#although even when they get together the goading and challenging still happens

[goddessofroyalty]

Zoro "I need to fight Sanji to keep from stealing Sanji"

That's exactly the logic of his dumb little hindbrain that keeps taking the wheel every time it gets a sufficient sniff of Sanji's omega scent to wake up and get involved in decision making.

Of course those dumb little hindbrain instincts then get ""rationalized"" by Zoro into two better but still very unhelpful thoughts of:

Sanji is my rival that needs to be Competed against at every opportunity in order to ensure I am never stagnating in my goals of becoming a better swordsman

Goading Sanji is so great because then I get to have his full attention on me :)

At no point does he connect it to those funny little alpha instincts and would argue with anyone who suggests that what he's doing is Alpha Posturing against the most misguided target. Because this has nothing to do with him being an alpha (and Sanji an omega) and everything to do with the dumb cook being so quick to fire up about stupid things and also being one of the few on the crew who Zoro can go all out against without worrying about hurting.

Sanji is not one of the people who are aware of what's actually causing this behaviour in Zoro. So he is 100% responding to the challenges as a Challenge he's not going to let slide because like hell is he going to let This Alpha get away with.

[weasleyswizardpleases]

Low Profile (reader x fred and george)

Summary: You and your best friends find yourself entangled in a secret polyamorous love affair, right under their family’s noses.

Warnings/Notes: Cw language, kissing (but no sex of any kind), family not accepting poly/queer relationship, bruising. This is for the wonderful and talented @lunalovecroft​’s 2.7k trope-inspired writing challenge! It’s also part of my loose series of fics that take place over the summer when y/n stays at the Weasleys’ house. No twincest- v shaped poly relationship. Here’s my masterlist if you want more! Enjoy!

Ever since you and Fred hooked up the first night of the summer, you’ve been joined at the hip even more than usual, and since George is always with Fred and usually with you, he had to be told once it was clear that you and Fred were gonna be more than a one night stand. You were a bit sad, knowing that it’d probably make him feel left out, in a way. You noticed that George looked a bit miffed when the two of you told him you were dating, in the loosest sense of the word. 

“What’s the matter, you jealous Georgie?” you tease, putting your hand on his knee flamboyantly. He blushes and you and Fred exchange a look.

“Oh my god, you actually are, aren’t you?” Fred asks, half-mocking. For once, George seems to be at a loss for words. He looks quite uncertain and a bit sad. You figure that you may as well break the tension and speak honestly; it’s more important to you to be frank and maintain your friendship than anything else. You clear your throat.

“George, honestly, if you’d been there instead of Fred that night, I’d probably have hooked up with you, too. We’ll all still be friends. That’s why we’re telling you, so we’re not keeping secrets,” you say, trying to goad him into speaking. He shakes his discomfort off and begins.

“Oh, I knew this would happen! We used to just be friends before the two of you started making eyes at each other all the time. Now I’ll barely be able to talk to the two of you- my two best friends, mind you- without all this lovey dovey shit. What an absolute nightmare!”

You open your mouth to speak, but George barrels on, looking at Fred this time.

“And you, some brother you are. You know how I feel about Y/N, I thought we had an agreement to keep it platonic all around?”

“It’s not my fault they’re interested in me!”

“George, I said I would have kissed you that night too! Actually, that’s what I’ve been trying to say to both of you. I’ve got feelings for you, both of you.”

They stop bickering and turn to look at you, turning the idea over in their minds.

“What are you saying?” asks Fred, looking a bit hurt.

“I’m saying,” you take a deep breath, “that I’ve never been better friends with one of you than the other. We do everything together. I don’t want that to change. Besides, you two are identical. Did you think your birthmark was that big of a selling point, Freddie? Of course I think you’re both good-looking, look in the mirror for goodness’ sake!”

They blink at you, then turn away to confer with one another in whispers. You tap your foot impatiently, but when they turn around, they’re beaming.

“So what you’re saying is you’d be fine with us sharing you?” George asks.

“More than fine. I’d be absolutely chuffed,” you say, returning their smiles.

“It’s settled, then,” Fred says, and plants a kiss on the top of your head. You look up at George permissively, and he puts his arm around you and gives you a squeeze.

“One thing, though. Mum and Dad can’t know. Mum especially. She’s not the most open-minded when it comes to this stuff. Especially with us. At least, I doubt she is,” Fred says.

“Yeah, funnily enough it never occurred to me to ask what she’d do if my twin brother and I started a poly fling with our best friend who also lives with us and sleeps in our bedroom, but if I had to guess, I don’t think she’d approve,” George adds, smirking.

“That’s ok. We have a pretty good track record when it comes to keeping secrets,” you say, a mischievous glimmer in your eye.

That evening, you’re helping Molly fold linens when she steps away for a moment to take the kettle off. You feel four hands slip around you from behind and soon you’re pulled into a kiss, Fred on your left, kissing you hard on the neck and collarbone, and George kissing your lips, taking your bottom lip gently between his teeth. You kiss them passionately but push them away after a second, regaining your composure.

“Not here!” you hiss, grinning. They exchange a cheeky glance and kiss you on each cheek before scurrying back to their room, giggling. You shake your head and turn back to folding sheets, just as Mrs. Weasley returns.

“My, my dear, that’s quite a bruise you’ve got there, what happened?” Mrs. Weasley clucks, gesturing to your collarbone where you’re surprised to see a dark, newly formed hickey.

“Oh, pickup quidditch match. I’m not very good, I’m afraid,” you say, the rush of the small lie filling you with butterflies.

“Well now, we are wizards after all. We can’t have you running about looking as if you’ve been sleeping under the whomping willow,” she says cheerfully. She extracts her wand and uses a quick healing spell on the spot, which fades quickly. You wonder if she really doesn’t recognize the bruise as a hickey, but you shrug. The twins have certainly gotten away with worse under this roof.

That night, you and the twins are in the kitchen having a midnight snack. The rest of the house is quiet. You’re sitting on the countertop, helping yourself to a biscuit, and George is leaning on the counter beside you. You feed him a little bite and he licks the crumbs from your fingers playfully. Fred is rummaging through the fridge across the room, and George peers into the fridge nosily. Something piques his interest, and he heads over, whispering to his brother indistinctly. You catch them giggling, and can hear snatches of their conversation. They appear to be working on something as they chat eagerly.

“Take the…”

“... and the… yes! Use a…”

“... that’s just bad…”

“...dare you…”

You hear the familiar sound of compressed air decompressing, and Fred whirls around with a pie tin full of whipped cream in his hand, grinning devilishly.

“No!” you whisper-scream, nearly falling off the countertop, but you’re not fast enough. Fred flops the tin into your face with a splat, and George laughs so hard he winds up on the ground kicking. You lick the cream from your lips, hungry for revenge.

You know Fred is secretly quite vain about his hair, and you waste no time sliding off the countertop and wrapping him up in a hug from behind. He suspects your ulterior motives immediately, but it’s too late for him to escape.

“Oh darling, give me a hug my sweet,” you say, making exaggerated kissy noises while burying your pie covered face in his nice clean hair. He flails about, and you tickle his ribs defensively, causing him to buckle. You fall to the ground with him, giggling and shoving at one another. Just as George joins in, trying to drag you off of his brother, kissing you all over as he tugs on your legs, you hear a floorboard creak. 

Ginny, whose room is closest to the kitchen, stands at the foot of the stairs, gaping at you. You’re sure she saw the kissing, and, well, the whole situation does look a bit… familiar. You whack George on the head and nod in Ginny’s direction.

“Oh, hello Ginny,” Fred says, disentangling himself from his situation beneath you.

“Hello, big brother,”

“Hello, Ginny,” George says, surprise straining his voice.

“Hello, other brother,”

“Hello, Ginny,” you say uncertainly, standing up and wiping your face off with a tea towel.

“Hello, Y/N,” she says. “Some of us are trying to sleep, you know,” she says, raising an eyebrow knowingly. Everyone speaks in hushed tones once again, having remembered that it is indeed the middle of the night. She nods curtly and scampers back upstairs, smiling cheekily.

“Did she see?” George whispers.

“Oh, she saw,” you assure him.

“But she wouldn’t say anything, right?” Fred asks.

“Surely not,” his brother replies nervously. 

“But if she does…” 

“We’re toast. No way mum believes us over her.”

“You guys are being too paranoid. Ginny isn’t a snitch like Ron and Percy, she wouldn’t blab on us for a bit of… roughhousing,” you say hopefully. The twins agree, and you help each other get cleaned up, George dabbing your face clean with a wet towel, giving you gentle kisses in between. 

The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. As far as you know, Ginny doesn’t say anything about what she saw, and life in the burrow goes on as usual. In the mornings, you and Hermione read quietly in the living room over tea. She reads the paper, you look at the comics, every once in a while stopping to remark on a thought you’ve had. 

Then George wakes up. He’s quiet in the mornings, a bit slow, although not very grumpy. Then Molly gets up and usually whips up some sort of breakfast, and by the times everyone’s up you all gather round the long table and eat together. Then, if you’re lucky, you run off outside or to a neighbor's house or abscond to the attic with Fred and George, away from prying eyes and away from Molly’s commands. If you’re unlucky, Molly enlists at least one of you in some chores, usually out in the garden. 

The next time the three of you come close to getting caught, you’re doing just this- de-gnoming with Fred, George, and Ron when Ron gets a headache and goes inside, complaining that it’s far too hot. In reality, the day is rather mild, although the sun is bright enough that Fred and George both have pink sunburns radiating across the bridges of their noses. You flick Fred on his sunburnt cheek and he winces.

“Ow! What’s that for?!” he asks, nearly dropping a gnome right back into the grass. 

“I need your attention!”

“For what?”

“A kiss,” you reply devilishly. He obliges you and kisses you dramatically, dipping you low, holding you in his arms. “Like this, mi amore?” he asks in a silly accent.

“Lunchtime!” Molly calls from the doorway, causing Fred to drop you to the ground and George to leap in front of the two of you oddly, trying to obscure his mum’s line of sight. You brush yourself off and head for the house, hoping Mrs. Weasley didn’t see anything.

“Fred Weasley!” Mrs. Weasley says shrilly, and you all cringe. You hold your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Fred, did I just see you toss Y/n to the ground? That’s no way to treat a guest, especially when you’re meant to be doing housework!” You sigh deeply, relieved. “Come in, dearie, I swear, sometimes I don’t know who raised those two!” she says, putting an arm around you to guide you in the house.

[kenzumekodma]

18+ only, minors do not interact

pairing: shouto todoroki x fem!reader, politician au

warnings: power imbalance, degradation, oral (m receiving), fingering, cum swallowing, finger sucking, teensiest bit of praise, one instance of canadian spelling

summary: if this was going to happen, you might as well commit to it. there were worse people to fuck on a monday morning than shouto todoroki.

wc: 2.5k

His father’s the highest ranking politician in the prefecture, you remind yourself. Just grit your teeth and bear it.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Shouto. No, he didn’t like you, was more like it. Ever since you took on the job as his assistant you’ve shouldered this feeling that absolutely seeped from him, this feeling that he was inherently superior to you and you were nothing. A means to an end.

At first his quiet indifference bothered you, but as the weeks wore into months, into nearly a year… really you just stopped giving a shit. Sure, you’d gone into this job bright eyed and bushy tailed, answering with a quick yes sir, no sir to any questions he asked you. Slowly, though, your energy dropped, your output matching Shouto’s.

Coming into your work anniversary, a time when you’d imagined you’d be kicking your feet up for a night and enjoying a lighter workload, if not a night off, you walked into the office to a more chaotic scene. You groaned into the plastic lid of your to-go coffee. The hot liquid was your only saving grace. Closing your eyes for a moment, you took a deep breath through your nose, steeled yourself as you held it for a few seconds, and then exhaled through your mouth, lips closed into a small ‘o’. With renewed nerves, you open your eyes and walk into the elevator, making your way towards Mr. Todoroki’s office.

Large solid walnut doors met you a few short strides away from the elevator. Balancing your coffee, Mr. Todoroki’s tea, and your work bag precariously but with the confidence that comes with practice as you turned the brushed bronze handle. As expected, Mister Perfect was sat behind his desk. Larger than it really needs to be, you thought, like so many things tend to be when you’re living off the bank of Daddy’s Popularity.

“What’s all the fuss about downstairs?” you asked, setting Shouto’s tea down on the coaster he had waiting for it, just like he had every day for a year. He shrugged.

“Elections are coming up. My old man wants me to run for a seat on council.”

You nodded. “And that’s why I woke up to an email this morning from Endeavor offices saying Mr. Todoroki Sr. is scheduled to come by at 10:30 today with exactly zero context.” Shoto nodded once.

“There’s no point in stopping him. He has the knowledge and I need it, I guess.”

You sighed, resigned to planning a last minute visit for the man who’s effectively your boss’s boss.

“It’s too bad,” he started, pausing to take a sip of tea. Deadpan expression still resting on your face, you quirk a brow at him, a silent what? hanging in the air. “Too bad that my old man will have to see you like this. You’ve changed since he hired you for me,” Shoto said as he stood, tea placed flawlessly in the centre of its coaster. He stalked around the desk, getting ever closer to you. Instinctively, you went to place your coffee on the desk, but you caught yourself, putting your work bag on the floor, bending to pick up your planner from it. You missed Shouto’s eyes grazing down the back of your form, hesitating at your thighs, where their plushness was accentuated by the hem of your tight, light grey skirt digging in slightly. You slid your planner onto the luxury desk, using it as a makeshift coaster for your cup.

The corner of Shouto’s lip turned up almost imperceptibly. “You used to be so polite, y/n.” He took another step towards you and you froze in confusion.

“I…” you trailed off.

“You what?” he goaded, getting closer to you again. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the aforementioned not giving a shit, maybe it was the surprise stress of Enji Todoroki’s insistence on the election, but you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and speak your mind to your boss for the first time.

“I just, I know that you think of me as lesser, and it’s true. I am. I know that, you know that. You’re political royalty and I’m just trying to make rent. So what’s the point in trying to get you to respect me with pretty words?”

“Lesser, is that so?” he murmured. He was upon you now, slender hand reaching out to take your chin between his thumb and the knuckle of his forefinger. A mixture of confidence and careful carelessness swirled behind Shouto’s heterochromatic eyes. Bicoloured hair slipped from its place to frame his sculpted cheekbones as he looked down at you.

“I’m a means to your end, and likewise for you. If we’re going to use each other we should feel good too, right? Now, wouldn’t you say the best place for inferior little girls like you is on their knees?” His eyes flickered to your lips, to your eyes, to your lips again. The last three honeyed words dripped from his lips and straight to your panties making you clench around nothing. The span of four minutes and he’d already flipped everything you thought about him on its head.

In your doe-eyed stupor you hadn’t even noticed how fucking wet you’d gotten although it was undeniable when your thighs rubbed together as you shifted your weight back and forth.

“Well?” Shouto asked, voice quiet. You nodded, bringing his hand up and down with your face. He patted your cheek. “That’s what I thought. Down,” he commanded. Shame rose in you as you dropped to the floor, flush crawling up your neck making you feel as red as half of your boss’s hair.

You looked up at him for further instruction to see him unbuttoning the top two buttons of his expensive linen shirt. Instinctively you lifted your hands to unbuckle his designer belt, but he swatted them away.

“What makes you think you’re worthy of touching anything of mine? This costs more than your salary,” he sneered.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Sorry what?”

“Sorry, Mr. Todoroki,” you corrected yourself.

“Not quite. Try again,” he tutted. You felt the heat rise from your neck to your cheeks, causing you to turn your gaze downward.

“Sorry, Sir,” you mumbled.

“I can’t hear you all the way down there. Speak up,” Shouto demanded.

“I, I’m sorry Sir,” you said, louder this time and with more confidence. If this was going to happen, you figured you might as well commit to it. There were worse people to fuck on a Monday morning than Shouto Todoroki.

“Better,” he said approvingly. He slipped his buckle and belt off with ease, unbuttoning his charcoal grey slacks. Your eyes followed his hands downwards and it finally hit you just how big of a dick print was practically staring you in the face. He pulled up the once tucked in shirt tails and bunched them up around his toned stomach. Agony, his pace freeing his cock was absolute agony. His length was impressive, on the longer side of anyone you’d been with before. And his girth. It was a lot like the man himself, surprisingly thick but beautiful. The vein running along the underside of his cock made your mouth water with anticipation.

He let it out of his hand and it rested heavily on your lips.

“Please, Sir…” you said, licking your lips just enough to tease him with the sensation of your tongue. Shouto bit back a groan but nodded his head. You gave his cock an exploratory lick up the underside. A low noise rumbled in his chest, which you took as encouragement to continue. Hesitantly, you lifted a hand up to his waist and dragged your nails down his abdomen lightly, causing him to weave his fingers through your hair and grip tightly. God forbid the political Prince Charming be anything but in charge.

He guided your head up an inch or so. Holding his length in his other hand, he tapped the flushed tip against your cherry lips and you comply, parting them without a thought in your head besides Shouto’s cock. You close your mouth around his head and suck lightly, savouring the ever so slightly salty taste of his precum against your tongue. Shouto guided your head back for a better view.

He’s been watching and waiting for months, wondering what your lips would look like wrapped around him with every sharp barb that rolled off your tongue. The reality of it was better than he’d imagined. The silky wetness of your mouth just fueled his lust further. What would your sweet pussy feel like around him? Would you let him in?

His facade faltered, and he bucked his hips into you. Your throat tightened around him and your eyes watered. Something in the way he treated you ignited a fierce competition within you. If his actions were a challenge, you took it and one upped him, taking as much of him as possible. Your nose nuzzled into the base of his cock, taking in the musky scent of his sex with every breath you tried to take. Bracing yourself with your hands on his chest, you swallowed around him. Shouto shudders and his fingers leave your scalp. He pets your hair gently, and for a split second as you looked up at him with curiosity, you saw genuine fondness written across his face. Whatever prompted it, he shoved it aside and gripped your wrists together in his larger hand, pinning them against him above your head.

His movement took you by surprise. Surprises normally caused dread to pool in your tummy. This particular surprise caused arousal to bubble inside instead, it caused you to rub your thighs together as best you could for just a tiny bit, any bit of delicious friction you could get. It wasn’t enough, and you let out a half moan, half whine sound that vibrated up Shouto’s cock.

“Pretty girl’s a little slut, huh? Likes being helpless? Keep going.” he sneered at you.

You nodded as best as you could without letting off of his dick, drool pooling at the sides of your mouth. God, the absolute debauchery of what this man would have you do for him, it made your thighs clench. Desperation evident in your actions, you moan around him, moving yourself as much as your tight little skirt would allow. Shouto shuddered and took your jaw in his fine, slender hand.

“Enough,” he hissed, pulling your mouth off of his cock. His breath came in shallow pants, the only tell that he was as affected as you were. The way you licked your lips as soon as they were unoccupied made him bite back a moan. You looked fucking delicious in that moment, a summer fruit ripe for the picking.

“Up,” he commanded. You tried your best to stand up with your balance off kilter. Really, Shouto ended up pulling you to your feet more than anything else. He turned you around, advanced on you until your ass was bumping against his desk, and then he took one step further, leaving you no choice but to shimmy up onto the surface.

“Is… is this okay?” you asked, and Shouto let out a chuckle.

“You’re just asking that now? I should be asking you instead,” he said. He leaned down and latched his lips onto your neck. “Well?” he murmured into your skin, fingers dancing at the hem of your skirt. “You wanna be my own little whore?”

“Yes… please, Sir,” you whimpered. That’s all he needed to hear to lift you up just enough to slide your skirt past the swell of your ass, letting it bunch up around your waist. He probed a finger along your covered slit. He stops at the wet patch over your aching core.

“Excited, are we?” he teases, moving your panties to the side and circling his finger around your hole, stopping just shy of dipping inside. “Tell me who this belongs to.”

“‘s yours, Sir. ‘s all yours, I’m all yours, belong to you, please, wanna be full,” you whined.

“That’s right, this belongs to me. I’m gonna take what’s mine,” he said. You didn’t know whether he meant your sopping wet pussy or your whole self but at that point you were ready to give him anything he asked for just for him to touch you, to make you cum. You let out a choked moan when he slid his middle finger unceremoniously into your fluttering walls, no longer clenching around nothing. Even one finger was a stretch for you. Not like he cared to let you get too used to it, he was more occupied with the idea of getting you to come undone on his hand.

He added a second finger and began rubbing your clit with his thumb. The urgent moans of his name and Sir, please careening from your lips sounded like the sweetest sonata he would ever hear.

“Please what?” he asked.

“Please, wanna… need to… please lemme cum,” you begged, head pressed forward into his chest.

“Let me cum, what?” Shouto goaded. “Just because you’re being fucked dumb doesn’t mean you get to forgo your manners. Remember your lesson?” he tutted, curling his finger into your bundle of nerves.

“Please, let me cum, Sir,” you gasped out.

“Go on, then. Cum.”

Your already tight muscles contracted around his fingers desperately as he stroked your spongy walls to your release. You came with a broken yelp, earning a look of smug satisfaction from the man looming over you.

He scissored his fingers once more, just to hear you mewl from the overstimulation of your fucked out cunt, your eyes scrunched shut to keep yourself grounded. The feeling of his messy fingers tapping at your bottom lip had you opening your mouth obediently.

“Keep it open,” he ordered. You opened your eyes to see Shouto had led you back onto your knees in front of him. His free hand fisted his cock inches from your face. You opened your mouth wider and looked up at him through your lashes.

“Fuck…” he groaned. Just a few more thrusts and he was painting the inside of your mouth and his fingers white with his cum.

“Close,” he said, and you close your mouth. “Clean it up.”

You sucked gently on his fingers, making sure to swirl your tongue around his knuckles and his nails, wanting nothing more than to please him, to be privy to that little bit of softness and praise you were sure he hid away for special occasions.

When his fingers were free of the mixture of your releases, he slid his fingers from your mouth and took your chin in his hand. He tilted your head to look him in the eye.

“Good girl,” he cooed. Heat rose to your cheeks at his praise, and he helped you to your feet again.

No sooner than you’d rearranged your clothing came a knock to the huge walnut doors, a deep voice booming from the other side.

“Shouto?”

[tansypoisoning]

(Un)Conditional - Part 2

I Came Out to Have a Good Time and I’m Honestly Feeling So Attacked Right Now

You didn’t remember how or why you found yourself in Ransom’s bed in the first place, but now, poor, pregnant and desperate, you had your reasons for putting up with him, and they weren’t noble. His reasons for staying with you weren’t noble either.

Hey, long time no see... This took me longer than it should because I wasn’t sure about the dialogue. Still not sure about it. Some of you might have missed the polls I posted so you could help me decide the future of this series, so here they go: Whether or not I should redeem Ransom and What gender the baby (or babies, damn) should be. Democracy is important :)

Anyway: Reader meets the Thrombeys...

Story warnings:  Smut, abusive relationships, mentions of past sexual assault, talk of abortion, daddy kink, drinking, mention of drug use (Will add more as the story goes on)

Chapter 1 - Truce

Chapter 3 

Fandoms: Knives Out

Ships: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 6k

Chapter warnings: The reader and Ransom joke about incest and Ransom jokes about selling the baby to pay his grandfather back for all the money he lend him; people drink wine; there’s mention of drugs and people doing them; The Thrombeys are being particularly shitty.

You were off to the clinic to get an urine exam the next day. Ransom had encouraged you to get a more reliable test to make sure you were pregnant, but he wouldn’t accompany you. He was busy, he said, but he didn’t say with what. Probably begging his granddaddy for more money or chasing after another pair of legs.

The clinic would call you in a couple of days to let you know the results. The wait was killing you. The longer you waited, the harder it would be for you to get an abortion. At some point the pill would stop being an option, and you would have to go under the… knife? Scalpel? Coat hanger? Whatever the procedure entailed, it was bound to be more stressful than just taking some meds.

What was most concerning, though, was the possibility of you becoming attached to the fetus. Your misgivings originated from a fear that you might be doing something you shouldn’t, but you had no particular regard for the thing growing inside you. You might as well be carrying a rock – it certainly tired you like one. Some day that could change, though, and the moment it did you knew it would be game over.

The first thing you did when you got home was take off your coat, kick off your shoes and fall face-first on the couch. That was also the only thing you did. According to the sources you checked, fatigue was an early pregnancy symptom, but you weren’t sure it was meant to be this bad. Good thing you weren’t behind on your freelance work; you didn’t think you could handle doing anything that evening. You were hungry, but didn’t have the energy to even go to the kitchen. Your cellphone started ringing at some point, but you had dropped your bag by the entrance. Maybe something else happened too; you didn’t know, you fell asleep soon after.

You were roused from your nap by a cacophony of car honks right outside your window.

You jumped from the couch and stumbled to see what the commotion was about. You expected to find a car crash in front of your building, but all that was there was a familiar vehicle.

You stepped into your slippers and left your apartment. Ransom was still abusing the horn of his BMW when you came out onto the lawn.

“What are you doing?” You cried out, jogging to his car.

He put his head out through the window. “You don’t pick up your phone anymore?” He complained.

“I was sleeping.” The reason why you didn’t answer didn’t matter. This was a distraction. “Why are you here?”

“I came to pick you up, what else?” He seemed to notice you confusion and explained himself “I’m going to introduce you to my family. They’re having a dinner party tonight at my grandfather’s house. If I show up there with a kid before they even know the mother, my mother’s gonna kill me.”

That gave you pause. Introduce you to his family? That had never been in the cards before. Ransom had always been against anything that could hint to intimacy that went beyond sex, because intimacy entailed responsibility, and he was allergic to that. Your relationship was more of an arrangement, one in which he was the one with the most to gain.

Perhaps this would be your chance to really get something for yourself, something other than the occasional orgasm. Although Ransom’s charms and your proclivities were the biggest reason behind the start of your odd relationship, you’d be lying if you said his grandfather’s accomplishments didn’t affect your interest in him. Having been an avid reader of Harlan’s books back in high school (when you still had time and motivation to read) and now working as an assistant editor in the mystery fiction imprint of a large publishing company, you had hoped that maybe being involved with Ransom would give you the chance to meet him.

Even when it became clear Ransom didn’t like you like that, you still stuck around. He was inflexible when it came to your relationship’s dynamics, but you still had a sliver of hope that one day you’d get to meet his family. In the end you were right, and all you had to do to get your wish was let your idol’s grandson raw you after a couple of beers.

“I’m not even sure if I’m pregnant yet.”

“After five tests? Come on.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’m gonna keep it.”

“If you don’t, you don’t. Just let me introduce you before you decide. It’ll be awkward otherwise.”

You couldn’t argue with his logic. Ransom’s family wasn’t likely to think well of you if he introduced you as “the chick I knocked up by accident”. Your family wouldn’t be happy about it either, and yet you had to find a way to convince him to meet them at some point. You knew they weren’t going to like him, but it was better than trying to pretend it was a case of Immaculate Conception. They wouldn't fall for it anyway.

“Go get ready so we can go.” He said.

You nodded and ran back inside. He looked like he was in a rush, so all you felt comfortable doing was retouching your make up and putting on a different pair of pants. When you came back down, Ransom was pouting at his wheel.

“About time,” he said “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I took like five minutes.”

“Eight.” He tapped the watch in his wrist.

You decided humoring him wasn’t worth it, so you got into the passenger seat without a word. Ransom took off, his tires squealing as he did a u-turn on your sidewalk. He always drove like a madman, most of all when he was in a hurry.

“How long ‘til we get there?” You asked.

“I can make it in half an hour.”

“I mean safely.”

“In that case, thirty minutes.”

Shame on you, forgetting Ransom was convinced he was immortal.

“Is there anything I have to know about your family before I get there?” You asked, trying to take your mind off the traffic lights flashing by at an alarming speed.

“I could never do them justice,” he snickered.

“At least give me something to work with.”

“You are going to have talk to my parents at least,” he mused “Just nod and agree with whatever my father says. You gotta be smarter with my mother, but avoid challenging her. Joni and Meg are annoying, Walt’s creepy, and there’s no point in talking to Donna and Jacob; they’re gonna hate you no matter what.”

“And Harlan?”

The question put a grimace on his face.

“Be honest. He’s gonna like you.” There was a minute pause before he added “We just celebrated his eighty-fifth birthday, so if you can bring up how good he looks for his age without being obnoxious, he’s gonna love it.”

“Eighty-five? When was that?” You liked Harlan’s work, but you didn’t like it enough to bother learning his birth year. You expected him to be younger, what with all the books he was still pumping out on a yearly basis.

“Last week.”

“Your family is big on get-togethers, then?”

He grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

“Familiarity breeds contempt,” you offered. You weren’t sure you’d get along with your parents as well as you did if they didn’t live in another state.

“Sucking does too.”

“But I thought you liked people who suck?”

That was a twelve year old boy joke, but it got you a chuckle.

“Already know what I’ll be trying today: Hey, Joni, blow me.”

“That’s your aunt right?” You asked and received a nod in response “I can’t wait to see you asking her for a blow job.” You didn’t really think he would go that far, so you weren’t worried you were goading him on. If he did it anyway, it would be because he decided the amusement he would get from pissing his aunt off would be worth whatever she could do to get back at him.

“Fuck, I’d accept one from my grandfather at this point.” You two had had sex just yesterday, but that was fine, you supposed.

“I think I’m going to regret this, but since we’re already in too deep and none of us knows when to stop, where are your parents in the Joni-Harlan blowjob scale?” This question might’ve offended anyone else, but Ransom was made of sterner, more horrible stuff.

He replied without missing a beat. “Oh, my dad wins easy. I don’t fancy getting bit.”

The throwaway line about his mother killing him if he just announced your pregnancy out of the blue came to mind. You wondered if she was as terrible as he made her out to be. You wondered if any of his relatives were as horrible as he made teem out to be.

“Hard to think you’d be scared of anyone in your family with all the money they lend you and you never pay back.”

He snorted. “I’m not scared of any of them. Wouldn’t be going if I were. I already owe Harlan more ‘one-pounds of flesh’ than I weigh.”

“Good thing he doesn’t charge interest.”

“Who says he doesn’t?” His eyes flicked to you for a moment, comically wide “What do you think I want the baby for?”

“You- you want the baby?” You knew he meant to jest about selling your child, and perhaps the bit about wanting it was said in the spirit of the joke, but you couldn’t help but hope it was a Freudian slip. Why did you hope that?

His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he considered your question for a few seconds. “I said I would help you with it.”

“No, you said that at first, but now you said you want it. I didn’t even ask for help, I just thought I should tell you. Why did you offer to help in the first place?”

He shrugged. Something about the gesture felt off, less cocksure than his usual self. “Because it felt right.”

“But do you want to do it? Do you even know what raising a child means?”

“Do you?”

No, you didn’t. You might have even less knowledge of the subject than Ransom, weird as that seemed. You hadn’t said you wanted to have the baby, though. You weren’t sure what you wanted.

“Do you want me to drop you off at a clinic? Because we can end this now.” Something about the way he’d said it made it seem as if he was talking about more than just the pregnancy.

“That’s not what I meant.” You whispered.

Edifices were replaced by trees as Ransom drove on. It was easy to focus on the changing view, now that he wasn’t talking to you anymore. You had broken one of his unspoken rules: never get emotional around him. You knew he wasn’t in it for something as trivial as feelings, but now with the pregnancy thing you thought… Well, you weren’t sure what you thought.

The rest of the trip went by in silence, seeming to take forever in spite of the scenery flying by. By the time you arrived at your destination you were disheartened – lucky you that the house Ransom parked in front of was the stuff murder mystery fiction dreams were made of.

Harlan’s mansion had been plucked from one of his books, it had to have been. With its red bricks and the Gothic Revival style, it looked like it’d been taken straight out of “Around the Corner and Down the Lane”. It was a magnificent, giant, mysterious house you could easily imagine multiple murders happening inside.

It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

Ransom left the car, slamming the door shut on his way out. You had to hurry after him to get to the porch as he was knocking on the door.

You didn’t have to wait long to hear sounds coming from the other side. There were footsteps against a wooden floor and the shuffling of keys, and then time seemed to slow down. When you woke up that morning, you’d never have thought you would end up meeting Ransom’s family by the end of the day. Were they anything like him? What would they think of you? And what would they think about the thing? You weren’t going to talk about it today, but still…

The door opened, revealing a slim woman with an old fashioned bob-cut. She looked confused when she saw Ransom, and even more when she spotted you. She opened her mouth, but didn’t get the chance to say anything.

“Hey, Frannie,” Ransom greeted. If you didn’t know him better, you’d assume he was being friendly. “Take this for me, would you?”

He removed his coat with the speed you’d come to expect from him when it came to taking off his clothes and shoved the mass of fabric into her arms. He walked inside, brushing past her, ignoring the outraged look on her face. You followed after, and her expression was no kinder towards you. It wasn’t the first time someone got mad at you for something Ransom did, but what were you to do? It wasn’t as if you could control him.

As Ransom walked through an arch on the left and the woman scurried through a door to the right, you stood on the spot right in front of the entrance. The gargoyles sculpted in the wood of the stair railing paralyzed you, the lights from the ornate chandelier blinded you, and the memories of books read long ago, hiding under the blankets with a flashlight when you were supposed to be sleeping came rushing back to you. This was much more than you had been expecting.

The inside of the house was dark and sinister like the outside, but there was a sense of warmth you hadn’t anticipated. The soft lights, the lavish rugs, and the numerous trinkets scattered about gave it a lived in feeling. The decoration somehow split the difference between “home” and “haunted house” right down the middle.

Why was it that Ransom didn’t like visiting his grandfather again?

“What are you standing around for?”

Speak of the devil…

Your forced your feet to move and followed him deeper into the house. Something inside you screamed at you to just ditch Ransom and this stupid dinner party to explore by yourself, because you got the feeling he would end up dragging you to a place that looked much more boring. You needn’t have worried – the living room was adorned in much the same way as the hall, cluttered and discordant and fascinating. Every piece of decor seemed to selected based on its own merits rather than any common theme or style, but it somehow all worked together.

You had started making your way to a windowsill, from where a model of a carousel with fish instead of horses called to you, when a voice stopped you in your tracks – a voice you had never heard before.

“Who’s that?”

You whirled around to see a man standing just a few feet away from Ransom. The age was about right, and with the two standing so close together, it was hard to deny the similarities between them.

“That’s my date,” Ransom said with a shrug.

“Date? You brought a date?”

“Nice, Richard. We don’t want to make her feel too welcome.”

At that, the older man looked back at you with a grin that would be charming if not for the utter shock reflected in his eyes.

“Hey, there,” he greeted, extending a hand “Richard Drysdale, father of this,” he glanced behind himself to look at Ransom, who was busy messing with a figurine in the mantelpiece “rascal.”

You offered your hand to him (his handshake was strong, professional) and introduced yourself.

“I gotta say, this is really something else,” Richard said “Ransom hasn’t brought any girls home since high school.”

“I bring girls home all the time, I just don’t live with you anymore.”

The meaning of his words didn’t go unnoticed. You already knew he fucked other women on the side – or rather, there was no “side”; you guys weren’t a thing, and it wasn’t as if you only put out for him – but Richard understood him as well.

“Is that the kind of thing you say in front of your date? I thought we taught you better than this.”

“No, Richard. We really didn’t.”

You looked to the source of the voice, and spotted the woman who had to be Ransom’s other progenitor.

“Linda,” she extended her hand to you, but not a smile. Her handshake was even stronger than her husband’s.

Richard joined his son by the fireplace to fiddle with a pewter box, looking downright chastised. Ransom, for his part, seemed to be fighting the urge to laugh.

He had said his family was a mess, and that he found it all terribly fun. Up until now, you weren’t really sure you believed him.

“Whatever this” Linda pointed from her son to you, then back to him again “is about, I hope it ends soon, for your sake.” The last bit, she’d said while looking at you, then she left through a different archway than she’d entered from.

It seemed Ransom had inherited the charm from his father, but the ability to put the fear of God in those who crossed him came from his mother.

“Who else is here?” Ransom asked once Linda was out of earshot.

“Mostly everyone is in the library,” Richard replied, pinching the bridge of his nose, all the former friendliness leaving him like a deflating balloon “your grandfather locked himself in his office with the nurse, and who knows where they put Wanetta. Meg’s not coming.”

“What excuse did Joni come up with?”

“Schoolwork. Essays, whatever. I mean, it’s a Friday, it could wait.”

“She’s going to spend at least half of the evening doing drugs with a friend, easy.”

“Dope.”

Ransom snorted “Like she’s shooting up.”

Richard fixed his son with a disbelieving look. “No. Dope is weed. Dope was weed just yesterday.”

“It used to be.” Upon seeing the defeated expression on his father’s face, Ransom shrugged “World’s passing you by, man.”

That didn’t help. Richard looked back to the pewter box, turning it on his fingers like he was trying to find the best angle to see his reflection. Ransom stared at him for a second longer, then stepped away from the fireplace and exited through the same way his mother had.

He didn’t call you, so you assumed you weren’t needed at the moment, but then, what were you going to do with yourself – watch a man have an existential crisis?

You didn’t have to wait long to find out. You had been standing there, watching Richard sigh to himself for maybe a minute when three other people entered the room. The first was the woman who had opened the door for you; the second, a younger woman, with something almost doe-like about her, and the third…

Well, Harlan Thrombey didn’t need introductions – at least, not to you.

He was the first to speak, looking at the woman Ransom had called Frannie. “Seems like you aren’t going mad, Fran. Unless we all are, which is possible. Can you see her too?” And at that he turned to the other woman, who smiled at him. It was hard to tell whether her smile was fond or embarrassed.

Then, his eyes landed on you.

“Since you’re just standing around with this idiot,” He said. Richard gave a tight smile and tapped his fingers against the mantelpiece “I’m going to guess idiot number two left you to fend for yourself?”

This wasn’t the kind of welcome you’d expect when meeting your not-boyfriend’s family, but Ransom was eccentric, so maybe his relatives were as well. Maybe it was a rich people thing.

“I’m used to it, when it comes to Ransom” you offered.

Harlan grinned at you, but then again, he had been smiling since he entered the room. There was something very Ransom-like about both expressions.

He ambled to you, extending a hand which you rushed to grasp. His smile grew, but maybe that wasn’t good.

“I’m Harlan, the proprietor of this” he gestured to the room with both hands “little menagerie of horrors. And these,” he turned to the women “are Fran, my housekeeper, the only one who can keep this mess in order,” the woman who’d opened the door smiled and raised her hand in greeting, but she still seemed suspicious of you “and Marta, my caretaker. Heaven sent, I would already be dead if not for her.”

Marta had smiled at you as she was introduced, but frowned at the last comment.

“Don’t say that,” she admonished “you’re strong like a horse, you’re going to live for a million years, I’m sure.”

Harlan whimpered theatrically and extended a hand as if trying to grasp at something.

“Marta, is that you? It’s so dark, I can’t see. Oh, is that a light at the end of the tunnel?”

“Really? You’re impossible.” Marta huffed, and Harlan laughed.

They seemed close. Close enough that they’d forgotten all about you in their banter.

Once he was done with his joke Harlan turned back to you.

“I promise you I don’t get any more charming, but you get used to it with time.”

Time. Did he think you’d get to be around long enough to get used to anything there?

“Let’s... get this party started,” he said with a wink “I don’t ask you your name because I’m dying to see how my grandson will introduce you, and I don’t want to get attached.”

That answered that question.

You followed the party of three into another living room(parlor?), then another(fainting room? How many rooms for sitting could one person need?), then finally to what you presumed was the library (that could easily double as a living room), given the floor to ceiling bookcases in every wall that wasn’t occupied by a window. The room was large, large than any room in a house needed or had a right to be, and there were so many books on so many shelves there was no way Harlan would’ve been able to read them all, even accounting for his age.

Despite the exorbitance, the place was cozy and interesting, not at all a monochromatic art installation behemoth the likes of the Kardashian-West mansion (Which you didn’t care about in the slightest… one of your coworkers had shown you the pictures, it was all), the sort of thing you expected from people with too much money and no sense of comfort. The library was furbished with plush seats, nooks where one could hide in to read in peace, even a mezzanine, and– was that a sculpture inspired by “A Thousand Knives”?! Excessive, very excessive, and somehow also really cool. You were sure you could spend hours perusing books and examining baubles, but there were other people already in the room, and you had been raised too well to just ignore them when it was obvious you had already seen them.

Linda leaned against an open window, balancing an unlit cigarette between two fingers, and looking out, as if debating whether or not to have a smoke and whether or not doing so inside. There were a man and a woman on a pair of matching high-backed chairs, looking nervous and annoyed respectively as another woman talked at them, and a teenager speaking to Ransom in between typing things on his phone. He was the first to notice you’d entered the room and he directed a brief glare to you before his eyes landed on Marta.

“Well, no need to stand up or anything,” Harlan spoke from behind you, waving his hand as he passed.

“Dad, plea-” the sitting man began, but he stopped once he saw you. After a moment of confused staring by both parties, he looked back to Harlan “Is that-”

“Don’t know; she came with your nephew.”

All eyes were now on Ransom. He was enjoying the attention, if the stupid smug grin on his face was any indication.

“I brought a date. I figured I had to be the first to do it, since Meg thinks all sex is rape and Jacob’s an incel,” that earned him an elbow in the gut, which he barely reacted to.

“A date? Boohoo,” Harlan spoke, and you almost winced “I expected something more exciting from you.”

“Would you rather she was a notorious diamond thief and I brought her here to steal every red penny you own, old man?”

“That would be more on brand.”

“That’s it,” Marta said, placing her hands on his shoulders and directing him to an armchair in front of the knife sculpture “I’m putting you to bed earlier, abuelo.”

“Not without me throwing a tantrum, you’re not.”

Ransom’s uncle looked back and forth from his father, then to you, then to his nephew, before settling on you and standing up. He picked up a cane that was resting beside the armchair and wobbled toward you, smiling.

“Hello. I’m Walt, it’s a pleasure to meet you…”

You gave him your name, exchanged proper greetings, shook hands; his fingers were trembling slightly, but the length of the hand shake was very appropriate.

“I hope you like it here so far. Any friend of Ransom’s is welcome here.”

“You say that because you never met any of my friends.”

“You know what Ransom,” Walt turned gave him a sarcastic smile “I’m surprised you have any friends at all. You sure you not paying her to be here?”

You didn’t know exactly what it was that Walt had said, but something had set Ransom off.

“Why, you want a round with her? Don’t think you could afford it right now, pal.”

Walt’s lips were still pulled up into a smile, but his pupils were darting from side to side like he was searching for escape routes. That was fair, so were you.

“Don’t speak to my husband that way,” the woman who hadn’t said a single word to or even acknowledged your presence so far, gripped the seat’s armrest as she seethed at Ransom “it’s not his fault that-”

At that she fell silent and turned to Harlan, who was looking at everything with mild interest.

“Actually, you don’t have a job either, do you Donna?” Ransom continued. You knew that look; he was getting steam and you didn’t want to know what would come next.

“I think we’re all just a little stressed with everything that’s been going on,” the woman who had been silent so far – Ransom’s other aunt, you presumed, the one he wanted to suck his dick – mercifully cut in before he could get anything else out “I think we need to roll things back, maybe start over? I can go back to the car and get my crystals so we can do a-”

As if on cue, Fran entered again, a tray with a wine bottle and glasses in hand. She left everything on a coffee table, then walked by Marta, whispering something that convinced the younger woman to move to a more secluded corner of the room with her.

Donna perked up when the drink touched the table, and, smiling the well practiced smile of a hostess who did her duty with no joy, she started pouring drinks and handing them around. When one of the glasses was placed in your hands, you weren’t sure what to do. You rolled the stem in your fingers, pondering as the other adults drank and Jacob sulked.

“So,” Joni began, giving you an easy grin “you and Ransom have known each other for…”

As she trailed off, Linda chuckled, but she wasn’t looking at you.

“Eight months, give or take.” You answered.

The answer seemed to surprise her “Eight months? And how long have you been dating?”

“Oh, I’m not...” you turned to Ransom for help, but he was looking at his nails as if they were the most fascinating thing in the World or as if he really didn’t want to take part in this conversation “I’m not sure. We haven’t exactly made things official.”

It looked like she was fighting to keep her smile in place “And you met-”

“What do you do?” Linda interrupted, still looking out the window “Do you actually have a job or are you just expecting to scam someone here?”

You turned to Ransom; he had placed a hand over his heart and was looking at his mother as if he found her comment deeply offensive.

You hadn’t thought about what you would say if Ransom’s family decided to grill you, deciding it would be best not to overthink things as he’d suggested. A question about your job was expected – it was just harder to process it when it had been asked in such a manner.

“No, I- I’m an assistant editor at Little, Brown and Company.”

There was a splashing sound, and you looked just in time to see Walt trying to rub off a stain from his sweater with one hand, while holding his wine glass with trembling fingers. When he noticed you looking at him, he offered a stiff smile.

That was the wrong answer, it seemed. It was the truth, of course, but the reactions around you were discouraging. Linda huffed, Harlan chuckled, Joni nodded mechanically, Donna seethed as she wiped at her husband’s clothes with a napkin, Walt trembled, Jacob’s scowl deepened, the sound coming from Fran and Marta’s corner of the room ceased, and Ransom’s grin was the widest you had ever seen on his face.

“Really?” Linda asked, now focused on her son “Where do you find those people?”

He laughed. “What? I’m very charming.”

“I need to use the restroom,” you squawked. You didn’t really need the restroom, just any place other than there.

“I’ll show you where it is,” Marta said, as quickly as you had. Her eyes told you everything: she was also dying to get out.

You handed your drink over to Ransom and followed Marta out of the room, the two of you almost running down the hallway.

She led you to a lavatory, where you turned on the faucets to cover the sound of you whimpering and heaving inside. After splashing your face with some water, you exited the room to find her still waiting for you outside. She offered an apologetic smile.

“So…” you started, not sure of how to best broach the subject. Good thing she already knew what you wanted to get at.

“They aren’t always like this,” she said “they’re all good people, but things have been a little… you know how it can be with family, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s just a little… seems kind of a bad time for me to be showing up.”

“No, I think it helps. They are better behaved when there’s company.”

But that’s true of everyone.

“Ransom didn’t tell you about…? Anything?” She asked.

“No. He said it’d be fine.”

Marta’s expression was of doubt, but she didn’t say anything to discredit him.

“Are you okay to go back?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

She nodded and stared leading you back to the room.

“They’re good people, but can be a little much sometimes. You get used to it with time.”

“You- I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, but you don’t look that used to them yourself.”

She shrugged “I guess I just… haven’t been around long enough.”

The scene you returned to was different from the one you had run from. Linda had abandoned the window and reclined on one of the armchairs. Richard had made his appearance, leaning against a bookcase behind Linda; He kept a respectful (perhaps even safe) distance between the two. Walt, Jacob and Donna were squeezed in on a single couch, looking like they’d just been plucked from a stuffy family portrait. Joni lounged on a window seat, leaning her chin on one hand and swirling her wine with the other. Fran was nowhere to be found. Harlan, sat atop the chair in front of the halo of knives, looking every bit the magnanimous patriarch. Ransom had taken his place on an armchair, just beside another empty one. On his other side was a small table with two empty wineglasses. His legs were crossed and he had a wide, satisfied smile that you knew well – so you knew it couldn’t mean anything good.

You sat beside him and angled your body in a way you felt would rend a pretty picture, because that seemed to be the game they were playing, while Marta made her way to a corner and stood there, doing the most not to draw attention to herself. Smart.

“So,” Harlan began as you settled into your spot “I think you were telling us about your career?”

“Yes, but there really isn’t much else to say.” Unless they wanted to be bored, that is. You had more tales of spotting typos than of interesting literary works.

“You said you worked at Little, Brown and Co?” He asked and you nodded “How long have you been there?”

“Two years. It’s about all the experience I have working in the field, other than internships in college.”

“Ah, College.” He grinned, but didn’t explain what he found so amusing “What did you major in?”

“English literature, with a minor in communications.”

“Good, good. Topical. You two bonded over books, then?”

You turned to Ransom, who was looking at you with a lazy smile. You had never told him about your job, let alone what you had studied in college.

“Yep,” he said. You two talked about books sometimes, but you didn’t think those conversations had helped with any bonding.

“You know, I think it’s so good to see Ransom has found a positive influence,” Joni said. The affectation in her voice and mannerisms was suddenly much more noticeable, and it felt like an omen.

You turned to Ransom. His lips were pressed together into a thin line and his chest was swelling like he was gathering oxygen for a screaming match or something worse. The longer you spent around these people, the more you were convinced he wasn’t the only one who liked to needle others.

“Honestly, I-” the words tumbled out of your mouth and you could only hope they were the right ones “I’m not sure if he’s influenceable.”

Ransom was still scowling and for a moment you were afraid you had only made things worse, but then his mouth opened and he let out the air in his lungs with a low chuckle. Much better than being in the middle of another argument.

Fran walked back into the room before anyone else could start a scene and announced that dinner was ready. Apparently Harlan hadn’t been exaggerating when he said she was the only one who kept his house in order – all around you tense shoulders relaxed and frowning brows smoothed with the promise of a meal. You must’ve looked happy as well, given you hadn’t eaten a thing since lunch and your stomach was starting to hurt. There was also (and you wished the thought hadn’t run through your mind, but it did) the chance that Ransom and his family would be much less likely to speak if their mouths were stuffed with meatloaf.

You wished you didn’t have those sort of intrusive thoughts about people you had just met, but they weren’t making it easy for you. Marta had alluded to a “family situation” that had left them on edge, but you had never seen people react this badly to strangers. This was the stuff or nightmares, or at least of “Florida Man” news reports. They were supposedly worse when there wasn’t company? How much worse could they get?

Ransom had told you not to worry about dining with his family. Maybe he was so used to them he didn’t think the way they acted was all that strange; maybe he knew his family would behave the way they had but he decided not to warn you for purposes of fuckery; it didn’t matter all that much. The worst thing was knowing that they sucked as hard as he liked to say they did. If you chose to go on with your pregnancy, this is what you would be bringing your child into.

[twomanyideas]

The Search for the Supreme Scent

Fan art used with permission from @x-thekid A Collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404​ with @x-thekid

Fairy Tail Reverse Bang 2020 Pairing: Gray x Natsu AO3 | Ch 1 | Next: Ch 2

Summary: Natsu has decided he’s lived with his feelings for Gray long enough. It was one thing when he thought that Gray and Juvia were together, but now that he knows differently, he refuses to wake up one morning only to find that it's too late.

When Erza forces the two of them to do a job, he discovers it's just the opportunity he needs.

0-0

This is our entry for the Fairy Tail Reverse Bang, which was a really fun event hosted by @ftguildevents.

We were lucky enough to be paired with @x-thekid who is the wonderful artist behind this fan art. You can see her post here. Please take a moment to let her know how much you liked her art!

A few notes:

This story touches upon three in-game quests - Isosceles or Love Triangle (Juvia Character Story), Monster Outbreak from the Very Difficult Requests Set DLC, and The Search for the Supreme Scent (Ichiya Character Story).

This AU has elements of Fairy Tail canon, game canon, as well as game elements we have attempted to incorporate into the story. An example of this is duels, which is an in-game mechanism and not at all as dramatic as Gray might make them sound. ;)

In the game all the playable characters are always at Fairy Tail, this includes Jellal, Ichiya, Kagura, Sting, Rogue, Lyon and Chelia.

We had a lot of fun working on this story and we hope you enjoy it! It is four chapters long and we will post a chapter daily until it is done.

Chapter 1

Natsu entered the newly restored Fairy Tail Guild in his usual manner, kicking the door open and announcing his presence.

“I’m back!”

Only a few people looked up from what they were doing, accustomed as they were to his loud entrances.

“Morning Natsu,” Lucy greeted from her spot at their team table.

“Oh, hey Lucy,” Natsu walked over to the table, plopping down across from her while Happy went off searching for the other Exceeds.

“Are you taking a job with the slayers today, or are we going on a team job?” Lucy asked, and from the look on her face, he could tell which answer she was hoping for.

“No rent money again?” he asked with a knowing smile.

“I’ve been going on a few requests with Levy and the others, but the jobs they take don’t tend to pay as much,” she explained quickly. “Although,” she teased, “there’s definitely a lot less destruction.”

Natsu chuckled. He certainly couldn’t say the same of the jobs he’d been going on. He was bad enough on his own, but adding Sting and Gajeel to the equation, it soon grew beyond anything he could have imagined.

“Sorry, Sting and Rogue should be here any minute.”

“Oh well, I’m sure I’ll figure something out,” Lucy began, but her voice was drowned out somewhat unexpectedly.

“For the last time. NO,” Gray’s yells cut through all conversations, and everyone turned to see what was happening. “I don’t want to go on another job with you!”

Gray stood by the request board, holding a flyer in his hand. His mouth was set in a hard line, but his fingers moved ever closer to the hem of his shirt, which Natsu knew meant he was anxious. Juvia stood next to him, leaving barely any space between them, as she usually did. Her eyes filled with tears at Gray’s tone, her gaze imploring him to change his mind, but it seemed for once the ice mage was determined not to back down.

Natsu heard the murmurs start, and given the things that were being said, he hoped Gray wasn’t able to.

“But Gray-sama, we make a perfect team,” Juvia pleaded, still determined to get her way, “Our magics are compatible, and Juvia can protect you better than anyone.”

“I don’t need protecting,” Gray scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “What I need is a partner who can keep their head on the job, and not on me.”

“Juvia can do that!” Juvia exclaimed, utterly oblivious to the rebuke. Her tears disappeared, and in her excitement, she grabbed on to Gray’s arm.

Gray shook himself free from her grasp and took a step back. “I said, NO,” he repeated firmly.

The guild’s murmurs only grew louder and more disapproving of Gray as Juvia once again began to cry, running off towards one of the rear exits that led to the pool. Many heads turned to follow her, some even sparing sympathetic looks, but no one offered to check on her, and after a few awkward seconds, Gajeel sighed and stepped up to the task. Natsu couldn’t help but feel bad for his rival, although his mind was swimming from what he’d just seen. Gray, however, seemed to have had enough. One second he was there, the next he was gone, and all that could be heard was the sound of the heavy guild doors slamming shut.

Natsu was as shocked as everyone else. Gray had always had a temper. He knew that better than anyone, but it was unlike him to lash out at any of the girls.

“What was that about?” he asked Lucy, who, like Mira, usually knew just about everything that went on in the guild.

Lucy peered at the guild doors thoughtfully and shrugged, “I guess she finally pushed too hard.”

“I thought he liked going on jobs with her,” Natsu commented, his brows furrowing in confusion when Lucy began to laugh.

“You really have been gone a lot, haven’t you?”

“What do you mean?” he frowned, not liking that there was something about Gray he didn’t know.

“All I know is last week he practically begged me to go on a job with the two of them,” Lucy confided, “I thought Juvia was going to find a way to stab me with her eyes. It was so awkward.”

She glanced around the guild to make sure no one was paying any attention to them before revealing, “He looked miserable too. And the sad thing was when I asked him why he wanted me there,” Lucy paused, looking pained by her next words, “He said he didn’t feel like his body was safe around her.”

Natsu tried to come up with some sort of retort but found he couldn’t focus on anything but the maelstrom of emotions brewing inside him at hearing those words. On the one hand, he was cautiously hopeful that maybe Gajeel had been right when he’d told him he was reading too much into Gray’s relationship with Juvia. But that was short-lived. It was soon replaced by an increasing fury at the idea of Gray feeling that way about someone in their guild- the one place where they should all feel safe. “Aren’t Cana’s drinks great?” Erza commented as she joined them at the table, holding a mug full of some strawberry smelling concoction, and saving Natsu from having to come up with a reply.

“They sure are,” Lucy agreed, seeming just as relieved to change the subject. “Just the thing before going on a job.”

His two friends continued talking about some of the other upgrades they had added to the guild while Natsu struggled to control himself. He could understand being angry on Gray’s behalf, but this rage flowing through him seemed excessive, and it disturbed him.

Gray had always been able to take care of himself. He didn’t need protection from anyone, least of all him. Natsu tried to take part in the conversation around him when Juvia happened to walk past him. The hair on the back of his neck rose, and to his great shock, he found himself growling at her, his fists balled and ready to attack. Juvia gaped at him before hurrying away from their table.

Lucy glanced at him curiously while Erza’s eyes narrowed at the display. Natsu could already tell he was in for it, and he wasn’t disappointed when he felt the sharp sting of her fist connecting with his head.

“For goodness sake, pull yourself together, Natsu! Is that what you slayers do on these jobs, act like wild animals?”

“Of course not!” he complained, rubbing his head, even as he tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

“Did we miss something?” Sting Eucliffe asked as he promptly shoved Natsu further into the booth to make room for him and Rogue. “We saw Gray as we came in. He looks pissed.”

Natsu shrugged in reply, not wanting to get into what had happened.

“Are Gajeel and Wendy here yet?” Rogue asked, looking around the guild for the other slayers.

Natsu could tell the moment Gray reentered the guild, not just by the surge of his familiar scent but also by the whispers. When the ice mage took his seat at their table, Natsu made sure to look down at the tabletop so that Gray wouldn’t be able to see his face, just in case it betrayed his feelings.

Natsu could feel the guild’s temperature drop a few degrees as soon as Gray noticed Sting and Rogue. “Great, you two are here again.”

“Gray!” Erza scolded, “Is that any way to talk to our friends?”

Gray covered his eyes with his hand in what Natsu recognized as a futile attempt to control himself. A few moments later, he fixed his gaze on Natsu and scoffed, “So I’m guessing you’re going off with them again today?”

Natsu nodded, not trusting his words not to anger Gray further when he was so clearly holding on by a tenuous thread.

“When you talked to us about this, you said this shit was only going to be once a week,” Gray reminded him.

“I haven’t been gone that often,” Natsu protested, even though he knew it was certainly more than they had initially planned. “I don’t hear anyone else complaining.”

“Oh, believe me, we’ve all done plenty of complaining. You just haven’t been around to hear it. Lucy can’t make her rent from the jobs she can manage on her own.”

“If you’re so worried about Lucy, why don’t you go on a job with her?” Natsu challenged.

“Hey!” Lucy snapped, “Leave me out of this.”

“That’s not the point, and you know it,” Gray pinched the bridge of his nose, “Ugh, you’re giving me a headache.”

“What’s the matter, Princess?” Natsu goaded, “You miss me?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Flame Brain. You’re neglecting your friends- our team- to go off to play with the other dragon slayers.” To make matters worse, Sting decided to butt into the conversation. “Nah, we’re not playing! We’re, uh...pushing each other to get stronger!” he grinned, casually resting his elbow on Natsu’s shoulder. “You know, similar magic and all that.”

“Oh God,” Rogue hid his face behind his hand, looking ready to slide underneath the table.

“Did you just say I’m weak?” Gray spat furiously.

“Huh? Where did you get that from?”

“Just shut up, you’re only making things worse,” Natsu scolded his friend.

“Natsu! You can’t talk to Sabertooth’s Guild Master like that!” Erza berated, horrified by his words.

“What?! He doesn’t care!”

“That’s it!” Gray pounded his fist on the table, “I challenge you to a duel!”

If looks could kill, Sting would have dropped dead that very second.

“Yes, that’s a great idea!” Lyon exclaimed, suddenly appearing next to Gray. “If Sting wins, Natsu and Wendy can go to Sabertooth. And if you win, they can stay in Fairy Tail!” “Not this crap again!” Gray scowled at his foster brother. “Where the hell did you even come from? And why are you people here all the time?!” he complained, raising his hands in disbelief at all the non-Fairy Tail mages lounging around. “Don’t you have your own guilds?”

“I don’t see what your problem is, “ Lyon shrugged, “seems to me like it would fix everything.”

“Oh, hell no, I do not agree to that,” Natsu chimed in, “I love you guys, but I am a Fairy Tail wizard.”

“What the hell, Flame Brain, are you implying I’m going to lose to him?” Gray scoffed, looking offended, although Natsu thought he caught a glimpse of hurt in the ice mage’s expression for a moment.

“What?! I didn’t say that!” Natsu objected, but Gray refused to look at him.

“Who even said we wanted you?” Rogue pointed out, even though it was evident that Sting’s eyes were already lit up at the idea of a challenge.

“ENOUGH!” Erza shrieked, and when they continued to bicker despite her outburst, she muttered, “I’m surrounded by complete idiots!”

She watched them for another minute, looking from one wizard to the next. She grabbed Natsu and Gray by the collar, swiftly realizing they were the only two she could do anything about. Knocking their heads together, she managed to shut up Sting, Rogue, and Lyon, who could only stare at her in shock.

“They’re all insane,” Rogue muttered under his breath, but thankfully Sting was the only one to hear him.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Carla wanted to stop at the market and-,” Wendy stopped mid-sentence, marking the unnatural quiet at a table filled with people known for their loudness. She peered closer, noticing Natsu and Gray glaring at each other and sporting two large bumps on their heads. “Did I miss something?”

She moved over to their side of the table, calling on her magic to heal them, although this didn’t seem to ease their hostility in the slightest.

Thankfully the awkwardness was interrupted by Master Makarov making his way over to the stage.

“Settle down brats, I have an announcement to make,” Makarov yelled from the stage, waiting for a few minutes until he was sure he had everyone’s attention. Peering at the faces that were now intent on him, he remarked cheerfully, “Oh good, I see many of our friends are here! This concerns you too.”

“Do you know what this is about, Erza?” Lucy whispered, but Erza only shook her head.

“We have been through a lot in the last couple of years. All of you have shown courage and skill far beyond your years, and I am incredibly proud of you.” Makarov beamed.

“Now, about eight years ago, we were rudely interrupted in the middle of one of our time-honored traditions, and I, for one, think it’s time we finish what we started.”

“S-Class Trials?” Natsu and Gray chorused eagerly.

“Indeed!” Makarov confirmed with a wide grin, “When I informed the Council of my intentions, they asked that I open the testing up to the other guilds since we currently have the best setup for it. For that reason, the rules have changed a bit.”

“There will be no nominations this time. As far as I’m concerned, you have all more than proven yourselves, so anyone who feels ready is welcome to participate. Teams can have up to five members and may include wizards from different guilds. You may ask one S-Class Wizard to be part of your team if you wish. Any team that completes every exam phase successfully will see all its members promoted to S-Class. The exam will once again take place on Tenrou Island."

“That’s all I have for now. I will have more details on the test itself once I have spoken to the other Guild Masters,” Makarov peered down at Sting and Rogue with a smile. “Master Sting, am I right to assume you and Rogue will be participating?”

"Of course we are!" Sting was almost glowing with excitement, and even Rogue gave an eager nod.

“Alright then, we’ll figure out a way to keep you in the loop so you can pass the information along to the rest of your guild,” Makarov informed him, “We’ll talk about it later.”

Sting nodded in agreement, and Makarov turned his attention back to the others, “ I want you all to think about whether you will take part in the exam or not. I firmly believe you’re all capable of this, but only you can decide if you’re up to it. I’ll need your response by the end of the week, along with a list of your team members.”

With that, Makarov walked off the stage and made his way over to Cana’s bar, climbing onto a stool and ordering a drink. Everyone began to talk all at once, the guild’s noise rising to almost unbearable proportions for the dragon slayers.

Natsu couldn’t contain his excitement any more than the others; he would finally become S-Class! Something he and Gray had dreamed of doing from the moment Erza had joined their ranks so many years ago. He looked towards where Gray had been sitting just a few minutes earlier, only to find the seat empty.

[ampleappleamble]

IT KEEPS HAPPENING

I did it again. I wrote more PoE fanfiction. I keep doing it!

My AO3 account is all set up! I’ll have to transfer my writing from my tablet to my PC (it’s more comfortable to edit stuff on desktop) but once I get what I feel is a respectable amount of writing done (I wanna at least get out of Gilded Vale) I’ll go head and upload that shit to my AO3 and link it all here. I plan on changing the name of my tumblo account to reflect my AO3 name very soon, probably within the week. Mostly because I’m not particularly fond of “Grandma Mohawk” anymore. My new name is/will be much, much more annoying to say. So uh, be on the lookout for that, I guess!

As always, thank you all sincerely for reading about my grouchy furry lady. She loves you all, and so do I. ♡

Chapter 3: At Your Service

---

One foot in front of the other, Axa. One step at a time.

The orlan woman walked slowly, deliberately, carefully making her way down the dirt and gravel path to the only inn in Gilded Vale. She kept her head down, eyes fixed on her boots and the road beneath them. If she saw one more person glare at her with open disdain, she feared she'd lose what remained of her tattered resolve and simply crumple to the ground, defeated.

And if you see one more phantasmal torture victim...

Yes. There was that to consider too. Although she hadn't seen any... apparitions manifest directly in front of her since she'd left the ruins, she still heard whispers just beyond the edge of her hearing, still saw flutters and flashes of movement in the corners of her eyes.

All the better to keep your eyes on your feet, then. Not much farther.

The inn was so close she could smell it. This spoke to the quality of the facility, but Axa was in no position to be choosy. She knew that she'd most likely be curling up on a hard wooden floor that night, but even so, the Black Hound Inn was the very, very last sanctuary she had. It was the only place she could turn to to keep from spending her first night in her new homeland sleeping on the street.

So of course there had to be yet another obstacle between her and her goal.

---

She heard them before she saw them: just outside the inn's doors, a group of four kith arguing loudly. She wanted to pretend the raised voices were simply another trick of her soulsick mind, but she knew they were too real, too distinct to be hallucinations. ...And none of the whispers she'd heard so far had called anyone a cocksucker like that.

Just relax. You don't need to get involved.

She reluctantly lifted her head and got visual confirmation: three clearly drunk people, two folk men and an elf woman, posturing and poking their fingers in the chest of one slightly smaller figure that was mostly obscured from Axa's view. She could see the other kith's raised hands and rounded shoulders, though.

Three against one? Mob justice seems to be the norm around here. She furrowed her brow.

...Something's not right.

"I do apologize, sincerely, for the misunderstanding." Axa's ears perked up. The target of the angry drunks was an Aedyran apparently, and a man. As she got closer, she subconsciously slowed her pace, trying to peer around the backs of the belligerent villagers to get a better look at the other foreigner without alerting anyone of her presence.

Yet.

Although his hood partially hid the characteristic long, pointed ears, she could tell well enough that he was an elf, and a somewhat younger one. His body language suggested that he knew he was in significant danger of bodily harm from these people, but his face wore a diplomatic smile. Unfortunately, his genteel mannerisms only seemed to be pissing off his aggressors further rather than placating them, and their flushed faces and clenched fists suggested that their patience for his attempts at a truce had been worn clean through.

He could see it too, but he was clearly out of options. He closed his eyes, pressed his hands together in front of his chest, bowed his head slightly in a show of submission. "W-why don't we... put this unfortunate matter to rest with a drink, yes? Ah... My treat, of course!"

"There he goes again, thinkin' he can buy us off." The elf woman spat at his feet, and her folk companions clapped her on the back, thrusted their chests out at the other man. "There's what we think of your fancy Aedyre coin, copperfucker!" The men with her barked their agreement, and the elven man shrunk back, obviously struggling to keep from panicking.

Axa gritted her teeth. Oh, fuck this. I've seen enough unfair fights to know where this is going, and I've had my fill of seeing dead people today. Besides, they're in my way. I'm getting involved.

"Excuse me."

Suddenly four pairs of eyes were fixed on the little redhead, three of them red and bleary with drink. Axa gazed evenly into each of them in turn, before gesturing to the building behind them. "This is the inn, right? I've only just arrived here--" here she looked pointedly at the Aedyre man for a second "--and I'm in need of shelter for the night."

The hayseed triumvirate took her in, scowling. "Just what we need," one of the men grunted, "another wiseass foreigner coming in here and mocking us to our face. You ought to mind your own business, girl, if you wanna stay in our town."

"If you wanna stay alive, you mean," the other man added, glaring at the hooded elf. "Unlike certain other guests around here who've worn out their welcome." Now all eyes were on the Aedyran again, who appeared to have been blindsided by Axa's interruption and was now staring in mute shock at his would-be assailant. "Go on," the folk man growled, advancing slightly toward the hooded elf. "Say it again. I want you to." The man grinned a predatory grin, feeling the tides of the argument shift in his favor again. By Magran, he'd stick this snobby little bastard for what he'd said.

Oh shit. Shit! Axa felt the shift too, knew she had to move, now, get between the two of them before it got violent--

"I dare you. I'm itching for an excuse--" he snarled, and before Axa could intervene, she saw the elf man... change.

His posture straightened, his lip curled, he angled his face down but his eyes up to glare defiantly at his adversary.

"Fye, yer itchin' fer th' kindlin' touch o' yer sister, ye coxfither!"

It was as though he'd been temporarily possessed, and the spirit was gone as quickly as it had come over him. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, his triumphant smirk melted into a horrified rictus, as though he had suddenly realized exactly what he'd said.

Axa was just as shocked as the three locals, and the four of them stared at him, stupefied into silence.

What the-- was that Hylspeak??

It didn't last long. The drunks recovered quickly and screamed, incensed, wordless cries of rage that the Aedyre man could only cower in response to. "You son of a bitch, I'll cut that barrel-licking tongue right out of your cocksucking face--"

Axa had been too slow before, but she couldn't afford to make the same mistake twice. As the elf tried to insist they'd merely misheard him (a ridiculous suggestion-- was he trying to bait them...?) she finally found her voice again.

"Stop." She kept her voice even and steady, but put a little extra force behind it as well, just to be certain she was heard. Chanter training coming in handy there, she thought as the drunks turned to her again, compelled just so by her intensity and timbre. Axa took a deep breath.

"Listen. I know you're angry. But anyone talking as big a talk as he is when they're this badly outnumbered is either out of their mind, or they know something you don't." Her gaze flitted between the three puffy red faces, looking for comprehension... and mercifully, finding it. She pressed on, encouraged: "Either way, it's probably wisest to just walk away. Look, he's even carrying a grimoire-- he's probably a wizard. Wael knows what he's capable of! Right?"

She directed her gaze at the Aedyre man, now, and found him looking back at her. Their eyes met for only a second-- and then he changed again, quickly casting a dangerous, aggressive look at the Dyrwoodans. "We've nye quarrel," he growled, before blinking rapidly and going pale again.

"He's not worth it," Axa added quickly, glaring at him out of the corner of her eye. Wael's bowels, is he trying to fuck this up? He glared back at her in response, as if to challenge her assessment of him.

"Fine," the taller of the two men hissed at last, his cohorts gawking at him in surprise. "But don't think this is over, outsider. You've got a lot to learn about Dyrwoodan hospitality. Watch your back around here."

He meant it to be threatening, and the elven man seemed thoroughly cowed. But now that she really looked at him, Axa couldn't help but see the blustering, drunken buffoon as anything but pitiable.

---

The three of them staggered away at last, and once she was sure they were alone, she turned to the hooded man. The final obstacle between me and that floor I'll be sleeping on tonight, she thought, planting her hands on her hips and hanging her head as he drew near. Hopefully he's easier to get rid of than those drunks were. Gods, that was bad...

"Well. That was not exactly how I'd hoped to meet the neighbors," the elf man sighed, his voice much calmer now that the danger had passed. He fidgeted with his hood, and Axa caught a glimpse of long, dark hair resting against the man's cheek. "I must extend my gratitude to you for your assistance with that... ah... awkward situation." He smiled politely down at her, and Axa shook her head.

"No need for thanks. Couldn't leave another kith outnumbered like that. Wasn't right." She spoke softly, but then shot him a look like a bolt of lightning between his eyes. "Could have done without the extremely blatant goading, though, friend."

The color drained from the man's face and his expression went slack for just a second, but he recovered quickly, laughing a nervous little laugh. "Ah... well, it's... that is, that... wasn't all exactly as it seemed, let me assure you." He paused, seeming to reconsider his words, and then he went ahead and just started over: "P-perhaps introductions are in order?" Here, he stood to his full height, crossed his arm over his chest, and bowed slightly at the waist, extending his other hand to the orlan. "Aloth Corfiser, at your service." His voice was smooth as silk, his movements measured and precise.

Oh gods, she thought, this lad's for real, is he? Axa felt simultaneously charmed and condescended to, a strange, unexpected smile spreading across her warm face. It doesn't help that he's pretty much exactly my type... for all the good "my type" has ever done me. She thrust her fuzzy hand into his, shaking it quickly. "Axa Mala, at yours. Now-- care to explain what you think you're doing, going around cursing out drunk locals?"

The hooded man, Aloth, blinked at the little woman as he withdrew his hand, stammered an apology for dragging her into it, but Axa merely crossed her arms in front of her chest, narrowing her eyes.Thought that part of the conversation was over, did you? Sorry, friend. You're not that charming. She waited for his answer.

"As I said before, all that was just an extremely unfortunate misunderstanding. I... probably used a term that means something innocuous back home in the Cythwood-- in Aedyr, I mean-- but unbeknownst to me means something vulgar here. It's a distressingly common occurrence when one--"

"Are you trying to tell me it's an Aedyre custom to tell people to fuck their sister?" Axa cocked a burgundy eyebrow at him. "Because I'm pretty sure that's what you told that fellow."

The man's expression was neutral, but his face was a twitching, sweaty mess. "I... perhaps... both of you misheard. That must be it. Surely."

"Fye, yer itchin' fer th' kindlin' touch o' yer sister, ye coxfither," Axa stated, clearly and boldly, without emotion. "Isn't that what you said?"

And for a split second, he did it again. He changed. It was over almost before Axa had time to notice, but the elf was definitely having some sort of... emotional turmoil in the privacy of his mind, and his body reflected it. He twitched and spasmed, his shoulders locked. He bit his lip, hard, and the odd, impish grin he was wearing crumpled into a tightly forced smile.

"...I should speak more clearly, next time," he stated placidly, a vein bulging on his temple. "My apologies."

... Is he joking? Or mad? ...Or does he just think I'm remarkably stupid?

"What exactly are you doing in this backwater village anyway, wizard? You don't exactly look like a settler." Axa let her gaze wander over him. His clothes and armor were of fine quality, but just starting to fray from constant use. His face was angular and delicate, his skin smooth and clear, but dark circles were just beginning to form beneath his eyes. Whoever he was, he was clearly from money, maybe even nobility of some sort, but he seemed to be suffering a rough patch as of late.

"Begging your pardon, but neither do you," Aloth shot back, looking her up and down as well. "Nevertheless, I imagine we're both here for that exact reason-- lured by cheap land offered by a desperate lord. In my case, my relocation was forced by opportunities for my chosen vocation-- I trained as an arcane knight-- being quite scarce in my homeland. So, I... sought a new beginning elsewhere." He smiled sympathetically. "A familiar story, I'm certain. You were told of the land offer being conditional on the good Lady Raedric's successful delivery, too, I suspect?"

Axa swallowed, remembering the smug, sneering magistrate. "Yes. Only after arriving, of course. I came here with a caravan that... we ran into some trouble near some ruins north of here, and I had to walk here alone, and he tells me to sleep in a stable..."

"Ruins? Engwithan ruins?" Aloth peered at her with interest, curiosity shining in his eyes. "...I've heard rumors about them, but never been near one, of course. Not when the Dyrwoodans would arrest you for trespassing and the Glanfathans would skip the formalities and execute you on sight."

Axa said nothing. She thought about Odema with his guts around his ankles. Calisca and Heodan limp on the ground.

"Tell me," Aloth murmured, leaning down towards the smaller kith. "What exactly did you find out there?"

For a moment, she wondered if she could just... not tell him. Not talk about it. She certainly had little desire to dwell on the events of the day, and even less desire to discuss them with a stranger. And he seemed to be educated well enough in etiquette and manners to leave the topic alone if she asked him to.

"A bîaŵac." She stared directly into his eyes as she said it, and he reacted as though she'd thrown a cold drink in his face.

Never could resist that urge to be dramatic, could we?

She instantly felt oddly ashamed of herself, and looked away from him, at the door to the inn. Gods she was tired. "Can we... continue this conversation somewhere else?"

He held the door to the tavern open for her. She appreciated that.

---

[unlockthelore]

Inexcusable Excuses [ Yōkai AU ]

Returning to the Western Palace, Rin happens upon an irate Sesshomaru and finds the cause to be inexcusable. From the fic Feathers in the Wind on Ao3. For more updates, follow the feathers in the wind tag on this blog. If you’re looking for Yōkai AU,  search the yokai au tag.

Rin held out her arms as she soared through the air. A wide blue sky surrounding her as she rushed through the dampness of the clouds. Sable black feathers warmed by sunlight brush against her arms, cool wind currents carrying her westward. This was freedom in the most unadulterated term. Nothing to meet her at this height but the occasional flock. Endless skies opened around her, and a canvas of land rushing beneath the sea of clouds.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she banked sharply to one side, curving through the clouded veil, the ground arching up to meet her as she shot up into an arc. Beyond the forests blanketed in patches of sunlight, cliffside and raucous waterfalls catching ocean spray on her feathers as she crested over their peaks, a valley blooming from hill to vale dotted with villages, lies a castle set upon a precipice so tall it nearly could vanish into the sky. Rin tipped her head back as she allowed her eyes to wander across its watchtowers, meeting eyes with soldiers who saluted or waved as she shot past.

Her giggle lost in the booming rush of wind as she soared over sloping rooftops and beneath archways, startling some who were passing by. Hearty apologies drowned out in barrel rolls between posts and open doorways, shoji rattling in its frame.

Familiar faces blur amidst unfamiliar, and yet none belonged to the one she was looking for.

Half a millennia of sneaking in and out of the Western Palace leant her knowledge of its layout but upon being permitted to traverse its better known pathways, she couldn’t resist flying.

Wings fluttered, beating as she made her descent into the open fields of her favorite garden where a lone figure sat beneath an aged gingko tree bursting with verdant green leaves. Clusters of feathers surrounded her as her wings tucked close to her back, dew-covered grass wetting the soles of her feet with each hurried stride.

To her surprise, the field was fairly empty. No one milling about the flower beds, tending or otherwise. Not even his retainer or the two-headed dragon who often trailed at his heels in earnest. With the wide array of colors and scents, narrow spaces cut around terraces and small patches of grass used for lounging — it was hardly a place to be sullen. And yet, somehow, he was.  

Standing with his back to her despite the both of them knowing he was aware of her presence. A sure sign of irritation.

Shaded beneath the leaf canopies, Rin’s wings twitched as she approached and reached out to lay her hand against his back. There was an odd smell to him and her nose wrinkled but she pressed forward, cradling his sides between her hands when he didn’t turn. No longer did brackish tears roll down his cheeks when he became upset. Ever since he’d become a daiyōkai one hundred fifty springs old, those days were rendered memory.

Yet still, she goaded him into turning toward her as if naught had changed, angling with an odd turn at his hips. Eventually, his body gave way to her pestering and shifted amidst the damp grass squelching wetly beneath his boots.

A slight glower in his eyes, shadowed and distant.

“Sesshomaru?”  Rin called to him in a hushed tone, soft and confused when the recognition returned to his eyes.

He didn’t glare at her with discontent or brush aside her hands. Instead, his sleeves swept against her arms as he pulled her close, pressing her cheek against the solid warmth of his chest. A startled huff of a breath squeezed from her lungs — he never instigated hugs — or rather, he seldom did. The scent on him was much stronger now and Rin shut her eyes, concentrating on picking apart his usual musk from this.

Perfumed, almost powerfully so, and if her nose was correct she’d smelled this before on one of the lesser lord’s daughters. One that had been incredibly interested in being chosen as Sesshomaru’s bride. A strange tremble went through her as she pulled away, staring up into his eyes sympathetically. Downcast and apprehensive, and despite his face giving away nothing, she read him all the same.

Her heart cinched as he presented his cheek to her, a sideways glance filled with disdain. Rin pulled her lips thin. Dread pooling in her stomach as she sniffed his cheek, recoiling with a disgusted scoff.

“… Did she kiss your cheek when you weren’t paying attention?” She asked, drawing her sleeve over hand to wipe at his cheek. Although her own smell was that of the forest, ocean spray, and sodden earth, it was infinitely better than this.

“Mm…”  Sesshomaru hummed in a deadened tone, his inexpressive veneer cracking as his eyebrows pulled together with the faintest scowl. Rin slipped her fingers free of her drawn sleeve and traced her nails over the incline of his marks. Golden eyes flicked toward her, softening and strangely bright. “I told her I wasn’t interested and she seemed to take it as a challenge.”

Rin rolled her eyes. Again, she thought derisively. Brushing off his cheek then patting lightly as if it would erase the deed. In truth, it was a distraction for herself. Irate thoughts buzzing in her mind like bees. A challenge? When would the world learn that forcing him to do something wasn’t the way, or anyone for that matter? Justified anger on his behalf crept up and swelled in her chest as she thought of giving the young demoness a piece of her mind later. While it would likely result in a fight, she was more than prepared to fight on his behalf.

Or perhaps it was because she felt a mighty need to protect him. Half-glaring at nothing and curling her fingers in his silken sleeve, Rin felt her face warming and wanted desperately to bury herself in his chest and forget. Propose a race so they could soar through the clouds together and forget all that laid below. An overwhelming blah settled over the colorful thoughts and she barely noticed until her nose was buried against his chest that he’d hugged her close.

A soft “Huh?” muffled against the lining of his nagajuban, glancing up when she felt the weight of his head resting against her own. When his hold on her was secured, hands tucked beneath the fluttering wings at her back, Rin dared to sigh. Her toes pressing into the soft, cool earth and kicking up small clumps of grass, thin bands on her ankles ringing when she stamped her foot just shy of his boots. She swallowed anger and bitterness.

Why was he comforting her?

Rin grumbled, turning her head so her mouth was freed while her cheek pressed against his chest.  “…I’m still angry,” she murmured in a half-hearted protest.

“You can still be angry,” he muttered and her heart tittered in its beating. His smile was evident in the gentle airiness of his voice, clawed fingers threading in her hair, carefully working through damp locks.  He never told her not to be angry, nor how to feel at all. And from the tight way he held her to his chest, as if she would vanish if he loosened his hold in the slightest — she could tell he was angry himself. “But you’re the only one I want.”

Unconsciously, her wings fluffed at his words. Pleasant warmth prickling at her spine and the back of her neck, the colors of the garden blurred beneath her closing eyelids. Sesshomaru could be incredibly sweet when he wanted to, and no matter how tightly she tried to grasp it, the anger was dissipating. His affectionate hold drew softer sighs and giggles from her lips, soft lips brushing against her ear left bare from his nuzzling her hair aside.

A disgruntled groan warbles from Rin’s throat as she swatted at his back, curling her fingers in his kimono. “Stop that, I’m trying to stay angry.”

Sesshomaru pulled back and pressed a kiss against her hair, the deep baritone of his voice reverberating through her in a bell’s toll. “I made a promise to you.” He reminded, her brow arched until he pulled away. “One I intend to keep.”

Her hold on the last vestiges of angers loosened at the memory.

A younger Sesshomaru, innocent in only the ways a youthful appearance could bring, holding onto her hands as she floated above him. He was remiss to let her go, but the days’ light was gone, and she had to return before Midoriko began to worry.

It wasn’t in jest when she pulled him closer.

Promising him that there would come a day where she would not have to take flight and leave him to go home. They would build one together. Where they could watch the sun rise and fall. A home where they would stand side by side, hold hands and smile. Not as lovers if he didn’t desire. But as friends.

His eyes shined in the amber light filtered beneath the leaves that afternoon. The same gingko tree they stood under now, where she promised she would make a home with him and he promised himself to her, letting her hand slip away.

A cherished memory. One Rin kept buried deep in her heart, never to bring up again.

And yet he had.

Sesshomaru, who all believed to be cold and unfeeling, recanting warmly a promise made centuries ago. Gods, how could she be angry at that?

Pulling away to meet a golden gaze, she huffed at the sincerity in his eyes. Involuntarily puffing her cheek as she glanced aside at the flower beds arcing around the grounds.

“You could just say you love me, you know.”

She hadn’t seen what expression he wore and was prepared to drop her feigned ire to start up another conversation. Then, without warning, whispered words pressed into a kiss ghosted across her forehead.

“…I love you.”

Clutching the back of his kimono, she cursed under her breath when he held her closer, his smile barely in view from her flickering glance.

“Okay, okay…” She sighed, unable to hide a pleased smile when he kissed her cheek. “I get it…”

Unbeknownst to the pair, their image shimmered in the glittering reflection of an orb. A pair of onlookers observed, one in surprise while the other fond and content. The former, clearing his throat, looked away with his hand covering his mouth.

“I feel like I just witnessed something private,” he said with a small amount of sheepish self-consciousness.

“Perhaps,” his co-conspirator said to him shamelessly, waving her hand to dispel the image. “But we know our son’s feelings.” Her fingers curled beneath her chin as she stared at the crystal ball’s surface with a charmed quirk to her brow. “That little bird is the only one he cares for.”

The Inu no Taishō smiled, lacing his fingers over his stomach with a self-assured look at his wife, lying back against his pillowed throne. “And he’s very steadfast,” he quipped, a toothy fang showing as his face split with a knowing grin. “Much like someone else I know.”

Her eyes widened and she shot him a sidelong glance, more annoyed than upset. So similar to their son was she in showing her emotions, drawing a belly laugh from him. While she set her belongings aside, he opened his arms, giving his best smile to ease her slight scowl.

“Don’t be angry, Kimi,” he cooed, catching her raised brow and unimpressed look, adding on to hasten the blow. “I love you.”

That seemed to be what did it. Rolling her eyes to the heavens, she cast a slight smile in his direction then gracefully curled in his arms with her head resting against his shoulder. He would have been fine with that being the end-all. Deciding to leave the matter of discussing the lesser lord’s daughter to another time.

Then, without preface, she hummed pleasantly and muttered, “… and I you, beloved.”

Glancing down at her, his smile faltered then returned with ache in his cheeks. He squeezed her a bit tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

That was a phrase he would never grow tired of.

[biscoopstroop]

A TRUTH AND A LIE ⁠— S. HARRINGTON X READER

summary: in a world where soulmates feel each other’s pain, (f/n) meets her soulmate after a slut-shaming incident and decides that if he was her soulmate she wanted nothing to do with him. although, after two years people do seem to change.

pairing: steve harrington x reader

writer: ashley

set: the monster (s1e6) and the mall rats (s3e2)

a/n: ok so this has light light light hopper!reader. so light that i didn’t even add it to the reader above because there are no scenes with them together. and i hope you guys like this! this is the first one i’ve posted onto this blog.

‘Starring Nancy ‘the Slut’ Wheeler’ was spray-painted bright red on the Hawk’s marquee when (F/N) strolled up, her hands balled into the pockets of her jacket and a delicate shade of pink snapped from the bubblegum she was chewing. Turning on her heel from the theater, she moved to the alley. The idiot continued to shake the evidence, the ball clinking against the metal can.

When (F/N) reached the alley, she found not just one asshole, but a whole gaggle of them as three of them stood and watched the fourth continue to vandalize the town. If (F/N) was in town more often, she would probably know each of them by name and an extensive reputation, but with her mom living in Indianapolis, she only spent weekends and holidays in Hawkins with her dad.

Now, she stood close to the group, but far enough that they hadn’t registered her standing there. They were taking their sweet time to notice her as she dragged one neatly manicured hand out of its blue jean pocket and checked the time on her watch.

The spray can stopped rounding out the ‘b’ in bitch, and the gaggle of assholes turned to stare at the girl who seemed to just appear. (F/N) raised one arched eyebrow at them, popped another bubble and returned her hand to her pocket. 

“Wanna tell me why you’re slut-shaming people?” (F/N) asked cooly, her words smooth like the October breeze, infesting their skin with goosebumps as she spoke. “Or have the fumes already gotten to your head?”

(F/N)’s words were slightly condescending, but her tone stayed crisp as she cocked her head to the side, waiting. It seemed that the fumes had gotten to them as they were slow to respond, and once they did, they all collectively turned to each other before one of them stepped up.

He had dark brown eyes and hair larger than life that didn’t move a strand from where he stood with his gaggle of assholes to squaring his shoulders in front of her. (F/N) couldn’t help but notice the one curl that dipped down perfectly and kissed his forehead. She wondered if it took a lot of effort to get that Superman curl just right.

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” the boy asked with a laugh, his cool facade radiating from him. A cool he wanted but was quickly broken when challenged by others. Especially with the queen of cool herself in his presence.

“No,” she assured him, furrowing her brow. “I’m just a local who would rather bust your chops then go see a movie. It’s not cool to be an asshole, lesson number one, Hairspray.”

Hairspray stared at (F/N) his hackles tense and his eyes turning from a collected annoyance to full-blown irritation by her.

(F/N) spat her gum out, her gaze leaving Hairspray’s without hesitation and she pulled a cigarette from her pocket. “I’m trying to quit,” she explained, lighting the bud and steadying her gaze back on him.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Hairspray told her, trying to make himself big and intimidating as he pushed her back slightly. 

“Oh!” the red-haired girl cooed. “Hey there, princess!”

(F/N) looked back to the thin girl storming her way towards them. Her fists were clenched, and her eyes were narrowed in an attempt to keep herself from crying as her eyes focused on Hairspray. 

“I’m gonna guess this concerns her,” (F/N) stated, whipping herself around to look back at Hairspray. “So, yes, this does concern me because people who are assholes being assholes need to shut up and listen for once,” she concluded with an unamused laugh.

Nancy Wheeler had her sights set on one thing, and one thing only, and that was Hairspray. (F/N) stepped out of her way as she pushed through like a bull and before any words were exchanged, Nancy had slapped him across the cheek. The teens on the sidelines crowed in amusement at Nancy’s sudden action. 

“What is wrong with you, Steve?” Nancy asked Hairspray.

(F/N) noticed the odd tingling in her cheek, the buzzing sensation keeping her back from allowing herself into the argument between the couple.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? I was worried about you,” Steve turned back on her, his tone condescending and seemed like he was trying too hard to be emotionless. “I can’t believe I was actually worried about you,” he laughed, trying to distance himself but something in the way he was doing it showed his heart on his sleeve.

“What are you talking about?” Nancy asked, her spine straightening out as she glared at Steve. 

(F/N) turned to the entrance as another boy walked in after Nancy, lanky and timid as he stood behind Nancy but didn’t say a word as the gaggle of assholes goaded the two of them. From the goading, (F/N) was able to get one side of the story, Steve’s story, as he had caught her with the timid boy in her bedroom while she was dating Steve.

Now, Steve slut-shaming Nancy without even talking to her was bullshit, and he should’ve known it. He even tried to pry out why Nancy had the timid boy in her room in the first place surrounded by his friends. She was silent, feeling their judgemental eyes on her and was silenced by them. 

“Come on, Nancy. Let’s just leave,” the timid boy told her, taking her arm and tried to lead her out of the alley before tempers flared and stupid mistakes haunted them for years to come.

Steve strutted after them bent the wrong way by the timid boy, or who he called Byers. He had the same last name of Joyce Byers, the one her father had told her had gone downhill since her youngest son went missing. (F/N) couldn’t blame her, but for her oldest son, it must’ve been hard with his brother going missing, his mother going a little bit insane and every asshole within Hawkins bullying him on these accounts. 

“Hey, Steve, stop it,” (F/N) told Steve sternly, pushing back on his chest as he had done to her earlier. He kept on moving though, pushing (F/N) backward with him, his eyes trained on Byers trying to spark a reaction out of him.

“You know what, Byers, I’m kind of impressed. I always took you for a queer—“

“Stop it, man,” (F/N) said again, able to push him two steps back but he was already pushing three steps forward. It was like all he could see was Jonathan and red as he picked and prodded at every sore wound the timid boy had.

“A screw up like your father. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. I mean, there’s a ton of screw-ups in your family. Your mom. I’m not even surprised with what happened to your brother.”

“Steve!”

“I’m sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, but the Byers’ their entire family is a disgrace—“

She could feel it, the crack in her jaw without getting hit as Jonathan swung around her and hit Steve right in the cheek without a second thought. Steve was on one side of the alley while Jonathan backed himself over to the other side, his chest pumping with adrenaline.

(F/N) sat on the ground, holding her cheek as she watched the two fight through blurred vision. The fight gaining more intensity as the gaggle chanted excitedly and Nancy was trying to get Jonathan to stop without getting too close. (F/N) wanted to throw up as their shouting made her head split and her ears ring and the familiar sound of getting caught came from around the corner.

Callahan had tried to pull Jonathan off Steve before getting knocked in the face, then Powell was able to take him into custody. Steve and his cool guy gang sped off while Callahan hustled after them. Powell had Jonathan against one of the cars and had him handcuffed. Nancy stood off to the side of the alley where (F/N) rested her gaze as she watched Nancy panic.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Callahan said quickly as he squatted and got into (F/N)’s headspace, his big head and dorky mustache swimming into her view as he took his flashlight and flung it between dilating pupils. “You okay? Did you get hit?”

(F/N) shook her head slowly, lifting her hand to her face to feel the only wound she had gotten was a thin ribbon of blood streaming from her nose.

“No,” she muttered, even as she sat there on the ground with her head leaning against the brick of the Hawk, her legs sprawled out in front of her and a cigarette edging closer to falling off her lip, (F/N) still appeared cool. “I think I just met my soulmate, and he’s an asshole.”

⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ⋆*･ﾟ

It had been three years since Steve met (F/N). Between her hopping between Indianapolis and Hawkins, the two never spoke more than snarky remarks to the other. (F/N) had never told Steve what she had come to conclude from the mere belief that through Steve’s high school years, he didn’t deserve to have her as a soulmate. His cocky, pretentious, fake cool guy attitude was bullshit and (F/N) wasn’t about to have herself broken up over him.

Only the police station knew the truth, and frankly, they all agreed with her when she said she’d like to keep away from the asshole who felt that vandalizing property was a better way to deal with a relationship than talk it out. 

And then, Starcourt Mall opened, (F/N) had graduated and she was spending her summer in Hawkins with her dad since they hadn’t had a lot of time together lately. And the fact that he had adopted a girl with strange powers, but that was a story for another day.

El and (F/N) had become something close to sisters but not quite. They gave each other space and hadn’t quite started to grate each other’s nerves with their habits. Although El making out with Nancy Wheeler’s younger brother, Mike, did always rub her the wrong way. As it did her dad, especially when the door wasn’t propped open three inches. 

Jim Hopper had barged in on El, believing Mike was inside, but instead found Max Mayfield with her reading magazines and doing girly things together. He stuttered out an apology and made his way out of their room. (F/N) had entered the room after them, telling the girls that she’d take them to Starcourt the following day so that Max could show El around the new mall and maybe get some new clothes. 

The three stood in the mall the next day, (F/N) handing both girls a crisp dollar bill and let them go off on their own letting them know she would be waiting inside Scoops Ahoy. Crowds weren’t something (F/N) was a fan of so sitting in a cold ice cream shop by herself sounded like the best mall experience she could ask for. Plus, she had been to plenty of malls in Indianapolis with her old friends, and if you’ve been to one mall, you’ve been to them all.

(F/N) walked into Scoops with her thumbs rocked in her belt loops and a bright yellow tank top showed off the slight tan she had gotten from the summer sun. (F/N) looked to the counter before anything else and there at the counter stood an asshole. (F/N) almost turned around, but decided that with him pegged behind the counter it would allow her to torture him. 

(F/N) stepped up to the counter, leaning her side against the counter as she hit the bell repeatedly to call someone else to the front as Steve glared at her. 

“I’m right here,” Steve muttered, but she didn’t even make eye contact.

“I’m sorry, I don’t take orders from assholes or slut shamers or people who run away from the cops when their arrest is valid, (F/N) shrugged her shoulders, hoping someone would come out from the back rather than Steve Harrington.

(F/N) watched as Steve’s face turned red and she smirked at his stupid sailor’s uniform and couldn’t help but think of what a loser King Steve had turned into after graduation.

“Please stop, Robin’s not here to take your order,” Steve muttered, his shoulders hunched as he massaged his temple.

“Guess it’ll be a while,” (F/N) shrugged, tapping her hand on the bell still.

Steve looked like he was going to explode, his face red and stress sweat had started to pile on his forehead.

“Is Erica here?” a familiar face asked from behind the counter and into the backroom. “Oh! (F/N), y-you’re in town?”

“Yeah, I’m spending the summer with my dad and... enjoying Hawkins,” she laughed awkwardly, turning back to look at the customers inside and then to the two behind the counter. She caught Steve’s eye that held a knowing gaze that she wasn’t planning on saying Hawkins but a little girl no one was to know about.

(F/N) shuddered at the look he was giving her but returned to Robin with a small smile, pushing out of her head the thoughts of ‘why would Steve Harrington know?’

“How have you been?” (F/N) asked with a small smile.

“I’ve been working here,” Robin laughed nervously, her hands on the blockers and her knuckles turning white out of anxiety.

“Hold on,” Steve interrupted the two, whipping his head to look over at Robin. “You know here?”

“Yes,” Robin nodded, slowly nodding her head to ensure he caught her words.

“Cool people know cool people, Hairspray,” (F/N) explained with a small, huffy laugh.

“I’m cool,” Steve defended, straightening his shoulders but waiting for them to validate his coolness.

“You’re an asshole,” (F/N) pointed out.

“I’ve grown past that,” Steve explained with a loud sigh.

“He has,” Robin agreed like she didn’t want to but had to.

“Thanks, Robin,” Steve muttered, dejected by the two women berating him. The hand on his shoulder caught his attention finding (F/N) at the end of it and there was a small hope that she’d reassure him in his expression that (F/N) found funny.

“You’ve become a loser,” (F/N) laughed. “But I could be friends with a loser.”

Steve smiled lightly at her words. At the same time, a little girl with colorful beads in her hair pushed past (F/N) knocking her hips into the counter that rattled a stinging pain through her. She hunched over, Steve following suit although the girl hadn’t knocked into him.

(F/N) kept her head down waiting for Steve’s reaction but nothing came. Slowly, (F/N) looked up from her huddled position and through the strands covering her face to catch Steve’s eyes warmed from the thought that she was his soulmate. Maybe it was because of the heartbreak he had gotten from Nancy Wheeler, or perhaps it was because she was just so goddamn cool all of the time, but he’d never thought for a second he’d meet his soulmate. Especially someone he e had met before.

(F/N) smiled like a teeter-totter, one side going up and the other falling down in an awkward ‘yeah, I’ve known all along’ and somehow Steve caught that from just a glance at her guilty face, because now he was pointing one of his sticky fingers in her face, shouting, “You knew!”

“Of course, I knew, dipshit!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were an asshole! Why would I tell an asshole?”

“I’m not an asshole now.”

“No, you’re a loser now.”

“Would you go on a date with a loser?”

“Depends,” (F/N) said, a stupid smirk coming to her face. “On the loser.”

“I’ll pick you up tonight,” he winked, trying to lean on the counter but tripping over his two own feet and had to catch himself.

Behind her, she could feel the air shift, and there stood El and Max with shimmering eyes and shit-eating grins now with more fashionable choices of clothing. They stared at her, something lingering that felt like (F/N) had a sister again as the two sung, “Steve and (F/N) sitting in a tree!”

“Are you two children?” (F/N) asked, rolling her eyes at the two.

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

wanna request?

[crimethinc]

The Catalan Independence Movement: A New Chapter of Unrest—Chronicling a Week of Escalation

Starting Monday, in response to draconian sentences imposed on politicians who promote Catalan independence, tens of thousands of people across Catalunya have engaged in sustained rioting and disruption. Although the majority of the movement remains pacifistic, a few thousand participants have rejected the leadership of political parties and organizations, opting for open confrontation with police. The various mobilizations are still taking place in confluence, however, making it very difficult for the police to control. Protesters have reportedly used caltrops, Molotov cocktails, and paint balloons to disable police riot vans, while keeping individual officers at a distance with lasers and slingshots and driving away helicopters with fireworks. In the following report, we review the events of the past week and explore what is at stake in this struggle.

As anarchists, we have a more robust conception of self-determination than mere national sovereignty. All governments are based on the asymmetry of power between ruler and ruled; nationalism is just one of several means by which rulers seek to turn us against each other so we don’t unite against them. We consider it instructive that the Catalan police have worked closely with Spanish national police throughout the last several years of repression; even if Catalunya gains independence, we are certain that independent Catalan police and courts will continue to repress those who fight against capitalism and seek true self-determination. At the same time, there is a longstanding tradition of anarchist and anti-state activity in Catalunya, and we are inspired to see some of this coming to the fore in resistance to the violence of the Spanish state. It is possible that the latest escalation of conflict in the streets of Catalunya will be a step towards the radicalization of the entire movement and the delegitimizing of state solutions.

Let’s look closer to see.

Members of Committees for the Defense of the Republic gather outside the Civil Guard barracks during a protest after nine activists associated with the Catalan independence movement were detained by police in Barcelona, Spain September 23, 2019.

Monday, October 14

In retribution for the 2017 referendum and subsequent declaration of independence, Spain’s Supreme Court sentenced former Catalan vice president Oriol Junqueras to 13 years in prison; former ministers Jordi Turull, Raül Romeva, Dolors Bassa, Joaquim Forn, and Josep Rull were sentenced to between 10 and 12 years apiece. Former parliament speaker, Carme Forcadell, received 11 and a half years for sedition. Activists Jordi Sànchez and Jordi Cuixart were sentenced to 9 years each, also for sedition.

Several independence groups called for demonstrations and blockaded major roads in Barcelona. Early Monday afternoon, the Tsunami Democràtic group called for demonstrators to blockade the Barcelona airport. There were also blockades on train lines and many highways.

Showing the integrated functioning of all the different subsections of the state, the Catalan and Spanish police—the Mossos d’Esquadra and Policia Nacional—worked together to repress the demonstrators. They brutally attacked a large number of people. Still, as in 2017, the vast majority of demonstrators remained “nonviolent” in response. Some young people start to throw trash and light objects at police.

Tuesday, October 15

On Tuesday, the blockades organized by “Tsunami Democràtic” continued on a largely “nonviolent” basis, slowing and in some cases paralyzing rail, car, and air transit. More protests broke out that night. Goaded by police violence, people began to fight back, throwing heavier objects and setting fires in the streets.

The Assemblea Nacional Catalana (“Catalan National Assembly,” ANC) and various political parties had convened columns to march from across Catalunya starting Wednesday, taking the highways and thus blocking them, in order to arrive in Barcelona on Friday for a general strike and protest. The plan was for this action to be totally pacifist. This was basically a repetition of their 2017 strategy, in which they organized demonstrations on October 3, two days after the massive police beatings that occurred during the referendum on October 1, waiting an extra day before holding the protest in response to government repression so that people wouldn’t be reacting immediately to the violence without a chance to calm down.

Yet they also gave their approval to Tsunami Democràtic, which had planned all along to organize flash-mob-style protests immediately following the verdict. These protests, too, were intended to be completely nonviolent, but to take a more effective approach—targeting infrastructure rather than merely symbolic points. Either the organizers underestimated how many people would show up and stay into the night, or they overestimated their ability to impose pacifism after the 2017 experience.

Starting Tuesday night, events were clearly out of their hands. In Catalunya, the extent to which people employ combative and destructive tactics is generally a useful indicator of the autonomy of a particular demonstration, even though in and of itself utilizing more confrontational tactics doesn’t necessary imply a radical agenda. The parties have always insisted that everything must be peaceful, just as they have watered down the meaning of “independence,” using nationalistic discourse to and suppressing the anti-capitalist objectives that used to characterize the movement.

Thousands of people protest the sentencing in front of Generalitat local office in Gerona, Catalunya on October 14, 2019.

It’s not easy to summarize the political ideas of people fighting in the streets on the basis of their conduct, but it seems that the pacifists remain under the ideological dominance of the parties and “civil society” organizations like ANC and Omnium, whereas those putting up barricades appear to be open to a much wider vision of what the enemy is and the objectives of the actions could be. The former tend to be middle-class (or aspiring middle-class) and exclusively Catalan speakers; the latter group is much more diverse, including Spanish speakers (though still mostly Catalan speakers), immigrants, and others. When the more confrontational demonstrators express themselves, they tend to express opposition to the police, “the fascist Spanish state,” and to mention more economic issues.

We should always challenge the assumption that a movement is about one thing. A movement is only about one thing where there is an effective leadership controlling it. Left to themselves, people don’t tend to reduce their concerns to single issues. Reality is intersectional.

Hats off to the anarchists and other anti-authoritarian activists who have spent the last two years spreading non-statist, non-nationalist perspectives and analysis relating to this issue and creating the autonomous, horizontal spaces that have cropped up in this movement since 2017, outside the dominance of the political parties and the Marxist-Lenininsts who dominated the indepe movement before 2013. The emergence of this autonomous space is the key difference that distinguishes what is happening today from what happened in 2017—and we’re seeing its fruits in what is taking place in the streets.

Another major factor in the way that people in Catalunya have behaved ungovernably this week is that the Spanish state was stupid enough to imprison the pacifist politicians and CC activists who had effectively pacified the movement in 2017. The ones who had already effectively killed this movement, it seemed, until now.

Never underestimate states. Also, never underestimate statist stupidity.

The Mossos charge [???] against protesters in the center of Barcelona on the night following Tuesday, October 15, 2019.

Wednesday, October 16

On Wednesday, high school and university students declared a strike, which continued through Friday. ANC marches and highway blockades set out from many major cities. In the evening, people engaged in very serious rioting in Barcelona; substantial rioting took place in all three other provincial capitals, not to mention smaller cities like Manresa. Many of the clashes occurred outside the Delegations of the (Spanish) government or Guardia Civil barracks. There had already been significant rioting in Lleida and Tarragona on Tuesday night.

Catalan president Quim Torra and ex-president Carles Puigdemont declared that the rioters were “infiltrators,” but only the immediate followers of those politicians were stupid enough to believe this. The usual absurd conspiracy theories spread across social networks about masked protesters getting paid in envelopes of cash.

In Madrid, a fairly large anti-fascist, pro-Catalan demonstration took place at the same time as a fascist march against independence. The two demonstrations clashed and police separated them.

Police charged through the crowd several times with batons and fired foam projectiles at people.

Thursday, October 17

ANC marches continued. Rioting took place again that night in Barcelona and other three provincial capitals. Fascists marched in favor of Spanish unity in Barcelona, attacking some protesters in favor of independence.

Friday, October 18

Today, the general strike is taking place in Catalunya. A Spanish judge has ordered that webpages linked to Tsunami Democratíc must be shut down—something similar to China forcing Apple to shut down an app used by demonstrators in Hong Kong.

The conservative People’s Party (PP) is calling for the application of the National Security Law—essentially, martial law. Meanwhile, it appears that a new political consensus may be forming. For a couple years Spain hasn’t been able to form an effective majority government; elections took place earlier in the year, but will have to take place again in November, because disagreements prevented the Socialists from forming a coalition government with Podemos. The fighting in Catalunya is driving a wedge between Podemos (which takes a soft approach based in dialogue, potentially open to a “legitimate” referendum) and Socialists (who take a hard approach rejecting any possibility of dialogue or self-determination). This creates the possibility of a coalition government involving the Socialists and the PP—assuming the PP, Citizens, and Vox parties don’t get enough votes to comprise the majority on their own, which they very well might not, as Spain remains majority left.

The riot cops are exhausted, probably only running on cocaine at this point. There are videos circulating of riot vans carousing down the streets with the cops using their sound cannons to shout “Som gent de pau.” This means “we are people of peace”—it is the slogan of the independence parties, but the cops mean it in a mocking, provocative tone. There are cases of the Mossos discipline breaking, of individual officers being isolated and beaten up, which never happened during the strikes of 2010 to 2012 or even the week of the eviction of the anarchist social center Can Vies. Several times, police were forced to retreat by combatants hurling rocks and even some Molotov cocktails. Even at the high point of the resistance defending Can Vies, it was rare to see police retreat; they just had to work really hard to advance, at which point rioters simply went elsewhere.

A mainstream newspaper reported today that fully half of the police riot vans have been decommissioned by damages, primarily to tires. It’s unclear how quickly they can repair them. If they lose their vans, they will be powerless; there are too many people in the street, using too much force. The state would have to send in the Guardia Civil or the military proper to maintain what they call “order.”

The real question is what will happen tomorrow, on Saturday. Today could serve as a catharsis, ending the unrest; it could be effectively repressed, if police bring in new resources and tactics; or it could be the day that the state recognizes that it has lost control and has to esclate repression. During the riots defending Can Vies, it was after the fourth day that the state recognized it had lost; on the fifth day, everyone was exhausted so the march was just a victory lap. But now, with perhaps double the number of police but several times as many participants, spread throughout Catalunya, the movement won’t tire as quickly. Though the pacifists condemn the rioting, they’re still marching and blocking highways, thereby adding to the difficulty for the state.

The Mossos cross a burning barricade in Barcelona ​​to charge protesters.

The Backstory, the Future

The Iberian peninsula has seen conflict between monarchists, capitalists, fascists, and proponents of state democracy, on one side, and anarchists and other proponents of liberation since long before the Spanish Civil War. It’s important to remember that the independence movement only took center stage in Catalunya after countrywide anti-capitalist struggle reached an impasse, undermined by many participants’ erroneous belief that democracy—direct or otherwise—could bring about the changes they desired.

In 2011, the 15M movement, a forerunner of Occupy, broke out in Spain, occupying plazas and clashing with police. That was just one chapter in a phase of struggle arguably peaked on March 29, 2012 with massive riots during a nationwide general strike. All around the world, this was a high point of grassroots struggle against the inequalities of capitalism and the violence of the state.

Yet rather than continuing to invest energy in grassroots direct action as a means of enacting change, many who had promoted direct democracy in the plaza occupations shifted to trying to rehabilitate state democracy via new parties like Podemos. Ultimately, as we chronicled here, the results were disappointing, serving to pacify the social movements without achieving their original goals.

In the ensuing vacuum, the independentista movement gained momentum, proposing a referendum as a way to make Catalunya independent—promising a state solution to the problems that had originally inspired people to mobilize against capitalism and government oppression. When Spain cracked down violently on the referendum, this left anarchists in an awkward position, wanting to oppose police violence but not to endorse national independence as the solution to the problems engendered by capitalism and the state. Of course, it wasn’t just Spanish police participating in the crackdown—it was also Catalan police. All the institutions that would supposedly serve the people after independence were already being used against them, as they surely will continue to be if Catalunya does at some point become an independent state.

All this shows the problems with nationalism and democracy. We support people in Catalunya defending themselves from police, courts, and other institutions of power; this is why the events of this week have been inspiring. But ultimately self-determination means abolishing these institutions, not reforming or reinventing them. The question remains whether the current struggle in Catalunya will radicalize more of the participants towards anarchist solutions or simply towards more violent means of pursuing national sovereignty. But those at the forefront of events will surely have disproportionate influence on the answer to that question.

[hazyheel]

NJPW Dominion 2019 Review

Ah, after three days of watching terrible Super Showdown, I finally get something good from New Japan. Couldn’t be happier right now.

First match was the new IWGP United States Champion, Jon Moxley against the young lion Shota Umino. Moxley once again entered through the crowd. Umino started with a huge dive right out of the ring and into Moxley. This match was not for the title, but more so for Moxley to prove himself as a deserving champion. Moxley quickly did just that, drilled Umino with a killer clothesline. Moxley quickly got the win with death rider, and poor Shota Umino really had the crap kicked out of him.

After the match, Moxley cut a promo saying that he wanted to enter the G1 climax. AAAAAAAAH that is awesome. Moxley also quite roughly pulled Umino to the back. 

Grade: B. As bummed as I was to see this match be so short, it definitely couldn’t have been longer. This was exactly how much effort it should have taken for a champion to beat a young boy. Still fun stuff though. Love to see Moxley in New Japan, and it’ll be even better to see him in the G1.

Then we had Shingo Takagi vs. Satoshi Kojima. This was also Takagi’s heavyweight debut. The two locked up a bit, but it quickly became a body block contest, where Takagi actually won. There were a lot of strikes right out of the gate, and nearly got both counted out while beating the crap out of each other on the outside. The two traded both strikes and chops in the corner, which was fun to see given how celebrated Kojima’s chops are. At one point, Takagi drilled Kojima with a death valley driver on the apron. At one point, Shingo went for a pumping bomber, only for it to be blocked by Kojima, who then hit one of his own. Another time, even three pumping bombers wouldn’t put Kojima down, but only one was needed to put Shingo down. Shingo fought back into the match, hitting made in japan, a pumping bomber, and last of the dragons for the win.

After the match, Shingo also said that he wanted to enter the G1. This year is shaping up to be a great field of wrestlers. 

Grade: B+. Wow, although this wasn’t the hardest hitting match Shingo had ever been in, at times he seemed like he was outclassed by his heavier opponent. I think that Shingo’s transition into the heavyweight division will have some bumps along the road. I think that it will be a fun story. This was a good match as well, showing that these matches may be a bit tougher, but Shingo can fight through them and get some big wins. I liked the story it told, and I thought that Kojima was a good first opponent. 

Next up was a tag match in a violent feud. Jushin Thunder Liger and YOSHI-HASHI vs. Minoru Suzuki and Zack Sabre Jr. The heels attacked before the bell and they all brawled on the outside. The heels worked together very well, just tearing at any limb that they could get ahold of. At one point, Jushin Thunder Liger ran in to hit Hashi for not tagging him in. Finally he was able to, and he want Suzuki and liger facing off and savagely beating one another. Neither of the heels really took Hashi seriously, mostly just toying with him, which created an interesting underdog dynamic to accompany his recent challenge to the British Heavyweight Championship. And that upset was exactly what happened, with Hashi rolling up Sabre for the win, while Liger held Suzuki on the outside.

The two brawled a bit after the match, but Hashi was able to put the champion down. Suzuki was herded away by several young lions, and he shockingly did not murder any of them.

Grade: B-. Good match, suffered a bit from Liger and Hashi not being an established team, so it wasn’t like a classic tag match or anything. But the finish makes sense, probably sets up a match at the next big New Japan show, or possibly a RevPro show. It also did not resolve the feud between Liger an Suzuki, so that will continue to build. Decent match though, always love Suzuki and Sabre as a team. 

Into a 6 man tag match, Chase Owens, Taiji Ishimori & Chase Owens vs. Ryusuke Taguchi, Hiroshi Tanahashi & Juice Robinson. Juice and Owens locked up first, nice little callback to their feud in March. Owens tried to bring up the intensity against Juice, but he just beat the living crap out of Owens after that. Ishimori and Taguchi squaring up. Jay white soon tagged himself in, and beat the crap out of Taguchi, not even waiting for Tanahashi to tag in. At one point, Tanahashi and White were both down and looking for a tag, so Ishimori distracted the ref, and Owens just ran in to pull him into their corner. The finish was a bit abrupt, with White hitting Tana as he ran the ropes, so Juice pulled him off the apron for a huge left hand to god. Tana then gave owens a chokehold into a reverse ddt for the win. 

Grade: C+. Fun match, but not much in terms of story or high spots. I though that the abrupt finish kinda hurt the match, but it makes sense for Tana to get this win. I like the darker version of Juice Robinson after he lost his United States Championship, it is really cool and a much needed new direction for his character.

Then we started the title matches of the evening, with Taichi vs. Tomohiro Ishii for the NEVER Openweight Championship. Taichi tried to play mind games with Ishii, but Ishii played them right back, such as lying on his back when Taichi tried to goad him to fight on the outside. Ishii also threw Taichi’s weapons away, saying that he doesn’t need them. The two traded blows in the middle of the ring, where Taichi compromised Ishii’s footing with low kicks, eventually knocking him to the mat. Taichi was actually fighting this match straight up in the beginning, bringing down Ishii several times with powerful strikes, and even a saito suplex. That changed when Taichi shoved the ref into Ishii and went for a low blow, but Ishii blocked two of them and nailed a headbutt. There was a long submission sequence where Ishii nearly passed out in a modified dragon sleeper, but he eventually let him go and hit a huge buzzsaw kick in the head. At one point, Ishii actually countered black mephisto into a powerbomb, and followed it up with a sliding lariat, and then a vertical drop brainbuster for the win. 

Grade: A-. A great match, and a really interesting feud. I love that Taichi almost leveled up for this match, going strike for strike with Ishii, and having the advantage for most of the match. I love that the feud is based on Taichi wanting Ishii’s respect, and Ishii being willing to give it if Taichi was an honest competitor. But Taichi doesn’t want it that way, so he tries to take it. It was a really good match, better than their New Japan cup bout, and it shows the  evolution of Taichi as he tries harder and harder to hang with the heavyweights. Ishii is an interesting choice for this, I definitely pictured him higher up on the card, but it should give us at least one more great match for the belt. I’m kinda done assuming that the NEVER champions will have a nice long reign, but I am okay with Ishii having a belt. 

Next up was EVIL and SANADA vs. the Guerrillas of Destiny for the IWGP Tag Team Championships. Sanada soaked in the love from the crowd, while Tama Tonga was giving a mix of cheers and jeers. As they started, Tama was outwrestled quickly by Sanada, so he retreated to his corner. Stronger members of the team had a test of strength by slamming into each other, with Evil winning after a couple hits. Jado got involved by nailing Evil in the back with the kendo stick while the ref was distracted. Evil had the crap kicked out of him by GOD, who weren’t targetting anything but just hitting him super hard and super fast. Sanada eventually got tagged in, putting Loa in the paradise lock so he could hit Tama with a dropkick and Jado with a splash over the top. There was a cool combination from the faces, with a superplex from Evil to Tama, followed by a standing moonsault from Sanada, and then a scorpion deathlock from Evil for a submission sequence. The faces later locked in dueling submissions, with a scorpion deathlock on Tama, and skull end on Loa. Tama was about to tap out when Jado pulled the ref out of the ring, and then started attacking the faces with the kendo stick. Jado was about to really attack Evil when BUSHI ran down, snatching the stick and misting Jado, hitting him with the stick and a suicide dive before rushing to the back. Los Ingobernables de Japon went for magic killer on Tama, only for him to flip out of it and roll up Evil with a handful of tights for the win. 

Grade: B-. A very WWE style match, with a lot of heel work on the babyfaces, some exciting comebacks and ultimately a dirty win. Still, the closing stretch was really exciting, and it was a fun match overall. Good heel work, but there wasn’t enough back and forth here to have a great match. I have no clue who challenges the champions next, there is a huge hole in the division for face teams. 

After that, Katsuyori Shibata came out, much to everyone’s surprise, and he brought out KENTA, and I got chills. KENTA is in goddamn new japan. I thought for sure that he would go back to NOAH, but he is in New Japan. For those of you that do not know who KENTA is, this is Hideo Itami from WWE. He left after the Royal Rumble earlier in the year, and has been gone since. He has never been in New Japan show before, and I am so excited to see him. THEN HE ALSO SAID THAT HE WANTED IN THE G1, OH MY GOD. I can’t wait for the G1 this year.

We went right into the IWGP Junior Heavyweight Championship match: Dragon Lee vs. Will Ospreay. We started with a handshake, always nice to see. Classic babyface battle, I’m happy to see it. They started out with a quick series of counters, going back and forth countering finishers. At one point, Dragon Lee perched Ospreay on the guardrail, and fucking destroyed both of them, and Milano on Japanese commentary with a suicide dive. The crowd chanted for Milano, and I really hope that he is okay. Ospreay went for the stormbreaker at one point, but Lee countered it into a huge DDT. The two had an awesome sequence where Ospreay flipped out of a german suplex, and then kicked off of Lee’s chest, only to be met with a high knee and a reverse rana, and he then fought Lee with a Spanish fly coming off the ropes. Another time, Lee want for a hurricarana off the apron, but Ospreay flipped out of it and hit a powerbomb on the apron and then a shooting star press for a near fall. Lee then countered the os cutter with a knee the to head as he flew through the air. There was almost a double countout after a double stomp on the apron, but they made it back in. Ospreay went for a powerbomb, and Lee reversed it into a destroyer, and then a running knee for a near fall. Ospreay destroyed lee with a spin kick, ripcord hook kick, hidden blade, an os cutter and the stormbreaker. 

After the match, Lee put the belt on Ospreay. Ospreay also went to the english commentary desk to announce that the first defense would be at Southern Showdown against Robby Eagles. Love it. 

Grade: A. So I guess I was wrong about Ospreay moving to the heavyweight division, and the Lee vs. Takahashi match. But this match was absolutely awesome. They worked at such a fast pace throughout, the strikes were absolutely devastating, and the high spots soared above anything before it on the card. They worked super well together, and we got to see a lot more of the old Ospreay in this match, lots of flips, and I had missed it. I still think that Ospreay will move to the heavyweight division eventually, but they need to repopulate the juniors first. As for Lee vs. Takahashi, I can’t imagine a better comeback match, even if it isn’t for a title. Match of the night.

Then we had Tetsuya Naito vs. Kota Ibushi for the IWGP Intercontinental Championship. The two started with quick exchanges on the mat and quickly progressed to strikes. Naito was super over as a heel here, with the crowd extremely vocal about how much they hate him. He certainly played into that, holding onto a leg full nelson for much longer than the ref let him, and spitting at Ibushi quite a bit. As per their usual type of match, they absolutely wrecked each other’s necks. At one point, the two battle on the apron, each trying to plant the other on the tops of their heads, Naito won out, giving Ibushi a nasty german suplex off the apron, and Ibushi’s head clipped the apron, giving me flashbacks to Ospreay last year at Sakura genesis. Naito followed up with a reverse rana off the top, but still only a near fall. Naito then went for destino, but Ibushi countered into a tombstone. Ibushi then went for the bomoye, but Naito dodged it and hit a dragon suplex and destino, but Ibushi kicked out. Naito kept attacking the neck, using a huge spike DDT, a spinning reverse DDT. He went for Destino, but Ibushi countered it, so Naito hit a reverse rana, and then a fireman’s carry piledriver for a near fall. Finally, Naito hit one more destino for the win.

After the match, Naito held posed with his boot on Ibushi’s face, with the title above his head. 

Grade: A. Another great match from these guys. The german suplex spot was just terrifying an awful and I hope Ibushi is okay, but the rest of this match was exciting, hard hitting, told an awesome story. This was supposed to be their last match ever, so they left it all in the ring. They always murder each other in these matches, and Naito had to if he wanted to win. While I think this is the worst of their matches this year, that does not mean for a minute that this was bad. It was so good, and I hope this isn’t the last time that they clash. The next time they fight may be in the G1, or it could be later than that. I just want it again. 

And in the main event, we had Chris Jericho vs. Kazuchika Okada for the IWGP Heavyweight Championship. Jericho tried to play games here, but Okada just chased him down and put him on the ground. Jericho was a great heel here, throwing Okada into the commentators desk, and giving him a DDT on top of one. Jericho continuously attacked the ref and was giving Okada stiff shots whenever he could. At one point, Okada booted Jericho over the rail, and went for the spash, but Jericho countered the splash with a codebreaker. The two jockeyed for position, both trying for a tombstone, but Jericho eventually put Okada on the mat and locked in the walls of jericho for a submission sequence. The crowd was very much behind Okada during this match, and desperately cheered for any of his moves that he could hit. Jericho always seemed to be a step ahead of Okada, always able to connect a high impact strike to counter one of Okada’s big moves. He frustrated Okada to the point that Okada started playing a bit fast and loose with the rules. Jericho was able to hit another codebreaker, hesitating just a bit before going for the pin so only a near fall. Jericho exposed the turnbuckle in the corner, and came back out to try for a rainmaker of his own, which Okada countered with a codebreaker for a near fall. Once again, Okada had to fight out of a walls of jericho, while the commentators talked about the significance of Jericho submitting the champion with a move that young lions use. Jericho then went for the Judas effect, which Okada dodged and went for a rainmaker. Jericho dodged and went for the codebreaker again and Okada was able to catch him and sit down on Jericho for the win out of nowhere.

Jericho was furious about that finish, so he beat down Okada, giving him a Judas effect, beating him with a chair and even wrapping it around his neck and throwing him into the post. He was about to put Okada through a table at ringside, when Tanahashi jumped the rail from commentary and fought him off. Jericho then seemed to challenge Tanahashi for a future match. I don’t know when, but that would be exciting. 

Grade: B+. Very good match. It was very different from a normal Okada match. This was a brawl, nothing more and nothing less. Jericho brought out a new side from Okada, and while Okada didn’t really seem like he would have lost, it felt like he was out of his element. Jericho still looked good here and seemed like he can still go. He is a great foil for some of the squeaky clean babyfaces in New Japan. I would love to see a rematch from these guys for a better finish, although I’m sure that Tanahashi and Jericho is the next match we will see.

Overall Grade: B+.

Predictions: 4/9.

Pros: umino vs. Moxley; kojima vs. shingo; NEVER openweight match; junior heayvweight championship match; intercontinental championship match; main event; all the stuff about the g1

Cons: a lot of people don’t seem to have much of a story going forward; tag division booking is pretty bad

[nazm145]

This was supposed to be a mildly long rant but ended up a dissertation I’m so sorry

Ok, can we just talk about Juliette Durand for a moment?

Like, I know people hate her, but I don’t get it. And I just can’t.

Let’s consider the facts, shall we?

This is going to be hella long, just a warning, so please don’t hate me. I have many feelings.

(I haven’t read the books, so I’m basing almost everything off of the show’s version of the characters.  Tell me if I get anything wrong. Also, general spoilers below.)

Juliette was sired, abused (strong implications of rape), confined, and conditioned by a (white) man who used and trained her specifically to get close to another (white) man and get information from him for his own personal gain.

We see the dynamics of their toxic relationship and its effects on Juliette from the moment she and Gerbert are introduced, augmented by the dark, claustrophobic interiors of their Venetian home – which is strange because the house should be airy and well-lit considering how open and spacious it is. Definitely a metaphor, I think, for the dark and twisted nature of what is supposed to be a “father-daughter” relationship.

The scene in which Gerbert is seeing her off on the boat after allowing/ordering her to go find Matthew, the creepy cheek-kiss, and her look of relief and what seems to be almost a mixture of triumph and freedom as she turns around and gets farther away from him is a pretty decent summation of what things are like between them. Of course, we hardly need to analyze anything this deeply when Gerbert’s treatment of Juliette and her strange, toxic dependence on him is so grossly obvious.

Enter Domenico.

For me, Juliette and Domenico are the most intriguing characters on show. I don’t know how extensive their roles were in the book, but to me their subtle exchanges, as short as they were, are so impactful. I definitely think this is in large part because Elarica Gallacher and Gregg Chillin are amazing actors who pack so much depth and nuance into their scenes.

The whole Juliette/Domenico/Gerbert dynamic is so interesting to me (to reiterate, I fully loathe Gerbert and want him to choke). While the nature of Juliette and Gerbert’s relationship is tragically obvious, Domenico’s relationship with both of them is much more complex. From their very first scene, it’s clear that there is a mutual dislike, distrust, and tension between them all, and like Juliette, Domenico answers to Gerbert. But of course, his level of subjugation can’t even begin to compare to hers.

What first caught my attention was when Gerbert called Domenico a “nosy fucker” even though Domenico looking into the dead body and reporting to Gerbert was clearly in his favor. This strongly leads me to believe that Domenico has indeed fucked with Gerbert in the past, either intentionally or unintentionally. Not surprising – Domenico obviously has no love for Gerbert and given the constant descriptions of him as a manipulator and strategist, it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s played his hand more than a few times in the past. He even tells Juliette that Venice is his home, so he does what he has to do in order to keep Baldwin and Gerbert happy. He is, in his own way, a victim of his situation - even though he holds a position of power, there is only so much he can do.

Which brings me to him and Juliette. God, I have so much to say about these two. So many of their scenes (both together and apart) force me to think about just what their feelings are towards each other and how much of that stems directly from the other and how much from their situations and the other people around them.

Like when Juliette tells Gerbert, “Domenico hates me.” It got me thinking – does he really hate her? Does she only think that he hates her? What has he said or done to make her feel that way? Or am I just thinking too much into this and it was really just a last-ditch effort on Juliette’s part to try and stop Gerbert from punishing her? Now, that last part is interesting – I’m positive Domenico knew what would happen to Juliette once he told Gerbert what happened. Everyone probably knows. But Domenico’s role in regards to both the Congregation and Gerbert seems to be that he’s the one who’s expected to keep everything in line on the Vampire front and report any problems, otherwise it’s his ass. And clearly, he’s under some sort of employment for Gerbert considering he reported the incident to him and not the Congregation, and it was him who was asked to fetch Gerbert when he didn’t show up at the meeting in episode 7. So I really believe he had no ill intentions towards Juliette when he ratted her out – it was more a fulfillment of duty, which in the world of ADoW, seems to be a necessity for survival.

Which brings me to The Scene. You know, the one where they unnecessarily angry-whisper-flirt with each other, have absolutely no regard for each other’s personal space and for two people who supposedly hate each other, look at each other’s lips a completely inappropriate number of times within a span of thirty seconds. This was the scene that made me complete trash for them, not in the very least because it was sinfully hotter than hell and had me feeling some type of way. There was so much to unpack here.

This didn’t occur to me until now, but when Domenico tells Juliette to not bother going home because Gerbert is disappointed, was he really mocking her? Or was it actually a subtle warning to wait until Gerbert cooled down so she wouldn’t have to go through what she did the last time she made a mistake? What leads me to believe the second option even more is that Juliette herself told Marcus that Gerbert will be angry with her if she doesn’t retrieve Matthew… so.

Next – Domenico shamelessly spilling the deets on how Matthew is in love with Diana, and goading Juliette to go to Sept Tours and confront them.  Here, I’d just like to take moment to appreciate Gregg’s delivery of “really” after Juliette tells him she can’t go without permission. It could easily be interpreted as “Really? Do you really need Gerbert’s permission, or are you just forcing yourself to believe that” OR “Oh really? You don’t say.” Like, I love how he could either be challenging her perception of the reality of her own confinement or just being a facetious asshole. But what really got to me was the look he was giving her as she walked away. It was both unreadable, and yet strangely… I don’t even know. Almost sympathetic? Dare I say longing?

And that’s what occupied my mind for an entire week until I saw episode 7. How genuine or underhanded were Domenico’s intentions when he tried to convince her to go to Matthew during the bar scene? Was he just trying to hurt her? Did he want her to go for her own sake? Or was it all a ploy to throw Gerbert in deep shit when his “daughter” showed up uninvited on ancestral De Clermont land? I honestly don’t believe that Domenico would be above grabbing any chance he could to fuck with Gerbert. And I absolutely don’t condone him using Juliette or manipulating her to accomplish that. Which got me thinking about another aspect of their relationship, until again, I saw episode 7.

Domenico obviously hates Gerbert, and he knows what he’s done to Juliette, possibly more so than anyone else considering the extent of their interactions. Why then, has he done nothing to help her? Why has he been, if not complicit in, then at the very least a bystander in her abuse? Now this bothered me a lot more until I saw the more recent episodes of ADoW (Don’t get me wrong, it still does. But I feel like I understand a lot more now.)

The magical world of ADoW works a lot differently than the mortal one. Law, intrigue, politics and revenge take precedence over even family and friends. Gillian sold Diana out because she thought it was her duty as a witch (although there was clearly some personal pettiness involved there). Sophie and Nathaniel wouldn’t tell Agatha that the baby might be a witch even though she’s the grandmother, and quite possibly the only genuinely kind, not insane member of the Congregation. And no one even questioned Baldwin’s claim that Knox had Diana and he himself didn’t know where she was because they never thought he would actually lie to protect his own brother (albeit only Vampire brother). So it’s not hard to believe that Domenico wouldn’t put his ass on the line to cross Gerbert that way, especially when, as we learned in episode 7, Juliette could have saved herself but chose not to.

You guys – their talk in 7 was so unexpected and touching to me. Not in a “Oh look how cute, he cares for her, aww” type of way. But in a “Wow. He really does realize her situation and is willing to help in whatever small way that he can so she can finally free herself – in whatever manner she chooses to do so.”

What really got to me was when Juliette asked him what he wanted in return for Diana’s file, and all he says is that she should finally free herself and just go anywhere. Just leave the horrible life she’s been living, while recognizing that in part it’s been her own choice because she either can’t or won’t forget Matthew. Contrast this with Baldwin asking Domenico what he wants in exchange for Satu, and Domenico saying “Someday… who knows?” Everyone knows how manipulative Domenico can be. But in that one instance with Juliette, we see him being genuinely kind and not asking her for anything in return. And his little smile after he sees her Power Walk out of that church like a Queen?

You guys. A girl is weak.

Coming back to Juliette, I’m so mad that all this likely won’t come to anything if the show stays true to her fate in the books. Which it looks like it will. As much as I felt her walking out on Gerbert, the fact that a black woman left her abuser only to put herself in a situation that her abuser conditioned her to be in is still so problematic. Not to mention the fact that that after years and years of being used by males (apparently she was a prostitute before she was sired, so even as a human?! Really?!?!) she is killed by the blonde-haired, blue-eyed lover of the white man she’s been obsessed with for centuries. Like. Ew. No thank you.

And honestly? I feel like she and Domenico could really be something if she would just try and get over Matthew. Again, not saying that her obsession with him is completely her fault. She is blatantly a victim of abuse, and so many of her actions stem from the violence, manipulation, and torture that she has suffered for centuries. Of course that would mess her up. And finally giving a black woman autonomy and power and the courage to stand up to her white abuser in one episode only to kill her off in the next in a situation that is indirectly the result of her abuse is just awful and unacceptable, especially in fucking 2018.

You know what I want to see? Juliette calling bullshit on the whole Matthew situation and finally becoming her own person.

Like, girl. First of all you don’t need no man. You are gorgeous, clever, resilient, and could probably seduce half the world’s population with one Look. And yes, I fully include myself in that. And even if you do want a man (eternity is a long time to spend alone tbh) Domenico is right there. I know their relationship is nowhere near healthy or good, but it is still light years better than the shitstorm that is the Diana/Matthew/Juliette triangle of a fucking toxic disaster fest.

Give Domenico and Juliette their own developed story where they do or do not get together (as long as they’re both happy tbh – I love my evil disasters, leave me alone), fucking rip Gerbert’s throat out, and then basically take over everything. Because – and I know I’m gonna get hate for this – Matthew and Diana’s story is sweet, and Goode and Palmer are lovely in their roles. But the whole “forbidden love/Person A not knowing about or repressing their powers only to find out they are SuperPowerful™ and now have to master their abilities with the help of Person B so they can fight the world together” is so overdone. Give me more magical world politics and intrigue with a concentration on Domenico and Juliette or give me death.

Also – more hate-bait, but whatever – Diana and Matthew may be cute and all, but this is what makes my heart beat.

 LOOK AT THEM

Domenico and Juliette are so fucking hot. Those curls. Those FACES. The adorably tiny height difference. His hand on her waist. The Looks being fucking Served. 

Don’t even try to tell me that they wouldn’t be That Power Couple

[sablelab]

Magical Walk

SYNOPSIS: Sam’s thoughts turn to the hill he and Caitriona had climbed together in the early stages of their relationship called  North Berwick Law. This definitely was a significant night or else he wouldn’t have called it “MAGICAL.”  

This is my account as to what may have happened. This short story is featured in my multi chapter story Three Days in the Highlands.

MAGICAL WALK

Sam had meticulously thought out what he wanted to do on this weekend away in the Highlands long before they had left Glasgow. It had always been his intention to make climbing Mount Schiehallion the highlight of their stay in the Highlands and given that the conditions on the mountain were indeed perfect, Sam was somewhat relieved.  If they had to turn back because the weather had deteriorated then that would throw his picnic plans into disarray and he would then need a plan B. Surreptitiously he mentally crossed his fingers because he knew that once they reached the top the view would be spectacular.  

He wanted his love to have a fantastic day and that was his aim for Caitriona with her first Munro bagging.  He hoped that today would be just, if not more memorable than their first hill climb together … the one that had been the catalyst for a relationship that had blossomed and grew into a love as deep as the deepest ocean. He clasped Caitriona’s hand a little tighter as pictures of their first hill climb and the spectacular view … metaphorically and physically … suddenly resonated in his mind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first time they had climbed a mountain was some time ago when Caitriona had initially come to Glasgow and on the spur of the moment he had taken her hill climbing on North Berwick Law in East Lothian in order to get to know each other a little better away from the set in those early days.  He was a climbing fanatic and although she was ill prepared that night for what he had in mind, he refused to let Cait’s bad choice of footwear stop her assent to the top. If he had to drag her up the mountain caveman like then he would, but he was positive that Caitriona Balfe had the tenacity and resolve to do it all on her own despite her footwear.

Sam smiled to himself as he could still hear that conversation they’d had in his mind when he’d asked Cait to go on what constituted a first date … their first date … hill climbing with him. It was a good test for him for any date with a girl as he was not sure that every girl would particularly like to be dragged up a mountain, but it was a good indication to find out if they did. Although Caitriona had been reluctant at first, he had managed to bring her around to his way of thinking and she had passed with flying colours.  That night he just knew that she was the one. This gorgeous woman who had been thrust into the world of Outlander as he had been was a conundrum. Ms Balfe was circumspect, but there had been many an occasion when she had let her guard down and this intrigued him. He wanted to get to know her better not just as his co-star but on a deeper more visceral level. Cait challenged him like none other before her and it was what he found so fascinating about her.  

Her voice danced around in his mind as he remembered her words and her expressions on the night he’d asked her to go climbing. He could still picture Caitriona’s smile and the twinkle in her eyes as she accepted his proposition and all it involved. He loved that about her … she was up for anything and that night she proved it in spades.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“You’re so very into this climbing aren’t you Sam?”

“Aye … I love it and so will you too once you start. Come with me tonight.”

“But … these are the only shoes I bought with me.”

“No Problem … I will be most impressed if you can go hill climbing in those boots Caitriona.  Are you up for a challenge?”

“Are you goading me Heughan?”

“Who me?  Why no, of course not … but …”

“Okay … You’re on. I’ll go with you Mr Totally Outdoors.”

“You’re a brave woman Balfe.  I’m impressed.  It will be fun.”

“Who for? … You?...Or me?”

“Why both of us of course.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was certainly magical for him and he was taken with Caitriona from that moment forward.  In fact he was very attracted to this very feminine tomboy who would hill climb in heels. It was a spur of the moment decision, and one he had thanked his lucky stars that she had risen to the challenge with.  And boom … he was totally hooked. He couldn’t believe that his new co-star would even contemplate a hike up a mountain, two hours drive away from Glasgow, then spend time in his company for dinner and drinks afterwards and then spend another two hours on the drive back to her flat.   He’d tried to hide his immense pleasure that Caitriona would even consider this as a first date as such, a get to know you type of date but a date nonetheless.  He was over the moon with anticipation at what might unfold when they were alone together.

However, in retrospect, the look on their faces on the selfie he’d taken at the summit under the monument at the top … Live for the Moment … really said it all. It was indeed serendipity. They were both smiling and so happy looking.  They were wedged up against the monument with Cait on her derrière her feet resting on his thigh showing the soles of her boots in which she had conquered the hill climb and him smiling like the cat that had swallowed all the cream.  She’d also given him a quick little smooch just before that selfie was taken and if he looked close enough he could still see the evidence of her lipstick shade on his lips. Each time he looked at the photo he couldn’t help but remember what it felt like to have Caitriona Balfe kiss him on the lips

He’d captured a perfect moment in time for posterity of them grinning joyfully at what they had achieved that night. This indeed had been a magical night on so many levels and without really knowing, that night had also been the beginning of their enduring love affair.  The fact that Caitriona had climbed in her high-heeled boots was testament to the mettle of this wonderful woman.  He could hardly believe his good fortune at having their paths cross in the way that they did. He never expected to find the right woman that was his equal. Caitriona Balfe was everything and more than he never knew that he wanted or needed in his life.  She was the epitome of class, smart, beautiful and funny.  They just melded together. He fell more and more in love with her each and every day thereafter.

Ahhh … and THAT kiss … That kiss had been magical just like that night and the amazing woman with him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had hit him hard in the plexus without even knowing what was happening to him for he had fallen hard for his co star.  He knew that Caitriona was the one and the climb on North Berwick Law was the sealing of the deal. If Cait had been able to climb like she did with no complaints whatsoever and to be totally enamoured with his company he knew that she was a keeper and he would try everything in his power to make her realise that they were meant to be.  They had conversed so easily on the way up.  They’d laughed and joked around and when Caitriona had gotten a little tired of walking, he’d piggybacked her part of the way up the hill. She was no weight at all and he’d consciously jiggled her around a bit, which only encouraged Cait to grab onto his shoulders a little firmer and lock her legs more tightly around his waist while his hands cupped her delectable backside feeling the roundness of her butt cheeks nestled in the palms of his hands.  It was fun but it was torturous at the same time.  When Caitriona had linked her hands around his neck her head had fallen closer to his cheek and her hair had brushed his face as she giggled in merriment. Then when he smelt the perfume of her tresses and the essence of her scent, it made his heart accelerate in leaps and bounds.  

Perhaps Cait had felt the change in his body for she had asked him to put her down soon after that lapse in control. Now that he thought back on it perhaps she too had felt something special in that moment that had scared her a little as well, because his reaction to her had certainly scared the living daylights out of him. Caitriona Balfe was the epitome of a classic beauty. She was unpretentious and self effacing. Cait played down her looks but when she was dressed up she was a knockout … a goddess in his eyes, but that night hill climbing she was more beautiful than all the stars in the night sky. So natural and carefree and inwardly stunning, her beauty oozed out of her pores from the inside out. Everything from the sparkle in her eyes to her laughter made her a woman of immense beauty to him and that night she was glowing in his eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Despite the battle going on in his brain at his escalating feelings for this woman, it seemed like in no time at all that they had reached the top of North Berwick Law. They had laughed and talked about everything under the sun until they had solved the problems of the world.  Caitriona had a similar outlook on life and knowing that she too was involved in a cancer charity showed how similar they were on so many levels.  They had talked about family and he had run past her his ideas for fundraising for a charity that was close to his heart.  He had no idea until then that she too was involved in a charity of a similar nature and when it involved children with cancer something just went boom in his heart.  Caitriona was so unassuming, a quiet achiever that worked so tirelessly for charities even before she became patron of World Child Cancer.  That was in fact how she was discovered for modelling… giving out charity bags for underprivileged in Ireland as a teenager.  She had a kind soul and he gravitated to that in her.  

The climb to the top had been enlightening and he had learnt a lot about Caitriona as a person and what he learnt thrilled him no end.  They had talked for hours and never ran out of conversation, they engaged easily in repartee, they were at ease with one another and the time had passed in the blink of an eye.  They were comfortable together and somehow after the night their deep bond had been formed and had never wavered.  He had never met a woman like Caitriona Balfe and there was no way in the world that he was ever going to lose her.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once they had reached the top of the mountain Cait had taken in the magical view looking down over the town below, the rolling crop fields and the tranquil sea but when she had turned her head to look at him the look on her face took his breath away.  Her hair was cascading around her beautiful face while her smile was radiant and said it all.  She was happy, exhilarated and in awe of what she was seeing.  Little did she know but that was exactly how he was feeling too. It was as if he was rooted to the place where he was standing.  Caitriona had then caught him completely off guard again as she came to where he was standing, threw her arms around his waist and kissed him on the lips.

The touch of her mouth to his knocked the stuffing out of him but when his brain finally went into gear his lips responded. His arms tightened around her body drawing her closer to his torso as his lips gently nipped hers again and again until they locked on Cait’s with delicious intent. He deepened the kiss and Caitriona followed his lead. Their heads aligned and their mouths changed position as time seemed to stand still. They kissed until they became breathless … it was then they had to break away. Cait shyly loosened her arms and he reluctantly let her go. The kiss had changed everything. He tried to act nonchalantly and not place too much emphasis on what had just occurred between them … but they both knew that the earth had somehow shifted on its axis with that kiss although they didn’t want to admit it. Inwardly though he was doing cartwheels with happiness and hoped that this moment would last forever.

“Thank you Sam for bring me up here.  It is the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.”

“Me too Caitriona … Me too.”

“I’m so glad that I decided to come with you, I’ve had the best time ever.”

“And I’m so glad that you did. I congratulate you for making the climb in those boots. It’s a feat on its own.”

“Why thank you Heughan … You do know how to flatter a girl.”

“Any time Balfe.  You know where to find me if you want to climb me … Ah, with me again.”

“Hmm … well next time I won’t wear my boots then.”

“Good idea.”

He couldn’t help the double entendre of his words and judging by Caitriona’s smile she was not fazed. She had understood and nothing had been lost in translation. They had stayed a little while longer admiring the night time view, the setting sun and twinkling stars before reluctantly making the journey back down the hill.    

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

North Berwick Law was quite steep especially coming down in the moonlight and with Caitriona in heels the going was a little tricky, but he remembered just what he’d done as if it was yesterday.  He’d held her hand and the touch of her smooth skin entwined in his large hand had sent a jolt of lightning through his body, but it was nothing compared to the feeling he felt when he’d placed his arm protectively around Caitriona’s waist a couple of times to prevent her from tripping up on a loose rock on the downhill slope. Purely for balance he’d said to himself at the time.  However, the feel of Cait’s slender waist under his protective arm had felt so good and the gentle surreptitious squeeze under the guise of keeping her steady made him smile.  He knew at that moment he wanted to know just what was under that jacket and jumper she wore and he knew that he wanted to feel her soft, warm, pliant skin under his hands and explore her flesh with a lover’s touch with his fingers. He’d nearly stumbled himself as these thoughts ran amuck in his brain. It was little wonder that they had made it safely down the slope at all. He’d been well and truly sucked into a vortex where Ms Balfe was concerned and he would have laid her down then and there in the grass and made love to her under the stars. Their unsolicited kiss at the apex had affected him more than he wanted to admit.  He was smitten with Caitriona Balfe and judging by her participation and the spontaneity of initiating that kiss, she was equally taken with him too. She was a complete mixture of so many amazing things packaged up in one person. 

At the same time Sam was pensive, Cait too was lost in her own thoughts of a gorgeous guy, who was extremely talented, funny and above all kind. He was a kindred spirit and tonight he had left his mark on her in the most adorable way. Sam Heughan was a special man and one she wanted to know better. There was depth to this layered man and she wanted to pull away the layers to find the prize waiting for her in the hidden core of this most marvellous human being.

They were so comfortable together in each other’s company and had fallen easily into a camaraderie and a strong relationship both on and off the set.  Somehow after the night, their deep bond had been formed and had never wavered since then. He had never met a woman like Caitriona Balfe and there was no way in the world that he was ever going to lose her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Caitriona had noticed that Sam had been a little distracted. She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed his knuckles.

“Penny for your thoughts babe.”

Sam immediately reacted to her touch. “What?”

“Honey … you were off with the fairies somewhere.”

“I was … wasn’t I?” He smiled and hugged her to his side. “Just thinking about our first hill climb together and wondering if today will be any similar.”

“That was certainly a magical night Sam. I remember it just as much as you do no doubt.”

“Aye … that it was Cait … Magical. And what about those high heeled boots you were wearing?”

“I’ve still got those boots I’ll have you know… They’re a little worn now but they are still very comfortable.”

“They must have been for you to climb up North Berwick Law. That’s no easy feat.”

“You know I couldn’t resist the invitation to go hill climbing, especially not when you made it sound like a challenge.”

Sam laughed.  “It was my darling and you passed with flying colours.”

Caitriona hit him playfully in the ribs. “So is today another challenge?”

“No.  Today is just for lovers.”

“I thought that was the night.”

“That ‘tis … hold that thought, but so too is today.  We might be the only ones up on Mount Schiehallion and after all it is not called the Fairy Hill for nothing.”

“Ohhh …”

“It’s a magical place too and today I get to show it to you.”

Having reached the Audi, Sam dropped his arm from around Caitriona’s waist and opened the door to the car. They exchanged glances before he leaned down and placed a tender kiss to Cait’s mouth before closing the door once she was seated. Jumping in the driver’s seat on the opposite side of the car, he turned the engine over and the Audi Q5 purred to life.

“Lead on Macduff … I can’t wait to bag my first Munro.”

“I think the correct quotation from Shakespeare’s Macbeth is “Lay on, Macduff, and damned be him who first cries ‘Hold! Enough!’” He stated with mischievous mirth in his voice.

“Shut up Heughan and just drive.”

Their combined laughter echoed in the interior of the car as Sam did what he was told to do. He headed back across the bridge then turned the Audi on the road towards Mount Schiehallion and the adventure that lay ahead.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Caitriona Balfe is still THAT girl!!!

[shogetsus]

Stripes of Auburn, Eye of Sapphire

11. Mai

Read on Ao3 | Read on FFN |  Masterlist

Summary:  “Well, Nobunaga, I’m not ‘bedding’ you,” With her chin perked up, she meets his crimson gaze, determined to stand her ground. “I don’t like you that way, I’m afraid.”

Nobunaga cracks up a pleased smirk. “What you like and what you don’t is of no matter to me…”

And with that statement, they’re back in court. However, he doesn’t yet attempt to make a move to stand nor threatens to approach her in any way, leaving her to ponder on it. Does he truly seem to believe she’ll do whatever whim he has it merely because he said so?

Spoiler alert! - Shingen's route. TW: Sexual innuendo

Mai

“Tonight, I shall bed you.”

Nobunaga’s declaration drifts onto his royal quarters to the very edge of the door she’s currently frozen in place, his commanding voice feeling like a slap in the face. Is she really hearing him right? He wants her to sleep with him? As if like… having sex?

“Don’t be shy, little fireball. Come in, now,” He seems pleased with himself—as he always does when he orders her around, for that matter—not bothering with extricating himself from his work desk just yet.

Mai’s body absolutely refuses to obey, alarms flaring in her head, getting the feeling she’s been invited to cross the gates of hell. With her mind struggling to scramble in several different directions, it’s way easier to become upset with the guy.

Her hands curl into tight fists, knuckles going white. “You know, I expect you to be kidding me,” She says low, brows knitting together in a frown, “The answer is and will be no.”

“Of course I’m not kidding…” Nobunaga stares at her from his working desk as if their roles were suddenly reversed and she’s the one acting nonsensical.

He really thinks he can just tell me we’re going to sleep together? I don’t even care which century we’re in, that’s not happening. Ever.

She uses that train of thought to strengthen her resolve, daring to step into his room with a sense of defiance around her. “Well, Nobunaga, I’m not ‘bedding’ you,” With her chin perked up, she meets his crimson gaze, determined to stand her ground. “I don’t like you that way, I’m afraid.”

Nobunaga cracks up a pleased smirk. “What you like and what you don’t is of no matter to me…”

And with that statement, they’re back in court. However, he doesn’t yet attempt to make a move to stand nor threatens to approach her in any way, leaving her to ponder on it.  Does he truly seem to believe she’ll do whatever whim he has it merely because he said so?

Sure, Mai’s not oblivious to the fact it may be an honor for too many to share a bed with the current shogun of Japan—and she must be practically privileged to even be in the same room with the guy. Still, she doesn’t belong to that group of people, and Nobunaga knows so. Could he be that arrogant to pretend believing she’d obey nonetheless?

In that preposterous case, then all it should take is some logic to turn the situation around on him, and to her personal advantage. “Alright, listen—“ But whatever argument she was mentally preparing drifts by, forgotten, as something else captures her attention. “Huh?”

The first time she’d visited Azuchi Castle’s tenshu, Mai truly hadn’t notice how the room definitely is one of a kind; decorated from head to toe, lush artifacts and expensive silks spreading everywhere she lays her eyes upon. Even the tatami mats seem to sigh softly at her weight, almost as if she’s walking on clouds.

Her awe doesn’t seem to go by unnoticed; catching a brief curious glance from the corner of Nobunaga’s eyes before he returns to finish what seems to be one of many letters. “Your interest in my collections is appreciated. Feel free to look around if that is your wish…”

His manners never stop irking her, and most likely he’s goading her on purely to get on her good graces, but Mai isn’t up to look a gift horse in the mouth, seizing the chance and sauntering inside before he suddenly changes his mind. She almost can’t believe her eyes, though—the sheer amount of culture contained inside one single room looking like almost too much for one person alone. But this is Nobunaga Oda, and knowing as much as she does about the guy, it doesn’t come off truly odd as it’d be.

Remarkable hakamas, kimonos and haoris are tucked neatly on one corner of the room, and against her wishes of not crossing a line Mai easily finds herself brushing her fingertips over the fabrics. How did people manage to dye the silks into such vivid colors without traditional modern tools? And gods above, the intricate patterns are a sight for sore eyes.

It’s such a magnificent sight she nearly feels unworthy of touching them, and it doesn’t take long before she pries her fingers away, too on edge of even scratching anything by accident. She startles when Nobunaga speaks from the other end of the room, the lush tatami barely producing a sound as he comes to a stand.

“There are many of these to spare in Azuchi,” He comments, pointing to a gorgeous roll of red silk nearby, “Say the word and I’ll have the seamstresses produce something for you,”

“I can do it myself, actually,” Mai says without thinking, but doesn’t try to make up a lie afterwards—her fashion design skills aren’t truly a secret after all, and if he’d find out sooner or later, may that be from her rather than Masamune. “You could say I am a, um, seamstress myself,”

“Ah, right. I almost forgot that,” She frowns at that comment, subtly changing her stance as Nobunaga smugly approaches, placing his precious clothes in between them. So he did know already? Masamune Date, if this came from you, consider yourself in big, big trouble. “Then have at them, if you so wish. A Princess of the Oda deserves nothing but the finest silks this world can offer,”

It is indeed a generous offer, but somehow she’s reluctant to take it right away. There must be a catch, I can feel it. Mai mulls it over for a moment, although it’s right as she turns to face the owner of such luxuries when a radiant glint catches her eye, right past Nobunaga’s shoulder.

Her breath catches in her lips, “Oh...” Then again, Mai can’t barely believe her eyes, never considering the idea she’d be seeing such precious artifacts in exhibition before her. Memories of her childhood surge through her as she walks to the display, unable to tear her gaze away. “But this… I never thought I’d be seeing this with my own eyes…”

Nobunaga just follows, an air of sheer curiosity around him. “Is that so?” When she casts a shy glance his way, inwardly asking for permission, his interest seems to turn into wariness, “I think you’ve gotten it wrong. Those are weapons, Princess, not—“

“May I?” She insists, holding his eyes with intent, not taken aback by the frown showing in Nobunaga’s face, appearing partially offended for being interrupted.

His curiosity seems to win the battle, nodding tentatively, watching very carefully as Mai approaches the display, her hands nearly itching in anticipation, and grabs the closest iron fan in her reach. First, she takes some time to admire the crafting, appreciating the delicate patterns painted over the cloth; all in gorgeous hues of gold, amber and orange, resembling a beautiful landscape of a dawning sun.

Then, without really giving it a thought, she tests its weight, turning it around and between her hands, her past dexterity coming back to her just as easily—pretty much like riding a bike. Despite having its inner ribs made in thin bronze, it feels as lightweight as it can come, deeming it a true masterpiece.

“Be careful with that, you will cut—“ Nobunaga’s words die in his lips as Mai flicks the iron fan close before his surprised eyes, the sharp noise of the irons clashing together prompting his mouth shut for once.

Overcome with near glee, she opens it again and sends it spinning in the air, excited to be recalling her past trainings with her father just as effortlessly. The dim light catches on the delicate painting on the gunsen, a flash of red dancing prettily in the air between them. Through the corner of her eye, Nobunaga’s gaze brims with what’s close to amazement, the sight of him so rooted in his spot definitely amusing.

A smug smirk crosses her face, “I think not.” However, it’s not long before she reconsiders her impromptu behavior, her mirth fading as quickly as it came before she flicks the iron fan close. “Or, well, um, sorry. Couldn’t help myself…”

It’s hard to act cocky in front of such an imposing person like Nobunaga, and yet, judging purely by the intense look on his crimson eyes, he doesn’t seem to disapprove. “Well, well, fireball. That’s not something I witness quite often.” His brows quirk up, “You managed to impress me once again.” He says pleasingly, his gaze falling to the gunsen still in her hands, “You appear to have a proper hold on it. Your master should be proud…”

“Y-you really think so?” Mai can’t help to wonder, the grinning picture of Haru Mizusaki crossing her mind, nodding thoughtfully and messing her hair in the endearing way he used to when she was a young and hopeful girl.

“I do, and commend you for it.” Nobunaga insists as if truly meaning it before appraising her with a more challenging look, “However, I wonder if you can make it dance…”

She raises an apologetic hand before letting him continue on that line of thought. “I… thanks for the praises, but I’m afraid I only know some defense techniques.” She says honestly, not looking forward to having a demonstration either, “It doesn’t really go further than that,”  

“It’s a useful skill to have nonetheless.” He adds on without an ounce of doubt, somewhat managing to impress her as well.

Nobunaga never struck her as a thoughtful person, very much less so with how history and fictional dramas portray him on that matter. And having the living person before her proving her wrong on her assumptions is starting to become genuinely better than she believed so at first.

Said thought leads her onto another pondering. “Why, speaking of useful. You do know it’s quite late in the night, do you?” Mai comments, tilting her head in direction of his balcony, the moon on its peak making its sole statement. “Commanders of your caliber should be having their proper rest at these hours, I believe,”  

Her consideration seems to amuse him, snorting low while she turns to return the war fan onto its proper place on the display. “Don’t concern yourself in my stead, Princess. I sleep only the strictly necessary amount,”

It’s not truly about him, but she’s rather still concerned for herself. Regardless, that’s an interesting comment. “You mean, you do that every night?” Mai quirks a brow, “It’s not healthy to have just naps for a sleep.”

“It is how I have slept for as long as I can remember…” The pleased smirk in his face falters slightly, appearing to ponder on it, “It’s become a boon, a necessity when having enemies on all sides,”

She lets the words sink in momentarily. Not being able to have a proper sleep sounds quite sad, even for an intimidating man such as Nobunaga, and he voices it as if not being safe to do so. It makes her wonder, how many enemies does he have lurking in the shadows as they speak?  

“May I ask you something? With all due respect, that is,” Nobunaga tilts a curious brow and nods, “Why did you decide to pursue this idea of unifying the country throughout conquest when it’s turned almost everyone against you?”

Historians may not know Nobunaga Oda’s true aims, but she has the man right in front of her. It doesn’t seem plausible his actions are out of mere love for war—even the most villainous characters in history had their own reasons to fight, insane or not. Is it the desperate urge for surviving, then?

He takes a thoughtful pause before a self-assured smirk clings to his face. “It’s the only way to bring me closer to the world I wish to see.” Nobunaga replies, truly convinced of his words, “My aims are for a strong and prosperous Japan that can compete with foreign countries on an equal footing. Bringing the country under my rule so it doesn’t tear itself apart is only the first step to helping it grow fully.”

There’s sheer determination in his features, painting the picture of a ruthless, yet clear-minded man. She’s born and grow up with the concept of war being the most despicable act made by humankind; and yet, regardless of her hatred for it, Nobunaga’s fighting doesn’t sound like one done for personal gain. And as it’s historically mentioned, his actions and those of his allies—like Hideyoshi, Ieyasu and even Masamune—are what leads to a long period of peace in Japanese history after all.

That realization begins to kindle a certain respect for what all of them did and currently do, and their true reasons why. Wow, how funny is this, now I’m bothered by this guy not allowing himself to sleep. However, the truth is Nobunaga just survived an assassination attempt less than two weeks ago, he shouldn’t wreck his health just then.

A soft chuckle escapes her at the silliness of the situation, and Nobunaga’s face hardens at that. “What is it you find amusing, Mai?” He doesn’t seem to think she’s actually laughing at his expenses, though, crossing his arms and looking confused, “And why are you looking at me like that?”

With a newfound motivation, Mai flashes a wicked smirk at him. “Tonight, Nobunaga, I shall put you to bed.”

“… What?”

Ignoring his nearly stunned look, she reaches out and gently pulls him by the arm to the other end of the room. “Lie down on the futon,” She nods towards the quite extravagant silk bedding placed close to a corner.

With a surprising obedience, Nobunaga actually does as she says, glancing her way as he drops onto his bedding. “Like this?”

Mai smiles in genuine approval, tucking her kimono and kneeling next to the futon. “What’s next?” His crimson gaze gleams in anticipation—in regards of what, though, she has some clues it’s not precisely what he’s expecting.

Silently, she tucks him into the blankets. As absurd as it seems—and very much looks like to her!—Nobunaga returns her smile with one of his own, proving how he appears to be enjoying the experience. With only his head poking out of the futon, for a hot second he looks like the very picture of an eager child.

Which, as a matter of fact, comes with a neat timing, “Next, I’m going to tell you a bedtime story!” Mai says excitedly, grinning from ear to ear.

“A… bedtime story?”

“Yeah. It’s a story to help you sleep,” She’s quick to add, hoping deep down not to encounter another cultural barrier she’s accidentally overlooked. Nah, he surely must have someone doing this to him in his youth… right?

“Once upon a time, there was a man called Monogusa Taro, and though he was despised by all villagers for his—“

“—You’re not seriously going to recite children’s stories from the Otogizoshi for me?”

“Yes I am! And come on, this is a good one! It’s about people having a hidden virtue beyond their off-putting exterior,” Just like you, she finishes the sentence inwardly. “Really, didn’t anyone ever read you a bedtime story when you were a child?” She can’t help her wondering on it, quirking a doubtful brow at him.

Her small fears are practically confirmed by Nobunaga’s blank stare. “Never.”

Oh, man. “Well, that explains a lot…” For all it takes, the guy doesn’t seem to be buying the Scheherazade Method—and which she hasn’t realized she’d been trying on until then, for that matter. However, she’s passed the point of giving up already, “Alright, never mind the story. How about a lullaby? I could do that for you,”

He hums, curious. “Is that another method of putting children to sleep?”

“Yes. Especially cranky ones,” She remarks with a narrowing of her eyes. All of a sudden and to add up to her sheer surprise, Nobunaga bursts out laughing, startling her for a brief moment, “Hey, what’s so funny?”

“Because you seem insistent upon treating me like a child,” Nobunaga cackles as it’s the most ridiculous thing ever, bringing a hand up from the covers of the futon to rub at his mirthful eyes, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to laugh at something so absurd! But you amused me, so I commend you,”

“… Commendation taken,”

She’s not sure whether to feel insulting or relieved at him laughing so hard, yet quite out of the blue, Mai finds herself sharing in Nobunaga’s mirth, letting out a small giggle. I can’t believe this guy can actually laugh this freely! This is so unlike anything I thought of him, huh.

“Tell me more about you, instead. Your voice may help to while away the hours,”

And just like that, Nobunaga’s back with his regular demands, although luckily she’s growing ever the more tolerant of that attitude. “That sounds fair. Okay, close your eyes and lean back,” Switching places, she takes a seat at the head of his bedding, hoping deep down some massaging on his scalp may finally lull him onto sleep. “What do you want to know?”

As if by cue, he rests his head on her lap, but she opts out for letting that be. “Who taught you in the art of gunsen fans?” He wonders.

Nobunaga’s curiosity sounds as genuine as it can come, leaving her to consider her options for a hot second. However, no matter how much she tries to find a true reason to make up a lie, in the end she’s left with nothing at all. It’s not like it’d hurt to tell him anything, though…

“It was my father. His name was Haru Mizusaki, and was proficient with many war fan techniques back in the day.” Mai’s fingers sink into his dark locks, nails scratching his scalp so very gently, letting her guard down briefly and drifting onto her memories of easier times. “I was quite young when he leaned me in on it. Despite being reluctant at first, I happened to have a… unpleasant event, so to say, so he thought I could use some ways to defend myself in the case he couldn’t be there to protect me…”  

Not truly delving into specific details, she still lets him in on bits and pieces of her life throughout the night; from her father’s passion for the ancient martial arts, to her mother’s work as a ‘traveler’—for the lack of a better definition of a tour guide—to her adored grandmother and her glorious food.

Nobunaga doesn’t fall asleep as quick as she hopes so, but luckily doesn’t ask further than what she’s comfortable with sharing. And as the night goes by, Mai finds herself more at ease. 

The next day, Mai meets the morning with lidded eyes, the first rays of dawn reaching the window of her room sending her groaning and burying herself further into her futon. Half an hour later and with the regular rushing of servants echoing across the hallways, she knows it’s no use to keep loafing around, cursing her lack of beauty sleep she had while blindly tying up her hair.

On her way to Mitsunari’s quarters, breakfast tray in hand, she’s stopped by a wolfish whistle. “And there’s the woman of the hour!”

Masamune meets her on his apparent way to a war council, grinning wildly and followed by a smirking Mitsuhide. “Huh? Uh, good morning to you guys too,” No matter the effort she puts onto it, her smile doesn’t reach her tired eyes, frowning as the pair approach her with impish ones to match.

“We heard it aaaaall about last night, lass,” Masamune wiggles his brows teasingly, “You tamed Nobunaga and used some clever trick to put him to sleep?”

“Do tell your methods, dear chatelaine. I could always use more ways to catch people off guard…” The roguish look Mitsuhide shoots her way isn’t truly compelling for her to start talking about—

Hey, wait a minute… “Y-you two know about that?” Is the place a rumor mill or an actual castle? It’s barely morning, those two must have just had breakfast and it’s been merely hours since she left Nobunaga’s tenshu for the guys to already know whatever they do about it.

Besides, Nobunaga doesn’t strike me as the type of indulging gossip, but what do I know. We even had some good laughs last night…

“Hold on for a moment, there,” She hurries to correct whatever misconceptions Masamune and Mitsuhide most certainly could have on last night’s events, “It’s not what you think and I didn’t ‘tame’ him, mind you. Just… told him some stories and tales until he fell asleep, but that’s all there was to it!” She fixes the pair with a glare, “And it’s not that he even did that, he just closed his eyes. Eventually I got tired and bid goodnight,”

“My, my. It appears our lovely chatelaine has surpassed fearlessness and become something entirely new. And interesting…” Mitsuhide’s intent of praising and the apparent admiration in Masamune’s eye strikes her somewhat a bit disconcerting.

“… He was having trouble sleeping. What’s so weird about that?”

“Rumors say you told him some fascinating stories. Something about a man named Haru and a story about the boy and the peach?” His golden eyes dart to the side as if to struggling to properly recall whatever he’s heard of it.

Mai shrugs dismissively, not even pretending for it to be a big deal. “Well, Haru was the name of my father,”

“’Was’?”

“Uh, passed away 5 years ago. And you mean the Adventures of Momotaro?” She cuts Mitsuhide’s line of conversation short, not up to get on it that early in the morning, “That’s a good one. It’s a cute story about a boy and his animal friends…”

She makes quick work of summarizing the tale, and Masamune bursts out in one of his musical laughs when she finishes. “… So the lad goes on to defeat all the demons at the end? I can’t imagine Nobunaga cared much for that part!”

Struggling not to join in the mirth, Mai makes an addition. “In fact, he did stir when I mentioned the animals jumping on the demon’s shoulders and scratching them,”

“Surely our Lord was preparing to kill Momotaro in revenge for the very cruel treatment on his kin,” Mitsuhide snickers, raising a fist in pure mocking offense.

“Hey, you two—bwahaha! T-that’s mean!” Unable to help it any longer, she laughs alongside them, mindful of not losing her hold on the tray in her hands. “… Hahaha! But, how did you two even hear about me and Nobunaga?”

Mitsuhide’s mobile brows quirk up, not truly looking up to reveal his sources, “The whole castle is talking about it,”

“W-what?” Her eyes almost bulge out of her sockets, her mirth fading in an instant.

“Don’t fret, kitten. It’s a good thing,” Masamune reassures her with a friendly pat on her shoulder, “You’ve created a reputation on yourself,”

“I dare say you’ve even earned the whole castle’s respect, Princess.”

“Well, that’s surprising. But I’m glad to hear that,” The truth is, she just wanted out of the non-con zone. She couldn’t have anticipated having made a real place for herself with doing just that.

And so, the day goes by with Mai being the entire talk of the castle. While it was somewhat weird at first, the morning met her with several introductions to servants of the castle, but she’s quickly put at ease as everyone regards her pleasantly and friendly, making her feel truly welcomed for the first time since she arrived.

A bright smile stays plastered on her face way later onto the afternoon, navigating the streets of Azuchi town and checking up on the directions marked in Mitsunari’s map, aiming to retrieve a stack of books he’d ordered for him.

That is, until she almost crashes face first into a broad chest. Stammering, Mai instantly mumbles a quick apology.

“Excuse me, young lady?” The man says instead, a voice so warm and practically coated in honey stopping her running thoughts.

She knows how the story goes, though—the hot guy smiles, she smiles back, but in fact he’s actually looking past her. Pretty much the story of her life, in short.

“Thank you for stopping. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to give chase,”  

He does smile, but once Mai’s eyes shoot up to the source of that lovely voice, she feels her heart skipping several beats. First of all, because the man is clearly looking at her instead of past her, and second… because that face belongs to one of the most beautiful creatures she’s ever laid eyes upon.

Thirdly, is one particular face she couldn’t possibly forget in her entire life.

Tenshu: An architectural typology found in Japanese castle complexes. They are easily identifiable as the highest tower within the castle.

Gunsen: A type of folding war fan used by the average warriors to cool themselves off.

[thecomicsnexus]

Aquaman: Time and Tide. December/93 - March/94. By Peter David, Kirk Jarvinen and Brad Vancata.

Aquaman sits in the Aquacave reading the last paragraph of Atlanna's chronicles of the history of Atlantis. He decides to add to the journal his history as well and begins writing.

He begins with his belief that his mother was either delusional or insane. She claimed that Arthur's father was a centuries-old Atlantean wizard though Aquaman has long theorized it was a surface dweller. He reflects on his ancestry which includes Kordax, a monster of "epic proportions" with blond hair and command over sea creatures - a coincidence that leaves Aquaman distressed.

He then recalls the first time he was ever called a hero. Alerted by sharks that something strange was occurring on the surface. Trickster robs a cruise ship on which is a police convention. He runs through the air towards his minisub but is being chased by the Flash who, as Barry Allen, happened to be part of the convention. Aquaman surfaces in the middle of the chase distracting Flash enough that Trickster is able to tag him with leg restraints. Flash tumbles along the water's surface and collides with a large shark, loses consciousness and sinks. Aquaman orders the sharks not to eat the Flash but they appear to have very short-term memories. In their confusion over recent events, Aquaman is able to rescue the Flash and bring him to the Aquacave.

Flash regains consciousness and Aquaman tells Flash of his distrust of surface dwellers. Flash, however, is able to reason with Aquaman convincing him to help in the capture of the Trickster. After the capture, Flash convinces Aquaman to join him in Crescent Shore to get a "hero's welcome" hoping the experience will aid in easing some of Aquaman's distrust of surface dwellers.

While waiting to be presented to the public, Flash gives Aquaman his hero name based on the "A" symbol on his belt, although Aquaman tells him it's an Atlantean letter. The Mayor presents Aquaman with the key to the city and Flash is soon informed that the Trickster has escaped. While Flash goes looking for him, Aquaman is escorted to a limousine with the Mayor and his Public Relations staff, Jack Shipp and Bart Saxton. They try to talk Aquaman into being the resident hero to allow them to cash in on his presence. They had previously settled on the name "Ocean King" and had many items of merchandizing prepared (such as key chains, watches and fly swatters). They even had begun sketches for a potential comic book series. Disgusted, and aggravated by cigar smoke and vodka (he had mistaken for water), Aquaman busts out of the moving limo, through traffic before collapsing on the sidewalk where he was immediately accosted by fans.

Trickster spots Aquaman and begins taunting him. The crowd cheers Aquaman on, but Aquaman turns and begins walking away. Trickster tries to goad him with a fish-shaped smoke bomb and a bucket of sand that forms an adhesive but Aquaman continues walking away. As Trickster gets more and more daring in his taunts, he also gets closer and Aquaman knocks him out with a single punch. The crowd, thinking it was all part of his master plan, cheer Aquaman again but Aquaman lashes out at them. He is about to dive back into the ocean when Flash catches up to him, hands him the key to the city and offers some kind words.

Ten months ago a female dolphin named Sleek Tail and a male dolphin named Fast Swimmer conceive a child. Eight months ago Fast Swimmer dies during an oil tanker spill. Two months ago Sleek Tail and her family fend off an attack by a hungry shark. Today, Sleek Tail gives birth. She and her dolphin family help the newborn to the surface to get its first breath of air but it is immediately captured in a fishing net. Sleek Tail tries to free it and is caught herself. The sailors bring them aboard and prepare to kill them but Aquaman stops them.

A few days later, Aquaman is in the Aquacave writing in the Atlantis Chronicles. He tells of how, after being abandoned on Mercy Reef as a baby, he is taken in and raised by Porm, a dolphin on the verge of having her own child, Drin. She takes Orin as a child despite the other dolphins' lack of concern. At eighteen months Porm refuses to let Orin nurse any longer and Orin must learn to catch fish. A young female dolphin, Nera, tries to show him but she is attacked by Cron, a shark. Slammed against a reef, Orin grabs a sharp piece of coral and takes out one of Cron's eyes. Afterwards, he is amazed that he is able to use his hands to grasp things and uses his hands to catch fish to eat.

Later still Orin decides to court Nera but his brother, Drin, wants to as well. Drin and Porm prevent Orin from trying as he is not their kind. Porm takes Orin to a nearby fishing boat so Orin can see what humans look like. Orin is appalled. Drin begins taunting Orin, who thinks he's showing off for Nera, and accidentally collides with the motor of the boat which fatally wounds him. The sailors attempt a mercy killing but Orin prevents it. The other dolphins tell Orin to abandon him to the approaching sharks. Orin tries to scare off the sharks but Cron confronts him telling him that waste is not their way and he must respect that. Orin allows the sharks to consume Drin's corpse. Orin realizes that he cannot stay with Porm and the family, they hug and part ways.

An Inupiat teenaged girl, Kako, has attempted to kill a polar bear but has only wounded it. It chases her down and is about to kill her when Orin intervenes. Orin and the bear fight, with the bear giving Orin a scar along his temple that he has to this day, when Kako rejoins the fight giving Orin the chance he needs to snap the bear's neck. Orin passes out from his injuries and Kako takes him home to nurse him back to health. Kako lives with her grandfather and grandmother, her parents having died. Grandfather is a fisherman who prefers the old ways (i.e. hand fishing, dog sleds) to the new ways (i.e. trawlers, snowmobiles) which he views as "white man contamination." Thus is he distraught to find a white man in his home but Kako quickly explains how he saved her life.

Aquaman, writing in the chronicles, explains that after he had been abandoned by Arthur Curry, the Lighthouse Keeper, Orin had had enough of humanity and traveled north to Alaska where he lived alone and content for months until encountering Kako. Back to the story.

While unconscious in Kako's home, Orin "awakens" in an ocean having been summoned by a female being (later called "Nuliajuk" by Grandfather) who demands payment for killing the polar bear. Orin can either give his own life or she will take someone dear to him later on. Before Orin can make a choice he awakens in Kako's home. Grandmother tells Orin the legend of the white man:

In the olden days there were no white men, just the Indians. Then one day they came and they were "huge, snarling, with fangs and claws." The dogs snarled at them and, believing this to be a greeting, dropped to all fours and snarled back. The dogs then outwit the stupid men by biting themselves. Again the men mimic the behavior but bite themselves fatally and leave. However, more came and they have not left, only multiplied.

Grandfather admits his hatred of the white man but offers Orin a place to stay out of fairness for saving his granddaughter. Obviously smitten with Kako, and she with him, he chooses to stay.

In Orm's house, Orm and his mother have an argument leading to Orm's threatening of his mother with a knife. Orm's mother blames Orm for bringing the white man's new ways to the house (which have turned her husband into a couch potato) but Orm points out that he is bringing in the money and that she has no reason to complain. He storms out (presumably to find Kako because...)

Orin, who has now healed, is teaching Kako how to play baseball when she offers herself to him and he accepts. Their lovemaking is witnessed by Orm who becomes furious. After Orin has fallen asleep and awakens, he finds Kako missing. After a quick search Orin finds her unconscious and severely injured. Orin returns her to her home where the grandparents tend to her wounds while giving Orin evil stares obviously blaming him for Kako's injuries. Orin closes his eyes...

And returns to the land of Nuliajuk. Orin sees Kako trapped within Nuliajuk's dwelling and Nuliajuk says this is the trade for Orin killing the bear. Orin attacks but Nuliajuk's dog also attacks. Orin, however, is quickly able to rip the dog's head off. Orin attacks, proclaiming himself to be of a new mythology where she is of an old. Nuliajuk turns her fingers into eels which attack Orin but he commands them to attack her instead and they obey. While she is distracted, and vowing revenge, Orin rescues Kako.

They both wake up and Orin tells Kako and the family of what he believes to have been a dream. Grandfather realizes it was not a dream and goes pale terrified that someone in his household has offended Nuliajuk. His fear triggers a fatal heart attack. Orin is chased from the house. He returns six months later but the family has moved.

Aquaman's journal turns to Ocean Master. He reflects on the time when he was King of Atlantis and he presented his and Mera's son to all of Atlantis. The proceedings were interrupted by Ocean Master demanding to have the presence of Aquaman, which was granted. Ocean Master immediately challenges Aquaman to become ruler of the oceans. Seeing this as farcical, Aquaman offers no resistence telling Ocean Master that the oceans rule man, not the other way around. Ocean Master then challenges Aquaman to kingship over Atlantis and attacks but Aquaman defeats him very easily. Because of arrogance, confidence and/or pity, Aquaman allows the defeated villain to leave only for him to return shortly thereafter in a submarine launching torpedoes at Atlantis. Aqualad is the first to spot the attack and he called to Aquaman. Together they flip a torpedo back at the submarine making a hole large enough for them to enter. The heroes are surrounded by armed henchmen and are chained upside down. While Ocean Master monologues, during which Aquaman realizes he is related to Kako's family, Aquaman tests the strength of the chains holding him. Ocean Master reveals that it was he who attacked Kako and that his mother claimed he was the product of her being seduced by an "undersea wizard."

At this point in the narrative, Aquaman, who had been writing the story, stares at the words "undersea wizard" and begins remembering the prophecy from the Atlantis Chronicles of the battle between two half-brothers to determine the fate of Atlantis.

Returning to the story, Aquaman breaks the chains that bound him and disarms Ocean Master. At that point Mera, outside the submarine, attacks it herself and Aquaman and Aqualad leave the ship. Ocean Master triggered his submarine's self-destruct sequence killing all the henchmen.

Back in the Aquacave, Aquaman ponders this latest revelation that his mother was not insane, Ocean Master is his half-brother and that she, Ocean Master and he, himself, are all part of an ancient prophecy. He doesn't yet know what to think.

From DC Wikia

Continuing the story that started with Legend of Aquaman, this story focuses less on Arthur’s (adoptive) father, and more in his adventures in the sea. I didn’t know I needed this story, and you probably don’t either. But you have to read this.

Sure, it is not connected to our modern Aquaman, but at the time they were trying to approach the character in more serious ways. Which is why it is so odd that they chose to tell such a Disney story (except for issue #3, which is very non-disney). The second issue alone is more than enough. It’s the story that makes the mini-series worthy of your time. We don’t really need Aquaman first adventure as a hero on the surface, or his teen adventures in Alaska, or how he met the Ocean Master. In fact, this Ocean Master is less interesting than the one we have these days.

But still, it is a very memorable “coming of age” story for this character.

For the art, I never heard if Kirk Jarvinen before, but his style reminds me of Disney’s animated style a lot. It certainly fits the mini-series. The thing that feels weird to me is why they decided to go with a darker tone for the ongoing series. But I guess those issues were drawn before the mini-series was published.

I consider this mini-series a must read, even if it is not in continuity.

I give the story a score of 8.

[starryeyed0590]

Yu-Gi-Oh House Sorting

Lately, I’ve been super-obsessed with the House System as espoused by @sortinghatchats​, and I’ve been trying to apply it to other fictional characters. Since I know these characters so well, figured I’d start with Yu-Gi-Oh. Don’t kill me for using the dub names, please.

Yugi Muto*

Note: It can be very difficult to separate Yugi and Yami’s personalities from each other, so I focused on instances when it is very clear which one is acting.

Primary: Hufflepuff

A Hufflepuff primary is defined by caring for people, all people (or at least however the Hufflepuff defines “people”), and Yugi Muto is the kindest, most self-sacrificing person you will ever meet. He made his best friend Joey by claiming him as a friend back when he was relentlessly being bullied by him, and by sticking to him in his time of need. Unlike a Slytherin, he does not prioritize. He is willing to sacrifice his best chance to help his grandfather because he is unwilling to risk harm his rival. He tries his best to defend and protect a downed Pegasus after the man spent months threatening his friends and family. Yugi Muto never meant a person he couldn’t offer friendship to, and even if that person rejects his offer and attempts to harm him or his friends, there’s  STILL a good chance Yugi will do whatever he can to save him if he needs it.

Secondary: Gryffindor

Yugi would befriend the whole world if it’d let him. But when someone needs him, he’ll charge into any kind of danger without a second thought. When the boys who bullied him on a daily basis were being thrashed by a bigger bully, Yugi threw himself between them, even though there was not a chance he’d avoid being pulverized. When Tea Gardner was assaulted, Yugi charged the guy. While not *as* impulsive as fellow Gryffindor secondary Joey, Yugi’s impulse to charge can still get the better of him, as in the shadow game with Bakura, where as the Dark Magician, he is easily goaded into a premature attack.

Yami Yugi

Primary: Slytherin

As a Slytherin primary, Yami prioritizes himself and “his people” over everyone and everything else. At first, “his people” was solely Yugi, but over the course of the series, he began to expand his definition to all of Yugi’s people. (And since Yugi is a Hufflepuff primary, there are a LOT of people).

Without his memories, Yami had no real idea of who he was, but he began to construct an identity (and morality) for himself as a hero. To this end, he models Gryffindor, “doing the right thing,” acting as a champion for the weak or wronged, seeking to save the world. But when push comes to shove, if asked to choose between saving the world and saving Yugi, he will pick Yugi every time. He is willing to send Kaiba to his possible death if it means he can rescue Yugi’s grandfather (and protect his spotless win record). He uses the tainted Seal of Orichalcos despite knowing of its evil because he believes it is the only way to win. All of his darkest moments come when he has failed to protect those closest to him, particularly when his use of the Orichalcos results in Yugi’s soul being captured, but also when Marik nearly kills Joey.

Secondary: Gryffindor

Yami Yugi will step up fearlessly to any challenge. He’s never backed away from a fight, and he’s not able to start. Experience and strategy may cause him to take caution in a given scenario, but for Yami Yugi, inaction is never an option. The Gryffindor secondary he shares with Yugi is one of the core parts of their bond, and what allows them to work so effectively as a single entity.

Tea Gardner

Primary: Hufflepuff

Like many Hufflepuff primaries, Tea bonds to groups. She honestly and sincerely believes in the power of friendship, that being kind and compassionate can change things, and everyone in need is deserving of help. (And her tendency to speechify about this made her infamous in the fandom) It’s this unqualified compassion that bonds her to Yugi, and on several dramatic occasions to clash with Yami Yugi. She steps in to urge Yugi to spare Kaiba in the duel atop Pegasus Castle, and again to stay Yami’s hand against Weevil when victory had turned into brutal retribution. 

Secondary: Hufflepuff

Hufflepuff secondaries toil, and there is no character who believes more in the power of steady hard work than Tea Gardner. While her personal arc often takes a backseat to her friends’ louder shenanigans, Tea has a great ambition to be a professional dancer someday. How does she plan to accomplish this? Work. Working hard to earn money so she can go to school in New York, so she can work hard to acquire the skills that she needs. Kidnap the girl and put her in a room with boxes, and she will try one (not great) plan after another, over and over, without flagging, in an attempt to escape. Tea is steady, and it’s that steadiness that makes her the glue that holds Yugi’s group of friends together.

Joey Wheeler

Primary: Gryffindor

Gryffindor primaries trust their instincts. They “go with their gut,” what they instinctually feel is right or wrong. To do otherwise feels immoral to them. Joey Wheeler is probably the most instinct-driven character on the show, and his Gryffindor primary drives him to do all kinds of actions he’d rather not (including helping out people he really doesn’t like), because to do otherwise would be just wrong. Although his large group of friends is important to him, he doesn’t need-base decisions like a Hufflepuff, and no matter how fiercely loyal he is to his sister or his best friend, he never puts them ahead of doing the right thing, something that sharply separates him from fellow devoted big brother Seto Kaiba.

Secondary: Gryffindor

Gryffindor secondaries charge. That’s Joey, charging off without a second thought, considering the consequences later, whether it’s diving headlong into freezing cold water to recover playing cards, stepping in front of the blast of an incredibly powerful being. His default response to every situation is to meet it headlong.

Seto Kaiba

Primary: Slytherin

A Slytherin primary is defined by the drive to put “me and mine” first, and that’s Seto Kaiba to a T. For Kaiba, there are exactly two people in the world he truly cares about: himself and his little brother Mokuba. He would do absolutely anything it takes to keep Mokuba safe and cared for, and he’s certainly no stranger to self-preservation, either. Mokuba Is priority #1, himself is #2, his company (still a part of his “mine”) is a somewhat distant #3, and the rest of the world can burn if it has to.

Secondary: Ravenclaw

Ravenclaw secondaries are the planners. They *can* improvise, charge, or toil, but above all, they prefer to collect information, devise strategies, and go into any situation completely prepared. Kaiba is one of the most methodical strategists in Yu-gi-oh. When he was a child, he collected information on Gozaburo Kaiba’s chess playing strategies, just so he could beat him at a game—and win a better life for himself and his brother. When attempting to take down Pegasus (and recover his brother and his company), Kaiba doesn’t charge in hoping the rightness of his cause will defend him like Yami Yugi does. Instead, he carefully considers what will give him a needed advantage, and builds an invention that will give him that advantage. Yes, when that plan fails (because of his incredibly strong Slytherin primary being used against him), he is forced to improvise, but he does it as a last resort. Kaiba’s first instinct is always to make a plan.

Mai Valentine

Primary: Slytherin

When we first meet Mai, she is a Petrified Slytherin—as a result of her painful childhood in a broken home, she believes she is better off without anyone and she refuses to form attachments. She rejects Jean Vanne-Claude’s offer of marriage for no discernable reason, and views every person as a merely someone to be manipulated or defeated. However, over the course of the first season, Yugi’s group, particularly Joey, get to her, and despite herself she finds she’s let them into her inner circle. By the end of the second season, she’s thawed enough to offer help to strangers Duke and Serenity merely based on their bonds to “her” people. In his shadow game, Marik uses her newly formed bonds against her, first by making her forget about her friends, and then by torturing her with a reality where she is imprisoned in torment while they blithely ignore her.

While she initially recovers from Marik’s psychological torment, it, along with a series of events between seasons, causes her to Petrify again, shedding all of her emotional bonds and joining Dartz’s organization. Although she pledges her loyalty to the Orichalcos, it is clear from her interactions with Dartz and his agents that she has no real loyalty to them. Valon desperately tries to bond with her, but she utterly refuses to allow him any place in her affections. Although she has renounced all of her previous bonds with her friends, Joey refuses to give her up, and finally, finally, at the very last moment, is able to reignite his bond with her, which overcomes the Orichalcos’ influence over her.

Secondary: Ravenclaw

While Mai is an excellent manipulator, which would seem to make her a fit for Slytherin, and she has a brash temper to rival any Gryffindor’s, one of Mai’s defining qualities as a duelist is her strategizing. Mai always has a pre-determined game plan ahead of every situation. She knows her win-condition and she knows how she is going to get to it. While her strategies are often clever and successful, frequently, Mai is so committed to her particular plan, that once it is thwarted, she is unable to devise any other way of getting through a situation, and she will stop trying. This happens in her first duel against Joey when he smelled through her “aroma strategy,” and stopped her only monster card, and in her duel against Yugi when he defeats her Harpie’s Pet Dragon. 

Thoughts? Arguments? Other characters I should do (Will probably take on a few more YGO characters soon)?

[neganandblake]

I think I liked you better when you didn’t have a knife in your hand, Peaches... Chapter 137 - A Run Out

When Blake finds herself sold out to the Saviours by her abusive fiancé, she realises that she's certainly not on her own anymore and finds an unlikely friend in Negan. And Negan does NOT like men who beat their girlfriends, one tiny bit….

MASTERLIST

Chapter 137 - A run out

[Negan wakes up to find Blake and Mia are gone. But when he finally runs into the blonde woman, she has a request for him.]

Then next morning, Negan awoke to find the bed beside him empty of the two girls he normally shared with.

He let out a grizzled sort-of huff into his pillow before easing himself up onto elbows and staring around.

He had had a surprisingly good sleep and didn't remember being woken even once during the night, but he saw no sign of either Blake or Mia now, lifting his hand and running it down his sleepy face.

“Peaches?” he called out, wondering if maybe she was in the bathroom next-door, but there came no reply.

It was so like her to just disappear without telling him where she was going. She was a pain in his ass like that, but he still liked that about her. She was like a goddamn constant challenge to him. Keeping him on his toes, whether he liked it or not.

Giving a groan, Negan pushed himself from the bed and ambled into the bathroom, running his hand through his dark, mussed-up hair as he went.

He switched on the light and moved over to the washbasin, grabbing his toothbrush from the plastic tumblr beside Blake's, getting down to brushing his teeth, gazing at his reflection in the mirror above the sink as he did so.

Negan had truly never thought he would slot back in to this kind of life again.

After Lucille he had resumed his bachelor ways, fulfilling every fantasy he had with a near endless string of woman along the way. But that had soon become tiring and even the excitement of sleeping with a different woman every night had quickly become stale and boring.

For it was a life like this he had truly yearned for a long time.

Having a fucking family.

Something real.

And Blake had given him that.

Sure it had taken them a long long time to get here, but they had. And every moment of happiness she gave to him, made all the pain and sadness of everything else, worth it.

Negan finished up at the washbasin, stripping swiftly out of his boxers before heading over towards the large tiled shower at the far end of the large bathroom.

And within ten minutes he was out again,  shrugging on his leather jacket over a white t-shirt and grey pants, and grasping up Lucille.

But Negan had barely made it across the room, heading towards the door, when it was swiftly shoved open…..and in walked Blake, eating an apple.

Negan grinned at the sight, immediately cocking an eyebrow up at her. “Early bird catches the fuckin’ worm, huh?” he commented, as Blake gave him a smile in return.

She looked in a far better mood than yesterday, which of course might have had something to do with the tension-relieving fun they had had in that bathtub last night.

“I don't know about a worm,” she smirked. “But I got us breakfast.”

And with that, she tossed him a second apple, which the dark-haired man promptly caught, grinning as he did so.

“You seem pretty fuckin’ chipper this mornin’, Doll-face,” he growled lifting his chin a  little and gazing at her. “My fingers really do that good of a job last night?”

Blake offered him a smile at his words. “Oh most definitely,” she purred, walking over towards him now, her free hand reaching up and toying with the zipper on his leather jacket.

Negan narrowed his chocolate eyes at her.

Yeah, granted, his performance, as always, had been pretty fucking impressive, but Blake was certainly in a better mood than she had been in a  while.

“Beansprout, alright?” he asked in a bemused voice, staring down at her.

But the blonde woman just smiled.

“Yeah she seems much better today,” she replied, with a small, contented sigh. “Tanya and Michelle have already collected her. They're making princess crowns. Mia’s already decided.”

Negan quickly chuckled at the sheer cockiness of the three year old toddler.

“That mean I get Mamma-bear all my damn self today?” he uttered nudging her nose with his.

But Blake's lips curved into a wide grin at his words, as she pulled her face away from his a little teasingly, pursing her lips together, as if thinking hard.

“You can…..” she said slowly, her eyes peering up at his. “But maybe not here.”

A frown twitched its way between Negan’s eyebrows, but Blake spoke again before he could question her.

“Listen, we’ve not exactly been on the same page lately,  and with everything that’s happened, Mia coming back, me...well…” she reached down placing a hand to her stomach. “Well, we haven’t really had much time together. Just you and me. And I thought it might be good to get away from the stress of this place. Even if it's just for the day.”

Negan stared at her.

“Oh yeah?” he said, a little taken a aback. She had obviously been thinking on this for a while. “An’ where exactly were you thinking?”

But Blake just smiled and shrugged, coming to rest both her arms over his shoulders, as his, still holding onto both Lucille and his apple, slid their way up her slender sides.

“I don’t know. Anywhere.” she murmured, wrinkling her nose lightly. “Just somewhere we can get away from everything...just for a few hours. I’ve been a hormonal bitch this last week or so,  and I want to make it up to you.”

He could hear the hint of pleading in her voice, her obviously knowing that after his actions yesterday he was likely to say no.

Ok, Negan had been a hard-ass. But it was only because he wanted to keep the woman he loved, carrying his baby, safe.

But he understood now that she needed her own breathing space. And being cooped up her wasn't good for either of their sanities.

The pair of them had been arguing a lot lately. Mainly about the smallest and most petty of things, and as much as Negan knew that that that type of shit was normal in any fucking relationship, it still sucked-fucking-ass. Totally and utterly.

He missed the good old days when it was just the two of them pissing the other off,  with the only reason behind it being because they wanted to. And not because either of them were scared, or worried, or frustrated for any reason.

“So….what do you think?” Blake asked him hopefully, tilting her head to the side and causing her long blonde hair to trail down one shoulder. “Daddy up for taking me out on a road trip?”

Negan was silent for a lengthy moment before the corners of his bearded mouth suddenly twitched up into a wide grin.

“Oh most fuckin’ definitely,” he said grinning. “As long as Momma is up for givin’ Daddy a damn blow job in the front of his fuckin’ truck, we are good to. fuckin’. go.”

He watched, chuckling, as Blake rolled her eyes.

“Hmm, well we’ll have to see about that one…” she purred with a smile, giving him a sudden sharp, yet playful, shove away from her, before heading over towards their closet.

Of course half her shit was here now, outfits tangled in with his. Not that he minded that one little bit.

“Alright then, well I guess I’d better go get loadin’ shit up, seein’ as the damn queen’s given her orders,” said Negan in a goading voice, giving a faux-heavy sigh, as Blake opened the closet door and stared at him in the reflection in the full length mirror hanging inside the door.

“Just make sure you pack some tomatoes for lunch for me,” she said pulling out a black sweater.

But Negan waved an easy hand at her.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he sighed. “Can’t keep Peaches from her damn cravings now can I?”

But Blake merely smirked in his direction, as Negan turned on his heel chuckling again before taking a big bite of his apple and heading swiftly out the door, shutting it closed behind him with a small snap.

……………………………………………………………..

“You off somewhere, Boss?”

Almost a half hour later and Negan, who had been standing outside in the drizzly lots that surrounded the Sanctuary, was loading not only Lucille, but an entire range of numerous weapons into one of the nicer pickup trucks.

Negan knew that if they were going out there, then there was no way he was letting his guard down. Not for one goddamn second. Not with Blake carrying his goddamn offspring inside of her.

And sure he wasn’t stupid enough to vocalise his worry for her out loud again, not knowing how much it irritated the hell out of her. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t gonna keep a close eye on any fucker, dead or alive, who tried to cross them out there.

Negan quickly swung around on his booted- heel to see Simon stroking towards him, thumbs hooked through his belt loops as he surveyed the leader of the Saviours and the shiny dark blue truck behind him.

“Peaches, wants to go grab some fresh air,” he replied stiffly. “An’ I, not bein’ fuckin’ idiotic enough to argue with a pregnant lady, have agreed to escort her outta here for the day.”

Simon offered him a chuckle.

Negan knew it wasn't often that he was seen leaving his people, especially without an entire damn convoy of Saviours to back him up anyway. But he would make an acception on this occasion. And he knew the place would run smoothly without him here. For today at least.

“I’ll be takin’ my radio, so if shit just happens to hit the fan while I’m gone,” he continued. “Make sure you call me. Do not leave me hangin’, Si, you understandin’ me?”

Negan stared at his tall and mustachioed right-hand man for a long moment, pursing his bearded lips together.

He and Simon had had their moments in the past, and on a few occasions Simon had tried to take the lead from Negan. Tried to be the bigger fucking badass. But he had soon learned his place was at Negan’s side. Although Negan still needed to remind him of that from time to take, pushing him back into line.

But on this occasion, to Negan’s relief, Simon gave a prompt nod of his head.

“Loud and clear,” he said obediently. “But if I were you, Boss, I’d go west if you’re taking your gal out. The outposts tell me they’ve seen people from the Hilltop and Rick’s place, scouting as far north as Haley Ridge-”

“An’ I don’ wanna be runnin’ into any of those cock-suckers and their goddamn fuckin’ vendettas now do I?” Negan cut in, clenching his jaw.

Running into anyone else today and risking Blake and his unborn kid’s life was not particularly high on his list of priorities for today, so Negan knew he should take Simon’s advice and head west instead.

He clapped his second in command on the shoulder proudly, lifting his chin, just as a sudden figure appeared just behind the mustachioed man.

“So I’ve got bottled water, snacks, a gun-“ said Blake suddenly strutting over towards them, dressed now in a navy jacket throw over a black sweater and jeans, her long blonde hair tossed over one shoulder as she looked down into the pack she carried in her hands.

But at her words Negan leant right back on his long legs, eyeing her.

“Now where’d the FUCK you get a gun from, Peaches?” he said in a loud voice,  almost marvelling at her.

Fuck, she really did have the fucking run of this place didn’t she?

“What? You think I don’t have access to your guns cache?” she said narrowing her eyes at him. “I’m having your baby, Negan. I own half of your shit now.”

And there it was- the reason he fucking loved her.

Negan whined out a laugh, as she moved to the pickup truck, shoving her pack onto the passenger seat through the open window.

“Yeah you fuckin’ do, Darlin,” the dark- haired Saviour muttered. “But I guess that mean that I own half of this too-“

And with that, he suddenly grabbed her round jean-clad ass and gave it a hard squeeze, causing her to jump on the spot, shooting him a look.

Her eyes darted to Simon in embarrassment.

“Ouch….Negan….” she reprimanded with a mumble, rubbing at her sore ass cheek, as he retracted his hand with a throaty chuckle.

But at their side Simon gave a grin of his own, nodding at the pair of them.

“Have fun,” he said before turning around and sauntering back over towards the large looming factory buildings just as the rain began to fall a little heavier all around them.

Negan watched as Blake looked skyward, suddenly looking disappointed.

“Oh….no…..I thought we could have a picnic or something….damn it….” She whispered.

But Negan nudged her, strolling around to the drivers side of the truck and pointing at her with a gloved finger.

“Well that’s your fuckin’ fault for bein’ too damn optimistic, Doll-face,” he said curtly. “An’ I don’t think any sort of fuckin’ picnic out there is gonna be very relaxin’ with those dead pricks on our tail the entire time.”

But Blake shrugged, pulling open the passenger side door.

“You’re probably right,” she mumbled letting out a heavy sigh. “I was just thinking of something romantic.”

But Negan’s gave a huff of his own, as they both hopped into the pickup, slamming the doors closed behind them.

“Well, y’know,” said Negan offering her a poignant look and turning the key in the ignition. “If its romance you’re lookin’ for, like I said, I am still up for you blowin’ me in the front seat, Darlin’.”

And with that he gave a grin gesturing to the space between his legs.

Blake, of course, gave an immediate roll of her eyes at this, leaning her elbow against the passenger side door.

“Ugh, now who’s being optimistic. And I don’t think getting down on my knees for you while your driving is really gonna help with my morning sickness,” she said pressing a hand to her temples and rubbing away some excess rain water that lingered there.

The engine spluttered into life as Negan quirked an eye at her for the smallest of moments.

“That why you were up so early this mornin’?” he asked sounding a little concerned.

But Blake just looked back at him, smiling softly.

“Partly, but Mia was up and getting a little fussy anyway…” she said gently.

Negan’s eyes searched Blake’s face now, as rain began to hammer down upon the windscreen before them.

He knew how fucking tiring this must be for her and that was probably a good fucking excuse for her rattiness towards him this last couple of weeks.

But as though reading his mind, Blake looked at him with those big green eyes of hers. And for a moment Negan was transported back to that first time, out there on the road together, in the front of that van on that rainy night.

He had had a fucking soft spot for her back then, but he hadn’t fucking realised that this would be the woman that would be carrying his child. His fucking kid.

She was truly fucking incredible. And he was truly in awe of how far they had fucking come.

But Blake looked at him a little sadly now, shifting in her seat.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly her voice earnest. “For being such a pain the the ass these last few days.”

Negan blinked at her now, but she continued before he could say anything.

“I think I’m just a little anxious…” she confessed, pulling at a thread on the sleeve of her jacket absentmindedly. “A-After those miscarriages and after David….well, I just didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to be pregnant again. And it’s all happened just so fast…”

Negan stared back at Blake now, with hard eyes, as she trailed off, her gaze falling into her lap.

“You havin’ second thoughts?” he asked, lifting his chin slightly, and feeling his chest constrict.

But at once Blake shook her head, her eyes reaching his once again.

“No. Not at all,” she said hurriedly. “I just…”

Rain hammered down on the roof of the truck.

“I’m happy…” she said her face suddenly full of hope. “But I guess I’m not used to feeling like this. Having you, having Mia, having a baby...I guess I’m just scared of being too happy….in case it all falls apart again. I-I can’t lose you...o-or Mia again. I just can’t. And I’m sorry if I’ve been pushing you away. I know that all you’ve done is care about me. But I’ve just not been talking to you...I-I’ve not been talking to anyone…”

Negan knew she was right.

He could see the fear in her eyes sometimes when she obviously thought no one was looking.

He had chalked it down to annoyance with him, obviously raising her hackles the moment he brought it up.

But Negan with one hand on the steering wheel, merely stared at her now.

“You ain’t gonna lose us Peaches,” he said with a meaningful growl. “I ain’t fuckin’ goin’ anywhere. And all I fuckin’ want is for you not to have the goddamn weight of the world on your shoulders. Look, we’ve got a long few fuckin’ months ahead of us, an’ hell, I ain’t got a fuckin’ clue what I’m doin’, but you’ve gotta realise that you ain’t alone. An’ I am gonna be right here, day or fuckin’ night.”

He grinned at her,  licking his lips now as he continued, cocking his dark head to the side.

“If you want a run out, I’ll get you a fuckin’ run out. If you want a damn foot rub at 2am, then you just wake me up, Sweetheart. An’ hell, if you want fresh tomatoes from that damn garden of yours, then I will go down there an’ fuckin’ pick them for you.”

At his words, Blake smiled, her hand moving over her abdomen lovingly.

“Thanks, baby,” she said in a soft and gracious voice.

But Negan, smirking, merely reached his hand out and grabbed for hers, before pulling it to his lips and pressing a kiss to her smooth knuckles.

“Don’ mention it, Peaches,” he eased out in a low voice. “Although I’m gonna take back what I said about goin’ into that damn garden and pickin’ tomatoes for you. Hell, I’ve got a reputation to uphold, an’ I don’t want my people seeing me as a mother-fuckin’ goddamn farmer.”

Blake gave a small laugh, now, shaking her head.

“Oh I don’t know…” she purred. “I could see you dressed in a flannel shirt and some gardening gloves, on your knees, gettin’ all down and dirty.”

But Negan just grinned back at her now, as he gave a single shake of his own dark head, pressing his foot onto the gas driving the truck out of the lot.

“Nu-Uh. Not in a million fuckin’ years, Sweetheart.”

(Gif credit belongs to the owners.)

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