark for the girl to see it. He needed to feed. That night. 

“I’m not keen on breakfast meals. How about tomorrow evening, during normal dinner time hours? Unless you can’t skip a day of helping the helpless,” he suggested. 

“That would be fine,” the girl finally agreed, “Oh, and I never caught your name, sir.”

“Taehyung. Pleasure to meet you,” he bowed elegantly.

“I’m Maggie, the pleasure is all mine,” she curtsied awkwardly.

After hashing out the details. Taehyung reluctantly left her alone. He wanted nothing more than to sink his fangs into her jugular, but something held him back. His curiosity got the better of him, but after living for all these years it was hard for him to find something interesting. He figured it couldn’t hurt. 

Taehyung cursed himself as he tore into an unsuspecting victim who had passed out drunk on the street. He retched at the foul taste, but this is what he has had to resort to. He couldn’t afford to be run out of another country yet again. His more refined taste would have to be put on hold for the time being (oh how he missed the good old days when people feared him enough to bring pristine victims monthly).

Rain lightly tapped against the window that Taehyung gazed out of as he scanned the crowd for Maggie. There were so many things he wanted to ask her, though a single drop of her blood would tell him everything he needed to know. Of course, that wasn’t as entertaining as an old fashioned conversation.  

Maggie finally arrived, and the restaurant host escorted her to the table. Taehyung could tell that she made an effort to look presentable. He reasoned that she was wearing her finest dress, though it had a plain and rather boring look to it. Plus, she wasn’t even wearing a fancy hat, much less a bonnet. 

“Good evening, Mr. Taehyung,” she curtsied before she sat down.

“Good evening, Miss Maggie. Have you been well?” Taehyung asked politely. 

“As well as I can be, I suppose. Yourself?” Maggie extended the same courtesy. 

“I’m splendid, now that you’re here. Tell me about yourself,” he dove right in. 

“I’m just an average girl. Nothing really special about me,” she shrugged while tugging at a strand of hair, “I never thought I’d be able to eat in a place like this in a million years. You must be embarrassed to be seen with me.”

“I disagree. I think you’re the most interesting thing here, apart from me of course,” Taehyung let out a low chuckle, “I gather you come from a poor family? What do they think about your late night escapades?” 

“They’re...gone. Sickness took them. Cholera,” Maggie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, “I don’t wanna see anyone else die so I…”

“Ah. That’s your noble cause huh? Admirable,” Taehyung took a long sip from his wine glass.

“And what of you, Mr. Taehyung? You seem rather peculiar yourself. What’s your reason for visiting that ward so late at night?” Maggie deflected the subject away from her.

“You could say I’m a humanitarian of sorts. I visit at least once a month, it’s a necessity for me,” he smiled slyly, “What else do you want to know? I haven’t had a decent conversation in ages.”

“You struck me as rather peculiar. A handsome gentleman like yourself lurking around giving aid to the weak. And then you only gave me one name when we introduced ourselves. I assumed it was your first name, so I gave you my first name in return. Forgive me if I was mistaken,” Maggie took a sip of water. 

“One name is all you need to know, dear. I’m happy we’re on a first name basis. However, I can address you otherwise if you deem it improper,” Taehyung offered.

The rest of the evening went on pleasantly. The meal was delicious, probably the best meal Maggie had ever had. She noticed that Taehyung’s meat was barely cooked, it was practically still raw. She decided not to mention it when she saw him happily gobble it down. Maggie also noticed that his red wine was thicker than what she was accustomed to seeing, but she figured it was a fancy alcohol that rich people drank. She didn’t want to embarrass herself by asking. 

Taehyung’s leg bounced quickly under the table. Maggie’s aroma grew more intense the longer he was with her. Her scent was intoxicating, and it took everything in his power not to take her then and there. He was in a conundrum. He took a liking to this spunky girl. He was torn. He didn’t know when to devour her, if to devour her at all. 

By the end of the night, he had decided. He’d keep her around for as long as he wanted, it wouldn’t be a big deal. He could easily end her life whenever he pleased anyway. The only thing he’d have to worry about was his self control. 

Taehyung and Maggie began to meet regularly. Taehyung would share the finer things in life with her. He’d take her to botanical gardens and fancy museums. In return, Maggie taught him everything she knew about medicine. She detested the use of cocaine as a common remedy, and preferred to make her own medicine. Taehyung accompanied her on her nightly rounds, he enjoyed every second he spent with her. 

It took about a year for Taehyung to officially court Maggie. She accepted, of course, and was now visiting Taehyung’s home for the first time. Home was an understatement. His mansion resided on a massive estate. 

A grand feast awaited Maggie. Her favorite dishes and desserts lined the dinner table, with Taehyung sitting at the opposite end. As Maggie dug into the food, she struggled to hold her tongue. A question had been lingering on her mind for quite some time now.

“Is everything alright, Miss Maggie? Is the food inadequate?” Taehyung asked from across the room. 

“The food is delicious, probably the best I’ve ever had. Your kitchen staff must be very talented,” Maggie shook her head. 

“Ah, I have no staff here. I’m glad you enjoy the food, it was all made by me,” Taehyung said proudly. 

“You take care of this entire property by yourself?” Maggie’s jaw dropped in shock.

“It’s tough sometimes, and lonely. I suppose I could hire one person to help out,” Taehyung lifted his eyebrows at Maggie. 

“M-me? I’m not really a good cook but--”

“You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. As you can see, I have more rooms than I know what to do with. You’re welcome to stay here with me for as long as you like,” Taehyung offered.

“Can you answer one question for me first, Mr. Taehyung?” Maggie asked tentatively. 

“Ask me anything,” Taehyung smiled.

“Are...are you ill?” Maggie looked at him with concern, “Please don’t take any offense. I noticed that we only meet in the evenings or when it’s a cloudy day. And I know that you have a predilection for barely cooked meats, and I’m sure eating raw things isn’t good for you. Also when we first met I thought rich people just had fancy alcohol but I can never see anyone drinking the same concoction as you whenever we eat at restaurants,” she rambled. 

“My my, aren’t you observant,” Taehyung’s lips twisted into an amused smile, “Are you afraid of monsters?”

“Monsters aren’t real,” Maggied quickly answered, annoyed that he deflected her questions. 

“Are you sure about that? Think carefully. I only go out at night or under cloud cover. I prefer my meat raw. I drink a rather strange red liquid that you should be very familiar with since you tend to the drunkards who are bound to get into fights down in the slums,” Taehyung toyed with her. 

“What? Do you expect me to believe that you’re some sort of vile creature that drinks blood?” Maggie laughed nervously.

In an instant, Taehyung’s chair was vacant as he menacingly stood over Maggie, “That is precisely the truth. Have you heard of vampyres?” he licked his lips.

Maggie was too frightened to move. Surely her eyes were playing tricks on her? Her eyes narrowed in on the fangs Taehyung bared as he smiled eerily down at her. 

 “I’ve heard of them. The people in the slums are terrified of being sucked dry, claiming that people wandering alone at night have a death wish. I thought they were just delusional,” panic gripped Maggie, “Were you going to eat me the first night we met?” 

“I desperately wanted to. You know the irresistible and mouth watering smell of a bakery in the morning? That’s what you smell like to me, only ten times more alluring and potent,” Taehyung nodded.

“Then why haven’t you yet?” Maggie questioned. 

“Because, my dear Miss Maggie, I am a fool. I have taken a liking to you. As you can imagine, being an immortal being gets lonely. You’ve provided me with more joy and entertainment than I’ve had in a while. At this point, I’d rather have you stay alive,” he sighed. 

“So if I stayed here with you, you’d promise you’d never harm me?” Maggie attempted to calm her breathing.

“Of course, I would not touch a hair on your head. Unless you want me to,” he winked.

“You would make me into a vampyre?” Maggie’s eyes widened.

“I was hinting at a more carnal interaction, but I could do that as well. Do you want an immortal life?” Taehyung’s eyes wandered to her exposed neck. 

“No. Not if it costs others their lives. I must be crazy Mr. Taehyung. You’ve admitted that you’re a monster and yet I still feel safe with you. I would love to move in and keep you company, if you’ll have me,” Maggie smiled fondly. 

“You’re very strange, Miss Maggie. That’s not at all the reaction I thought you’d have, but I’m happy for it. Very well, you may stay here. I can help you bring your belongings tomorrow night,” Taehyung grinned. 

“I’m curious; were you born a vampyre?” Maggie piped up. Taehyung let out a hearty laugh. 

“No, I was a human once like you. I got into a scuffle with a nasty bloke in the 16th century. Rather than killing me, he gave me a far worse end. He turned me. I haven’t seen him to this day, but I’m sure the slimy bastard is still undead somewhere in the world,” Taehyung’s cheery face fell into a scowl. 

“16th century? You’re an old man!” Maggie exclaimed teasingly.

“But I have the physical body of a young man, that must count for something, Taehyung chuckled, “Come, I can escort you to your room.”

“Am I staying the night?” Maggie tilted her head.

“That was my assumption. You’re free to leave at any time,” Taehyung shrugged. 

“It’s just that...I’ve never left my family home. I’ve been pretty lonely since everyone died. I can’t imagine how you must feel…” she trailed off.

“You’ve helped me with that tremendously. I guess we’ve cured each other’s loneliness, yes?” Taehyung cupped his hands over Maggie’s.

It was the first time he had ever touched her. His fingers were ice cold, resembling the kind of cold only a corpse could possess. Instinctively, she took his hands in hers and attempted to blow warm air onto them. Taehyung knew it would never work, but he appreciated the gesture. He pulled her into a warm embrace. 

“Forgive me if this is inappropriate. You make me feel at ease,” Taehyung whispered. To his surprise, Maggie hugged him back tightly. She didn’t say anything, but her actions were clear enough. 

Taehyung sat in an armchair in his room reading a novel a couple hours after he bid Maggie goodnight. He was pleased with the outcome of the night’s events. He was honestly dreading the thought of having to kill Maggie if she were to run away screaming. He was glad things didn’t come to that. 

There was a knock on the door. With a wave of his hand the door swung open, revealing a sleepy Maggie on the other side. 

“I heard a strange noise and couldn’t fall back to sleep,” Maggie yawned. 

“Don’t lie,” Taehyung chided without looking up from his book. 

“I’ve never slept away from home before and being alone in that big room scares me,” Maggie admitted, her eyes cast down to the floor. 

“That’s what I thought. You’re welcome to use my bed. I’ll stay here while you sleep,” Taehyung finally looked up and kindly gestured to the large bed.

“Where’s your coffin?” Maggie asked as she wiggled into the sheets. 

“That’s a stereotype. Do I look like the type of guy who sleeps in a stuffy wooden coffin? Nonsense. However, there is soil from my hometown beneath the bed,” Taehyung tsked.

“Really?” Maggie’s eyes grew wide. 

“Nope. Go to bed, Miss Maggie,” Taehyung chuckled. 

“Care to join me?” Maggie asked as she stretched. 

“I’m not going to sleep--”

“Then neither am I! I’m practically wide awake now,” Maggie interrupted him. 

Taehyung put his book down and walked to the bed, opting to sit on the end, a respectable distance away from Maggie. They talked the night away. Now that Maggie had some time to process everything, she had a plethora of questions ranging from vampyres to fashion throughout the years. 

“So have you ever been married? Or in love?” Maggie probed. 

“Never been married. Have been in love a few times. As you can imagine they all ended in heartache. Truthfully, I’ve been questioning why I let myself get so attached to you,” Taehyung confessed. 

“I’m glad you did. Because I love you, Mr. Taehyung. I fell in love with your grace and intellect, and of course you’re extremely handsome. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way about me, I just wanted to be candid with you before living together,” Maggie tugged at her hair. 

“Miss Maggie, I foolishly fell in love with you. You’d be one with the dirt by now if I hadn’t been so enthralled by you. Hm, that didn’t come out very romantic,” Taehyung shook his head before continuing, “The feeling is mutual. I know I can’t give you a normal marriage, but I promise to love you until the end.” 

Maggie crawled towards Taehyung and planted a soft kiss on his lips. Taehyung deepened the kiss as he pushed her flat onto the bed. Hands wandered. Giggles filled the air. Clothing fell to the ground. Soon, both beings were stark naked as they gazed into each other’s eyes. 

“Are you sure you want to go any further?” Taehyung asked.

“I want all of you inside me,” Maggie replied as she brought him in for another kiss.

Taehyung guided his dick to her entrance, patiently teasing it as he coated himself in her juices. Once he was drenched, he slowly slid into her, giving her time to adjust to his size. She let out soft moans as he went deeper. 

They laced their fingers together once he began to thrust. He started slowly, making sure she was enjoying herself. He wanted to enjoy all of her delicately, taking careful care not to break her. His prior flings with the whores in the brothels was different. He didn’t care about them, he used them solely for his own pleasure. But this time, he wanted to please Maggie. He was happy to see her eyes shut with pleasure as he picked up the pace. 

Taehyung placed his thumb on a certain little sensitive nub, making Maggie jump. Her eyes were blown out with lust as she arched her back. Taehyung worked her body perfectly, timing his thrusts with the clitoral stimulation. It didn’t take long for Maggie’s entire body to shake. 

“Tae-Taehyung I--”

“Go ahead. Just let it all out, Maggie,” Taehyung demanded. He accidentally let his power of persuasion slip into that statement. Maggie came on the spot, cumming all over his cock as she moaned. It wasn’t long after until Taehyung released his seed inside of her. 

Maggie’s chest heaved as she lay motionless on the bed. That was the most intense orgasm she’d ever had. Taehyung cleaned her up before tucking her back into the bed. Once he cleaned himself up, he joined her side. 

“Don’t worry about getting pregnant. I’m technically dead anyway,” he kissed her forehead before they both dozed off. 

Taehyung woke up the following evening to an empty bed. He searched the house, unable to find Maggie. He began to worry. Did she leave him to get help? Did she abandon him?

“Good morning! Sleep well?” Maggie called out to him as she walked through the front doors.

“Why were you outside?” Taehyung questioned quickly.

“Lemme show you,” Maggie took Taehyung’s hand and led him outside. She proudly showed off a patch of crudely repotted plants. She explained to him that she went into town to get a few. Since she’d save a couple lives here and there, some people felt indebted to her. She called on her favors and managed to wrangle up a couple flowers and herbs.

“I love the botanical garden you always take me to. I figured we can try and make our own here since you have so much space,” Maggie smiled.

“Do you garden often?” Taehyung asked while looking at the half wilted plants.

“Never have, but it can’t be that hard right? Just give them water and love. Just watch, this place will rival that fancy botanical garden,” a flicker of determination lit up in her eyes. 

Several happy years later, Maggie had kept her word. It had been ten wonderful years filled with merriment. Taehyung was not the man he was before. Maggie had softened his heart, and he was thankful for it. He accompanied her when she tended to the people in the slums, learning the art of medicine by her side. She even helped curb his bloodlust. Taehyung only fed on the people who were beyond help, or those who actively sought death. Maggie still didn’t like it, but of course that was out of her control. 

Taehyung’s arms were wrapped around Maggie as they admired their personal garden. It was a struggle at first, but they discovered that Taehyung had a godlike green thumb, and basically resurrected the plants back from the dead. With his guidance, Maggie was able to see her vision come true. 

One night, Taehyung had to leave the mansion for a few hours to meet with his business colleagues (he was a rather savvy businessman, being around for a couple hundred years does that to a person). Taehyung itched to return to Maggie’s side and barely paid attention to the meeting. She always claimed that she would be fine, it was only a couple hours after all. Even so, Taehyung worried about her. 

Finally the meeting was adjourned, and he was free to rush home. He found the front door unlocked upon his arrival. He gave the handle a quizzical look, he was sure that he had locked it. 

“Maggie? Where are you?” he called out. 

“Taehyung! Run away--” Maggie’s muffled scream came from the dining room. 

Two big men stood at either side of a tied up Maggie, who now had a black eye. One of the men held a knife to her throat, close enough to draw out an inkling of blood. 

“‘ello, Mr. Taehyung. Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” a third stout man with a thick cockney accent emerged from a corner of the room, “I’ll cut to the chase. You let us kill you, and the little missy gets to live. If you resist, she dies. Simple as that.”

“Who are you people? You’re making a huge mistake. I have connections all over the country that--”

“Spare us the horseshit. We know what you are, filthy vampyre,” the word rolled off the stout man’s tongue like a slur, “The VEC sent us. You know ‘em? Stands for ‘Vampyre Extermination Company’ it does. We’re the best they ‘av, so you might as well surrender now.”

“Oh you already know? Lovely, that saves me time,” Taehyung growled as he seemingly phased from where he stood over to Maggie (but vampyres can’t teleport, they just have super speed and can fly sometimes).

In the blink of an eye, he broke the neck of the man who held the knife and threw the other guy across the room. He quickly released Maggie, and hugged her tightly before returning to attack the intruders. He lifted the stout man by his neck and held him against the wall.

“You sure you’re the best? The VEC must be a pretty unsuccessful organization,” Taehyung taunted. 

“I told yous we should’ve just killed her in the first place and then ambushed him!” the stout man yelled to no one in particular. 

Taehyung sank his fangs into the man’s neck, before ripping out a piece. He was going to enjoy torturing him. It was what he deserved for harming his beloved Maggie. A gunshot went off, stopping Taehyung in the middle of his raging frenzy. 

Taehyung looked back in horror. Maggie held her bleeding stomach, sinking to the floor. The man he had thrown at the wall earlier was wielding a gun with a smirk on his face. Taehyung lost it. He ripped the assailant’s beating heart out from his chest.

He scrambled over to Maggie, cradling her in his arms. 

“That hurt,” she joked weakly.

“Shh, don’t speak. I have to get you to a doctor. I can carry you--”

“It’s too late. This wound is worse than most of what we’ve seen in the slums. I’m just sorry I have to leave you so soon,” a tear rolled down her cheek. 

“No! No please don’t leave me. There’s still time! I can turn you and we can be together forever,” Taehyung wept.

“You know I never wanted that. I’m sorry I’m being so selfish,” Maggie coughed  up blood, “I love you, Mr. Taehyung. Don’t ever forget that,” she said with her final breath. 

Taehyung held her until he saw the light leave her eyes. Anguish and sorrow filled his soul. He held her close and sobbed over her lifeless body. 

“You tricked her into lovin’ ya, eh? There’s no end to the wickedness of you bastards,” the stout man struggled to say as he drowned in his own blood.

Taehyung gently laid Maggie’s body on the floor and walked over to the stout man. He stepped on the man’s throat, crushing his windpipe and adding pressure to his gaping wound. The man’s eyes screamed in pain as Taehyung looked down at him blankly. 

“The VEC huh? I’ll remember that. I’ll see you in hell someday,” Taehyung spat as he trampled the man beneath him.  

Taehyung didn’t leave Maggie’s side for a week straight. He couldn’t bear to do anything; he didn’t want to admit that she was gone. His heart broke every time he saw her, but he couldn’t bring himself to move her. It wasn’t until her corpse was a bloated smelly mess that finally motivated Taehyung to move.

“I’m sorry I let you become this way, Miss Maggie,” Taehyung whispered as he carried the body out to the botanical garden. He buried her there, among her cherished plants. 

Taehyung fled his estate. The crime scene wasn’t discovered until a year later when his business associates came to check on him after he missed several meetings. 

Taehyung swore that he would never love again. Never open up again. And never ever, under any circumstances, interact with the VEC. As much as he wanted to tear the establishment apart, he knew Maggie would be against it. He couldn’t bear disappointing her, even in death.  

He settled down in a small unsuspecting town in a different country. He bought an abandoned property where he swore he’d live out the rest of his days quietly and peacefully. 

Published August 21st, 2020. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2019 Baepsaesbae.

[souldrawn]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑  𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓  𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓

aka  bios  are  coming  slow  and  this  is  selena’s  solution.  below  the  cut  you’ll  find  a  brief  summary  of  each  of  my  muses,  their  age,  gender,  orientation,  etc.;  everything  you  need  to  know  to  get  a  general  idea  of  who  they  are  if  you’re  not  familiar  with  them  already  and  see  if  anyone  sparks  your  interest.  thank  you  for  reading!

DEBBIE  LOOMIS:  ex-wife  to  a  cheating  husband  and  ex-mother  to  a  deceased  son  who  turned  to  murder  after  she  left  home  and  never  looked  back.  her  resentment  toward  her  failing  marriage,  grief  over  the  loss  of  her  son  and  rage  over  the  women  responsible  ( in  her  mind )  for  it  all  turned  her  down  a  path  of  serial  murder  with  one  goal  in  sight:  kill  sidney  prescott.  ( mid-40s,  cis  female,  heterosexual ).

GALE  WEATHERS:  a  local  reporter  with  unmatched  ambition  that  borderlines  on  ruthlessness.  she’s  not  particularly  well-received  among  some  of  the  woodsboro  community  due  to  her  cutthroat  nature  toward  covering  the  news  but  that  doesn’t  stop  her  from  doing  whatever  it  takes  to  get  the  facts  and  the  story.  (  28 - 50s,  cis  female,  tbd ).

KIM  POSSIBLE:  just  your  basic,  average  girl  who  just  so  happens  to  save  the  world between  cheer  practice,  babysitting  jobs,  school  and  maintaining  a  social  life.  fighting evil  day  after  day  is  no  big,  but  acing  cheer  regionals,  getting  hard-headed  teachers  off  your  back  or  securing  a  date  to  the  school  dance  can  be  so  the  drama  sometimes.  ( 15 - 18,  cis  female,  bisexual ).

SIDNEY  PRESCOTT:  a  woman  doomed  to  a  life  of  trauma  and  survival,  with  a  spine  of  steel  and  a  heart  of  gold.  sidney  was  forced  to  grow  up  at  a  young  age  when  forced  to  deal  with  the  loss  of  her  mother  at  the  hands  of  a  murderer;   from  there  things  seemed  to  steadily  spiral  as  she  became  the  unwitting  ‘final  girl’  in  what  has  been  four  separate  murder  sprees  to-date.  she  always  comes  out  of  it  alive,  but  at  what  cost?  ( 16 - 45,  cis  female,  lesbian ).

TREE  GELBMAN:  resident  campus  party  girl  and  sorority  alpha  bitch  turned  murder  victim...  again,  and  again,  and  again.  dying  and  reliving  the  same  day  on  loop  forces her  to  face  the  person  she  is,  the  people  she’s  hurt,  and  the  grief  she’s  buried  for  three  years  and  refused  to  acknowledge  until  she’s  been  forced  to  stare  death  in  the face  more  times  than  she  can  count.  oh  yeah,  she  also  has  to  figure  out  who  keeps  killing  her,  before  she  ends  up  staying  dead.  ( 21,  cis  female,  bisexual ).

ADIRIS:  the  youngest  of  seven  left  on  the  steps  of  a  temple  at  the  age  of  five,  adiris  held  onto  the  belief  that  the  gods  had  a  greater  purpose  for  her.  she  spent  the  years  that  followed  in  quiet  servitude,  working  her  way  up  to  assisting  high  priests  when  she  came  of  age.  when  a  great  plague  began  to  ravage  the  people  of  babylonia  and  the  priests  were  no  longer  able  to  serve,  she  donned  the  title  of  high  priestess  and  persisted  to  serve  her  people  through  purification  rituals,  doing  her  best  to  hide  that  the  plague  was  slowly  eating  away  at  her  body.  when  she  isolated  in  the  mountains  with  a  few  devoted  followers  and  prayed  for  salvation,  a  fog  began  to  engulf  her  and  she  sacrificed  herself  to  the  god  behind  it  in  an  effort  to  save  the  people  of  babylonia.  while  her  body  was  never  recovered  from  the  mountains,  she  continues  to  live  on  in  a  new  realm,  where  she  sacrifices  unknowing  survivors  to  the entity,  the  god  she  believes  she  was  born  to  serve.  ( eternally  20,  cis  female,  asexual ).

AMY  ROSE:  a  spunky  hedgehog  with  a  huge  heart  for  her  friends  and  an  even  bigger  temper  that  you  don’t  want  to  trigger;  more  often  than  not,  she’s  helping  clean  up  her  friend  sonic’s  messes,  but  always  enjoys  the  adventures  he  leads  their  friends  on.  ( idk  dude  she’s  a  cartoon  hedgehog  and  I  only  write  her  bc  of  jack  so ).

ÉLODIE  RAKOTO:  a  young  woman  desperate  to  solve  the  mystery  of  her  parents’  disappearance,  élodie  is  every  bit  an  adventuring  spirit,  finding  it  more  lucrative  to  learn  and  discover  by  doing  than  observing.  she  works  as  an  occult  investigator,  something  that  lands  her  in  dangerous  situations  more  often  than  not,  but  experience coupled  with  her  sharp  wit  and  resourcefulness  ensures  she  worms  her  way  out  of  every  trap  she  can;  even  those  that  seem  to  have  no  end.  ( 29,  cis  female,  pansexual ).

LYDIA  DEETZ:  obsessed  with  death  following  the  loss  of  her  mother,  lydia,  more  than  anything,  wants  to  talk  about  and  process  her  grief:  something  her  father  is  hell-bent  on  avoiding  at  all  costs.  when  they  move  into  a  new  home  and  he  announces  his  engagement  to  the  life  coach  he  hired,  she  turns  to  the  two  ghosts  and  the  demon  she’s  befriended  for  help,  not  knowing  what  consequences  lurk  around  the  corner  for  her.  ( 15,  cis  female,  tbd ).

JUNO  MONTGOMERY:  a  pretty  average  person  living  pretty  average  life  working  at  a  pizzeria  in  downtown  los  angeles  with  the  hopes  of  hitting  it  big --- if  only  studios  would  stop  throwing  her  scripts  in  the  reject  pile.  aside  from  dealing  with  pain-in-the-ass  landlords,  entitled  customers  and  a  mountain  of  debt  courtesy  of  film  school,  life  isn’t  too  bad.  just  painfully  average.  ( 25,  cis  female,  tbd ).

NATALIA  MARTINEZ:  a  homicide  detective  with  a  knack  for  seeing  ghosts  and  communicating  with  the  dead,  thanks  to  a  traumatic  brain  injury  from  a  work-related  gunshot  wound  to  the  head  she  miraculously  survived.  investigating  murders  is  nothing  new  for  her,  but  dealing  with  souls  that  can’t  pass  over  until  everything  is  set  right  is  something  else  entirely.  ( 42,  cis  female,  lesbian ).

NICK  ROBERTSON:  lifelong  best  friend  to  jordan  riley  and  a  huge  basketball  enthusiast;  hence  why  he’s  played  since  he  could  hold  a  ball  and  rode  that  train  all  the  way  to  a  major  in  sports  medicine  at  rothfield  university.  once  graduation  day  comes,  he  and  jordan  plan  to  start  their  respective  careers  in  sunny,  sunny  california ---  they  just  have  to  survive  a  murder  spree  first.  ( 21,  cis  male,  tbd ).

PENELOPE  DUSEK:  an  immortal  witch  with  a  special  talent  for  all  things  related  and  connected  to  the  dead,  including  reanimation ---  with  some  fine  print  attached  to  that  particular  skill.  by  day,  she’s  your  pleasant  local  baker,  making  the  best  homemade  pies  in  the  county  and  catering  weddings,  birthdays,  bar  mitzvahs  and  retirements  alike,  and  by  night,  she’s  escorting  souls  of  the  recently  departed  into  the  afterlife.  you  know,  hot  girl  shit.  ( 674,  cis  female,  pansexual ).

[crackinglamb]

Bump In the Night

From this prompt list.

Read it on AO3, here.  ~1860 words.

----

La'vise knew she should be sleeping.  But her chamber was too big and too empty and up far too many stairs.  She missed her clan, she missed the closeness of the fire and the aravels with their sails rippling in the breeze, providing a steady backdrop of sound that meant home.  This castle was stone, and the wind whistled sharply through the cracks and rents and crumbled places.  She was surrounded by humans, with their derision and coarse laughter, their myriad languages and assumptions that she knew nothing but savagery.

Her footsteps echoed in the wide open Great Hall and seemed too close in the hallways in between places.  The rotunda was a terrifying towering space, but a light was burning inside it.  She followed it, a tiny moth in a dangerous world of fire.  She found Solas there, sitting in an ornate – to her eyes – chair, a book propped on his lap, his feet stretched out before him, crossed at the ankle.

“Inquisitor?” he looked up, startled.  She wondered if he could see how small she felt, standing barefoot on the cold stone, a ragged shawl around her shoulders over the oversized shirt she used for sleeping in.  She wondered if he could tell how much she felt woefully unprepared for that title.  She was a hunter, a free elven adult in a nation of humans where might made right and they had no use for her wealth of knowledge that didn't suit their political purposes.  

“Oh, I...I didn't mean to disturb you.”

“You did not,” he said as she turned to go.  “Do you need something?”

I need my family.

I need closeness.

I need my language and my food and...

“I was just...wandering.  Getting to know my way around.”

“I see.”  He closed his book and laid it on the table, alongside a trio of bright, fat candles that made her envious even though she had some in her chamber.  A shard whispered on the corner, a ghostly sheen of light passing across it as the flames flickered.  “It is overwhelming, is it not?”

She nodded, jerky and childish.  She restrained the urge to rub one foot over the other.  He still seemed to sense it, and his face relaxed and creased in a small smile.  He gestured for her to come in.  He stood up, tall and straight and so at home here in the walls and open space.  With that small smile still on his face, he offered a spot on the settee nestled against the rough plaster walls.  She settled onto the soft cushions and tucked the ends of her night shirt over her feet, hiding them.  Warming them.  He sat at the other end, too far away to touch, and yet...

Present.

He looked around the room, gazing at the walls with a critical eye.  “I thought I might cover these walls, with your permission, of course.”

His tone was deferential and she wasn't sure she wanted that with him.  “Please, feel free to do whatever you'd like.  You led us here.  I feel like it's more yours than mine.”

The look he gave her was sharp and shrewd, but he didn't say anything.  He merely nodded and looked back at the empty space.

“What will you cover it with?” she asked, small and quiet.

“Your deeds, I think.”

“What do you mean?”

He glanced at her again.  There was again that small smile, creasing the corners of his eyes, tilting his lips in a smirk so easy and comfortable on his face that he nearly looked like someone else entirely.  ���A mural.  Your acts as Inquisitor and Herald.”

“Oh.  I didn't know you painted too.”

“There is much you do not know of me, Inquisitor.”

That title again. She had a name, it was being forgotten.  She didn't know where she fit anymore.  But his tone had changed, it was warmer, inviting.  Her title in his mouth wasn't a distant thing, holding her at arm's length.  It wasn't exactly an endearment, but it felt that way.  “May I sleep here for a little bit?”

“Certainly, if you wish.  I would not have thought you were afraid of things that bump in the night, however.”

“It isn't that...precisely.  I just...”  She took a deep breath and decided to say it.  He might laugh, he might tease, but he might also understand, with his strange way of looking at the world.  “I am unused to being alone.”

“Ahh,” he said. He stood up then and found a blanket.  He draped it over her, the solicitous streak not one she thought she'd get from him.  “I will go back to my reading.  You are welcome to stay as long as you need to.”

She closed her eyes and before long she slept.

***

She walked into the rotunda and found him standing there, staring at the blank walls, a calculating look on his face.  He turned when he heard her approach and a fire lit in his eyes that she didn't quite comprehend. “Inquisitor?”

“I'd love to hear more of your stories, Solas, if you have some time.”

“You continue to surprise me.”  He crossed the space and took her arm gently.  “Let us talk, but somewhere more interesting than this.”

They were in Haven again, with snow falling softly and the silence deep and welcoming. “Why here?”

“Haven is familiar.  It will always be important to you.”  Something in his tone was...off.  But she couldn't place it.

“I suppose that's true,” she replied, following him up the stairs she'd climbed countless times, into the Chantry where she'd spent much of her time hiding from the others who looked sideways at her pointed ears and colorful face.  He led her down into the basement of the church, to the cell where she'd woken.

“I watched over you while you slept, studying the Anchor.”

“How much studying was there to do?”

“Unknown magic in the hand of a mortal who had passed physically through the Fade? More than you might think.  You were a mystery.”  He stopped and looked at her, searched her.  “You still are.”

“Am I?”  She felt breathless under the weight of his stare.  “I don't feel particularly mysterious.  That would be you.”

He chuckled, then stifled it abruptly, turning to leave the dingy cell for the open air again.  They  talked of the Breach, his decision to flee, her tease about where he might go.  His self deprecation.  Her emergence from whatever sleep she'd been in, her appearance at the right time to seal the rifts.

“Solas?  Why were you angry?”

“I'm sorry?”

“When you took my hand and...helped me.  You were so angry.  Why?”

“The Breach threatens the whole world.  How could I not be angry?”  He scoffed lightly, but it was aimed at himself.  “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.  You had sealed it with a gesture.  And right then, I felt the whole world change.”

Her heart clogged her throat.  He was looking at her with such warmth and...affection. She swallowed the lump and aimed a sardonic look at him.  “Felt the whole world change?”

“A figure of speech.”

“I'm aware of the metaphor.  I'm more interested in felt.”  She didn't know where this burst of confidence came from, but she didn't shy from it, advancing on him as he stood in the snow.  He looked helplessly at her.

“You change...everything.”

She didn't stop to think, didn't examine why she might want to.  She simply shook her head at him, bemused.  Turned his jaw towards her as he looked out across the valley of Haven.  “Sweet talker.”

And she kissed him.

It was simple and sweet.  He turned his head to fit, his eyes were closed.  She pulled away, the burst of certainty popping like a bubble.  Had she gone too far?  She moved away from him, not really sure if she should run or just burn up on the spot.  She didn't get very far.  His arms snagged her, pulled her tight to him and he devoured her.  His tongue was slick against hers, his hands demanding she bend and conform to his shape.  His leg was between hers, her hips angled against his.  She held on for dear life, mind blank.

It was over before she knew what had happened, but then he was kissing her again.  As if he couldn't stay away, as if he wanted more and more.  Then he released her in a rush.  “We shouldn't,” he said.  “It isn't right.  Not even here.”

She looked around. They were alone, the town quiet around them.  Too quiet.  Hadn't it burned to the ground?  Wasn't it then buried under an avalanche that she herself had started?  How did they even get here?  This is the Fade, she realized.  “This isn't real.”

He smirked at her. “That's a matter of debate.  Probably best discussed after you wake up.”

***

She opened her eyes.  She was still on the settee in the rotunda and he was at his desk, his head balanced on his fist.  He opened his eyes as she threw back the blanket he'd put on her.  She crossed the room and slid to a stop between him and the table.  She traced the sharp angle of his cheek, the line of his jaw.  His look was wary, as if he knew he'd gone too far in a dream they were both present for.

“I've never done that before,” she whispered.

“Forgive me,” he whispered back.  “The kiss was impulsive and ill-considered and I should not have encouraged it.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.  “You say that, but you were the one who started with tongue.”

“I did no such thing!”  He seemed abashed and she was suddenly delighted.

“Oh?  Does it not count if it's only Fade tongue?”

He sighed and took her hand from his face, although he didn't let it go.  “Things have always been easier for me in the Fade.  I am not sure this is the best idea.  It could lead to trouble.”

“It could,” she agreed.  “But I think it will be worth it.  If reality even comes close to that...”

He chuckled and held their joined hands close to his lips.  “I...I need some time to think.  There are considerations I should make.”

“Take all the time you need,” she said and leaned forward to place her forehead on his, her eyes on his.  “I can wait.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her fingers, still in his grasp.  She felt butterflies in her stomach.  It was quaint and charming and the gleam in his eyes said that he knew it.  “Do you feel better?”

“Much.”  She grinned at him.  “Now I know the only thing to go bump in the night is you.”  

She left him there, his face blank with shock while some good humored cunning lurked around the edges.  She affected more sway in her walk, hoping he was watching.  The castle didn't seem so huge and empty anymore, and she climbed the endless stairs to her chamber with a smile on her face.

[mutantsrisingrpg]

WHO

Name: Jack Mizuno Dossier: Iapetus Age: 30 Mutant Risk Level: Two Affiliation and Occupation: The Blackburn Syndicate, Informant Gender/Pronouns: Cis male, he/him Faceclaim: Sen Mitsuji 

POWER

INTERNET MANIPULATION: The ability to access and manipulate the internet. Mutants with this ability can access everything from the internet, its protocols, its structure, the dark net, communication, data transfer, and even the electricity running through the wires that connect to devices. Jack can hack into and view classified information with ease due to years of honing their ability. If they are hacking into the Internet of Things, that which connects all devices, mutants are practically unstoppable with what they can access unless a device is not connected. 

AESTHETIC

They are monitors caked in layers of smoke, wires twisting underneath door frames, and ring shaped stains on every surface. They are deleted files and digital paper trails and eyes watching your every keystroke. The cold stare that greets you in a freshly pressed suit, the light reflecting off of their shoes as they pace the outskirts of a room. They are the mist that wakes before dawn and the neon haze that lurks in alleyways when the clock ticks closer to the night. They are the one who knows your deepest secrets and won’t think twice about telling the world. 

BIOGRAPHY

(cw: neglect, violence, addiction, drugs, suicidal ideation)

Jack’s power had started as a party trick.

It was the first time he’d been invited to a sleepover. The other boy’s parents probably felt bad for him, the kid with no mom and no friends and an always-absent father, but the specifics didn’t matter much. He’d been hungry for their attention, anyone’s attention, and when the opportunity was given to him he intended to leave an impression. Do you have a computer room? There’s something you should see. He’d rested one hand on the mouse, one on the keyboard, scowling-serious like the hackers he’d seen on TV. The posture was more for the visual than anything else; he wasn’t going to need to press a single key tonight. Give me a name. Someone you hate.

One brush of his thumb against a wire, and the screen flickered a hundred colors. Garbled words and images, resolving into a series of personal photos, emails meant for someone else’s eyes. A social security card. A private world cracked open for him, as easy as asking please.

It was the last time he’d let anyone watch him work. The other kids had looked at him in horror, his still hands, the blank look on his face. Blank as the static on a broken TV, or the waxy face of a corpse. Freak. Mutant. It didn’t bother him— other people’s opinions rarely bothered him— but it made the reveal less effective. Distracted from the point, which was: Look what I can do. And, more importantly: What can you give me for it?

Jack had been glad when they'd moved states not long after. Moving every few months was mostly an annoyance, but it did give him an unlimited supply of second chances at first impressions. By his teens, he’d perfected his routine. Cash for information. Blackmail, answers to tests, access to any secret. Any question answered, for the right price. Even if he had nothing to spend the money on but video games, candy, cigarettes and (eventually) drugs, whatever— it was the power that got to him, the real fun of the exchange. Before long his clientele had expanded from his fellow students to the local teachers. Then their friends. Then, a more dangerous kind of customer. More dangerous friends. If his father noticed his new schedule of late-night outings, he never mentioned it. Richard Mizuno had never been much of a parent, coming and going with no notice, sometimes for weeks on end. When they were sleeping in the same house, he didn’t seem to notice Jack’s movements around him at all.

Jack got caught when he was fifteen. A client looking for dirt on a cheating spouse recognized him, his dark hair, those blank eyes. Hey, aren’t you Mizuno’s kid? It was inevitable, running in circles adjacent to criminals, that he’d eventually run into someone who knew his own criminal father. Rich was a small-time con man and a big-time gambler. What money he made never lasted long in his pockets; it was rare that he made more than he lost, and outrunning his debts had been what kept them on the move through Jack’s childhood. That evening, his father called him into the kitchen and passed him a cigarette over the cheap plastic table where they’d never eaten a meal together. That evening, his father looked at him with interest for the first time in his life.

Once again his ability was a party trick, this time for his father’s benefit. Something to show off to strangers in the back rooms of clubs and anonymous private basements. Look what I found on you. Imagine what I could find on your enemies. Blackmail was a dirty business, but it paid better than the various scams his father had been working through the years. Pretty soon, they were making good money, more in a week than they’d previously seen in months. For the first time, they signed an actual lease on an apartment. He swapped out his Craigslist bed frame for one from Ikea. Soon, all Jack’s evenings were spent scowling in corners, the prop for his father’s grand reveal, and his mornings were spent sleeping through classes. He didn’t need to be present for the actual deals, but his dad liked leaving an impression, and silent boy genius hacker was a pretty memorable one.

That routine lasted nearly three years. The Mizunos made a name for themselves as the ones who could get dirt on anyone, anytime, and bore no strict alliances; it was more lucrative that way. Their reputation began to precede them. Even at a young age, Jack knew enough about the world— enough from watching his father, and the men who came after him— to know it could never end well. Inevitably, his dad made a gamble on the wrong person, and got a bullet in the head for his trouble. Jack took what was left of their money and ran as far as he could run, all the way to the opposite coast, into the familiar arms of an anonymous face and an unfamiliar town.

In another life, that would have been his lesson to take a sharp right turn and set down some more legitimate roots. As it was, he’d spent his years honing his abilities, learning how to control them and sell them to the highest bidder. The money was too easy, the satisfaction of a new impossible puzzle cracked— it was addictive, all-encompassing. Where most people only accessed a trickle of information at a time, their own personal corner of infinity, Jack bathed in it.  All the world’s secrets at his fingertips, if he did things right, if he kept at it. Every puzzle had its solution. He could have anything and everything in the world he could want, and at that moment all he wanted was more.

He was so cocky. Cocky, and empty, and often bored. Sometimes high. It was a dangerous combination. First, he got run out of New York with his life, just barely. He’d bet on the wrong person, someone who knew that all it took to get him to do something was telling him he couldn’t. Nothing more attractive than a locked door and a challenge. Nothing better than proving someone wrong. Next stop, Chicago, where he hadn’t fallen into old habits as much as his only habits. It started with some high-powered mutant at a house party, looking him up and down with a raised brow— This guy? Really?— and it was like he lost his fucking mind. People could call him any name in the books and he wouldn’t bat a pretty eyelash, but questioning his abilities set him off like a rabid dog, what little common sense he had disappearing behind a smirk. All the mutant had to do was cock his head and ask, Can you? And Jack had said, Try me.

Jack would show them. He would show everyone in the entire world if he had to. And that was how he’d found himself on the wrong side of the Blackburn Syndicate.

CONNECTIONS

LENOX SYED, Annoyance: There’s nothing that annoys Jack more than dealing with the illusion maker. While they live in their own world filled with screens, they’re plagued by the illusion Lenox inserts into their brain. If it was up to them, they would send one of Alma’s bruiser’s after them but this peace treaty has them holding back from their own desire. One of these days they’ll get their revenge. 

ILIE LACEY, Target: While there are some that claim too much time spent in front of screens is bad for your health, Jack will disagree. In their spare time, they found a treasure trove of information on the Ilie. It almost seemed too good to be true but after digging a little deeper, they realized just how much of a hold they could have over the other mutant. Seeing the other dance around to whatever whim Jack throws at them all for the sake of saving their ego is entertaining. And as much fun as it is to have them under Jack’s watchful eye, they can feel themselves growing bored of the game.

RAHIM AVERY, Amusement: The grimace that crosses Rahim’s face whenever they have to enter Jack’s space is enough to make them smile. They’re aware of the others distaste of them, not that Jack is keen on Rahim, but it’s fun to play with them while they're forced to work together. The thought of diving in their past is a temptation itching at the back of Jack’s mind and each day it gets harder to ignore it. 

ALMA ROSARIO, Salvation: It wasn’t Jack’s best idea to hack into the Blackburn servers. In fact, it was their dumbest one to date. They accepted the job without thinking twice about the repercussions, the money was too good to be true and they had grown tired of living in alleys. That was until one of Alma’s bruisers dragged them out by their hair and threw them in front of her. She gave Jack two choices: either work for her or never work again. She gave them what they lacked; a home, a job, a support system. Alma saved them from being another mutant statistic and they won’t forget it.

IAPETUS is CLOSED for applications. He is taken by NOEL.

[lefilmdujour]

Svetat e golyam i spasenie debne otvsyakade / Stefan Komandarev / Bulgaria, Slovenia, Germany and Italy / 2008

[thegreenfairy13]

His Demon

They're all entangled. Tied together, bound and knotted, the criminals and the heroes of Gotham. There's no need for heroes without a monster lurking in the corner.

Jim has made his choice a long time ago, on the docks when he decided his personal ghoul must live.

And now he's got his own unholy devil. His demon screeches, grits his teeth and offers deals over deals. He's cunning and mesmerising, dressed in silk, velvet and fur and he limps and taps his cane. The devil has one hoof for a leg, his mother told him once. Jim knows she's been right.

Satan is clever. He doesn't disguise himself as a big, black hound. No, he's a Penguin - seemingly innocent but watch out! For this Penguin the world is one big fish.

Jim is back to arguing with him again. The devil is oh so clever. The deals he's making don't devour the detective's soul. Not the whole thing at least and not everything at once. Instead, he devours him one ensy weensy bit by bit. Until one day, there won't be anything left of the man James Gordon used to be: an honest man, a just man, a man who honoured the law.

The King of Gotham smiles benevolently. It's all teeth and wisdom and full of mockery and lacking any warmth.

Jim smiles back. He's about to chip off another piece of his being.

It's just a small favor, a tiny debt the demon has come to collect. The detective wants to strangle the enticing creature. He wants to slam it into the ground, destroy that pale face that seems to be carved from marble.

He leans close. Closer. Until he can feel the other man's breath hot on his face.

Oswald's eyes are blown wide. Usually, they are sharp and calculating but now they are anxious. Jim smirks.

It had been in front of him the entire time. The solution to all of his problems. Jim knows now what the devil wants. Wanted all the time.

The detective leans forward, presses feather light kisses along this long, beautifully curved line of a neck. He sucks experimentally at a prominent collar bone. His Oswald is suddenly breathing very rapidly. Jim can hear his heart beating - fast as the wing beats of a hummingbird.

He catches the deadly demon when his knees buckle, presses him firmly against the wall and observes in ecstasy how the man who rules the entire city becomes oh so obediently under his touch. He's drunk on the power that rushes through him - and they haven't even kissed yet.

He then pushes Oswald's legs apart, cages him between his heavy body and the wall, taking the next step to his own salvation.

His tongue tastes wine and cigars and a hint of blood from the dry lips the gangster has been chewing on all day.

Oswald moans and writhes, gasps under Jim's touch and presses closer, demanding more.

The policeman pulls back. The lack of warmth and touch is almost painful, the lust almost overwhelming and the love, the love, crunches his heart so tightly he nearly can't breathe.

Yet still he pulls back. Gives his demon just so little although he wants him to have his entire soul. If Oswald just offer, if he'd just offer the right thing.

Yet, Jim turns around, leaves.

Until he'll give his demon his next part. And the next one after that.

[nyangibun]

Day 2: Remember

For @jonxsansafanfiction Day 2 - Comic Book/Graphic Novel Couples

Summary: It takes him seventy years to realise he’s in love with her and she’s no longer the girl he once knew. They’re both different now, fighting on different sides, him as Captain America and her as the ruthless Winter Soldier, but Jon refuses to believe this isn’t his Sansa and he’ll do whatever it takes to reach her. 

It has been seventy years since he crash landed in the Arctic, seventy years since he’s seen a familiar face, and although the technological advancements of the twenty-first century are something to marvel over, Jon doesn’t feel particularly that impressed by it. New York is harsher than he remembers, colder in a way that the war never brought out; people are always rushing from one place to another, shoving and yelling at each other without a modicum of respect. His New York wasn’t perfect, Jon knows this, and he remembers the injustices and the cruelty that lurked at every corner, but he misses the community. He misses his mum, though she died years before he ever even enlisted in the war, but most of all, he misses the Starks. Great big overprotective Robb, tough little Arya, kind and smart Bran and young baby Rickon.

But of course… her. Oh, he misses her like a bird longs for flight. In a way, the comparison is apt. She was his freedom, her smile his salvation and her eyes his home.

They hadn’t always been as close as they were. Sansa was different to the Starks. She longed for a life on the stage, to be front and centre, dancing and twirling batons to help lift the spirits of the troops overseas. It was her way of giving back, she always said. Jon never liked the idea, only so much as he didn’t like the idea of Sansa ever being anywhere near the line of duty, but once that girl sets her mind to something, she always does it.

It was a source of contention between them for much of their childhood. At first, Jon couldn’t understand why she would want to be a dancer. He was a stubborn ass though, so this wasn’t news; he simply couldn’t see how a dancing troupe could affect the war positively in any way. She should’ve been more like Arya, raring to fight alongside the men and doing her damndest to do so. That was true bravery in his eyes. But then that all changed.

Jon was walking home from the recruitment centre, rejected again for the umpteenth time for being medically unfit, when he came across a group of known bullies ragging on some poor kid only an inch shorter than Jon himself. The rage was abrupt, curling and roiling inside of him, and he had his hands in fists before he even stepped off the pavement. But a second later, Jon realised he didn’t have to. A sweet voiced called out, sharp and soft but no less demanding.

“Why don’t you boys pick on someone your own size, huh?” Sansa stepped up to the three large brutes. Jon felt his hackles rise, a deep, surprising need to protect her surging forward.

But she was smiling and it seemed to soften the blow as the three boys merely appraised her, taking in the curve of her hips, emphasised by the cinched waist of her dress. “This is America, dollface. We gotta show we’re tough. Letting these tweeds walk around while the rest are fighting ain’t good. You understand.”

Sansa’s smile tightened. “What I understand is you aren’t out there fighting either, so I suggest you go on get yourself enlisted before the girls around here find out you’re all cowards.”

“Hey, who said we haven’t! We were just –”

“I’m not saying anything,” Sansa interrupted with a pretty arch of her brow. She walked up to the one clearly in charge and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Big boys like you will surely do us all proud, right?”

Within seconds, Sansa had all three boys eating out of the palm of her hands before they all went scurrying away to prove their worth somewhere else. Almost as soon as they were gone, she hurried to kneel beside the younger boy and propped a hand behind his head.

“Hey, hey,” she murmured. “Are you alright there? Gosh, I’m so sorry about them. They’re mean ones. If my brother was home, he would’ve…” Sansa stopped abruptly and inhaled sharply, whilst shaking her head. “You remind me of someone, you know? Real tough guy too.”

The boy, barely a year or two older than Bran, sniffled and shook his head. “I’m not tough, miss.”

After getting the boy to sit up, Sansa inclined her head and smiled, genuinely now. “What? Looked like you were being mighty tough from where I was.” She gave a soft chuckle. “It’s easy to answer life with violence. It’s harder to weather its beatings.”

The boy looked doubtful as he wiped at his bloodied nose, the sleeve of his shirt coming away crimson and wet.

“Trust me,” Sansa said, helping him stand. “That someone I know? He’s real brave, just like you. Gets into more fights than you’d believe but he keeps going, you know? Keeps on getting up, putting up his fists like he knows what to do with ‘em. Real dumbass too, but… brave.”

That was him… Wasn’t it?

Jon couldn’t understand it. Never in his years of knowing the Starks had Sansa ever really spoken to him and yet she… admired him? It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. And with a clouded mind and a conflicted heart, Jon walked away that day, trying to reconcile this image of snobby Sansa Stark with the one he had just witnessed.

He started being nicer to her, saying little things, complimenting her, and she started reciprocating with teasing jabs at this or that. When Robb came home on leave, as the three eldest of the group, they went to the Carnival together – well, Jon, Sansa, Robb and his new girl, Margaery. It was there that Jon really became friends with her. It was hard not to form a bond after being ditched by her brother for the rest of the night and even harder for him not to grow attached to the eldest Stark daughter. Sansa was more than what people saw, more than just a pretty face and a soft voice with bright-eyed dreams; she was tough, smart and observant. She understood people in a way Jon never could.

Looking back on it now, Jon thinks he misses that part of Sansa the most.

Actually, that’s a lie. He misses every part of her, every inch of her soul, and if he has to burn the world to ash just to hear her laugh one more time, Jon thinks he might just do it.

It’s why he hesitates. There in Washington amidst the rubble and chaos of HYDRA soldiers firing at his people, Jon stops and he stares, and god, he thinks his heart has stopped beating completely, because standing in front of him is Sansa. Her hair is still as bright as copper; her eyes as blue as the summer sky; but now she is dressed in black with a metal arm and she’s glaring at him like she has no idea who he is.

“Sansa?”

Her brows furrow and she lets out a deep growl. “Who the hell is Sansa?”

It doesn’t make sense. He saw her die. He saw her fall. When HYDRA attacked their base, Jon’s first thought wasn’t to his brothers of the Howling Commandos, it was to the dancing troupe still there. He had grabbed Sansa and took her with him, determined that no matter what happens, she’ll live. She has to. She’s too important to this world to die. And yet he had failed her. He watches her every night falling to her death in his dreams, watches as her face contorts with fear, anger and loathing before the light blinks out from her eyes. He failed her and… now, she’s here? How? Why?

It’s a question that haunts him day in and day out. It’s what fuels him to dismantle HYDRA and take down the helicarriers. And it is what stops him from laying one hand on her. He won’t touch her; he won’t hurt her. If she wants to kill him, she very well can. He more than deserves it.

“I’m not going to fight you, Sansa,” he says through a mouthful of blood as her fists continue to ram into his face. It’s hard to fathom this is the same girl that cried for a week straight when her dog got run over by a car or the same girl that stayed by Bran’s side for months on end when his accident left him paralysed from the waist down. The gentle, compassionate Sansa of his past is not the same as the one before him, but she’s still his Sansa somewhere in there and he would never hurt her.

“Stop calling me that!” she yells but he sees the warring emotions in her eyes and her fists still. “I’m not… I don’t know who that is!”

“Yes, you do!” He grabs her fists gently and pulls her closer. Sansa falls onto his chest, her legs still straddling his hip. “Look at me, you know me. We grew up together. In Brooklyn? Remember?”

“No!” she spits out as she tries to pull her fists away but it’s half-hearted. He knows because she’s punched him into a car only days before, so she definitely has the strength.

“You do, you do and that’s why you don’t want to hurt me,” Jon continues on, pushing harder than he ought to. “You’re Sansa Stark. You have three brothers, Robb, Bran and Rickon. And a sister named Arya. You once owned a dog you named Lady. You used to put bow ties around her ears.”

Her eyes glaze over. She’s looking through him like she’s seeing something there, a memory perhaps, and it fills him with hope. She’s remembering. She has to be…

“Jon!” crackles a voice from some overhead PA system. “You gotta get that chip in place!”

Immediately, Sansa’s eyes return to their previous icy glare and she yanks her hands away from his forcefully. “NO!” she screams at him as she brings her hand back to punch again, but Jon is too quick, he curses himself as he throws her off him. He doesn’t want to hurt her and he’ll never lay a hand on her, but he has to get the chip in or millions will die.

Jon snorts humourlessly to himself as he races up the helicarrier to insert the chip. The greater good – it’s what he’s always operated towards and it’s what got Sansa killed.

But Jon doesn’t have time to reflect on much after that, the helicarrier explodes and he’s flung from the wreckage into the river below. He doesn’t remember much of what happens next but he wakes up on the muddy bank, and for the second time that day, he feels hope. There’s only one person who could’ve reached him that quickly and pulled him to shore. She remembers him.

When the world goes on the hunt for the Winter Soldier after the bomb killed dozens of diplomats at the Vienna International Centre, Jon realises he has to get there first. If they catch Sansa, they’ll kill her and he knows it isn’t her. He’s been tracking her since the Triskelion, or at least trying to, and he knows that at least for that day, Sansa had been nowhere near Vienna. Last he heard, she was in Romania, and so he gets on a jet and heads there with Tormund in tow and Val’s voice in his ear saying this is a bad idea. But he doesn’t care. He’s just had to bury Ygritte, a woman he loved, and he’s not about to do the same with Sansa.

The fight that ensues is familiar, reminiscent of the one down in Washington, yet he’s fighting with her instead of against her and it feels… right. Jon’s never been in any situation where Sansa ever had to fight anyone back in their past, aside from that one time she slapped Margaery in the face for not showing up to Robb’s funeral, but it still feels like this is where he belongs. Too bad the combined superhuman strength and speed of both Captain America and the Winter Soldier isn’t enough to thwart the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre operatives (and some man named Grey Worm in a cat outfit). It does allow Jon time to try to speak some sense into his friends, plead with Daenerys and Val and the rest of them that Sansa isn’t bad, and that the real Sansa is still in there somewhere. It’s to no use though. Daenerys is adamant that Sansa is a threat, and though she commiserates with Jon, the fact is the world needs a scapegoat for Vienna and the Sokovia Accords still need to happen.

It’s a relief to him when Sansa manages to get loose. Tormund and Jon easily grab her and take her from the building, hiding her away in a basement like some shameful prisoner of war, but he hopes she knows that’s not what she is. He just wants her back; he needs her back.

“Give us a minute,” Jon says quietly to Tormund.

The redheaded man looks incredulously back. “What? You do realise your girlfriend just tore through dozens of highly trained operatives and the Black Widow and… that Cat person, right?”

“His name is Grey Worm,” Jon sighs. “And she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Jon.”

“Tormund, please. One minute,” he pleads now. He’s not above grovelling at this point, but he has to try again to get through to her.

“Fine. You’ve got one minute,” the other man huffs before leaving the room.

Sansa looks up at the click of the door, her eyes a little glassy and unfocused. Jon quickly strides across the room to kneel before her, probably too close for Tormund’s sanity of mind, but he doesn’t care. “Hey, are you okay?”

She snorts and lifts her wrists where the handcuffs jingle against the metal barrier. “Do I look okay?”

Jon smiles. “I’m sorry. You can understand why we had to… you know.” She shrugs and looks away from him. “Sansa, do you remember me?”

For a long second, she doesn’t answer and Jon starts to worry that Tormund will burst on through before she gets a chance to reply, but then finally, she says, “I remember… voices, images. That’s it.”

“But you remember my voice? My image?”

Sansa’s brows furrow forward. “Yes, but… you were smaller. Not you like this.” She jerks her head towards him.

“I was smaller,” Jon laughs, relieved and elated. “Before the experiment.”

At the word, Sansa tenses and she begins to breathe heavily. Jon immediately goes to cup her face in his hands, forgetting for a moment that this isn’t the Sansa of his past and this isn’t some anxiety attack he can soothe like he used to do for her, but this Sansa does soften at his touch and suddenly, his heart is racing as he realises something.

“Do you trust me not to hurt you?”

Sansa catches his eye and frowns. “I don’t know. I want to say yes, but… I don’t know.”

“I’ll never hurt you, Sansa,” he whispers, his thumb gently grazing over her cheekbone. “As long as I can help it.” She sighs, but nods. “So I’m going to tell you something and I’m going to do something and I’m going to need you to promise not to punch me for it.”

“I…” She sighs again. “I promise.”

Inhaling deeply, Jon braces himself because he should’ve realised this sooner, seventy years ago in fact, but if this isn’t a second chance sent from the gods themselves then he really is a delusional idiot. “Sansa,” he starts softly. “A long, long time ago, we used to be friends. Best friends, actually. We told each other everything; we were always there for one another. And maybe that’s why I never realised it but I do now.”

“Realise what?” Sansa asks, her eyes full of curiosity and it reminds him so much of the girl he used to know that his heart clenches at the sight.

“That I love you,” Jon confesses. “Not as a friend. I love you. Gods, if our world wasn’t so topsy turvy, I’d say I want to marry, grow old with you, have kids with you, but I don’t think that’s in our future.” He shakes his head. “All I do know is I love you and I’ve loved you for over seventy years.”

With those last words, Jon leans forward, bridging the gap between their lips, and pressing firmly against her. He doesn’t do much more than that; he doesn’t want to overwhelm her; but when he pulls away, he hears her sharp inhale of breath and he hopes that that’s a good sign.

Sansa’s eyes flutter before they open fully to stare at him. Her cheeks are flushed and she looks so beautiful despite the ragged clothes hanging off her body and the matted hair sticking to her forehead. “I don’t remember,” she says.

“I know.”

“Didn’t you expect me to remember?” Sansa asks, confused. He shakes his head and her confusion grows. “Then… why?”

“Because if we die tomorrow, I just need you to know,” Jon answers. “I don’t want to wait another seventy years to tell you again, Sans.”

She nods, staying painfully quiet. Tormund’s heavy footsteps echo in the corridor outside and they have only a few seconds left alone. Jon was resigned to this torturous fate when Sansa jerks forward and kisses him soundly on the lips. She’s more insistent now, more demanding and Jon isn’t ashamed to admit he lets a low groan make its way from deep in his throat.

“I want to remember,” she whispers, just as Tormund bursts into the room.

“Alright, lovebirds!” he booms. “Time to go kick ass and take names!”

Jon doesn’t know about that, but he knows in that moment that he would burn the world to ashes if it meant saving her. 

[i-am-the-sage]

The Joker Manor

(AN: Here you guys go! Down below is a link to an up to date master list also a link to my Ko-fi account. If you want to help my big move to LA feel free to donate, but PLEASE do not feel like you have to. I apologize for how long it took to post this update. I put page breaks where there is a time jump. Enjoy my lovelies💕)

Trigger warning - violence 

Masterlist

Ko-Fi

A loud crash woke Iris from her deep slumber, her body still ached from the night before. The sound of something crashing in the main part of the building woke her from her deep slumber. Climbing out of the bed she tip toed over to the door, pressing her ear against it she listened straining her ears. 

Reaching down she tried the knob. It was unlocked. As soon as she opened the door another crash came from the other side, accompanied by a scream cut short. She rushed out of the room; looking left to right the hall was clear. Iris walked over to the railing and peered over the edge. Lying in the middle of the marble floor was a man, blood pooling around his body, dying his white suit crimson. His eyes were wide open in shock, staring at ceiling; mouth opening and closing as he gasped for breath.

Above her the sound of a door crashing open startled her. She looked up and saw a pistol appear over the edge pointing straight at the man. To avoid being seen or shot, Iris jumped back against the wall.

A single shot rang out.

Iris waited for another shot but it never came. She crept back to the railing and looked up; the pistol was gone. Looking down she saw that the pool of the man’s blood had grown, he wasn't moving. 

‘Holy shit!’

Terrified she turned to run and hide in her room when she saw Frost making his way toward her. Unsure of what to do, she stood still and waited for him to say something. He stopped in front of her folding his hands in front of him.

“Boss says you're free to walk around. Just don’t try to run, we’ll catch you.” Iris nodded once in understanding. He was down the hall before she looked up again.Iris heard the doors above her slam again and there was only the sound of busy work downstairs.

Curious, Iris peered over the railing again and saw some of The Joker’s goons already cleaning up the mess. They dragged him out of the front door a trail of blood in the body’s wake. Others began to mop up what was left of the man’s blood on the floor.

Apart from the shock of a man dying in front of her, her stomach grumbled deeply. Iris realized that she hadn't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon. During the masquerade her main focus was on the champagne, then she was kidnapped by The Joker. In addition she had no clue what time it was

‘How long was I out?’ 

She caught a whiff of something delicious in the air. She glanced around sniffing the air, she followed the scent down the hall like a bloodhound. Iris hugged the wall closely, trying not to be seen by any of the men running around downstairs. She pranced down the stairs and around the corner, hot on the trail. Soon she found herself standing in the doorway to an extravagant and top of the line kitchen. Looking around every appliance was expensive and shined to perfection.

In the middle of the kitchen was a young man flipping pancakes in a skillet and working on scrambled eggs on a different burner. He moved quickly, placing the finished pancakes on a plate next to the stove top. He moved the plate to the island behind him and turned his attention back to the eggs.

‘I half expected The Joker to be in here.’

Finished with the eggs, he picked up the pan and slid them onto the plate with the perfectly brown pancakes. He glanced up from the plate and saw Iris standing there watching him. 

“This is for you.” He said simply, picking up the plate and silverware. Setting it down at the breakfast nook, he turned expectantly towards her, raising his eyebrows. Iris scurried over and sat down in front of the plate of hot food. He walked away, seconds later he set a glass of juice and maple syrup in front of her.

“Eat. It’ll be my ass on the line if you don’t.” He walked away, leaving her alone in the kitchen. She picked up the fork and knife and cut into her fluffy pancakes. Once it was all chopped up, she poured a heavy helping of syrup over them and tore into the eggs as the pancakes soaked up all of the sweetness. While she was eating, her eyes traveled around the kitchen finally falling on the stove’s clock.

2:30pm

“I slept all day?” Iris looked down at what was left of her food. 

‘Did he drug me again.’ 

She took one last bite of her breakfast - lunch and left the kitchen. She wandered around the building aimlessly. Stopping in the middle of the foyer, she looked down; where the man landed it seemed as if it never happened. Continuing on, she walked through an archway leading into what seemed to be a living area. A plasma screen TV hung on the wall above a very stylish sitting area.

To the left, a door cracked open caught her attention. Bright lights spilled out into the living area. Cautiously she walked toward it, looking around to make sure none of the goons were lurking behind any corners. She pushed the door open a little more and poked her head inside.

It was a training room. The walls were made of stacked cobblestone, one wall covered entirely in reflective mirrors. There were large displays covered in an assortments of weapons. Exercise equipment stood in the respective places. She walked over and picked up a large hunting knife.

‘This must be where his goons train…’

Iris ran her finger along the serrated edge of the blade.

“The hell are you doing in here?” She dropped the knife and it hit the floor with a pound clank. Turning, she didn't find The Joker standing there but some man she’d never seen before. 

“Oh, I-I’m sorry I didn't mean to…” Frantically she picked up the blade and put it back on its stand. When she turned back around, he was much closer than before. The tall man looked Iris up and down.

“Swing it at me.” He said nodding at the blade. Iris looked between him and the display of weapons beside her. 

“I-I can’t” She took a step back.

“You’re going to have to learn sooner or later. Now, pick it up and swing at me.” He said forcefully.

“No, I can’t do that.” Iris’ voice began to shake. She tried to walk around the man and leave the room but he grabbed her shoulders and threw her down. She hit the floor, bumping against the stand of knives. Many of the blades clattered on the floor, barely missing her.

“What the fuck—“ She was cut short when his foot connected full force with her stomach.  Iris doubled over in pain, and tried her best to get away from her assaulter. Iris pushed away from the ground with all her strength, stumbling, she slipped on the knives falling into the display. The man stepped over the display and bared down on her.

With on arm wrapped protectively around her stomach, Iris struggled to get away. He reached down and grabbed a handful of her shirt, instinctively Iris dug her nails into his arm trying to force him away. Instead he pulled his arm away and punched her square in the jaw. He let her fall to the ground, blood dripping from her mouth. 

The man knelt down above her. Iris tried to fight him off, clawing at him in any way possible. He grabbed her arms, placing one underneath his knee and holding the other one in place with his foot. No matter how hard she fought, there was no escaping. His hand caressed her cheek.

“Such a pretty face.” He began to rain down blows. Iris cried out with each hit. She bucked her knee forward, landing a clean blow at his crotch. He doubled over and rolled off of her. Taking advantage, she crawled away. 

Straight ahead was the open door and her salvation. She felt a strong grip on her ankles as she was pulled far away from the door. He picked her up by the shirt and tossed her into the closest wall. Iris hit the wall and was immediately kicked in her stomach a few times. He took her chin and forced her to look at him, with a sly smile he punched her once more. The punch forced her head onto the ground making everything seem fuzzy.

Iris laid on the floor gasping for breath, hot tears mixing with her blood oozing from the her mouth, nose and cuts covering her face. She sobbed uncontrollably. Her eye began to swell, obscuring her vision but she could see the man leaving the training room.

The door shut and the lights shut off.

Faintly she could hear footsteps in the room again. She squinted when the lights turned back on although she couldn't tell who it was. Iris cowered away, trying her best to sink into the floor and avoid further pain. She pleaded as she felt different sets of hands on her; instead of hurting her, they picked her up and carried her out of the room. Before her world went dark, she could see The Joker standing near by watching, a huddled figure at his feet.

When Iris woke, she was lying in a bed hooked up to an IV bag and a  couple of monitors. The Joker was standing at the foot of the bed staring at her. Seeing that she was finally awake he sauntered over to her side and sat in a chair. He seemed calm and unbothered as he stared at her.

Iris’ eyes burned with the threat of tears as she tried to comprehend what she had done to provoke the man. It pained her to move, let alone blink. She stared back at him with bloodshot eyes until the door opened and a man in a doctor’s coat walked in, a visible film of sweat coated his forehead. He looked over Iris once, barely touching her and then checked the machine and IVs that she was hooked up to. 

“The time that she was asleep sped along the healing process greatly, but she is still very weak. Are you sure you want to do this?” He gulped looking across the bed at The Joker. Iris glanced over at him; his eyes boring into the doctor but he remained silent.

Iris looked back to the doctor and saw him take out a small briefcase and placed it on the bed next to her. Inside was a small vile of clear liquid and sterile needle. Snapping his gloves on, he proceeded to fill the needle with the suspicious liquid, looking very nervous.

“What is that?” Iris said, become more uneasy as the doctor looked more and more unsettled. Without looking at her he stuck the needle into the IV bag and injected its entire contents into it, his hands shaking violently. Still avoiding eye contact he packed up the used needle and closed the briefcase, preparing to leave.

“Hey! What did you just d—“ She was cut off by an agonizing ripple of pain that shot through her arm. The machines she was hooked up to began to beep like crazy. Iris screamed as it scorched through her entire body with every beat of her heart. Instinctively she went to pull the IV out of her arm but found it impossible; The Joker held her arm down, preventing her from doing anything. Her back arched off of the bed as another wave hit her, mouth agape in a silent howl of anguish. The pain swelled to an unimaginable size causing her body to shut down.

Iris went limp, lying broken in the middle of the bed. Her body tangled in the blankets. Her breath came in quick shallow bursts, eyes roaming wild behind their closed lids. With each wave of pain she cringed, folding in on herself unconsciously. Joker sighed, rolling his eyes and let her go of her arm. Leaving her.

When Iris woke up, she was still in the bed. She tried to sit up but her body ached and refused to move. She looked down and saw that her left forearm was bandaged, her blood beginning to seep through the cloth. The monitors that she was hooked up to were back to normal and her IV was completely empty. Her mouth was as dry as the desert and her lips were incredibly chapped.

‘Water…’

She was alone in the room. There was a bathroom connected to the bedroom. Iris forced herself to roll out of the bed; the sheets were wet with her sweat causing them to stick to her. She fell out of the bed, the impact felt like every bone in her body shattered. The IV fell away from her and yanked the needle out of her arm. Still determined, she crawled around the bed and made her way for the bathroom. 

The tile in the bathroom was cool and welcoming to her overheated body. She tried to pull herself up to the counter to turn on the faucet but she was too weak, instead she crawled over to the bathtub and leaned over the edge of it. Turning the knob, a waterfall poured out of the faucet. She cupped her hands under the cold water and brought it to her mouth. The water rushed into her mouth, past her chapped lips, providing instant relief. Iris filled her hands again and slapped it to her mouth a couple more times gulping down the water. When she had her fill she collapsed on the floor, the front of her shirt utterly soaked. The energy it took for her to get to the bathroom exhausted her. She lay on the bathroom floor trying to catch her breath. Just then she heard the sound of shoes clicking across the floor. Soon she was face to face with the green haired menace, who seemed unbelievably annoyed.

“I-I was thirsty…” She stammered, still short of breath. She was afraid of what he might do, he seemed angry that she was in the bathroom but he was impossible to read. Iris didn't have the strength to fight with him or muster up an explanation. Sighing, she just accepted her fate. 

Without a word, Joker picked her up and carried her back into the bedroom, placing her on the bed. Immediately Iris rolled off of it and landed on the ground. She looked up over the edge of the bed and stared at him, if he didn't look annoyed before he looked absolutely livid now. 

“Its still wet.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“I’m not sleeping in a wet bed!” She stood tall, finding her strength, steeling herself underneath his intimidating gaze. Iris began to strip the bed and the pillows of their dressings. The Joker stood there staring at her. 

Iris looked up from her work and threw one of the pillows in his face. The small amount of force it took to chuck the pillow was all the strength she had left. Feeling light headed and weak she used the bed to ease herself down onto the floor. 

The Joker walked over and picked her up by her arms, hugging them tight to her body. He set her down on her feet and let go, instantly Iris dropped again, catching herself on The Joker. She held onto him, the warmth of his body and his strength was inviting, his scent intoxicating. 

‘What the hell am I doing?’ 

Iris pushed him away, instead of him moving, she fell backwards. Joker grabbed her wrists and pulled her close. 

“L-let me go!” She said, part of her didn't want him to let her go. As she was about to give in to her own temptations she fell to the floor. 

“You said let go.” Joker said laughing, a sadistic smile spread across his face. Iris was angry and then realized where she was. Her eyes traveled from his smile straight down to his crotch. 

‘Perfect’

Iris looked at The Joker through her eyelashes, he had the same look as the night in his office. Biting her lip she sat up on her knees, keeping eye contact with him. Flashing her most innocent sexy smirk she slid her hand up the length of his leg, ready to force him into submission.

‘Mom always said the best way to control a man is through his pants.’

“Boss its time!” Frost barged through the doors. Her hands inches away.

‘You can’t be serious.’ 

Iris rolled her eyes and sat back down. Moments later The Joker and Frost were gone and the cook walked in with a tray. 

“What is that?” She said, picking herself up off the floor, realizing just how exhausted she was. 

“Its soup. Doc says only liquids. You’ve been out for a few days.” Placing the tray down on the edge of the bed he began to leave the room.

“Whoa, wait a minute. Its only been a couple of hours.” Iris stood up with a start, becoming light headed and fell against the wall. The cook didn't pay her any mind.

“I said wait! What happened!?” She pushed herself away from the wall and towards him. She caught him before he could open the door, blocking his exit. Roughly, he pushed her out of the way and onto the floor. 

“What happened!? I said tell me!” Iris moved her leg in front of the door desperate for answers. Surely it had only been a couple of hours. Quickly she got up and lunged at the man, trying to keep him away from the door. Before she could grab him, he took hold of her left arm. Iris screamed in pain and he threw her away into the wall. The wrappings on her arm came undone and revealed her forearm, which looked like it had been ripped up by an animal.

“What is this? I want answers!” But the man left and slammed the door behind him. Iris jumped up, stumbling and followed him out the door. There was no one to be seen in the hallway. 

‘What the fuck…’ Iris limped back into the room and closed the door behind her. She leaned against the door, eyeing the tray of food that was left on the bed. She was lost in watching the steam waft up from the bowl when there was a sharp knock at the door. Iris jumped at the noise.

“Who is it?” She said quietly, turning and pushing against the door. 

“Its the doctor.” 

‘The doctor?’

Blurry images of a man in a coat flashed across her mind. The memory of the syringe and the pain coursed through her. She rushed over to the dresser and pushed it in front the door, with all of her might, barricading herself in the room.

“Miss, please. I have to treat you.” He called though the door. With no answer he tried the door knob. 

“Please, let me in. I have to…or he’ll kill me.” Iris covered her ears trying block out the man’s pleading voice. 

‘No no no no’

Once again she could feel the pain rip through her body in waves as her heart began to beat franticly. He called through the door again, jiggling the door knob once again.

“Go away!” She screamed flinging the tray against the dresser. The bowl shattered and soup painted the walls. 

“Ma’am!” 

“No!” Iris bellowed, banging against the dresser. That was the last of her strength, her vision began to blur. She tried to stay upright, holding onto the bed for support. Stumbling a few paces before she couldn't any more and collapse on the side of the bed. Her eyes flutter one final time.

@suckerforsmilex @auntiemama1 @bigdaddysbabykitty @rubyred95 

[nathanjhill]

Armor of God (Ephesians 6)

Ephesians 6:10-17

Lately, on the radio and on the occasional bit of TV I watch, I have noticed advertisements for a company promising to protect your precious online identity. Hackers, security holes, data breaches, and incompetent employees are around every corner - from your favorite Black Friday shopping website to your local gas station, and if you aren’t careful, poof - your credit card number, social security, home address, personal information, and frequent flyer numbers are in someone else’s hands. All of which can wreck your holiday spirit and maybe even your life.

So this company promises their services to become a sort of armor against the wiles of credit card skimmers and the cybernetic arrows of Russian hackers.

This is no laughing matter in our world anymore - most of us here have already been hacked at least once from one of these major breaches. Business and government institutions spend big money to firewall sensitive data and give an illusion of security, but there are always holes and backdoors and weak passwords. And every time we jump over to the newest security measure it seems like, that one isn’t good. Why, I remember when having a picture on your debit card was supposed to be the height of protection - and now, I don’t think they even bother with that anymore.

While being secure on the internet is a legitimate concern for us, we live in a world where services that promise to protect us perk up our ears. We pay attention, even if we are feeling good about our situation - home alarm systems, anti-theft devices, community policing programs, neighborhood watch, and on and on. Even if we have not been the victim of a crime, there is a deep anxiety that danger is lurking around every corner.

And even though I am an optimist at heart, I don’t disagree. If it’s not our experience, we know a family member or neighbor who has been a victim of crime. We know lives that have been shattered from the unexpected or the pain we so easily can inflict upon each other.

There are few safe places anymore - schools and colleges are the staging ground for violence. Churches and mosques across the world are riddled with blood and bullets. Our own homes have erupted in domestic violence, spouses turning weapons on each other. And you may have seen this article about a supposed plan from North Korea to drop a nuclear bomb into the super volcano in Yosemite National Park, which sounds like a bad James Bond movie and not real life.

Whether we like it or not, we must admit there is a danger in this world. There is struggle. There are people who are desperate and immoral. There are shadowy faceless entities out there that want to destroy us - there are governments and institutions and businesses that will trample on us if they can get ahead. Each day, whether we like it or not, when we wake up to go about our day or go online, we face risk - we step into enemy territory.

Eugene Peterson, in his commentary of Ephesians, says it plainly - “Christians live in hostile country.”

No, he’s not talking about the so-called War on Christmas or arguments over religious freedom or the idea of there being some kind of religious war in our world.

Peterson instead makes the case that from the beginning of the church - from the time of Jesus and his disciples - throughout history - Christians have had enemies. Sometimes, those enemies have come from within the church. Sometimes, they have been forces and military power from the outside. But on an even larger scale, Christians face the undeniable reality that not only are we to believe differently than the rest of the world but we are to behave differently. We are to live counter to the ways of this world - the ways of greed, selfishness, pride, hate, and abusive power. And that has made many Christians a target.

Paul in Chapter 6 of his letter to the Ephesians is writing to early churches who know that life is a struggle. Some historians make the case that the early church was mostly comprised of working class or poor people. A common critique of early churches were that they were nothing but a bunch of widows and orphans. There was persecution from Roman authorities - Christians lived counter to the Roman religious traditions, so they could stick out like a sore thumb when everyone else was partying at some festival or the other. This made daily life a grind, a challenge, a risk - week to week, only their practices of community, of worship, of prayer, of the Lord’s Supper, of receiving God’s abundant love could sustain them and nourish them.

So Paul pauses first to encourage these early Christians to stand firm - to stay strong in their challenge times - and then casts an image of their daily struggle as something far bigger than just a game of survival. Remember, as I have reminded you throughout this series, Ephesians never keeps the volume knob at 5 - Paul always wants to blast his message up to 9, 10, or even 11. In Verse 12, he proclaims, “For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.”

Wow. Think about this - Paul was saying that for those early Christians, their normal weekly grind to get through a difficult day, perhaps as a slave in a Roman household or as a poor daily laborer or even a widow or orphan was vastly more important than they might realize. Your life, your actions, your story was the setting of this grand struggle between good and evil - a stage for God to wage war against the darkness that seeks to consume Creation.

There was unfortunately no identity theft protection or credit score or public defenders to protect you from the forces of evil in those days, but Paul speaks in this powerful and poetic way and describes a suit of armor that these early Christians may put on to resist being ensnared by the evil and violence and abuses of power around them.

The belt of truth around your waist

The breastplate of righteousness

Shoes to help your proclaim the gospel of peace (maybe for running)

The shield of faith to hold back the flaming arrows of the evil one

The helmet of salvation and finally the sword of the Spirit

For early hearers of this letter, these images would have been familiar - everyone had seen a powerful and mighty Roman centurion, the image of stability and military competence. The Empire was protected and maintained through the power of its military, its armies, its forces at work against their enemies. These centurions could be terrifying - and no doubt, early Christians may have faced their wrath.

But the irony here is that the armor of God is nothing like what centurions wear. They are not fashioned of iron and bronze - we do not wield a sword into battle like soldiers do. Our armor comes from and is rooted in God and in the practices of our daily faith. Our armor too does not dazzle in the sun or terrify our neighbor - but it is there nonetheless, girding us, equipping us, helping us stand firm as we face each day and try our best to be the soil for God’s resurrection to burst forth.

The armor of God enables us to love more boldly - to witness to what is good and true - to hold back evil that seeks for each of us to give up and let it give sway over our lives and the lives of our neighbors.

Paul was reminding these early Christians - and perhaps us - that being a Christian is not a journey that will ever be free of conflict - to practice resurrection is to plunge our lives into the midst of the tectonic shifts of heartbreak, pain, loss, and fear all around.

I know this is not an easy idea today - who wants more conflict in their lives?

What is Paul suggesting then?

One - God is with us in the conflicts we face. The truth is a powerful gift to deal with conflict, but some people do not want to hear the truth. Righteousness does not mean that you are right - it means that you seek right relationship with your neighbors and with God. The gospel of peace is not something you can do with out your feet, moving among neighborhoods and families and lives. The shield of faith challenges us to remember that it is only God who we can trust to know our truest identity that of a child of God. It is the helmet of salvation that keeps our eyes and minds directed to the bigger picture of what God is doing to redeem the world. And it is the sword of the Spirit that guides our words, our tongues, and our lips.

We enter into conflict as Christians not with over-confidence - but with the humble spirit that we are woven into God’s story and if we listen and seek God’s way in the mess of it all, God will lead us through.

Remember the words of the Psalmist -

“The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear?”

“Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.”

Those whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law they meditate day and night. They are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its season, and their leaves do not wither.

But the second more subtle and convicting “good news” I read in this final chapter of Ephesians is this - as Christians, if our life of faith does not draw us toward conflict, we may be doing it wrong. Again, I don’t think Paul is thinking of Facebook arguments or church board meeting fights or picketing your non-Christian neighbors. The conflict Paul is thinking of is the kind that creates the healthy room for growth and tension in our lives - where we are stretched to love in greater capacity, where we are asked to step out in faith into a new role or new way of doing things together, where we are called upon to risk our lives for the well-being of others and our neighborhoods, where we draw boundaries at work or at home on who we are and what kind of life we truly shall lead with integrity and compassion.

The armor of God gives you permission to take Jesus with you - into all those nooks and crannies of your lives - and the more you make room for Jesus, the less room there is for the forces of evil and darkness all around. No room for hate, no room for abusive domineering power, no room for intimidation, no room for inequality or injustice, no room for white supremacy, no room for the status quo. We cannot follow Jesus and not face the ways in which this cosmic struggle between good and evil is about our souls and our lives just as it is our neighbor’s.

The good news is that it is in this space of conflict where your life might become a witness to someone else who thinks they are going through it all alone.

I have been grateful for this six week study of Ephesians - I hope it has been interesting to you. But one of the things that I have really come to see in this expansive view of the theology of this letter is how important church is to our journey of faith. And it’s struggle because church can be just as messy as out there. Right now, our church (UCC) is in the midst of some real conflict as we are being stretched to love more abundantly and boldly. There have been some instances where we are not holding back our anger. We have been a little impatient or fed up. We are going through some transition. We are not communicating well. My tendency as a pastor (and sometimes as am middle child in my family) was to shy away from conflict. /Why can’t we just all get along?/ But God has really been working in me to see that this conflict - among different leaders, around our vision - is an opportunity for growth, for each of us to see and wonder if God is doing something bigger than we can ever imagine. This is a time to reconnect, to listen, to love, to discover why it is that God has brought us together. It is a time to put on the Armor of God.

Yes, we are often afraid - for good reason in this world, but family of God, when I look at you, I don’t just see a bunch of nobodies - I see a mighty company of God’s finest, equipped and blessed and prayed up to go into this world and proclaim the good news that there is something greater than the violence and decay around us - there is a love that can bind up the broken-hearted, proclaim release to the captives, and give sight to those who struggle to see.

We are equipped to go about God’s work - may we enter in with courage together!

[gregor-samsung]

Светът е голям и спасение дебне отвсякъде [The World Is Big and Salvation Lurks Around the Corner] (Stefan Komandarev, 2008)