#and yes i am old and i will be screaming at the youngsters

[angel-maybe-alive]

And I will be a little shit again

Shout out to peeta meelark the last good book boyfriend, it's him that guy from pride and prejudice and Aragorn in a weird not specific way

All other book boyfriends sucks and I am terrified about the taste in men of straight bookish women

[faellain]

The Accidental Baby Trap Incident

Summary: About four years after the events of First Class, Erik arrives at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters with two little twins who he didn't know existed. Thinking he doesn't know what to do, he runs to Charles, not knowing the state his old friend is in.

Snippet 5

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charles goes back to avoiding him while he weans himself off the shots. raven is clearly annoyed with erik, but she knows he didn't want to do this to her. to either of them. neither does she take a shine to the kids but kids were never exactly raven's speciality.

on the third day of charles flushing out the drug, erik finds him leaning on the outside rail, staring at the satelite dish. erik lifts his hand, moving it towards them, memories of his mother and their menorah and of charles bringing that memory back dancing in his mind. charles jolts when it moves but then turns to see erik. after a moment, he turns back, but does not tell him to leave.

erik stands next to him, staring at the satelite. silence hangs over them like dark clouds before a storm. did charles really hate him? did he really hate charles? when he was worried about his children, charles was where he had turned. yet, he felt stung- betrayed by charles saying they did not want the same thing. by charles' dedication to a coexistance that could never be.

"we'll never be those men again," charles says.

"pardon?"

"we'll never be them again," charles repeats, his voice wistful, "i will never be the charles xavier who pulled you out of the water. you will never be the erik lehnsherr who could not move a satelite dish."

"we are those men," erik tells him, not fully understanding.

"no. those men died on a beach in cuba," charles all but whispers, his voice shaking, "erik died the moment you put on that helmet. charles died when you left him on that beach."

erik frowned, his nose wrinkling in disgust, "so it's all my fault then?"

"yes," charles replies, quick and firm, his once piercing azure eyes still dull and tired. he hasn't been sleeping.

"fuck you," erik snaps, "i gave you the chance to stay at my side. you told me no. you said we didn't want the same thing."

"we don't," charles tells him, "my erik did. but you do not. you tried to kill my erik so often. the minute you found a way to shut me out of his mind, you took it. and you made him a monster."

"i am not a monster," he growls, taking charles by the shirt with one hand, "i didn't come out here to fight with you."

"i loved you so much," charles says, voice so gentle that it hurts, "but it was never going to be enough. your hate will always be so much stronger than anything else in your heart."

erik wants to scream until his throat is raw. part of him wants to hurl charles into the satelite dish. his teeth click as they grit togther inside his clenched jaw. his hand shoves charles back as he shakes his head, disgusted with him.

"you are so self-righteous," erik sneers, "you always have been. it is why raven left. it is why i left. you think you are some beacon of morality and peace, but you're just a man. and you've become a pathetic one at that."

charles laughs, hollow and broken, "maybe so. it's nothing i don't already know."

erik did not expect charles to agree. an arguement would have felt good. instead, charles rolls over like a tired hound dog. there is no bite in him, no spark of hope and kindness.

i did that, erik thinks and wishes that charles could hear him.

"did what?" asks charles, fingers rubbing his temples in hypnotic circles.

erik whips his head up to look at him. instead of trying to press, charles is walking away, rubbing the side of his head fiercely as a headache comes on. he mutters something about not wanting to know. instead of letting the other man be, erik follows him his pace brisk.

"you need to sit down," he says.

"you need to leave me be."

"charles-"

charles glares at him, anger taking over him, "you do not get to pretend you care about me!"

as he storms over the threshold with thundering steps, charles gasps, hand flying to the base of his spine. his legs give out. erik sees him falling and rushes forward, grabbing him before he can hit that hardwood floor. he all but flies toward the wall, hitting his own back so he can sink them both down, cradling charles in his arms.

"i- i can't do it," charles whispers, voice shaking before he shouts, "HANK! i can't do it. ask your diamond friend, erik. i can't do it."

"charles, breathe, tell me what's wrong," erk says, moving to cup charles' face.

charles laughs bitterly, his cracking pale lips shaking, his hand riddled with tremors as he touches his leg, "as these go," he moves his trembling hand to his temple, "this comes back. as i said."

all this over his powers. this was the result they wanted. raven had come here so charles could use cerebro and his familiarity with sean, but there was nothing stopping them from having azazel teleport emma in. it would have been faster than flushing the drug out of charles' system. had erik and raven not bothered to think of it because charles was already there or had they made a silent agreement to get charles back to the way he was.

but he had never been like this. from erik's arms, he calls for hank again. the young scientist runs by the top of the stairs, looks down at charles and shoots off. no doubt he was willing to give in to the demands of a charles clearly in pain. erik is tempted to as well. a shaky breath all but plows through charles' body, lifting his hands to cover his ears.

"they all come back," he whispers, wincing as he pressed against erik.

charles starts wrestling with his shirt, trying to roll up the sleeve. ever since he had arrived, even when they had kissed, erik had not seen charles' arms. at his vein there is a dark pock-mark. purple and red petals blossom around it, but it churns erik's stomach. he presses his arms around charles, keeping him from doing any more.

"don't stop me," charles hisses, begging, "i can't do this. i can't hear them all. it's too much."

erik cups charles' cheek, pressing their foreheads together. such tenderness feels foreign to him now, yet it's so easy to remember holding charles like this. it's even easier to imagine they're on a beach in cuba, erik about to make the biggest mistake of his life. leaving charles behind should have never been an option.

"focus on me," he tells him, "you can do that. find my mind. only feel my thoughts."

"i- i will never go back inside that head again," spits charles, though he does not push away.

i love you, erik all but screams, knowing now that charles has to be able to hear him. he lights his thoughts up like a beacon, trying to blare them loudly. charles goes remarkably still in his arms.

happy memories- of the road trip. of that first kiss. of dancing. of channukah. of the satelite. of doing missions together. all of it love. all of it their story. erik came here because no matter how many allies he has, charles is his friend. his lover. his other half.

they had been made for each other. erik truly, deeply, madly believed that, even now. even after everything.

a hiccup escapes charles' lips, mind prodding at the recent memory of their angry kiss. there had been no danger. just a frustrated erik who was struggling to pretend that was was between them was dead. charles reaches up, his hands clinging to erik's arms like a life line, letting himself be bathed in the noise of erik's thoughts.

of erik's love for him.

"i- but- " charles tries to garble out but fails.

i have loved you from the moment you told me i was not alone, erik explains, nuzzling charles' hair, even though it was stringy and tinged with sweat. it was still part of charles, his beautiful perfect charles.

every pained gasp made erik's heart wrench. as much as he wanted to blame moira, this was hardly her fault. by god, did he want it to be her fault. yet, she had only done it to stop him. he had only been careless a moment.

charles was shaky as he cups erik's cheek, smiling at him. he says no words, but shakes his head. erik wishes he was a telepath, not for the first time. charles is painfully cryptic. still, he gasps again as hank rounds the corner.

"raven is keeping the kids from seeing. i've got some serum with a little bit extra if he wants it."

erik looks down at charles, "do you? we can get emma."

that is the last thing he wants. but charles is clearly in pain, he is fighting his very nature. suffering is not something erik likes to see in charles' face. yet, the other slowly shakes his head no.

"erik, carry me to the study, please."

without question, erik slides his arm beneath charles' knees, hoisting him up as he stands. charles arms come to rest at either side of his neck. erik presses his nosebridge to the side of charles' temple. all three are silent as they go to the study. charles lets out a breathless chuckle- he hasn't been in here since erik's arrival. erik knows because he dusts and cleans in here often enough.

memories float along which make charles, still tired, still unsure lean against erik's shoulder slightly. their heartbeats thud in tandem. all erik does is adjust his hold, securing charles closer.

hank opens the door to a closet. there are plenty of things in there, but erik has never opened it. curiousity nearly got the better of him several time since he could feel a magnetic pull in there, but he was trying to avoid losing the tenative acceptance he and his children had. even if he did prefer to argue with charles.

inside, sits a sleek wheelchair. its not the rickety thing that erik is used to seeing. much of it is polished wood with built-in gray cushions for charles' comfort. yet erik can feel it. metal lines the wheels, the brakes. despite everything, charles designed this wheelchair so erik could one day push him in it.

i had always hoped you'd come back, a soft, tired voice prods into erik's mind.

you fool, he replies, what if i had used it to kidnap you?

unaware of their conversation, hank shakes his head, "are you sure about this?"

charles shakes his head, "absolutely not."

all three of them head downstairs to cerebro, erik pushing charles along with a light curl of his fingers. he can feel charles' focus playing with the edges of his mind, still using him to keep from hearing every voice his powers let him all at once. good. it means that charles is exercising his ability to control his powers.

erik had not seen this completed cerebro. he had helped build the skeleton of it when they were training for cuba, but he never saw it finished. a blue 'x' scans charles' eye before an automated voice welcomes him inside. he watches charles' jaw clench with apprehension.

i'm here with you, he reminds him, softly. is it as much of a comfort as he hopes?

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Your Mercy

Author's notes: Alpharius in Living Water AU

Past =-= Next

Warnings: None that I can think of.

Summary: Words are said, choices are not entirely made, as more information is needed. The Alpha legion boys are on thin ice but can continue to meet and get to know Lana. For now.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k, @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual @thevoidscreams

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

“What does that have to do with us?” Mara asks, a claw on Lana’s shoulder, near one of her wings.

“We had heard that there had been a Rejection recently,” Zariel says, “And… wanted to see if a Bond-of-Choice could take it’s place.”

“Why did you not approach me openly and honestly?” Lana asks, feeling very hurt and betrayed and lied to by Zariel and his squad.

“That is not our way,” Zariel says. Mara frowned, not particularly liking his answer. It didn’t make sense to her. 

They had been disguising themselves pretending to be Lana’s bonded and join the flock. How were they to know if his brothers have the same intent as Zariel or is some mimicry-specialist predator infiltrating her flock to cause harm. 

It made Mara uneasy. Also if they wanted to see if a bond-of-choice could take the place of a rejected bond, why disguise themselves as being from the same group as the mer who rejected the bond with Lana? The old gannet thought that plan was frankly, quite foolish.

He is ignoring the expressions on the faces of the Scout-lings of other chapters and how they range from disbelieving to completely rude. They can think and feel all they like. The little shits have no idea what it’s like to be in his scales. So Zariel ignores them as best as he can, trying to speak truthfully and ignoring his training as best as he can as it screams at him to take his squad and leave.

He takes in a deep breath, “As I have said before, my squad and I mean no harm to you and yours. We have grown to care for Lana, and the Colony as a whole through getting to know you and the others.”

For some reason the squad of Primaris Space Marines are watching him with the little Raven Guard in the middle of their circle. All of them are watching, judging, waiting for a move or gesture from the Harpies to attack them. Or for him and his squad to do something that will have the Scout-lings in the right for attacking them.

He ignores the way that the Scout-ling Black Templars are growling at him and his squad, Zariel has to make sure to shoot a look at a couple of his squadmates to make sure that they are not growling or trying to posture back at the youngsters not even fifty years old.

“Silver tongued lying serpent,” Cedric hisses at the leader of the  Alpha legion squad with an angry scowl.

“I am not lying at this moment in time,” Zariel snaps back at the youngster, before looking back at Lana and Mara. “Be glad, Cedric, was it? That you didn’t actually manage to bite my skin, we Alpha Legion are Venomous and Poisonous.” 

“Primaris are built better,” Cedric growls deep in his chest, “asshole.”

“If you want to think that, you can,” Zariel says, unable to stop himself from tweaking the young son of Dorn’s nose.

There is another deep rumbling growl and Cedric’s teeth are bared and sharp, his hands clench and unclench as his tail whips around in agitation, readying himself of another Charge.

The other young Black Templar swings out a strange device that Zariel doesn’t recognize, looking like he’s ready to activate it. Whatever it is that device does, he most certainly wants to find out, but not activate it on him or his brothers.

“Stand down. We ask that if a peaceful resolution can happen, that it does happen,” Mara sternly calls out, and the Scouts do their best to back down and reign in their tempers.

“Yes ma’am,” They say politely, if a little sullenly.

“If we decide to allow you and your brothers to be around Lana and our Colony,” Mara says after a few moments of thought, “we will need several things from you.”

Zariel and his squad’s eyes are locked onto Mara, fully listening and watching her every movement and word carefully. “And what are those things?”

“Honesty,” Mara says, eyes narrowed, watching as the mer-astartes recoil a little at that, “Do your best to stop lying when you are around us, in words and actions.”

“You want us to approach the colony in our true colors?” Zariel asked to clarify, a frown starting to mar on his face, “The older Mer-astartes are not likely to react well to seeing us like this, in fact they will likely react worse than these Scout-lings have.”

“You deserve our hostility,” rumbles Ramiel, “The Alpha legion has always been one of the most self-serving of the First Founding. Prone to betraying their ‘allies’ for want of a spoon.”

Cedric and the rest of the Primaris Space Marine Scouts seem to be nodding in unison. Vigorously at that, agreeing to his words in unison and their glares have yet to subside. 

“Just because you say that you mean no harm to Lana and the Gannet Harpy colony now,” The young Blood Angel says suddenly, glowering at them in suspicion, “Doesn’t mean that you won’t betray or hurt them in the future. Alpha Legionnaire. Ever mercurial is you and your Chapter.”

“She is our Bonded,” Zariel flares his fins angrily at the other’s comment. 

“A stronger Bond could form between her and another,”  Claude says, “And it wouldn’t be the first time, wouldn’t be the last, and it could be happening to another at this very moment.”

“We’ve heard stories of ‘bonded’ Alpha legion squads trying to fight against the Bonded mortal’s true Bonded,” Catius , the young Ultramarine Scout say, “and it ends in tragedy, unless you Alpha legionnaire do what you do best, run like cowards against stronger foes.”

His mind is buzzing with information and the stories he’s listened to and compiled of just such a thing happening and he can gather those anecdotes and present them as evidence on Why Letting Those Teal Bastards Stay Nearby is a Bad Idea. Catius and his brother-cousins respectfully keep quiet so that they can hear Lana’s decision.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: Finding Peace

Moon Knight, Issue 29: Colloquy (A short). 

Writen by: Steven Grant and Kevin Kowlan. 

Moon Knight has a conversation with his various identities and perhaps finds a little peace. 

(I'm just going to show you the whole thing and type it all up so you don't have to squint).

"Midnight, for once, no crisis threatens the city or world, no danger demands Moon Knight's attention. Tonight, Steen Grant remains at Grant mansion, alone with his thoughts not entirely his own... 

Finally..." 

We open on Grant Mansion. It is quiet. It is still. 

We see Steven alone in a room, sitting by the fireplace and looking thoughtful. 

"Peace. Marlene is off on business for two weeks. Frenchie is on vacation. I sent the servants away for the evening. Finally, I am alone... And though I hesitate to say it, at peace." 

He looks to an empty chair in the dark where Moon Knight's cape and cowl are draped over it. 

"It seems strange, after the past few months, to think of peace and Moon Knight in the same thought." 

"I never knew if it was a curse, this Moon Knight. A curse?" 

Steven picks up the cape and cowl and looks at it. 

"Funny how perceptions change. Now you tell me you're destiny." 

He sits back down and holds up the cowlas if it might speak to him. 

"But what destiny is that old Knight? Old Khonshu?" 

"DEATH!" Marc grabs away the cowl from Steven. 

"You...Marc Spector...The man I was." 

"That's the only destiny I know." Marc in his old fatigues with gun on his hip. 

"Yes, you died or tried to. In the tomb...Before you became Moon Knight--And me." 

Steven faces Marc. An odd way to phrase that. 'tried to'. As if Marc wanted to die. Wanted to be rid of himself. Did he crawl into that tomb specifically to die? 

"NO!" Marc clutches at the cape and cowl and wraps it around himself while screaming. "NOOO!" 

"I made you! I made Moon Knight! Without me, you are nothing!" 

An interesting shot. Steven's fancy drink (bourbon?) in the foreground, only Steven's hand setting the glass down. Class and elegance. Marc in the back with the cape and cowl screaming and faded like a ghost. 

"No. Without us, YOU are nothing!" Steven corrects Marc. 

Marc starts to fade, unsure what to do or say as Steven drinks now in the background.

And faced with this uncertainty, Marc does what Marc does. 

He pulls his gun and points it at Steven. 

"LIAR!" 

"What's all you can do--Isn't it, Spector? Strike out with death like a wounded animal." Jake has entered the picture. 

"Lockley!" Marc is surprised. He's always surprised to see Jake. 

"Another of our identities!" Steven is less surprised but perhaps surprised to see him here in THIS conversation. 

Jake stands there with two children. 

Jake is the man of the people. He stands for the people. He makes friends and he cares about those around him. 

"Recognize these kids, Spector? You saw a lot of youngsters like these when you were fighting your dirty wars." 

Jake plays dirty sometimes. Or perhaps, he's the one that feels all the losses of those that got in the way of Marc's bullets. 

Marc doesn't know how to respond. He's angry and feeling the past. 

He pulls his gun and shoots at Jake and the children. The children fall down dead before them while the bullets have no effect on Jake. 

"That's your answer to everything, isn't it?" Steven watches from his chair behind Marc. 

Marc drops the gun and falls to his knees before the dead children. 

"There's enough blood on my hands. Finish me off. Please!" Marc pleads with Steven. 

Steven picks up the discarded gun. 

But Steven does not shoot Marc. 

"No. Only you kill. You'll have to do it." 

He holds the gun out to Marc. 

Self destructive Marc in pain and angry. Steven knows he can't. Knows he won't. 

He pulls the cape and cowl off Marc and Marc stays crouched down, head in hands and so small now before Steven. 

"Please! I want to get out of this hell!" Marc pleads. 

"Not hell. Purgatory. A place of temporary suffering...A place where you pay for your sins. Where we both pay for your sins--as Moon Knight." **

A door opens behind them. "Oh! I'm sorry Mr. Grant. I was coming in and saw the fire through the window and I thought I'd..." Samuels the butler interrupts. 

"Quite all right, Samuels. I'm just about done here anyway." Steven is alone in an empty room. 

"Think I'll turn in. Could you put this away for me? And don't bother with the other things until tomorrow, okay?" 

He hands Samuels the cape and cowl carefully. 

"As you wish, Sir." 

Samuels pauses. "If I may say so, you seem in excellent spirits these days, sir." 

"These days I'm...Happier. I've still got a long way to go, mind you...But It may not be that long a way after all. At least, I know what I'm doing." 

-END

BOY OH BOY. That a short! Not written by Moench, but still editor approved. What we see here is Steven, Jake, and Marc attempting to have a conversation. Steven is settling in and trying to find peace in the system. Marc has been going through the TROUBLES lately and a lot of trauma has been surfacing for him and even for Moon Knight recently. They’ve had to go back and face their death as well as several missions where Marc had a past. 

This is the first real time that we see all three of them actually talk. Though, Jake’s piece is very brief. Jake has a strong dislike of Marc and since Jake is the one that brings about the children that Marc killed, perhaps it’s understandable. Jake holds the weight of the death. 

Since Jake is the spiritual protector of the system, it isn’t hard to see why. Life is sacred. The loss of a life is the single worst deed. 

They antagonize Marc to draw him out and he responds with violence and pain. Despite this, he begs Steven to end it. He wants to disappear. He thinks that if he gives in to the other two then perhaps he won’t have to feel or do anything anymore. 

But they won’t do it. They know he can’t just disappear. No matter how much they despise him or he hates himself. He’s there. He has to face what he did and they also have to deal with what happened. 

They have to do it ‘as Moon Knight’. Perhaps seen as a sentence by Steven. Do good as Moon Knight and perhaps the deeds of the past will be made up for. 

But in Moench’s Moon Knight, Moon Knight himself is his own person. They’re in a very complicated position. They’re trying to settle down a high trauma system and perhaps they’re doing it the only way that they know how since they don’t know how their system works or have help. Perhaps this is the only way Steven knows how to settle things for now. 

We’ve been starting to hear more and more from Steven in the past few issues and he’s getting more confident and to be more of a caretaker for their system. 

**Ah yes…This… The talk of Purgatory and hell. Again, Moon Knight is a Jewish system. Boy howdy. This is the problem with trying to write these ideas in a heavily Christian viewership. The idea of Marc being trapped in a cycle of his sins, Purgatory, and having to make up for his wrong deeds is difficult to get across without the proper research. While they would understand the reference and implications, Marc, Steven, and Jake would not jump to thinking in these terms. There is no Hell in Jewish religion. You have one life and this is the life you lead to be a good man. 

I’m going to default to someone far more knowledgeable in how to better interpret and phrase this scene. @fdelopera

But overall, this short is a wonderful little shot of the system settling down and a Gate Keeper and caretaker coming into their power to help when Marc has so clearly been struggling. It’s time to take care of the body and time to take care of their soul. Jake is going to step it up a bit and lean into his friends while Steven is going to care for them all around. 

[alpaca-clouds]

Winter Whumperland 01: Returning Nightmares

This is me, trying out AMOW's Winter Whumperland Challenge.

Fandom: Castlevania (Netflix)

Characters: Adrian, Trevor, Marie (Trevor and Sypha's child)

Genre: Whump with some Fluff

Length: 958 words

Ao3 Link

He had not been there, when his mother had been killed and yet in his dreams he so often was. Standing there, among a crowd, seeing her burn, the fire first blistering her skin, burning her hair and searing away that simple linen dress, before gnawing on her flesh. She would scream much longer than he knew people to scream during burnings like that. It was not the worst part about it, though. The worst part was, that he could only stand there and watch, himself unable to move, unable to stop them, unable to save her. He would just watch, utterly paralyzed with it.

At times he would wake at this point, but he did not this time. Instead, once more seeing his father arriving at the castle. He heard himself speak those words once more: “I will grieve with you, but I won't let you commit genocide.” As his father turned, the man Adrian had known for his entire life was gone. There was no loving father anymore, no man who would look at him with pride. There was only burning rage and a cold, cold hatred. As Adrian drew his sword, his father was already there, punching him, throwing him to the ground. And Adrian's heart was faltering. He knew he should command his sword to defend him, should get back up, but as he looked in this face that had been there for his entire life he could not. He screamed, when his father's claws buried themselves into his chest, when he realized that his father really was going to kill him.

It was this pain, that woke him. He opened his eyes, trembling. Sweat covered his face, even though it was a fairly chilly night. He took a few deep breaths, once his mind finally returned to the presence. It had been almost seven years ago. His father was dead. He had survived. He had a family of his own by now. Two wonderful humans sleeping by his side. A young child in a crib.

Rain was splattering against the window, as it was a stormy autumn night.

He had forgotten about one person sharing the bed tonight. “Papi?”

As he turned to the side he found Marie, who had been sleeping between Trevor and him. Right. As so often during nights like this, she had been unable to sleep, awoken by the thunderstorm earlier this night, fleeing to her parents’ bed.

“Everything is fine, sweetheart,” he whispered. He laid down again, turning to her. Softly he caressed her rosy cheeks. “I just had a bad dream.”

The six-year-old looked at him with a serious gaze. “I know bad dreams,” she said, as if he did not know it. After all bad dreams were the second most common reason for her to flee to their bed. He smiled softly.

“I know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offered seriously, just as they would often offer it to her.

Mirroring his gesture, her little hands carefully put a strand of his hair behind his pointy ears.

He hesitated. She was still too young to hear about what had happened before she was born. She did not need to know more than she did already about the time his father tried to extinguish humanity from the face of the planet. Neither did she need to know that his mother had been burned as a witch. She knew that something bad had happened, of course. There were enough other children and youngsters in the village who had lost family to Dracula's attack. But she had never learned that the mad vampire king was her own grandfather. At least in spirit.

“I dreamt of the time my mother died,” he hence replied, not elaborating. “That's all.”

She took that in, her expression still ridiculously serious. “You miss her, right?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“I am sure that one day you will see her again,” she then decided with a smile, her hand now resting on his cheek.

He chuckled. Ah, maybe she was right of course. He supposed that even though he was immortal there would come a day when he would die as well. Killed in battle, probably. At some point even he would die. “You are probably right.”

There was a grunt behind Marie, as Trevor opened his eyes. “What are you two talking about in the middle of the bloody night?”

“Papi had had a nightmare,” Marie replied.

“Had he now?” Trevor looked at Adrian questioningly. There was instant worry in his gaze, making Adrian sigh.

“It's alright,” he replied. “I am alright.”

Trevor sighed, doing just the same as his daughter had before: Combing some loose hairs from Adrian's face behind his ear. “Tell me if it isn't, okay?”

“You know I will.” Careful to not squish Marie between the two of them, he leaned his forehead against Trevor's, for a moment just soaking in this familiar touch. The closeness. He was not alone. Even with his parents gone, he wasn't alone.

Being held by this man was always a balm on his soul. And somehow Sypha was still sleeping to all of this – as was little Simon.

Marie was the first one to yawn again. She closed her eyes, cuddling up to Adrian as she did. “Wake me, if you have another nightmare, will you, papi?”

“Of course I will,” he whispered, putting one arm around her.

He looked at Trevor once more, who smiled at him. Because despite everything… Things had turned out alright. The nightmares might never go away, just as those other little things and insecurities would stay. But he was alright. He had a family, people that loved him. He was going to be alright.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Bucky Making You Squirt For The First Time Whilst In Wakanda...

Warnings | smut, squirting, fingering, mentions of disability, angst, mentions of death and murder, swearing, insecure Bucky, overstimulation

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

There were many things that Bucky had to get to doing one handed. At first, it had taken some getting used to, he no longer had a silver grip to follow out orders with, or aid his other hand with, now that the prosthetic had been removed. Wakanda had wiped away any evidence from whom he had once been, except his mind, that was still a work in progress.

But with time, he had adapted to the disability within the calm nature that surrounded him. For the first time in his life, he felt safe, he had his own home, to which he shared with you, an avenger and an old friend of T’Challa’s. It was a simple hut, but it was something that brought him comfort, never needing to pretend to be someone else behind the walls, having an enclosure of reassurance, even if the structure had no door.

For the moment, he was alone, you had gone to the new king’s coronation, despite not being of birthright to the country. The people here accepted you, and from more than just your amorous connection to him, they had slowly but surely became well adversed with his presence, sending him meaningful, reassuring smiles, and allowing their kids to run around the perimeter of his plot.

With bright eyes, he had watched as you allowed the children to assort their paints, and stroke the colours of red, black and yellow as stripes upon your skin, accumulating you to their culture. Bucky had made no attempts to move closer, he was content with watching you run around with the children, laughing at their jokes, and telling them stories of your adventures out in the world.

They saw you as one of their heroes, that had partaken in training as a youngster by their best and now aged commanders. This was your home, and that in turn, made you insist that it was his also. Though, he knew that something would eventually ruin this little life that the two of you had began together in the midst of hiding, and that had kept him awake after you had left.

He had tried to lay upon the furs that were rolled around to make a floor bed, listening to the sounds of communicating birds, and playing ancestors of the great commanders, but he did not fathom to manage to rock himself into a slumber. And his eyes were still peeled as you returned, the sky having grown significantly darker, after the celebrations that you and Shuri had planned for her brother.

Your hand reached towards an encrusted leaf of water that acted as a bowl, dampening a rag as you began to swipe at the skin of your face. Out from the corner of the one room, Bucky walked over, taking the dampened material out of your hand, with his one, and helped you in cleansing your skin of the natural pigments that had been assorted into bright colours.

“Did you have fun?” He asked tenderly, as he washed the tribal cosmetics from your skin, feeling his heart swoon as you presented a great smile, filled with teeth, and softly nodded at his words.

“Yes, though, I cannot help but feel the void of T’Chaka. He’d ruled this place for so long, keeping it concealed from greedy eyes, and I have a nervous feeling for what lays ahead for T’Challa. He insists that I don’t have to get involved in the political sides of this place any longer, I am not needed to continue to be a protecter, but it was my purpose. I have no other path in my mindset of what I should do instead.”

After speaking, you breathed, leaning into Bucky’s gentle hand, lulling in the sentimental feeling of him looking after you. “You may be a warrior, but you are also my partner. Just lay with me a little longer before you go out and search for another fight, will you?” He put the wipe down, grasping your face in his palm, humming contentedly as you pressed kisses upon his rough and scarred skin.

“I think I could just go that.” You replied, weaving your hands through his locks, and undoing the knot of the small intricate bun that rested upon the various layers of his hair. A smile tugged at his beard, as he leant slowly down, encasing his prickly bordered mouth upon your own, as you reciprocated the action.

“Get on the bed doll.” He sweetly spoke, his lips brushing against yours, following after you as did as he said, going to roll on top of him, as was usually the position, considering his impediment, but Bucky shook his head, causing a furrow to sew itself between your brows. “Stay there.”

Trusting him, you nodded, allowing him to tug at your purple robe, to which you traditionally wore nothing beneath. His azure gaze locked onto your watching eyes, as he contently kissed down your torso, passing your navel, his lips over the curve of your mound.

Bucky had ate you ate countless times, but never in this position. Usually, you would clamber your weight atop of him, descending your pussy onto his mouth, as the both of you had thought that would be the easier solution to doing things. But he showed no struggle as his lips slipped down lower, his tongue teasing your clit, as he rested his chest upon the hay adorned ground.

He raised his hand, moving the flesh of his fingers between your folds, tugging at the lips, to open you up for his adventurous tongue to explore. His eyelashes fluttered, breaking his locked gaze of you, as he lulled in your taste, his administrations pulling moans out from your chests, as you tried to keep quiet, for there were sure to be children sleeping in the neighbouring huts.

“Bucky.” Once more, your hands cascaded through his long brown locks, tugging at the root, prompting a groan to rattle through the man that was going down on you. You swivelled your hips a little, helping him hit a deeper angle with that tongue of his, yelping lightly as he added a finger, and then another, stretching you open. “I’m going to cum James.”

He paid no mind to your words, continuing his enjoyable work, as he made you spill your loving essence over his tongue, lapping it up, before returning to your clit, sucking the bud behind his teeth, swirling his saliva around the pink accessory, whilst adding another two fingers, making you be filled with four.

The stretch was delicious. After the gruelling, not to mention worrisome day, that you had experiences, unwinding in such a simplistic, and euphoric way was definitely welcomed. Bucky always had the means to make you feel good, but the majority of the time, you would insist to go down on him instead, finding it fulfilling to apt your partner with such pleasure.

But here he was, returning all those favours, with his mouth and tongue, stimulating you closer to another orgasm, and having you on the verge of screaming, though, you had to bite your hand to contain such a sound. Otherwise, it’d ring out across the land, and the last thing you wanted was the Dora Milaje bursting in, thinking that someone was getting murdered.

The only thing being viscously attacked was your pussy, but you weren’t complaining as you whined wantonly, feeling yourself spill out with your juices again, screwing your eyes shut as he rubbed the bristles on his face against your clit, prodding your entrance with his tongue as he removed his fingers, his eyes beaming wide as you brought them up to your mouth, sucking on each one, moving them down to the back of your throat.

Bucky swore he’d bust right then. He shuffled away, discarding of the red material that he was often clothed in, revealing his hard cock, as he came to rest over you, after removing his digits from your hungry mouth. “Buck, don’t you want me to go on top?” Your chest raised as you asked the question, but he shook his head, only just managing to balance himself over you, as you tugged at his cock a couple of times, before swiping his head through the river of your slit.

The sensation caused your lover’s legs to buckle beneath him, as he struggled to uphold his weight, his head falling against the column of your neck as tears pricked at his eyes. Without any trouble, you rolled him over, climbing to be straddled upon his face, as you cupped the corners of his rugged face. You could still feel the soreness between your legs from his beard, and you loved the feeling. But the regard of pleasure could be paused for a moment, as you saw his blue eyes swimming with waves of emotion.

“Hey it’s okay baby.” You ushered him, feeling him trail his hand across your spine, pulling you closer. His puffy cheeks had turned red as he looked at you, almost as though he were embarrassed from his prone accident. “Why’d you try to be on top, I thought we spoke about that?”

“I just wanted to make you feel good.” He gulped, watching as your face dropped into a swarm of sadness and guilt. “I’m useless here, and it seems like the only thing I’m good at it brining you pleasure. But clearly I’m not that good at it if I can’t even put my own dick in you.”

“Don’t James, baby. You are not useless, you are free. The people here are helping you, and then, you’ll be able to do whatever you want with the road that will lay before you. It’s about patience my love.” You grasped the sides of his face so that he was forced to look directly at you. The trailing of his eyes, curving down your exposed chest and stomach did not go unnoticed, though you continued speaking to him. “And do not ever question how good you make me feel, even out of intercourse, you make me feel like the most important woman in the galaxy. It’s okay to need help sometimes, and that’s why I’m here with you James.”

Putting pressure upon your back, he tugged you down, colliding his lips against yours, the taste of yourself that was lingering on his tongue making you moan into his mouth. You slipped your tongue in his mouth, scouring out every angle behind his white teeth, as you once again took ahold of his shaft, tapping the reddened tip against your clit.

The feeling made you wince, already feeling over stimulated, though you could not deny that you wanted to feel all of him, so you shuffled back, raising your hips over his own, as you placed him at your entrance, and began to sink down on his hard cock.

“Fuck doll.” He gritted his teeth together, leaning back as he watched your face pleasurable grimace at the various sensations that were burning up your body. But nevertheless, you began to ride him, planting your hands on his shoulders as you swayed your hips against his. Bucky raised his hand, cupping your breast with it, and pinching your nipple, watching as your threw your head back, a single tear slipping out of the corner of your eye.

That pout that had encased itself on your mouth, as you bounced atop of him, made him lick his lips. Various sounds escaped your lips as you crashed your sore pussy down on his straining cock, wanting nothing more than to cum again.

You leant back, a light laugh escaping your throat as you braced one of your hands upon his tensing thigh, the other creeping down to rub your clit. Bucky felt his whole spark, as he refused to close his eyes so that he could watch you be illuminated by the oncoming orgasm that would soon be tearing through you, and the moonlight that seeped through the opening of the hut.

The man ran his large hand down your body, replacing your hand with his own, fiddling with your engorged clit as you squeaked out indicating sounds of pleasure, as he traced it with the tip of his nail. “Cum doll.” He spoke, his voice strained, as his hips thrusted up on their own accord.

A frown settled on your face as you grabbed at your tits, your breathing escalating to the point where your skin had grown tingly. And before you knew what had hit you, you came once more, but this time it was different. You had squirted, soaking Bucky’s thighs, splattering your clear juices through his pubic hairs, the liquid reaching the bottom of his belly.

“Oh my fucking god.” You stopped for a moment, as your head felt all hazy, leaning it back, for a minute, until you began rotating your hips again, your pussy constantly clenching around his shaft. He felt close, more so as you reached behind you with a free hand, and began tugging gently at the seam of his balls. “Fill me up baby, cum in- fuck!”

Another wave had hit you, it not taking long to reach after your previous three orgasms. It left Bucky no choice, his body followed its own whim as his balls fluttered, his head spluttering his cum inside your walls, leaving you lightheaded, and all over the place. A hum fell from your lips as you moved so that his softening and cum covered cock would fall out of you, laying on his chest, as you felt your pussy trying to keep all of his seed within you, though it failed to do so, as it ran down the inside of your leg, and trailed down Bucky’s own.

“So good.” You smiled, half drunk off of how many times you had cum. Bucky smiled, running his hand up your leg, to soothe and calm your muscles, before cupping your face, bringing it closer so that he could give you a tender peck upon the forehead.

“Go to sleep doll, I love you.” He brushed his dirtied fingers through your hair, smiling as he softly heard you mumble a reciprocating response, your head falling in the dip of his chest, you falling asleep, giving him one last piece of mind until the morning.

[letarasstuff]

One kind of intern

(A/N): This was requested by @greenslifestuff :) It took me a week or two because I had to interact with my friends in order to get the inspiration I needed 😅 Summary: The team gets to work with a gen z teenager. Let’s see how that goes.

Warnings: Swearing and gen z humour

Wordcount: 2k

✨Masterlist✨

___________________________________

“Team, this is (Y/N) (L/N). She will be interning for the upcoming three months alongside this team. (Y/N), these are Agents Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, Derek Morgan and Doctor Spencer Reid and our Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia”, Hotch introduces a teenage girl to his team like this happens every day.

“Wait Hotch, we don’t get interns. What is she going to do, no offense, but getting us coffee or what?” Morgan eyes her suspiciously. She looks like any teenager grabbed from the street. A band t-shirt, a torn pair of jeans and a cup from starbucks in her hands. Nothing you would expect to even enter a federal building.

“No offence taken, Agent Morgan. I know having an ugly pickly bitch working with professionals seems weird. It’s just I have summer break and I thought it would be a good thing on my resumé if I already interned in the FBI, because I just graduated and I wanted to go to the academy this fall. But if you wanna do a vibe check with me first, that’s fine by me. Whatever floats your boat.”

The room falls silent. Then out of all sudden everyone turns to Garcia, who puts her arms up in defense. “I don’t even know half the things she said, ask her yourself.”

That’s how the BAU gets their first contact with Gen Z culture and let me tell you it is a wild ride, so buckle up your seats, drink your tea up because we aren’t going to make any stops.

“(Y/N), I need you to come with me. We are going to the M.E. getting the latest reports from our last case”, Morgan tells her while passing her desk. In the blink of an eye the teenager is ready, putting her denim jacket with various pins and bits of patches on.

“Derek, can we get starbucks on the way back? The pumpkin spiced latte is back on their menu and I am on withdrawal. Pleaaaaaasseeee”, she looks at him with a pouty face. Morgan smiles. “Ok, under one condition: We both get one, take awesome pictures and send them to the group chat and then we act like we didn’t get them anything, but we actually buy them their usual.” He got the hang of it pretty fast. “Deal, Sis.”

While they are in the car on their way to the M.E. the agent groans. “Ugh, road work ahead.” “Uh yeah, I sure hope it does!” Morgan eyes her from the side. His whole demeanor says ‘old and confused’.

“What was that, kid?” But (Y/N) begins to laugh. “Don’t you know vines? Short dumb and funny clips people made?” It’s safe to say that this afternoon he learns to speak in vines, getting on Rossi’s nerves because nothing makes sense anymore.

“Ok, I heard you wanted to become a profiler. So I thought I would show you some old cases and then you try to figure out the profile. I’ll present them to you like I do to the team, alright?” JJ and (Y/N) sit in her office, safe from curious eyes. “As right as the law, Ma’am.” 

“Good, this is a case from several years ago. It happened here in D.C. Three men were murdered execution style in the middle of the night in an alleyway. They were all from different backgrounds. The only connection between them was that they were evicted for some form of sexual harassment or assault. The UnSub also had a signature: A shot into their groin while the men were alive.”

Unfaced by the presented facts (Y/N) pops a piece of gum into her mouth. “It do be like that.”

“What?” “I mean, it’s obviously a woman. She experienced any harassment or assault herself. She also has excess to the files, I assume she works as a paralegal, since most of them are women. Female serial killers are extremely rare, but they are better organized. The only thing left to say is good for her getting revenge.” The blonde looks at the teenager with wide eyes.

“I-I guess but you know you can’t say anything like that to Hotch, do you?” She asks concerned. “JJ, I’m dead inside, not dumb. I know this.” But the agent shrugs. “Good. Though I really want to see his face.” “Mood.”

Penelope Garcia is the closest one to relate to Gen Z culture, since a great part of her time is spent on the internet. She happily learns about all the phrases and their meanings as well as the newest trends and hypes.

“Purp is sus, I tell you”, is heard from the lair into the hallway. Spencer and Derek look at each other with concern on their faces. “Do you think they are alright or do we have to-” “IT’S A SELF REPORT I SWEAR PENNY! YOU WORK WITH PROFILERS IN GANDALF’S NAME!” Spencer’s question is answered by that.

“Baby girl, crazy girl, are you doing good? Do you need help or something?” The older one asks warily. But it’s drowned in another screaming match. “I TOLD YOU PURP WAS THE IMPOSTER BUT YOU HAVE TO TELL THEM I VENTED WHEN I DIDN’T! I WANT ALL TIKTOKS I SENT YOU BACK!” “YOU DON’T DARE TO REVOKE MY TIKTOK PRIVILEGES!” “WATCH ME GARCIA!”

“Whoa girls, what about taking a break?” Morgan tries to diffuse the situation. “Yes, I think JJ got new pictures of Henry and Emily brought cookies this morning”, Spencer adds.

The girls, who mere seconds ago were ready to jump each other's throats, look at the other one. “You get the cookies and I go to JJ, deal?” (Y/N) asks. “Deal!” Without sparing the boys another glance they run out of the lair. Their devices are still lit up. A red figure shines into their faces. ‘AMONG US’ is written underneath it. “I think we get too old for this stuff, don’t we Reid?”

Spencer always thought he was young. Of course, his mind is older, but physically he is not that old. But the intern proves him wrong. And boy is he wrong.

“Spencer, is there anything interesting to know today?” (Y/N) takes a seat on his desk, distracting the genius from his paperwork. It is a common occurrence for her to go to him to ask for a fun fact.

“Do you wanna learn something about sloths?” His knowledge (or the writer’s) on this subject is astonishingly big.

“Spill the tea, sis.” “Did you kn- What? But I don’t have tea to spill. And I don’t wanna spill anything, I-” Reid rambles in confusion.

“It’s just a saying, Spencer. There is no deeper meaning to it then ‘Tell me everything about it’. You know, it’s mostly used for gossiping, but I don’t really like to gossip. That’s why I use it in a different context. You got it?” (Y/N) explains it to him in a soft manner, knowing her generation can be complex.

“Yeah, I think I do. Thank you for telling me. I really like the phrase. It has a nice ring. What about you spill the tea about all the phrases you know and I tell you some things from my knowledge?” “I think you got yourself a teacher, genius. But now tell me about the sloths, I love them.”

A few days later Rossi catches her doing some weird moves. “Are you having a seizure or what is your problem, youngster?” Even though he tries not to show it, David took a great liking to (Y/N), thinking of her like a granddaughter. Still, most of her actions confuse the hell out of him.

“I’m practising a dance for tiktok. My friends and I worked on a choreo we wanted to film later. Come here, I can show you.” And that’s what she does in the conference room. The teenager walks him through every move of the choreo, explaining the meaning to it and how it correlates with the song.

“And then you move your arm like that. Exactly like that! You did a great job, David! Are you sure you don’t want to come with me later? We can make you your own account and name it ‘Grandpa-on-tiktok’. You can promote your books over there and it’s a way to float with the trend!”

Seeing her this excited Rossi can’t do anything but agree to the idea. Also, he secretly liked doing the dance thing. It made him feel young again.

“(Y/N), you said you graduated this summer. But your file said you are 16?” Emily asks her one boring day filled with paperwork and countless cups of coffee. “It is what it is”, she mindlessly answers, too focused on filling out the work in front of her.

“I mean yes but how?”

“Emily, smart people exist. I know, coming from me hits different, but here we are.” Finally (Y/N) puts her pen away looking at the raven haired woman.

“What are you talking about? I can’t really follow you.” The more the intern says the more confused gets Emily.

She sighs. “I don’t want to leave you on read here. I kind of am smart somehow. Apparently I was smart enough to skip a grade or two. But it’s no biggie. Many peeps do this, so I don’t sweat it.”

“Even though I feel like you are selling yourself short here, I know you are an incredibly intelligent person. Someday you will be an awesome profiler and any team will be lucky to have you. I really hope we will be the lucky team. But I’m still not sure if this is what I should say in this context.”

“Emily, you are goals. This fam is squad goals. I really hope to be a part of this someday”, (Y/N) admits. “I’m sure Hotch will do his best to get you on the team, you became a great part of it. I can’t imagine a future without you.”

Sadly Prentiss has to get used to a time without the team’s beloved intern. On her last day (Y/N) knocks at Hotch’s door.

“Hey, I wanted to say thank you. The time with you and all the others was amazing and I learned so many useful things for not only the academy but also for my daily life. I really had a glow-up here”, she says after coming in.

Hotch motions towards the chairs in front of his desk. “Take a seat, (Y/N). I got something for you. See it as a compensation for not getting paid for your internship. You really did great work and a better job than some agents, who are doing theirs for many years already but don’t know half the stuff you do. You are a valuable member to the team.”

“Wait, you speak in presence tense. I leave you all this afternoon, you know that, do you?” But the Unit Chief only gestures to a white envelope on his desk. Quickly the teenager takes it and reads it.

“Are you serious Hotchner? Because I will cry you a river if you joke”, she threatens him.

“I’m dead serious, (Y/N). Even though half of your talks are difficult to understand, the other half is twice as useful and important. Additionally to that, you are like a fresh breath of air that the team needed. That’s why a place here will be available for you as soon as you graduate from the academy. I trust you that you will pass with flying colors, I had to promise that to Strauss.”

“Of course, Hotch. I swear on my Animal Crossing Island that I will do my best and more. Thank you so much”, she leaps into his arms.

The others watch the interaction from the bullpen, pretending to not get teary eyed. Their favorite Gen Z Kid will come back to them after all.

Taglist:

Spencer Reid

@calm-and-doctor

[skellebonez]

0 SELF CONTROL HERE SKELLE!!! God so help me, I need more fluff- so I come here with this suggestion: 64 "I may have eaten seven of them already" AND 72 "don't you dare" with winter's parents and kiddos AU BECAUSE I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL AHDJDB

I just wanted to write something light and fluffy and simple and you have given me a great prompt to do that just! @winterpower98 thank you for making this AU, it's like a hot cup of cocoa on a cold day.

I may have eaten seven of them already/Don't you dare

“Don’t you dare,” Macaque grumbled the second Wukong started to smile in his direction. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t even say it.”

“Aw, come on!” Wukong laughed out, smile widening. “It’ll be fun! And we can totally handle the three of them together. And they’d probably love it if you came!”

Macaque grumbled under his breath, looking at the pamphlet in the other disguised immortal monkey's hands with a withering gaze. Should he had also had the Monkey King's one time use beam eyes (and now that he thought about those, what even happened to them? he never saw him use them but people who saw it knew he had used that ability at least once) he might have taken the chance light it on fire.

But only might. Mei was there, after all, and that seemed like an extreme reaction that relied on "I am only just used to having a child and you expect me to do THAT".

"Hey," Wukong continued, voice softening as he smiled. "You don't have to go with us. I know that crowded places like that are not... the most comfortable for you. I can probably get Iron Fan or Sandy to come with us since Red is coming along too if you really don't want to go. I know you won't tell Mei she can't hang out with her friends, I just thought you'd be more comfortable watching her yourself."

The sentiment was... shockingly thoughtful, once explained to Macaque. Wukong was right, he was more comfortable watching over his adopted daughter himself. Not that he didn't trust Wukong to care for her, or any of his little friend group for that matter, but it had just been the two of them for so long that leaving her in the care of another somewhere with so many people... perhaps that was a ridiculous thing to think, given how often he had left her alone in hotel rooms during their early months after the fire.

At least those doors were locked?

"I will... discuss this with Mei," he said after a moment, choosing to ignore the small surprised tilt the other's smile took in response. "That's not a yes!"

"Didn't say it was, Mango," Wukong said, handing him the pamphlet as he walked off before loudly announcing his next course of action. "I'm going to make snacks!"

Which left Macaque alone with Mei and MK. He sighed, kneeling down to be closer to eye level with them..

"Look, kids, I talked to Wukong and..." Macaque attempted to start. But Mei and MK were looking at him dead in the eye, little eyes watering up as they pouted. They had almost certainly been listening in on at least part of their conversation, he was certain of it now! But he was Six-Eared Macaque! He had resolve! He could hold his ground! "I don't... I..." Mei's lip trembled. "Uuuuuugh fine. I'll go to the a-"

The resounding screams and cheers from the two youngsters that interrupted him could have broken through the sound barrier, and Macaque had to cover his ears in response.

"BUT!" He continued, waiting for their attention to fall back on him. "You need to listen to us at all times. Understood?"

Somewhere in the screaming he was almost certain he heard a yes or two.

Wukong peeked his head out from the kitchen, levying Macaque with an understanding expression.

"They tag teamed you with the eyes, didn't they."

"And the lip wobble."

"Ouch."

"WE'RE GOING TO THE AMUSEMENT PARK FUCK YEAH!"

"MEI LANGUAGE!

~

"Here," Wukong said, pulling Macaque aside after just 30 minutes in the park. Iron Fan had come along after all, watching her son and his friends after they disembarked the swing ride they were on for the third time in a row. He held out his hand, some kind of tiny package in his right hand while his left held yet another piece of amusement park food from a stall of some kind. "You, uh. I brought them in case you started to look uncomfortable and I thought they might help?"

Macaque held out his hand, eyes widening as he realized what the package contained.

"Earplugs? Really?"

"Well, I thought," Wukong shrugged, looking away for a few seconds. If Macaque didn't know any better he would say the other monkey was blushing in embarrassment. "I dunno... maybe they might help block out the noise? Your hearing is so good that you can probably hear through them and all and... and you've probably already thought about using them before oh fuck I am an idiot."

The face of pure dismay on the other made it so Macaque couldn't help but let out a surprised laugh. In all their time together he had never seen him look so comically disappointed in himself. And he saw the other do some really dumb shit! He was around to hear second hand about when this man picked a fight with Buddha after all.

"It's fine," Macaque said, opening the package. There were at least 12 inside, more than enough for all of his ears if he wanted to use them like that. Oddly... thoughtful, actually. "I haven't used them in decades, not in public or in private. But maybe these new modern ones are lest shit. Mei's little earmuffs and headphones seem to be a lot better than the old stuff after all."

Wukong seemed to watch him as he carefully, covertly, slipped the plugs into his ears. Just inside his ears enough to not be noticeable if you weren't looking for them. Snug... The world was muted oddly, and to be honest it wasn't the most comfortable thing mentally when he was supposed to be watching someone else. But he could still hear Mei from farther away than any human...

"Well... they're less shit," he announced, and now it was apparently Wukong's turn to be unable to hold back a laugh. "Hey. Thanks."

"Don't mention it, Mango," Wukong said with a smile, shoving the last of his deep fried nonsense into his mouth.

"How many of those things have you eaten sense we got here?"

"I may have eaten seven of them already."

"Oh I am NOT riding behind you on any roller coasters, no way."

[countlessimagines]

The Umbrella Academy Watches Yours and Five’s Kid (Headcannon)

A/N: thought I’d return to this series! This is the second to last one; the next one will be Ben!

Warnings: none

The Umbrella Academy watches yours and ____ kid series can be found here. (Includes Diego, Klaus, Ben, and Luther).

-

You and five started dating when you were both 18

It was puppy love at first but developed into a beautiful relationship

Dated for five blissful years

Constantly had the rest of the umbrella academy wondering how five landed a wonderful gal like you

On your fifth anniversary he proposed to you because of how much the two of you loved each other

Right before the wedding you found out that you were pregnant

Five almost passed out but luckily Luther was there to pick him up

You guys weren’t married yet and only 23 with a baby on the way

It was stressful to say the least

But the wonderful wedding for you and five came to pass and then it was hyperfocus on the baby

Soon a healthy little girl came into the world

Your baby girl was named Rose after the flowers Five always got you on date nights or just to show he loved you

Now, as Rose got older, she turned out to be very respectful and very adorable

She always showed her love and appreciation

Rose made sure to say little “dank” you’s and please and melted the hearts of many

She did not possess any abilities which made you and five upset at first but then he remembered all the fights him and his siblings got into with their powers as youngsters

Then he felt grateful his little girl would grow up normal

Well

That was until she was babysat by her aunts and uncles

Who

Did not in the slightest know how to take care of a child besides Allison

She was five years old and a very well behaved child so you and five asked if they could babysit while you had a date night

They agreed because that meant more time with their niece!

She was so happy to be with them

Until she realized her parents would be leaving

She cried her little heart out

The umbrella academy freaked out

Klaus was trying to dance around with her in his arms, making funny faces and doing little dances

She stopped crying until he stopped

So he continued

Luther was saying Klaus was going to give her brain damage by bouncing her around so much so he took his little niece to the living room

He pulled out a book and began to read to her

Rose was not interested to say the least

She said simply “stop, Uncle Luthy”

She got up and walked around the area, but Luther made sure to keep an eye on her

She eventually made her way to Diego who was sharpening his knives

“Oooo” her eyes sparkled “I want one”

Diego panicked and quickly threw them out the window, “they’re bad”

Rose stared at her uncle and began crying again

Allison rushed in “you guys are awful at this. It’s sad to say that Klaus is better than you and Luther combined.”

Allison picked little Rose up and brought her to the kitchen, “your uncles are odd.”

“Odd” Rose repeated and pointed to the food on the counter, “Marshmellow and peanut butter?”

Allison knee what she meant and made the sandwich that Five also loved

Rose gobbled up her sandwich quickly

“Dank you!”

Allison giggled at her niece’s speech, “You’re welcome sweetie.”

Klaus walked in again to show his niece something

“Hey, want to meet uncle Ben?”

Allison was confused then realized what shenanigans he was going to pull

She tried to speak against him doing it because it was going to make Rose scared

But

Once again Klaus became the “better” uncle out of the batch

He used his powers to make Ben appear who was happy to finally meet his niece.

“GHOST!!!!” Rose screamed, nearly fell off her chair, and barried her head into Allison’s stomach to hide.

“I told you she would react this way Klaus” Ben glared at him

“Sorry little Rose, maybe we can chat when you’re older”

Then Ben was gone

Allison was giving the biggest death glare to Klaus as she walked away with Rose in her arms

Soon enough you and five showed up earlier than expected

Five missed Rose, you did too but Five definitely loved his little girl a lot and wanted to be able to tuck her into bed

Rose was so happy to see you two and fell asleep quickly into her father’s arms

Then Allison dropped the news about Klaus and Ben

You smacked Klaus and whisper yelled as to not wake Rose

“You traumatized my daughter!”

“She’s okay!”

Klaus was terrified of your glare and Five who seemed ready to smack him too if he wasn’t holding Rose

He wasn’t allowed to make Ben appear until Rose was a teenager

Ben pouted but agreed

Rose still had an enjoyable time with her aunts and uncles

And Five got his revenge on Klaus by appearing in his room late at night and tackling him to the ground

And well

Klaus ended up with a busted lip

Five ended up with a massive headache from the head butt from Klaus

Ben just sighed as he watched it happen

You slapped the backside of Five and Klaus’ head

“Children! You’re still literal children!”

Five smiled loving at you, “But I love you”

“Yeah, yeah, I know”

Klaus yelled as you left “and I love you, my favorite sister in law!”

“Yes and if you did then you wouldn’t traumatize my baby!”

“Ben wanted to meet her!”

Ben tried to defend himself “hey, don’t bring me into this! You wanted to be the cool uncle!”

“Oh shush and I am!”

Five looked at him to roll his eyes and he left to go chase after his wife

[serenadeonacanoe]

Honestly, I'd piss him off on purpose. (Namjoon x OFC)

Pairing: Namjoon x Original Female Character

Genre/Warnings: Smut, Angst, Fluff, too tired to beta

Tags: Artist!Namjoon, Yoongi and Tae are the best flatmates, Enemies to Lovers I guess... more like brats to making out in the storage unit, OFC is an idiot.

Summary:

"Wow. Is that that grumpy artist behind you? Jesus. He really looks like a bit of a dick. And you are right. He really is hot..." Oh no. Speakerphone. Namjoon was standing behind me and was staring at me. Then at my phone. He let out a little laugh, then raised his hand to wave at Tae and Yoongi outside who were now also staring at him as if frozen, before turning around in unison. As if that would help. As if he couldn't see them. Or better even... couldn't hear them.

[...]

Mister Darcy has nothing on Kim Namjoon - that new and upcoming artist you probably already heard of (You haven't? How dare you? At least have the decency to pretend you have!). He is cold, serious, and rather good at making other people believe he is a prick. Especially Elizabeth Bennet - uh... Charlotte - is about to lose it because of him. Maybe in a good way. Man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

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CHAPTER 1

Even the sound of my own nails rhythmically tapping on the top of the counter was annoying me. To be fair, it didn't need much today to blow my fuze that had never been particularly long in the first place. But after a week consisting of being belittled by old white men and endless hours of unpaid overtime I about had it. Welcome to the art world. You know well before you enter that the hours are horrible and the job market is more than frustrating, but you love art and you have good organisational skills, you are resilient, charming when it counts and tend to romanticize things even when you know you shouldn't. It's too late to turn around now.

"That is why I don't use an agenda or notebook. If something is important enough for me to attend I simply won't forget. I know you youngsters are all about the bullet journaling and expressing yourself by mapping out your life but it really is just another way to procrastinate instead of getting to actual work." For a second I considered throwing my damn notebook in the buyer's face, but that probably wouldn't have helped my CV and the new job I would have to look for starting tomorrow. At least I should have screamed at him a little. Mainly, that I didn't care, that I was on my period and my shitty shower in the shitty flat i shared had broken and no dry shampoo in the world had fixed my hair this morning and that god damn it, how the hell was I supposed to remember every phone number, every call my boss had to take, every art handling transport I had organized if I couldn't write it down somewhere. Instead, I smiled. Died a little on the inside and complimented him on the gift of his exceptional memory and asked whether he would like another cup of coffee.

"What a dick." Samantha murmured, more to herself than me, after the guy had finally left, which made me snort under my breath. She usually didn't say much but when she did it was usually pure gold. In the end, it didn't matter that he was. Didn't matter that everyone at the gallery thought the art he had bought from us over the last couple of months had neither been smart nor impressive purchases. Mainly expensive. And flashy.

"Doesn't matter now." I said in a sigh after a quick glance at the clock. It was Friday night and we were about to close. Since it was my birthday on Monday I had taken two days off, about the longest break I had had this year and I was looking forward to being the lazy slob for a few days I was maybe always meant to be. In silence we answered a few last emails, tidied up the desks and counters so that potential buyers that would come in over the weekend wouldn't have to suspect anyone was actually working here. - A white desk. A huge Imac on it. That was all they needed to see, folders and pens and apparently especially agendas to be hidden away in drawers.

At five to eight I threw on my coat and Samantha just gave me a tired smile. Probably happy for me, just exhausted. "Have fun then? Don't get too wasted?" "Oh..." I said with a huge smug grin on my lips. "You have no idea... gonna take a bottle of Moët with me from the bar and drink it in my bathtub after eating a huge pepperoni pizza by myself and dancing to only the finest of 90s Euro Trash." I couldn't help it, apparently, I felt it necessary to give Sam a little demonstration, waving my arms up and down while swaying my hips in a way that I'd probably would not have if it hadn't been for a bit with an audience of a single person. Or maybe two?

A quiet scoff behind me and I quickly turned around, slowly lowering my arms, Sam biting her lower lip at the sight of me standing there like an idiot in front of HIM of all people.

Men didn't have to be old to annoy me. Or white. Yes, those were the ones that pissed me off most usually, but no one had managed to do so as much as Kim Namjoon recently. And now he was standing there, looking me up and down and stopping at my hair. The crazy too-much-dry-shampoo-because-the-shower-broke-hair. "Nice." He just commented and then looked over at Sam. "I'd like to take a last look before Sunday's opening if that is okay?" I stood there, my shoulders dropping, completely ignored.

"Uhm, actually, my babysitter has to leave in about an hour and I will have to be home before that." Samantha replied and I was impressed by how calm she stayed. "Of course." Namjoon said and gave her a slight smile. "Anyone else still around? Chris maybe?" Of course Chris hadn't been in today. It was Friday and unless important guests had announced themselves the owner of the gallery wasn't around on Fridays... "I am afraid not. But maybe Charlotte has a few minutes?" Well. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I felt a little betrayed. "Wouldn't want to keep anyone from their important Moët-Pizza-Dance Party plans." Namjoon replied before I could say a word. His voice once more dropping to a hushed, deep disapproval and his hands buried in the pockets of his rather expensive looking coat. Silence for a few moments and then he just walked off towards the room his exhibition had been set up all week. Showing without a further word that I would have to stay anyways if he wanted it that way.

"Well thank you for pushing me under the bus like that. Really appreciate it." "I am so sorry. But I was serious, I can't lose this babysitter. She got Jamie to eat vegetables. VEGETABLES!" Samantha suddenly seemed in a rush, grabbing her jacket and purse and showering me in promises she would make it up to me. Even though we both knew that wouldn't happen and wasn't necessary. Suddenly having to stay longer was normal. I just hated that it had to be today. And because of him.

I heard the door close behind Sam and I stood there for a second before putting my bag down again. Usually, I would have followed the artist, asking if I could somehow help, but nahhh... my ego was bruised up enough now, especially remembering the little dance. I closed my eyes. Fucking hated the guy. Always had. Well, not quite. I had thought he was cool for about five minutes when he had come in the first time. We had heard about him for quite a few months before, I think I had even seen pictures of him at some point, but those were nothing compared to him in real life. He came in all cheekbones and sharp chin and an all grey outfit, quick pace, observant gaze. Incredibly hot. He had also completely ignored me.

That's how it had started - a bruised ego. He couldn't know that it was my weak spot. Having studied art and its management and now feeling like a better secretary at times, when my colleagues and I were doing all the behind the scenes work while Chris worked very little hours and ended up with all the money and recognition. I was aware this wasn't the only field of work where this was the case, but it still frustrated me... I had imagined my life in the last years of my 20s to be a bit more glamorous than living in a tiny apartment on the outskirts of the city... spending my Friday night waiting for some rude artist dude to leave so I could lock up.

But what I perhaps hated most about him... was that I admired him. - Purely for his art. Really. Even the fact that he kept acting as if I wasn't around every time he came in didn't mean I couldn't admit that. At least to myself. The stories behind his huge colleagues were clever and thought through, but even without context, the pure aesthetics were mesmerizing. It was the kind of art that touched something deep inside of you and standing in front of it I always had a hundred questions. Whenever he brought in a new piece I was the first one to sneak a peek in the back rooms before it was hung.

"I don't get why you have such a problem with him. He is just... quiet. I think he might even be shy... stop being so sensitive and just ask him out already." I had almost strangled Sam for that comment a couple of weeks back. Stop being so sensitive. What did that even mean? Comments like that made me want to cry and scream at the same time, which probably would have been perceived as even more sensitive, but when had insensitivity become something to strive for? I had only kept quiet because I liked Sam and I knew what she had tried to say. At least I thought so. That I might have given less of a shit if I hadn't been rather attracted to Namjoon. Even though I had never mentioned it, she just knew. She knew if I didn't care about something I didn't waste my time on it. But if something made me angry or upset there was usually more to it. I hated that she could read me that easily. But he was still a dick and I still wanted to go home.

He took his sweet time. After an hour I walked up to him, a little speech prepared in my head about how he could come back first thing tomorrow. But when he turned around he just raised a hand between us to keep me from interrupting and turned away again. I hadn't seen that he was on the phone. "No, it's nothing, just one of the gallery employees." I heard him say and okay... if I wasn't about to explode before I was now. I stood there for a minute, fuming, and then simply walked back to the office area, my hand shaking when I started turning off the gallery lights one by one. It wasn't as satisfying as I had hoped but still felt good. Two minutes later the only lights still on were the one above my head and the one in front of the door. I would at least give him a clear direction where to head, he seemed to need it.

When Namjoon appeared out of one of the dark corners he looked even more annoyed than usual. Looking my direction through squinting eyes and his tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek. "Seriously?" he yelled my way and almost walked into one of the little flyer shelves. Wasn't the first time I had seen that happen to him though so maybe that had nothing to do with the light.

I felt oddly triumphant. By the time I had put on my coat and turned off the remaining lights, ready to finally lock up, Namjoon had almost found his way, standing in the open door, still on his phone. A little groan from my side when he didn't even notice that I was standing behind me went by unnoticed. Or simply ignored. But instead of the appropriate clearing of the throat or the maybe less polite squeezing past him, I just put my hands on his back and gently pushed him forward a bit, until his feet hit the pavement and he turned around. Dropping his hand with the phone in it, for a second he looked like he wanted to push back. Or trample me.

"Okay, what the hell is your problem, Charlotte?" His voice was hoarse. His eyes dark. God, he was hot. I hated him so much. "You." I simply replied and stared at him for a second, then turned around and locked the two locks on the door before stepping over to the alarm system. I couldn't help feeling smug because apparently, he knew my name. I imagined him staring at the back of my head because he was flustered, but couldn't be sure. All I knew was that when I turned around again a minute later he was still standing there, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his lips pressed together forming a straight line and watching me.

"Do you always act like that at work around people who could get you into trouble?" He was right, he could get me into trouble. But I was too fired up now, my heart racing. "Is that a threat?" "An observation." "Only around the ones I don't like." "Cool." "Great." "Enjoy the dance party. Sounds shit."

And with those words he had turned around, coat flying open in the wind, unfortunately making him look really cool as he walked away and I ABSOLUTELY HATED HIM. I kept my mouth shut and just walked off in the other direction, realizing minutes later that my car was parked the other way, but I kept walking for a while before I finally turned around. It took a while to calm down and only cuddling up to my cat on the couch to trash tv finally did the job. But by then I had realized something I wasn't sure I liked too much. Yeah, I thought he was a prick. And yeah I should have just played it cool. Would have been much smarted in many regards. But I also had somewhat enjoyed myself in the most fucked up way.

Seeing that stern look, that intense posture as he was towering over me... man, I'd literally piss him off on purpose.

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[i-did-not-mean-to]

Black - Chapter 10

Here's a chapter that was exceedingly fun to write. I hope you enjoy it :D

@legolasbadass I have officially tagged you in something, now, go back to writing 😂

Fandom: The Hobbit

Characters : Thorin x OC, the rest, special mention for Dwalin being a cutie

Words: 5,5 k

Rating: Mature

Warnings: blood, reference to bodily harm, reference to God, ALSO: I am a drama queen *shrug*

“I think you are being unreasonable.” Faith shook her head at him. “Who? Uncle?” Kíli sauntered up to them, bowing crisply to her and adding: “I came to check on you, but I see our own dragon is guarding you jealously.”

“Get dressed, woman, if that one is here, the others are not far behind.” Thorin grumbled and blocked the view of his much too curious nephew while Faith was huddled in the corner of her room, slipping into her chemise and an old rough spun dress she had found in the pile of clothes that were left to her.

Faith had to admit that Thorin might have been right when other dwarrows presented themselves as well in front of her door, “to check on her” as if she was as sickly kitten. “Dori sends me with tea.” Ori mumbled, holding a literal pot of tea in his gloved hands.

“That is ever so kind.” Faith smiled, pouring the rest of her wine back into the carafe and extending the mug to the sweet dwarrow hovering just outside her door. Apparently, there was indeed something unseemly about crossing the threshold of an unmarried woman as an unmarried man. She wondered if that would have been the same if the townspeople of her home had lived. As it was, she would never know, but there was something quite touching in the pile-up of dwarrows outside her room.

“Oh, you’re holding court like a real queen. What is uncle unreasonable about?” Kíli silenced the others by almost screaming.

“Mistress Faith was on her way to bed when you barged in like a fool.” Thorin muttered, obviously in a cantankerous mood.

“She was not, she was berating you!” Kíli replied petulantly. “I don’t think your uncle, the king, should be camped outside of my door.” Faith intervened with an explanation.

“Why don’t you just bolt the door?” The lad asked, scratching his head. When she explained that she couldn’t open the door on her own and that she didn’t like feeling locked in, he gave his uncle a short nod and shrugged: “In that case, uncle is not being unreasonable at all. Let me know if you want company, I can sit with you.”

Faith was speechless. “You are a guest, and we’ll keep you safe.” Kíli said with an easy smile.

“I am safe.” Faith protested. “You are now because you have uncle outside your door. And us.” Kíli winked at her with that youthful pride and confidence that made her heart swell. Oh, bless that kid, she thought, may the stars align for him and bring him endless happiness.

“There you are!” Dwalin came barrelling down the corridor. “Me?” She was taken aback and tiny bit startled.

“No, not you, Mistress. That oaf, the king.” Dwalin nodded to her with what might have been a smile, Faith was not entirely sure and conversed in low, murmured words with Thorin. Faith just sat and listened to the sound of it, weirdly calmed and comforted by the rough elegance of their very own, secret language.

“Mistress Faith? Ah, there comes Fíli.” Faith scrambled to her feet and curtsied for the heir to the throne who presented her with a small cake. “We apologise humbly for having led you astray and for risking your good name. And for annoying you about uncle, we didn’t tell mother everything, but she was not happy either way.” The prince laughed. Faith was impressed by how resolutely and soberly he admitted fault and tried to redress his potential missteps; she understood that their social life had been an unsteady and uncertain thing and that it had been a priority to make them valuable fighters rather than charming courtiers.

Nonetheless, she admired them for their light-hearted honesty as much as for their supposed prowess.

“You’ve given us sweets and now, we give you cake. That makes us friends, doesn’t it? Ah, I see Dori has sent his little brother with that disheartening brew of his.” Fíli declared, commenting casually on the scene he had stumbled upon. Amongst humans, this would have been a childish thing to say, Faith thought, but she realised that he extended an invitation to her, and she was thankful for it. As she was a stranger in their realm, the declaration of a bond between them would protect her, shield her, most probably keep her alive against all odds. It was easy to see them as children as they were the nephews of a man she called a friend, but their lives stretched far into the past and hopefully would extend into a distant future, and already, they knew more than she would ever learn.

With another curtsy, she acknowledged the gracious offer of his friendship and the privileges it brought. “Thank you, dear prince I would be honoured to accept both the cake and your good graces.” He gave her an answering bow that sealed the deal.

If they knew what scandalous actions she had been engaged in only moments ago, Faith thought, they would probably not be that courteous to her. The idea of losing their affection stung, which surprised her, but the idea of losing them, period, turned out to be utterly unbearable to her. Her mind shrank back from the mere thought as from an open, festering wound.

She had been alone most of her life, but the mere contemplation of never seeing the creatures in front of her again filled her with dread and a nameless pain that choked the light out of her heart. For their own people and their culture, they were young still and she couldn’t bear the thought of having such promising torches snuffed out before their time. Would that she could live another hundred years to see their mischief soften to quiet humour, to see them take wives and father children, to be their friend through the different stages of a dwarven life.

The limitations of her own body and life constricted her soul, crushing it to dust, and she wanted to rail against the injustice of being given a glimpse of perfection only to have it snatched away too soon by the ravage of time. No, she thought, she would be thankful to be granted that precious peek; she would be grateful to have known what others only dreamt of and she would treasure those memories and all she had seen until her eyes saw no more.

“Thank you ever so much.” Faith mumbled again, feeling the effects of the half-glass of wine she had drunk and wondering if the dwarrows could eat all the time. She had had more than her fill at the dinner, but she dutifully bit into her cake which was sweet and surprisingly moist.

“Do you like it?” Kíli asked eagerly. “It is like everything else of dwarven make I have experienced.” Faith grinned.

“Bulky, heavy and smelling kind of weird?” Thorin prompted, much to Faith’s chagrin; she had not noticed that he had finished his conversation with his friend. Maybe, she had been wrong and dwarven mischief never really abated, maybe, they just learned to hide their wicked humour under longer beards in time. “Beautiful, compact, and delicious.” She gave him a brazen look full of dancing sparks; she liked bandying words with Thorin almost as much as she liked being kissed by him.

“Delicious, ey?” Dwalin laughed, clapping his king on the shoulder, and promising to come back later to relieve Thorin in his guard-duties. Oh, this was absurd, Faith rolled her eyes, she didn’t need two prime fighters in front of her door.

She had trekked through wind and weather; she had tackled a man with a knife and had chased away another one; she could take care of herself. It seemed though as if Thorin had been mostly correct: if they had lingered in her room, someone would have come looking for them and she might have lost a name that was worth more in this settlement than it ever had before.

She was half a savage, she realised, unused to the social conventions and rules of a society. As a maiden, she should have waited for a husband to give up this most sacrosanct of female gifts, but she was past the marrying age, and she was not overly fond of the idea of dying a virgin.

It was highly improbable that she would ever be anything else than a concubine to anyone and much more believable that she’d end up taken by force…hence the armed king outside her door. He had saved her once from rape and violence, and Faith did not doubt that he would do it again without hesitating.

Until he left.

Looking at the young princes, Faith realised that she felt safe here. She had stopped looking over her shoulder and hence, had let down her guard too much; all these lovely people would go on a perilous journey, and she would be left to her own devices. Maybe, she would have to heed the king’s advice after all and learn to be demure and discreet again.

That would be a whole lot easier once his startling beauty was removed and she could breathe again without getting a whiff of that intoxicating smell. How far would he have to be removed for her to no longer feel tethered to his steps?

She would miss him. His presence had become solace and home to her, a place to rest, a warmth to sustain her, and she would feel more vulnerable with him gone than ever before. Oh, another painful thought she didn’t want to pursue in this moment.

“We should let you get to bed. Just scream if anything is the matter and enjoy the cake.” The youngsters ambled away in high spirits, mocking Ori and his teapot and squabbling about the last cake. She would miss them too; like everything she had experienced in this wondrous place, they were a curious blend of beauty – light, colour, and laughter – and strength – honour, courage, and faith. Yes, she could say that she was fond of them and that she would be looking forward to seeing them again; there was just no way to dislike their open-hearted…fierceness. They were striving towards a brighter future with such zeal and indefatigable energy that Faith was pulled along despite her own reservations.

“Can I offer you a piece, my king?” Faith sat down again on her side of the doorframe, offering the baked good to Thorin.

“Ah, yes, I won’t say “no” to that.” He nodded, breaking off a piece and shoving it into his mouth, crumbs raining down on his tunic which she brushed away casually, amused to find that the king had a sweet tooth. His hand closed around her wrist.

“I am sorry, Faith, this…it was a mess. I…” He sighed. “I want to do this right…”

Oh, how could she have forgotten? While she was obsessing about her own death as if she was a crone already, she had forgotten that he had seen decades more than her; the time for his retribution had come and, of course, he didn’t want more loose ends and false starts to burden him.

“I will make it right; I will…” His eyes had softened to a mesmerizing dark blue in the low light, intense and captivating.

Now that the fire in her veins had dulled into a sensuous warmth, a steady flow of earnest affection and deep longing, she could put aside the wounds her vanity had sustained and mumble: “Oh, you king of second chances, I am sure you will.”

“Have faith in me, sweet one, I will make good on my word.” – “I shall not be another burden on your shoulders, Thorin-king.” She protested softly, putting her hand lightly on top of his.

“You are not, neither are they.” He waved in the general direction in which his nephews had disappeared. “I will succeed where others have failed, because of all of you. I will bring you home: my sister, my nephews, my friends…you. I swear.”

The intensity of his gaze and of his determination sent shivers down Faith’s spine.

She was a woman without a history and, probably, without a future, but she could recognise the weight of his ancestors’ failures, of his people’s suffering, and of his own ambition bear down on him inexorably.

“Rest, sweet king, you have done me no wrong.” She reassured him. “Have I not?” His eyes narrowed, suspecting a subterfuge or a trick. “You are a stubborn but very honourable fool, and I am glad that you convinced me to come here.” She grinned.

“So, you like it here? You’ll like Erebor then. It’s full of gold.” He smiled. “You and your gold!” She laughed.

“It’s full of beautiful things.” He tried again. “It shall be, yeah.” She chuckled, bumping her shoulder gently into his.

“You…I wanted to say that I feel honoured that you’d…consider me for…” He nodded at the empty room behind her, which made her giggle again; he really was too upstanding to be real.

“You are the single most beautiful living thing I’ve ever beheld in my life. You’re kind, generous, and brave. I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable; I see now that there are rules to be followed and I did not mean any disrespect.”

Thorin seemed to ponder her words for a while before nodding: “Yes, I guess that is true…I know that you are physically incapable of wilfully disrespecting anyone or anything almost, so no problem.”

“What are the rules, Thorin-king?” She had caught a glimmer in his eye that disquieted her considerably.

He looked purposefully away for a moment and then mumbled into his beard: “I’d court you and then…”

“What would you quarter me for? In that case, I do see why you think intercourse would be dangerous.” Faith hissed, aghast.

“Court you, not quarter you. Who do you think I am?” Thorin exclaimed, lowering his voice immediately.

“I am sorry that I do not have your sister’s supersonic hearing.” Faith grumbled, but she had to laugh when she saw his dumbfounded face. “Oh, Dís, she was born like that. It’s because she loves information that much. I call it information…”

He made a face.

“She sounds like a valuable councillor then, wouldn’t you say?” Faith teased him. “Kíli gets it from her, that wicked sense of humour and that…” His voice softened, “She has a fierce heart, my sister does, stay close to Dís, she’ll keep you safe.”

Faith believed him, but she wondered how he could be so sure.

“My sister loves me as I love her, you are my friend, you are her sons’ friend…She won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I don’t want to be a burden on the princess either.” Faith protested, flustered by the finality in his voice.

Thorin took her hand and murmured: “Can you do two things for me, please? One, go to bed, otherwise I will have to kiss you again and we have seen that it generally ends in…frustration; and two, promise that you’ll stay with Dís.”

Throwing a quick glance down the corridors, Faith stuck out her head of the doorframe and pressed a single, warm, lingering kiss on his stubborn mouth and whispered: “I swear to stick to the princess…and lay down my life if necessary for her protection.”

Mahal have mercy, Thorin thought, the two women he cared for most would try to die in protection of one another at the slightest provocation; they were both fiercely loyal and brave in their own way. Devoted and self-forgotten, Faith had no regard for her own fragile life that seemed to be entirely made up of service while Dís had ever been a pugnacious dwarrowdam who would not avoid a fight if she thought she could win. Dís always thought she could win. She was his sister, after all.

“Good night, king of kings.” She whispered, flipping one of his braids playfully over his shoulder and scrambling to get to her feet. Thorin watched her go, taking off her dress again as she went, and cursed himself for being such a fool.

As she slipped between the sheets though, Faith stiffened and cried out: “Wait a minute…what do you mean by court?”

It had taken some time for his words to sink in, but again, all her fatigue evaded her within a second.

“Well, courting gifts, braids, walking around with your hand in mine…more intrusive questions by my nephews, more teasing by my sister…” He enumerated and ticked off the fingers of his hand.

Marriage, Faith thought, that was what it all led up to. Courting led to weddings, in general, and she would not marry Thorin Oakenshield, king of the Longbeards, not if the almighty creator himself did not come down and grant her a life long enough to honour the bond she would enter into, and a blood worthy of his. Falling back hard into her pillow, she resisted the urge of burying her head in it and asphyxiating herself out of pure impatience and annoyance with the situation.

Then again, the idea of having his nephews and his sister, and ultimately of course him, around until her forever came, held such a sweet seduction that it tore her heart apart. The intensity of her longing made it very clear to her that she was reaching for forbidden fruit indeed. She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling that started to swim and swirl in front of her eyes.

“Sleep, sweet one, tomorrow is another day. There will be time for you to decide if that is something you’d want.”

Oh, naturally, he would be a perfectly honourable man about that as well, Faith thought with something akin to disdain almost; while she fretted and fussed, he would offer his courtship and she would have the right to deny it.

Would he understand her reasons when she finally did reject his promise of tender and respectful advances? Or would he feel as miserably unsatisfied as she did now?

Again, she tried to remind herself of the fact that he did not care for her in that way. She had promised him her body and he was looking to find some justification for taking it; a man such as him would not simply despoil a woman because he felt like it, no, he would create the pretence of a mock courtship to explain why he had taken what he could never give back.

Time would tell. Time, her constant enemy, the shadow gnawing mercilessly on her hours in the sun, would decide if she ever got an answer to those questions.

“You can tell me sooner of course.” Thorin mumbled and she sat up in bed, her blanket a tangled mess around her legs.

“It is a discussion for another day, surely.” She replied calmly, falling back to hide her face and its expression from him.

“Are you very cross with me, Faith?” He asked then.

“Not in the least, Thorin.” She decided against a title, knowing that it would make him believe that she was indeed angry when, really, she was confused and considerably hurt by everything that had happened tonight and by the fears that swirled in her head and heart without surcease. “Good, I couldn’t bear to disappoint you as well.”

“What are you talking about?” Again, she shot up to stare at him in dumbfounded amazement. “I will do right by all of you.” He vowed anew and Faith wondered if he always took his own trespasses so seriously; of course, he would.

“Good night, Master Dwarf. I care for you, and you are beautiful.” She repeated the most important things of the evening, swallowing her rejection of his courtship and falling into a fitful sleep, constantly disturbed by her body that was as taut as a twisted piece of wire. Every time her thighs touched, a spark of pure agony shot through her limbs, a feeling she knew would subside but that made her intensely miserable, nonetheless.

“How’s the little lady?” Dwalin clunked down the corridor and was forced to sneak the last stretch so as not to awaken Faith.

Thorin loved his friend, but he would not tell him how he had spent the last hours listening to Faith mumble and moan in her sleep; more than once, she had whimpered his name and he had been sorely tempted to take off his clothes again and slip between the covers with her.

Somewhere between her body and the mattress lay heaven, he knew, and her soft groaning had worn out his soul and chafed his skin raw with desire.

“She’s not a little lady.” Thorin grumbled. No, Faith was fearless when it came to actual danger; despite her innate subservience and her sweet temper, she was a fierce woman he was honoured and happy to call his friend.

“You’re thinking about courting her, aren’t you?” – “If she’ll have me.” Thorin didn’t even try denying it.

Dwalin had his doubts about that; Faith seemed fond enough of their mutual friend, of their common king, but could she find that kind of love inside herself for someone who was not of her own race? Friendships were indiscriminate; they were based on mutual respect and understanding, but marriage followed a set of rules much stricter and more severe.

It was also probable that she’d die before him, but he was not exactly a young dwarf and they had years ahead of them that could be spent in happy union; if he lived, if she agreed. Did she know that? Would she want that?

“She’s very…kind.” Dwalin said carefully, for she had been nothing but nice to him despite the fact that even dwarrowdams had told him before that he looked like a raincloud pickled in vinegar and left to dry on a stony cliff. “She is.” Thorin agreed.

“What is with the door?” Dwalin then asked and nodded at the huddled form in the bed he could make out in the penumbra. “She can’t open it on her own.” Thorin explained and then, the epiphany hit him: he would not wait for his return or her joining him; he would start his tentative courting with the very basic gift of an appropriate door.

“I…I have something to do. Please do not turn around under any circumstance and tell Mistress Faith that I’ll find her as soon as I’m done.” Thorin spluttered hastily and, boots in hand, almost ran down the corridor in search of a carpenter.

He would have a door made that she could easily open and close herself, but he would make sure that it was sturdy, fashioning and applying the bolts himself. Would that this blasted wizard was around to help imbue the very slab of wood with spells for her protection. Yes, he would convince her of his deep affection for her in the only way he knew: hard work and presents.

Faith woke up to the broad back of Master Dwalin completely obscuring the doorframe.

“The king is…doing something and he’ll find you as soon as he has finished…doing whatever he is doing.” The dwarrow grunted as a reply to her cheery greeting.

Slipping back into her simple shift, Faith approached the stolid figure and tapped him on the shoulder. “Would you be so good as to let me out?” He shifted aside and let her pass, but as she took a step, he followed her.

“I’d rather keep an eye on you.” He muttered, a low, rumbling sound that she very much enjoyed. “You are a dear man, Master Dwalin.” She chirped and nodded slowly.

“Hmmm, me? Hmmm, thank you, Mistress Faith.”

If she had been a braver woman when it came to social conventions, Faith might have asked to hug him, but as it was, she didn’t dare presume. “You’re a funny little creature as well.” He chuckled after a moment which made her turn around in surprise.

“Where are we going?” He cocked his head. “First to get you some breakfast and then to the river, if that is agreeable to you.” She replied gently. As he was intent on shadowing her, she had to think of his well-being as much as he seemed to worry about hers; so, off to the kitchens they went in search of a fortifying meal for the big warrior.

While Dwalin was still munching noisily on his breakfast, Faith was already kneeling beside the river, digging her hands deep into the soil, and filtering out the clay in meticulous steps until she had a sizeable ball. Her guardian watched her work tirelessly, fascinated by her steady, soft movements. Thorin was right, he thought, she was a creature of mud.

Even though the king himself was, in this moment, hammering steel with ringing force, there was a parallel to be drawn between the rhythmic, almost dance-like movements both of them were performing to create something new. For one another, if Dwalin wasn’t very much mistaken.

“I’d ask the kitchens if you can use one of their ovens rather than the open fire of the furnace.” He commented when Faith started moulding and twisting her ball of clay into shapes. “It will be quicker and gentler on your creations.”

Faith nodded when a glint in the water caught her eye. A beautiful, iridescent pebble, smooth and shiny was sitting right next to a single coin. She knew not if it had been caught in the folds of her dress or if someone else had lost it in the river, but she took it to be a good omen for her sacrifice to find things so beautiful to add to her offering.

“Off to the kitchens we go again then, Master Dwalin.” She smiled, heaping her work into his broad palms and chuckling to herself as she watched him hold them carefully in his hands while he walked gingerly ahead of her. He was a dear fellow…and another soul to miss bitterly.

“Come quick, uncle.” Thorin looked up from the bolt he had been fitting on the wooden door meant for Faith’s room in surprise. “You have to see that.” Fíli, his nephew, his heir, was waving him along urgently and so he followed without taking the time to cross-examine the lad on the motivation for his peculiar behaviour.

As soon as they arrived at the side of his dear sister, Thorin could understand where the excitement came from. Faith was kneeling in front of a tree hugging the mountainside, laying out the earthen dishes she had made with her own hands this morning.

“Uncle.” Kíli yelped, just arriving, upon seeing Faith pull out a knife and slashing open her arm once again, letting her blood drip into one of the shallow vessels slowly. “Let her be.” Thorin muttered, closing his hand around his nephew’s wrist to restrain him.

“I come to you, oh great creator, guide of my steps, in prayer.” Faith started, touching her forehead to the ground.

“But, I come not for myself. I come to pray for the safe passage and blessed return of Thorin Oakenshield and his company.” Again, she bowed down, then lifting her bloodied hands to the sky and pleading:

“You who have many faces, allow me to address those I have known all my life without ever speaking their name. I have been told that the one Thorin calls Mahal and we may call “crafting face of the creator” has hewn the dwarrows from stone. Oh, father of all, remember those you gave life to and show them mercy once again. Oh, stone remember who you once cradled and mellow your bosom for them. May their steps tread safely on you and may you open your womb once again to give them refuge.”

Faith touched one of her dishes in which a single coin and an iridescent river pebble lay.

“Let not the fashioner of evil unmake your gift of strength and beauty to this world. For this, I pray.”

She turned to the second dish, containing seeds and herbs she had picked, offerings covered in mud and earth still.

“Oh, great creator, I cry to the part of you that is warm and motherly, to the face Thorin calls Yavanna under his breath. They are not made of stone; they are born, and they grow. May the protection of the mother fall upon them, the defence of all things that grow and thrive. Let the world I have cherished welcome them freely, oh great creator, oh manyfold God. May the rivers run smooth, and the trees grant them shade. Oh, earth you who have been my mother, hide their steps from foes and bear fruit to sustain them. I beg for this as a friend of all things living, may they be recognised by bird and beast, by heart and soul alive, for what they are: living, breathing, feeling creatures of this earth. Do not let them walk alone. For this, I pray.”

Finally, she lifted her own blood and poured it onto the soil in front of her.

“I am but a measly creature, a single life, but I understand that whatever blessing I might have known has had a purpose. I am a vessel and here, I surrender the mercy I have been granted to this greatest of kings. Take this blood into your bosom and see the flaws within it! May my life and the life of my kin be a cenotaph to guilt that spans over generations!”

She touched her forehead to the ground again before going on:

“Oh, great creator, carry the wisdom I have paid in blood and tears forth; may there be a gracious and brave child for every stubborn, unhospitable father, may the sons and daughters save their elders by their generous deeds. For this, I pray.”

Faith stood up again, bowing to her offerings thrice before lifting the knife to her throat.

This time, even Thorin jerked, but she merely cut off a strand of her hair to let it fall in the blood-stained dish.

“As for myself, I vow service, as I have before. I shall work tirelessly; I shall dig my hands bloody in search of fertile earth and I shall make plants thrive in your honour. From the day their feet fall into the first step of this most perilous of journeys until the day I shall gaze upon your blessed people again, oh great creator, I shall walk and pray in devout industry, only ever lifting my eyes to the sky to check if I am called forth. I yield whatever grace was placed upon and within me to Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, and whoever goes with him; I offer whatever strength I have to please you, oh great creator, in all your glory.”

Faith was about to turn away when she fell onto her knees again, her head pressed against the blood-drenched soil, sobbing in a low voice: “Oh, I plead with you, oh glorious, almighty, many-faced one, protect the one I call friend, the one who promised more than his body to me, bring him home safely even if I never get to see him again. Do not cut short the life of princes so valiant and honourable either. Take home the weary bones of old warriors and give fertile soil to the young ones to thrive. You are the maker of all things, of things that never change and of things that never stand still; honour their steadfast courage, eternal as the mountain, and their beating hearts, ever-changing as the seasons.”

Remembering the excellent hearing of the dwarrows, Faith lowered her voice to a whisper as she finished: “For I love them, dearly, desperately, endlessly. May the love of a mere mortal be guide, shield, and sword to them. I ask for nothing for myself, not an ounce of comfort, not a single blessing, heed my love for it is my only need in this life! I beg of you, I’d give everything for you to hear me…for this I pray.”

She bowed one last time, pulled down her sleeve and turned around to see Thorin staring at her with unfathomable eyes.

And then, the pain engulfed her, and she collapsed at the same time as Thorin broke into an impressive sprint for a boulder.

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

Let’s say England and his s/o are staying over at England’s place, and say England is up early to make tea or something. How would he react to, out of the blue, his s/o screaming for him, and when he shows up he discovers that his s/o was terrified at the sight of a dragon. In other words, England’s s/o has become capable of seeing England’s ‘imaginary’ friends.

(This took an infinity and a half, but here you go, lovely.)

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

By all accounts, it had been a fairly emblematic morning until now.

He'd risen before you, slipping out of the bedroom quietly to dress and get the kettle on.

Saturday mornings were often quiet, starting with a light breakfast and an hour working in the gardens. He kept tending to the sausages, knowing the scent would rouse you soon enough.

Not even moments later, your arms were wrapping around his waist, your shuffling following him as he finished frying the patties and began prepping the toaster. You managed to yawn out a good morning before slipping away once more, grabbing the orange juice and tea pot on your way to the back garden.

The weather was still warm enough after all, though he did look forward to seeing you in his old cardigans.

"I'll be just a minute, luv."

You grumbled out some form of acknowledgment, your shuffle helping indicate just how tired you still were. Perhaps he could tempt you into a nap...

He turned his attention back once more to serving tray and was just rearranging the jams when he heard you scream.

Arthur's stomach dropped, though his mind was taking a moment to process your terror and the simple fact that you were still screaming.

He was spurred into action, using some Magicke to aid the rush through the corridor, his voice amplified as he frantically shouted your name.

Nothing could have slipped in, no one would have been able to get past the barriers and warding.

Nothing he knew of, at least.

And it was that damnedable unknown that made him run faster, almost ramming his shoulder into a corner cupboard.

Your name escaped him once more as you cried out for him, your fear not audibly lessened in the slightest.

At last, he reached the French doors, slowing to a stop upon seeing your back pressed flush against the glass, fingers splayed as if trying to will the door away.

Whatever- whoever- had you this shaken made him pause, a defensive spell already tingling his fingertips. Slowly, silently, he crept behind you, using your body as cover until he could reach the other door.

"Luv?"

He honestly worried you hadn't heard him at first as you hadn't given away any indication you were aware of his presence. He nearly called to you again when your voice, brittle and so small, reached him.

"Arthur-"

The sound of it made his chest constrict, a wave of anger fueling his confident leap through the doorway, seeking out the entity who had dared to frighten you so.

His gaze swept across your surroundings, seeking out anything amiss.

Apart from some thoroughly concerned Fey nearby, and one very unimpressed spector, he couldn't detect anything out of place.

Wondering if perhaps his own vision was off, he turned anxiously to you, following the direction of your outstretched finger towards the oak tree.

Nothing awry that he could tell, apart from the ros-

"Dragon!"

Arthur's eyes narrowed in confusion, searching once more for a threat. Detecting none, his brows furrowed as he turned once more to you, bewilderment clear in his voice. "Luv, I only see Æđelfriđ over th- What?"

Your eyes, wide as saucers, were suddenly facing him fully, your mouth open in disbelief.

"What," he found himself asking again, even more lost. Your surprise and- remarkably- joy were baffling to him. It was as if you had never seen the Knucker before, as if-

Whatever confusion had been affecting him till this moment was tossed aside in favour of disbelief and- dare he say it?- hope.

"You can see him?"

He didn't register how his words had wobbled, couldn't have been bothered to care even if he had.

Could it reall be true? You could-

You offered a nod, words nearly a whisper as your eues flickered towards the scarlet youngster curled beneath the oak.

"I'm not crazy? It's really there?"

Arthur swallowed around a newfound lump in his throat, simply overwhelmed.

You could see! You could see! You-!

"Yes, he is."

His words were nearly as soft as yours had been, his heart skipping at the wonder shining in your eyes, the awe.

"I thought I was going nuts when I kept seeing ghosts in the dining room, and the bloody pixies scared the shit out of me when I was weeding by the begonias, but- Holy shit."

Your words fell away, a soft look teasing your features as you studied the dragon once more. "I never thought that dragons were real, too."

Seemingly aware of his uncharacteristic silence, your own eyes narrowed in concern. "Artie?"

For his part, it was indeed a lot of information to process.

Finding out you possessed the Sight? Something ue had been praying for?

"How long?"

His attention shifted back to you once more, the whole build-up towards understanding careening helter skelter to a sense of betrayal.

"How long have you been seeing them?"

The worry in your eyes tugged at his heartstrings.

"Just a week or so."

Your expression and tone became a touch more apologetic, your hand finding his.

"I should have mentioned it sooner; I am so sorry, Arthur."

And just like that, his inner turmoil dispersed, nothing reamining save his glee- his euphoria!- of being able to share something so special with you.

"No fear, poppet."

You seemed surprised by his smile, remained stiff as he pressed a kiss to your hand before pulling you into an embrace.

Gradually, you relaxed, shifting to rest your forehead on his shoulder.

"You're not angry?"

"On the contrary." He drew away just enough to study your eyes and his thumb across your cheek, wondering if it was possible to love you anymore than he did in this moment.

"I'm ecstatic!"

Slowly, your smile returned, relieved and just a smidge giddy.

He would have been content to remain like that all morning, but your stomach protested the idea, a low growl ruining the moment. He snickered at your embarrassment, grinning as he pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

"What say after breakfast we go meet him? I think it's about high time for a proper introduction, wouldn't you agree?"

Your smile alone could have stolen his heart all over again. As it was, a flutter still circulated through his bloodstream, a wave of affection near overwhelming him as you nodded. "Oh yes, please!"

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

[deerth]

my first mistake in witchcraft

yes i’m going to be petty over religion for a second here.

i have been slowly inching out of the broom closet as i now consciously move on from the atheist mindset to the pagan one. i was looking for more resources to research my path, and i ended up on a witchy server... woe unto me as i try to fit in once more, for it seems that not even witches are unified.

forget about all that shit about garden, cosmos and whatever witches. the religion actually broadly branches into two practices - Wicca and regular witchcraft. so you are primarily the one or the other, no matter what flavour of ritual you practice.

the primary difference between Wiccans and general witchcraft is your belief of whether religion can be used for harm or not. in short, Wiccans state “an it harm none, do as ye will” (as long as you don’t hurt anyone [including yourself], go bonkers), therefore you will not find Wiccans casting curses or hexes. we know the responsibility of our faith and we know that if you radiate bad vibes, it will come right back around to bite you in the ass later. that said, most Wiccans don’t mind witches who do curse or hex. some cultures use practices like voodoo, and even old eastern European practices were not free of rituals that were made to directly interfere with someone’s will (love spells that were supposed to make someone love you). therefore, a disclaimer: I’m not anti-hex. I would not use a hex because I feel that hate will not solve hate, and as long as you’re an adult, I trust you know what you’re doing with your power. maybe you are of an oppressed culture and have good reason to exact revenge on someone who severely hurt you, especially if you have a long-standing tradition of hexes. even Nina Simone sang “I Put a Spell on You” (albeit this is also a love spell). I know curses and hexes and even spells affecting with another’s free will are an inherent part of witchcraft and I won’t deny it. I follow my doctrine, you follow yours, that is fine by me.

what is NOT fine with me, however, is propagating hex culture among minors. why? because minors are not ready to take on that responsibility!!!! just like they are not truly ready to make healthy decisions about sex, alcohol or other substances, they cannot take true responsibility over causing harm, be it spiritual or otherwise. “what’s a little hex do?” you might ask, if you’re a minor. not to sound like a boomer, but when I was 16, I was edgy as fuck. I hated everyone while claiming to love everyone. I was in NO correct mental state to make decisions about the aforementioned things. even without casting any hexes, I made many mistakes. big ones. I hurt a lot of people. yes, I regret it all deeply. I wish I had thought things over rather than stay stubborn. in fact, most people under 20 are not ready to enter discourse, drama or a vicious cycle of hatred purely because it will always turn into “all bite but no bark”. I purposefully say it that way because although youngsters are admirably spirited and ready to take on the world... they often bite off more than they can chew. I see girlies straight out of high school trying to solve huge problems like racism, and although, again, admiring these young people, they have researched their stuff. to an extent, they know what they’re talking about... but I do believe hate will not solve hate.

one of the moderators of said server retaliated with it not being a universal truth, and claimed my take to be “unverified personal gnosis” (what is a verified gnosis, anyway? how do you measure it? especially in a practice like witchcraft where every bloody individual practises it differently and there are no priests or churches?). if the moderator happens to read this and wishes to elaborate, i’d be welcome for a bit of constructive discussion over what is and isn’t personal gnosis. I acknowledge that “hate cannot be fought with hate” is not a universal truth... that is perhaps where I went to the extreme. but believe me, I did not say it to be holier-than-thou. I was actually shocked to be called out by not one, but two moderators on my behaviour, instantly. I did not read in the rules that one would be forbidden to state their opinion or softly disagree, but perhaps it is so and I did not pay enough attention.

there comes another food for thought: is it possible to socialise without being opinionated in any way? would shutting down opinions truly prevent conflict? because I’m feeling very bitter and left out now. I know everyone on that server is not Wiccan. but to get slapped in the face right after I attempted to be friendly (laconic and feeble as that was), among who I considered to be my own people... I feel conflicted. now mind, I’m not going to leave witchcraft behind. it is my religion, and thanks to this experience, I learned that Wicca is the right thing for me. I don’t want to advocate for violence and a vicious cycle of hatred. my grandfather was Romani, therefore I believe I know a thing or two about mislabeling and hate enacted upon minorities and outcast people. does that mean I want to kill and hex every white in sight? the answer is no. if anything, me being both Wiccan and Romani, it would just add fuel to the fire. especially because Romani are stereotyped as evil witches in the first place, so it would be a double suicide. by propagating violence, I would give these people more reason to hate pagans and Romani people. both cultures are already feared and hated upon as it is. I am not going to give people more opportunity to hate me.

coming back to the minor I disagreed with in the server. I was shocked that the first thing that came to a teenager’s mind was a revenge hex. it screams of naiveté and irresponsible behaviour towards your faith. and not JUST your faith. as I am a student of psychology, I am well aware how mind patterns work, and here’s the funny thing: psychology has proven that witchcraft’s law of returns is somewhat true, not on a magickal level, but on a mental one. if you ponder over violence and revenge excessively, you are reinforcing those neural pathways in your brain. there is a reason why they say “hate breeds hate”. it is the same reason why depression is so hard to deal with. anything you obsessively ruminate over reinforces it again and again until escape seems impossible. I’m not only speaking as a witch, I’m speaking as a human being. is it correct to propagate petty violence among minors when we as adults can do better and guide young people to better paths?

I’m not saying young people shouldn’t use hexes. but I am questioning their ability to take on the responsibility of potentially hurting someone, or even just thinking of hurting someone. you plant a seed of hate and it may just grow. you knock on the devil’s door enough times and he will answer (disclaimer: I’m not Christian either, I just like the saying). soon there shall be nothing left but hate. if the person in question had not been a minor, I would have left it at that. but religion is sacred. a witch’s magick is essentially making something important to you sacred. it’s not a plaything. it’s not to be used light-handedly. it’s not a trend. and hexes should be the last resort if all else fails OR the person you hate has a damn good reason for being hated.

is it wrong to vote for love and peace? yeah, I sound like a hippie, but I think they’re right. love was not born from continuing to fight each other - love was born from unity, from coexisting. how does one fight racism? psychology says see more poc, interact with them, understand their struggles. how to fight religious fear? spend time with people of different views. how to get over homophobia? spend time with the gays and try to understand their views, and like, actually understand them. spending time with someone just to berate them is still bigotry. the interaction I mean here is coexisting with minorities in a shared space and them slowly, but surely becoming more accepted and normalised because we finally see them. even a bigot can’t stay a bigot if they are brought out of isolation. if they’re forced to see people different than them.

unfortunately, not even your own faith can comfort you sometimes, mostly because the community is still divided. there are rules on what should and shouldn’t be done, and woe upon thee if you dare to even peep one of your thoughts. I merely said thank you and sorry and left, as I always do when I feel misunderstood. it was a valuable yet harsh lesson, and I regret hoping for acceptance or even offering me a moment to be understood without being shut down without a second thought. I regret hoping for a little discussion where it is seen as a violation of rules.

again, as long as you are ready to bear the responsibility of harming another, do whatever you want. as a Wicca, I prefer staying benevolent and kind, even to those who traumatised me. you might argue that this essay in itself is not benevolent... after all, Wiccans don’t slander people behind their backs, you might say. but it is not my intent to slander. it is just me expressing sheer confusion over what I expected to be a community to hear out all voices, because why have a community at all if you allow for no discussion? do we shut off discussions entirely in fear of fights? but alas, it is human nature to be opposed, but it’s also human nature to still hold hands despite the differences - one just needs to acknowledge it.

blessed be.

[bubblyani]

Bail Out: 06

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi Chapter Series

Chapter 06: The Wall

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault.  However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne,  surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your  choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 5400+

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Violence

Author’s Note: Another challenging chapter but it was quite an experience indeed. Hope the wait was worth it. Enjoy!

CHAPTER LIST

Never were you so reluctant, to hear your own name being called out loud. Never ever. No one would, when it was simply an invitation to one’s own funeral.

A constant ringing noise lingering in your ears was a horrifying reminder of the gunshots that were fired rapidly and generously before, threatening and murderous at the same time.  The noise questioned your sanity as you heard your own breathing in slow motion for a few seconds. However, time and speed returned to normal the moment his piercing voice called out for you for the second time. That voice, which were the bells of death in your heart.

“I KNOW YOU’RE HERE!”

Slender yelled, his voice and expression displaying equal forms of madness. Truthfully , his attitude tonight surprised you. Being the calm and collected assassin he was the last time, he certainly was expressive in access. Quiet as a mouse amongst the buzz and worried chatter of the crowd, you prayed his patience would run thin and hopefully give up.

“Playing quiet, am I right??” He began, with a slight amusement, “Well, suit yourself cause...If you don’t give yourself up now...I think I’ll take down everyone here until you do...” he added, “...one...at a time...”

His menacing decisiveness brought fear  to the crowd, including yourself. It was fast as being splashed by a bucket of cold water. Speechless, you prayed for a mental reflex action. Looking at everyone, you saw the young folk holding onto each other. Their loved ones, their friends, their humanity. Being a woman of your position, you bore the responsibility for the well being of an entire work force in a billion dollar enterprise. Therefore, these strangers should not be treated any different. Even as a citizen, shouldn’t responsibility of life be of importance to you as well?

“NO?”

Slender inquired, effortlessly raising his gun, “Well...”he said, pointing at the crowd, his finger resting on the trigger,  “...then you leave me no choice-”

“WAIT! WAIT!!!”

You heard yourself yell for your life, cutting him off. With both your hands raised up, you slowly rose up from the crowd, “It’s me! I’m here I’m here!” Your voice may have been loud, yet the control was evident,  “No need to go that far...I’m here!”

With your hood pulled down, you took careful steps to walk towards Slender. A low groaning sound crept in to your ears out of nowhere as you walked. The closer you got to Slender, the clearer his appearance became.

Seemingly a young hispanic, subtle freckles filled his face while his head was home to curly black hair, tied up in a tight ponytail. If it were not for his black leather long coat and eye liner, he would have taken resemblance of an amiable youngster in a gentrified neighborhood. As you finally stood within his reach, you were prepared for a reaction. Except he surprised you, as he looked you up and down with utter confusion.

“Almost didn’t recognize you without your work clothes…” he remarked with genuine curiosity. Looking down at your attire, you sighed with relief. Suppose curiousity does not indeed discriminate amongst the good and the bad. The mysterious groaning emerged once again, hinting to be coming from close by, which confused you.

“Yeah, I get that a lot” you said, with a shrug, surprised by your relaxed attitude, “This makes me look younger apparently-Look!”raising your voice slightly, you finally captured his attention “ Now you’ve finally got me…” you continued, “Can you PLEASE…PLEASE let the others go? But most importantly…” taking a deep breath, you added, “…can you please…let me help that old lady out?”

You said, motioning your head towards your right. Slender turned to his left to see a female figure that lay face down a few feet away from you. Given the gray hair, attire and the wooden cane, you easily guessed where those mysterious groaning sounds came from.

“She seems to be hurt…” You said calmly, “Let me just take her over to the crowd…” you paused, “And then I’m all yours…But only if you promise to let them all go…” you demanded.

Your hands remained raised up high, it started to hurt. But you chose to keep it so in order to gain his trust. You wondered if you had to go further in order to do so, only to find him nod slightly.

“Fine…” His answer was quicker than expected. Relieved, you felt his gaze on you as you tip toed over to the woman. With shoulder length gray hair, the woman remained crouched, thus identifying her proved to be difficult. However, the tired groans continued.

“Ma’am?” You addressed softly, kneeling right next to her, “Here, let’s get you up, okay?” You said, slowly holding her by the shoulders. They seemed stronger than expected.

“T-thank you” her shaky, aged voice uttered, as she began to kneel alongside you. Leaning forward, you hoped to take a good look at her for any injuries, for not seeing her face made you more curious.

“That’s it...” You said, “…there we g-What?”

Your eyes widened upon what you just witnessed. It was no old woman. Frankly it was no woman at all. All you saw was pitch black. A sudden kick on your shin, caused you to land hard on you back with a yelp.

“Ow!!” Grunting in pain, you opened your eyes, “Ah-”

Gasps left you the moment the figure hovered, grabbing you firmly by the neck to hold you in place. With one hand, it skillfully pushed off the gray wig, and unbuttoned the baby pink coat, only to reveal it sporting black military gear and black chest armor. But what caused your pulse to race, was indeed the black skull mask it wore on its face. If Slender’s voice was the ring of death, this figure simply was the living embodiment of it.

“You got her, Alpha?”

Slender’s voice emerged, forcingyour eyes to wander. He stood next to the figure with a knowing smile on his face. All the sudden, he was not the raged maniac he was a few minutes earlier. The calm and controlled persona you remembered was finally back.

“Yes…it was so easy”

Alpha replied, the voice seemingly modulated through a voice changer. It was deep, unrecognizable and horrific. Before you could even begin to question, the leather grip on your neck began to tighten, you were being chocked.

“Who?-what?-why are the-?” breathlessly, you struggled with many questions.

“The more you try to talk, the harder it’s going to be for you...” Alpha answered calmly, proceeding to strangle you, “…not that I should care...” it said, shrugging with amusement, “Now…let’s see here…” it said, taking out an old phone from it’s pocket.

You squinted, when Alpha captured a photo of you, blinding you with its light. “Sorry about the flash…” Alpha said, casually apologetic whilst handing the phone to Slender, “but makes a convincing crime photo, ya know?”

You wished to reply, but how could you when its grip tightened even further. Holding its hands with your own, you made desperate attempts to take in as many breaths as possible. However, the warning signals your mind issued suddenly were pretty imminent. The signals literally begged you for one requirement only: air. It seemed pathetic when you could hear nothing but your own ghastly attempts to maintain a steady airflow when barriers are being set. Strange, how you heard nothing else. No screams of panic. Before you could even question, it was already answered when your eyes widened with shock. Every single person held hostage, all appeared slowly within your eye line, surrounding you, providing a human frame to your view of the Gotham sky that you were forced to stare at. Wearing blank expressions, not a trace of fear nor surprise was instilled in any of their faces, as they all stood there, watching you struggle for your life. Even the young man who was shot earlier, stood bloody without a single cry of pain. What was going on?

Overwhelmed, your body began to panic even more as you kicked your legs in desperation. In a hypothetical situation such as this, it was expected of the protagonist to be defeated in a loud and chaotic instance. But in reality, it was purely silent filled with your own desperate attempts to cry for help. Your vision began to blur out slow, could this finally be the end?? The more it was understood, the more you realized all that you regretted. You regretted not calling your family often. If only you made one single call to them tonight. You regretted not hugging your mother enough, for even if you were a grown woman, you were still her little girl. Loudly gasping for air, you regretted not telling your friends and coworkers of your constant appreciation. Ali, Lillian, you wished you told them how they were like your family.

You regretted not living the life you should have lived, when you felt the final remnants of your air exiting your lips.

Until the sound of a Heavy Explosion reached your ears.

“SHIT!”

Slender yelled. The surprising effect forced Alpha to loosen its grip on you. Looking around, the crowd began to buzz with curiosity and gasp upon what they witnessed. Arming himself with his machine gun, Slender began fire to his right, a bullet rain possibly pouring down. Turning to your left, you were grateful as the crowd parted as you saw the bullets hit a certain humongous, black vehicle. Silence finally took over as the bullets finally ran out and the vehicle remained unaffected. All that everyone could do was to look around.

But not when Slender jolted as a sharp black throwing star hit him in the thigh.

“Alpha! IT’S HIM!!” Slender cried out in pain.

Him? For a moment you could only pray for that to be the one you expected, your savior. And as you found a dark familiar figure gliding from one building to the other across your eye line, a sense of safety came over you. It truly was him: Batman. No! Bruce Wayne, your heart cried out.

Like a swarm of bats, the crowd began to disperse in an instant, causing massive confusion to anyone who laid eyes on the street. You managed to catch the sight of Slender pulling out his exotic sword before charging towards Batman. Regaining air to breath, you hoped Alpha was intimidated enough by the entire scenery to be distracted. However, the moment you felt yourself being gripped tightly once again, it was evident it was not done with you yet. Smothered by its leather fingers digging in your flesh, you let out shaky gasps in sheer desperation, for the strangulation grew stronger and more aggressive. Moving your body in every way possible, you faced your biggest struggle. All the while you tried your hardest to look out for the caped crusader, who was in a heated battle. However, from what could be seen, Batman seemed to be winning.

“I didn’t want to do this but-”

Alpha’s voice made you shift your eyes back, as you found it taking out a small knife. Your heart sank. Could it be a possible surprise attack at Batman?

It was not. Instead, you felt it pull out your right arm, only to slash your inner wrist with much force. Before you could yell out, Alpha’s hands reunited with your neck, exerting much pressure on its grip, suffocating you while you were forced to watch blood spray out of your own hand like a garden sprinkler.

“LET HER GO!”

You heard Batman bellow. And as soon as an excruciatingly painful cry exited Slender, Alpha looked behind, only to disappear within a huge puff of grey smoke before Batman could even reach it. With Slender defeated, and Alpha gone, the street was quiet once again. Except all was not well. Especially when you began to question your pulse and the rest of your blood flow.

“YOU OKAY???”

Batman growled, appearing before you within lightning speed. His growl was desperate. Gripping your wrist, his palm pressed on it tightly in order to stop the bleeding. However, you wondered if it was too late. There was barely any form of life within you. 

“Ba-” you began weakly, “Bat….” you inhaled with difficulty.

“SAY SOMETHING!” He cried out.

Suddenly all appeared darker than usual. The loss of air and the loss of blood certainly was taking a toll of you. Yet, through his black mask, you managed to trace out his eyes, those beautiful hazel green eyes, reminding you of the love you possessed for the man who owned them in the first place.

“M-Mr. Wayne...I-” You breathed softly. The moment those words exited, you realized your other biggest regret: Not telling Bruce Wayne how you truly felt about him.

Amidst his cries of your name, you found yourself being swallowed in to the black hole of life, where nothing was seen nor heard.

You were dying, you knew it.

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

You may have been slow dancing with death earlier, but as it turned out, not anymore.

With your eyes fluttering open, you felt yourself inhale gently, slowly becoming aware of the presence of your entire being once again. The night sky did not greet you, but a beautiful high ceiling instead. The surroundings were exquisite and familiar. The mattress that kept you rested definitely proved itself to be the best mattress you have ever laid on. It was definitely the Wayne Penthouse.

Stirring slowly, you were surprised to have enough energy to sit up. Involuntarily drinking in the beauty and class, your heart felt alive the moment you turned to find Bruce Wayne to your left.

Sitting on the floor by the gigantic windows, he remained in his Bat Suit, with his cowl in hand, staring at the Gotham skyline. To find him in this position was certainly was a sight to see.

“Hey…” 

You breathed. Though you were soft, he managed to hear you, turning to you in a flash. 


“Are you alright?” He inquired, to which you nodded gently. “Yeah...think I blacked out over there”, you answered shyly, rubbing your neck with your left hand. Finally you were aware of the immense pain that was inflicted in the neck muscles and your throat, bringing back the horrid memories for a millisecond. And as you bowed your head down, you finally caught the sight of your right hand, falling victim to injury once again as the wrist was bandaged, “ I must have been a mess huh?” You inquired in return.

“Certainly wasn’t what Alfred expected when I brought a girl home…” Bruce said. You chuckled.

“Poor Alfred” you murmured, getting up slowly. The image of Wayne bringing back a bleeding woman to the penthouse must have been horrifying.

“How did you know?”

You froze at his inquiry. You were no fool. It was evident what he really meant. Clearly it was justified for him to wonder how on earth you were certain to address him by his real identity in the time of crisis. Truthfully, it could not be helped, for death awaited you. Bruce did not sound cross. Taking a deep breath, you shyly took steps towards him. As your feet grazed from the fur rug to the polished cool tiles, your hands tied behind your back for you were deep in thought.

“Remember when that guy broke your mask?” You asked, forcing him to look at you with slightly wide eyes. “I thought I told you to go…” Bruce said with concern. “You did...” You answered quickly, “and I did leave…but” paused, you looked down,”Not exactly”. Still looking down embarrassingly, you drew circles on the floor with your big toe, “ I wanted to help, so I called the cops...” you said, “I-I didn’t mean to see it happen...it just ...it happened, I guess” you added softly. Chuckling softly with amusement, Bruce turned to the window once again, “It must have been a surprise” “Oh...” you began with a laugh  , “…the biggest one so far, for sure...”  You assured. Silence comfortable took over whilst you sat next to him with your legs crossed. The chill of the floor penetrating through your leggings. Revealing one’s secret identity in a position such as his, never was a safe move. You were compelled to provide some assurance. No one asked you. But you knew it was necessary. “Do you know what they call me at work?” You found yourself inquiring all the sudden. Bruce looked at you. “The Bruiser?” Shaking your head, you chuckled. “Now you’re being predictable...” You teased, bringing him over to chuckle town, “no…apparently…” your laughter vanished, “…they call me ‘The Wall’…Heh! Lillian told me that” You added. Though your eyes admired the view from the window, you managed to catch him watch you with curiosity. “Cause no matter what they disclose,  it doesn’t go anywhere through me” you declared, “as if I’m the safest place anyone’s secret could ever be…”. You turned back to him, giving a reassuring smile, “…the same goes for you too, Batman”

Nodding mutually, you both resumed to watch the night sky. Whether your speech amused him or comforted him, you did not know. As long it protected his conscience, you did not care.

“But now that I think of it…” you began “…you bring a whole new meaning to an All Nighter, huh?” You jested, watching Bruce guffaw all the sudden. The more you laughed alongside him, the more it came to your realization as to how much you relished it. But as you began cough in effect, your laughter died down. The pain is your neck resurfaced once again. The smell of those leather gloves haunted you. And the moment you caught Wayne’s eyes, you could sense guilt and anger living in them.

“Who the hell was that ??” You breathed, referring to the incident earlier. “Possibly a group of assassins hired by Henderson” Bruce stated, “And that includes the two previous attacks” “That’s what Officer Blake told me” You added, to which he nodded  “Do you know who they are?” You inquired curiously, still rubbing your neck. “No…” You were speechless. That answer was definitely a surprise, even from Batman, “ ...there’s nothing specific to tie them to any group” He said, “…they seem to appear completely anonymous” “The leader…” You said, bringing your knees to your chest, “…He was called Alpha or something....” “A temporary name to communicate, perhaps…” Bruce said, looking down at his cowl  “I’ve never seen anyone like this before...” Given his genuine concern, You knew he was being truthful. With all the any villains he has faced, this certainly was a first. Sighing, you found yourself rocking back and forth. “Everything was just orchestrated so well...”you said, scoffing “…even the people seemed to have been planted ” you shook your head, “all that...just to kill me?” You inquired yourself, completely in disbelief. “Angering Henderson doesn’t really help anyone...” You heard Bruce reply, “I knew that well...”

“What do you mean?” You asked, as he kept his cowl on the ground and leaned against one of the sofa chairs.

“According to Gotham’s underworld, whenever they got a ‘clean up' job from Henderson, they knew someone has pissed him off…” He said. “Shit...” you breathed. Embarrassment sprayed over you as you covered your face with your hands. “The moment he didn’t press charges, I knew something was up” Bruce added. You looked at him. “So.. you knew” you muttered in amazement, “hehe…no wonder you were there every time. But…” you paused, “ …you didn’t know where I was...” You said with confusion. Bruce smiled softly, the smile that warmed your heart every time. “Guess I had to find ways to keep an eye on you...” he said. Those words, they held you by the hand, leading you to a road of memories that lived deep in your thoughts wondering. “The Black Box...” you began, raising your index finger, “…was that-” “A tracker? Yes” Bruce said, completing your sentence.

And with your eyes on a constant wide stance, you were in complete surprise when Bruce Wayne played storyteller without any hesitation. Answering questions that were not even asked, leaving nothing behind for it was evident you deserved an explanation. Your jaw dropped.

“So that means..” you began seriously, rousing his curiosity, “... at the Charity Ball, you didn’t have to tinkle…Hehe! Stalker…” you said cheekily, making him chuckle. “I was not-” “I’m kidding…” You assured him, “I’m not mad, really” you kept chuckling, “…not especially when you trying your hardest to save my life...” You said, the chuckles disappearing soon after. It was true. Why would someone as powerful as Bruce Wayne, bother looking out for someone such as yourself? That was when that poor heart of yours began to nudge you, poked at you to remind  you of a matter of importance. A matter that would help you clean out a compartment of your heart and be done with it. Turning to him, you began: “Mr. Wayne-” “Bruce...” Gently, he cut you off, “just…Bruce...Please” “Bruce…” You uttered, after a deep breath. Funny how it seemed so challenging to address someone by their first name. But the moment you said, it seemed as effortless as feeling a gentle breeze leave your lips. “Tonight...” you said, “I was closer to death than I had ever been...” you breathed in deeply, “Truthfully I almost died, so that counts,” you added, feeling your neck and your wrist, “And I will regret with every inch of my body if I didn’t tell you this...” Why did facing death seem easier than this very moment? This very moment, was more horrifying than any test or any interview. With your pulse on high speed, you looked down. You stared at your hands that were on a wrestling match of their own. Slowly, you were compelled to take several breaths. “You okay?” You heard him utter with concern. “Yep! yep! I’m good” nonchalantly, you answered without looking up, “ I just-”

Exhaling deeply, your shoulders hunched up before slowly looking up. Surprised you were to find his amused face staring at yours, as if you were a child attempting to confess stealing a candy bar. You smile shyly with tight lips. Guess it was now or never.

“Ever since the day I met you…” you began, with your legs crossed once more, “I-I…” you chuckled, “ I couldn’t help but feel…things for you”, taking another breath, you continued, “I liked you…I-” pausing, you smiled, “I still like you…very much. I couldn’t help it, especially when you were completely not what I expected from Bruce Wayne. The way you were with me, all the time…I-” chuckling once again, “You know, Batman may be the hero to everyone…but” you said, nodding, “I would chose Bruce Wayne over Batman any day…” you said, looking straight into his eyes, “Because you were my hero…my hero without the mask”

With the weight finally off your shoulders, you quickly looked down in embarrassment. “That’s it! That’s all I wanted to say. I-”

You were interrupted the moment you felt him grab your right hand. A touch of spring was birthed in your body that reeked of winter. Bruce gazed at your hand with focus, for it was the hand that punched Henderson, the hand that bled. You would be lying if you did not acknowledge the chills that traveled down your spine when his thumb ran over your hand.

“Alfred...he...” Bruce began, “…he asked me…why I was so concerned over someone who punched Henderson in the name of Wayne”

“Exactly...”you said, smiling,  “Why would you?” You inquired softly. The manner in which his eyes caught yourself, urged you it was no laughing matter.

“Cause that night… I didn’t see The Bruiser…” he said, “…I saw you” he added, “My very own savior” he breathed.

Suddenly the circus made its victorious return to your stomach, its power strong enough to expand to your heart. Those hazel green eyes confirmed the seriousness of his words, causing your heart to dash into an eternal sprint.

“And every time I met you, I couldn’t help but feel protective…” he said, “…or even...something more...” He added, “...something to hope for” 

Those words were akin to warm honey to your ears. Disbelief was all you could be. And all this time, you were blaming yourself for feeling all this by your lonesome. The circus fueled you, and you were ready to fly over to the top of the world. At that moment, nothing else was of importance.

“But it’s just impossible...”

You froze upon those words. Suddenly you felt yourself trip from the peak, tumbling down thousands of feet. Patience and concern clouded you as he let go of your hand.

“What?” You said, “What do you mean?” Squatting worriedly as you continued. However, the moment you inquired, it was easily answered. Putting one’s loved ones in danger, seeing them suffer. Your incident clearly proved it all. Looking down, Bruce turned to his cowl.

“Men like me...” He began, “We just don’t get the luxury,....”

The luxury to be a free man, the luxury to love without boundaries and worry. They were the most luxurious indeed. On any other day, you would willfully empathize and understand this opinion. But tonight, you were tired. You were exhausted in every possible way. Your mind had finally decided to take a break while your heart took over. Scoffing softly, you shook your head.

“There’s no such thing...” You said in refusal. For your heart did not agree. You simply could not accept. Bruce chuckled.

“In whose world?” He asked. You swore, the sprint in your heart skipped to an extra mile.

“In mine...”

You breathed, voice almost breaking as you did so. For that was when you believed in it so deeply. And before you knew it, you found yourself doing the unthinkable, which you only dared to imagine in the deepest corners of your heart.

Kneeling, you moved towards him. Balancing yourself with one hand on the floor, you managed to wipe the loose strands of hair from his face, his beautiful face. All the while you studied it closely. Those captivating eyes of his, they exuded exhaustion, they exuded pain. Your fingertips bravely grazed his cheek, inciting shaky breaths between one another, all before you dared to press your quivering lips against his own for a kiss. Finally.

When you kissed him, it was gentle, akin to pressing one’s lips against velvet. You made sure all your love, all that was sincere and appreciative were included. Suppressing your greed, you provided yourself with only a few seconds. Pulling away, you pressed your lips, hoping to seal this kiss forever. Pulling away, your eyes was in a dire attempt to express the same. For you knew, you would regret for the rest of your existence if you did not. For regrets were what you did not wish to keep with you.

But when you felt Bruce pull you back by the waist, settling his hungry lips on yours, it was clear he did not wish to regret either.

Bruce Wayne was certainly tired of the torturous waiting, and his kiss translated it perfectly. Without a doubt, you could heartily empathize. With your weight on him, you managed to put your hands on his shoulders, only to wrap them tightly around his neck whilst straddling him with ease.

For a moment you wished this kiss had a better backdrop. If only he could have kissed you in your beautiful, white dress. You wished to be the lonesome beauty standing on the hotel balcony, only to find him rushing over to you breathlessly, pouring his heart out in confession, kissing you with passion. What a sight would it have been, especially with his hands roaming over your curves, feeling the softness of the silk dress, while the pleasing sounds of the water fountain below infuse with the jazz piano inside.

But then again, the reality brought the comfort you never expected. The reality that both of you had shared tonight. First kisses do not exactly magically spawn on the most climactic points of anyone’s lives. It could unexpectedly spawn on the most random moments. Most importantly, on the moments you chose to have it. With you in your leggings and hoodie, and him in his bat suit, both tired and convincingly injured, in the most intimate moment whilst tearing each other’s barriers down, taking the opportunity to display each other’s affection, all in each other’s privacy. Truthfully, the reality was certainly more perfect than any fantasy imagined.

Bruce kissed you long, yet they were sweet. With you in his arms, you felt treasured, for his touch was gentle. As if you were a porcelain doll. His lips may have been desperate, but his touch proved his empathy to your body’s current weak state. And it certainly strengthened your greed for him even more. His kisses intoxicated you, to the point they could be your home for eternity. But the sudden ring of your phone proved otherwise. Pulling away with a groan, you dug into your hoodie pocket.

“Ali?” You answered breathlessly, frustrated to part from his lips. Especially when he watched you, panting.

“Sweetie? You okay?” Ali called with concern: “You’ve been gone for longer than an hour…And I was starting to freak out-”

“Ali! Ali…I fine…” you cut her off, “really…” you chuckled. The fact you still remained comfortable in Bruce’s lap suddenly caused you embarrassment. Mouthing an apology to him, you attempted to get off during the call. But his iron grip on your waist, kept you firmly in place. You blushed instantly. His look of desperation could easily be translated to his fear of losing you somehow, or even to his fear of never indulging in your touch ever again. You did not blame him. The wait all this time was equally cruel for the both of you.

“I’m fine. I just had a detour, that’s all” you told her,  “In fact, I’m perfectly safe…safer than ever actually”  you added, eyes desperately holding on to his. Deliberately lost in his gaze, you admitted they were dangerous magnets, along with those lips of his that you were tempted to revisit always.

“Sweetie, you’re being very dramatic, you okay?”

“Huh?” You said, awakened by Ali’s inquiry. Clearing your throat, you continued, “Yeah I am, I’ll see ya later, okay? Bye! ”

Hanging up, you sighed, looking down shyly as you put your phone back.

“I should get you home…” Bruce muttered deeply, to which you shook your head quickly.

“No! it’s okay…” You said, “You need rest…” Stressing it, you added,“I’ll get a cab-”

You were instantly silenced the moment he cupped your face. And it was no issue at all. For his touch had power over you. Great power.

“At least…” he began, “…let Alfred drop you…” “Of course…”

Before he released you from his touch, you were tempted to kiss him once more. And you did, ever so gently. And your heart ignited with a gentle flame the moment he reciprocated eagerly.

“Now…” you began, as you got up, “…as much as you look real sexy in that…” You said, pointing at his Bat Suit, to which you both chuckled, “you should still freshen up…”you advised, “…get some sleep…”

Smiling warmly, he nodded in agreement. When you smiled back, your liberated emotions finally managed to reflect through your gaze, finally. After all this time. “Goodnight, Bruce ” “Goodnight...”

A greeting that finally contained true emotion. For it was true. You truly wished him safety, you truly wished him a well deserved rest. You truly wished him peace. For now you knew, and he knew that you knew.

You could not stop smiling as Alfred Pennyworth walked you to the Rolls Royce.

“I know I’m asking for a lot but…” you began, “… could you make sure Bruce gets some rest tonight?” You said, looking at the elder man.


“Not at all, Miss”Alfred answered warmly, opening the passenger door, “I’m happy to oblige, for Master Wayne’s sake”

A shared understanding between the two of you brought you relief, as you got into the car, ready to head on home.

“Oh! Alfred…I need a favor...” You said,  as he started the vehicle.

“Yes, Miss?”

“Do you mind if we stop by an ATM?”

——————————————————

Chapter 7 HERE!

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Part 3? of the story for my OCs for @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU! I intended to only write like the opening paragraph for this today but now it’s two hours later and the whole thing is typed out. Oops.

At some point this will all be on AO3, I promise! But until then, should I do a tag list? Would people want me to tag them as I write these in the meantime? Please let me know!

(Also points to whoever can guess what Veko’s talking about when it comes to colors and smells and things! I also have it, though not exactly like Veko does)

(Also bonus points to wherever can figure out what real life goat Ren is based on lol)

———————————————

Unfortunately, Veko wasn’t able to return to Eloise for a few more years. Between simply not being in the area, not having time between hunts, his brother Hamra almost being disemboweled one year, and his own injuries, he just hadn’t been able to make his way to her little town in Temeria.

This year, he was determined to go back, though he wasn’t sure why. He chalked it up to being able to stay somewhere comfortable, with actual good food, for free, but even he knew that was a flimsy excuse. Eloise fascinated him, for lack of a better word. She hadn’t been afraid of him—quite the opposite! From the get-go it was like she had tried to intimidate him, and godsdammit it worked. But she was so nice to him, and despite what she said, her food was quite good. Or maybe everything Veko had been eating recently was just that awful.

Veko swung down off of Nine—his new gray mare after Eight became wyvern food (rest in peace you prick)—and hitched her to the fence post outside Eloise’s house. For some reason, he was nervous to see her again. Was it because it had been so long (for a human anyway) since he’d been here? He didn’t want her to think he wanted out of their deal or anything.

Veko brushed as much dirt and grime off of his armor as he could before knocking on the door. A moment later, it swung open and Eloise stared up at him with wide eyes.

Veko scratched his burns. “Uh, hello Elo—“

Eloise threw herself at him, arms around his neck. “Oh my gods!” she cried. “You fucking prick! Where have you been?!” Veko faltered for a moment before tentatively wrapping his arms around Eloise’s, but she immediately pulled back, giving him an icy glare. “Well?!”

“I, uh, I’ve been... busy,” Veko replied, but for some reason, Veko felt awful despite it being the truth.

“Busy!” Eloise exclaimed. Holy shit, she’d really been upset about this.

“I’m sorry,” Veko said, staring down at his boots. “I really am. And—and I really was busy. I don’t want you to think I was trying to get out of the deal or anything, cuz I wasn’t—“

“You think I’m upset because of the fucking deal?!” Eloise shouted. Veko blinked at her and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “For Melitele’s—get in here!”

Eloise pulled Veko into the house and slammed the door. Despite the few years that had gone by, not much inside had changed. There were more paint supplies strewn around the house than last time, but that was about it.

Veko scratched his scars again and Eloise slapped his hand away. “Sorry,” he said automatically.

“I thought you were dead!” Eloise shouted, poking a finger into Veko’s chest. “You’re a bloody Witcher! That’s what happens, isn’t it? You fight monsters, and then you die. Well godsdamn you I thought you died!”

Veko was horrified when the salty smell of tears began tickling his nose; something must have showed on his face, because Eloise rubbed her eyes quickly, not letting any of them fall.

“I’m sorry,” Veko said again.

Eloise glared at him again before suddenly hugging him. “Fucking git,” she hissed. “Send a letter or something, at least! I don’t know how to get ahold of you but I’m always here!”

Veko hesitated again but hugged Eloise back. This time, she didn’t pull away. “Sorry,” he said into her hair. “Just, every time I was in the area, something would come up, or my brother was hurt, or I was too injured to travel—“

“Are you ok now?!”

“Oh yeah, all healed up now.”

“And your brother?”

Veko smiled sadly, remembering the blood on his hands and the horrifying look of resignation on Hamra’s face. “Touch and go for a bit, but yeah, he also made a full recovery. I just couldn’t leave him like that.”

Eloise finally pulled away and crossed her arms. “Well damn,” she grumbled. “How can I be mad at you now?”

Veko chuckled, feeling like a weight had lifted off of his chest.

—————

During lunch, Eloise filled him in on how things had been going since they’d seen each other. Lennart was still a bastard, but after being slapped in front of the gods and everyone by a lady at the tavern, he’d been officially removed from his position. A local woman had taken the title of alderwoman now, and things had been a lot better. A few of Eloise’s goats had had multiple babies, though a wolf problem last year had taken a few of them. She still had one of her original nanny goats, though, and apparently this particular goat was about as stubborn as they come.

“She actually chased one of the wolves off, even!” Eloise explained. “Charged it head on. I’ve never seen a wolf roll like that in my life.”

“Remind me not to piss your goats off, then,” Veko chuckled.

Eloise seemed to pause for a moment. “I actually have to go feed them,” she said. “Plus, your horse has just been... well, outside tied to my fence. Come with me?”

So that was how Veko found himself leading his horse to the tiny barn behind Eloise’s house. He could see a couple goats that were obviously youngsters immediately rush over to the fence, bleating loudly. From within the barn, a huge tan goat trotted out and fucking screamed.

Veko flinched and even Nine pulled back. “Sorry, sorry,” Eloise said. “That’s Georgina. She’s... special.”

“I’ll say,” Veko grumbled. “This our wolf chaser?”

Eloise shook her head and pointed to another goat on the opposite side of the paddock. A little black thing, shorter than the others, with huge, curled horns. Eloise whistled and the goat immediately charged—and slammed horns first—into the fence.

“Ren,” Eloise said, crouching down to scratch the goat between the ears. “She’s harmless. Mostly.”

Veko looked at Nine and seemed to almost share a stare with the horse. A ‘can you believe this shit?’ moment that got Veko chuckling despite himself.

“Whatever you say.”

Eloise led Veko and Nine into the barn and into a small empty stall. “This was my father’s horse’s stall,” she explained as Veko began undoing Nine’s tack.

“Where is your old man, anyway?” he asked as he heaved the saddle down.

Eloise looked away. “He, um,” she cleared her throat. “He passed, um, a few months after you left.”

Veko dropped the saddle. “Fuck,” he said. “I’m—I’m so sorry. Fuck, if I’d known—“

“Veko,” Eloise put a hand on his arm, “my father was sick. Even I didn’t realize how badly until a week before he went. But it was... it was peaceful, at least. I’d made him dinner, he wished me goodnight, and I found him in the morning.”

Veko honestly didn’t know what else to say. Death was a weird subject for Witchers, after all. He continued grooming Nine while searching desperately for something to say that wasn’t ‘sorry’ again.

“Did he have... a funeral?” Veko asked. He could’ve slapped himself. Of course he had a fucking funeral.

Eloise seemed to sense Veko’s fumbling, because she smiled gently and nodded. “A very nice one, too,” she said. “I’ll go get some water for your horse.”

As Eloise walked away, Nine looked at Veko again. What was it with this horse? Veko pointed a warning finger in his face; Nine simply huffed and turned away. Somewhere, Hamra was laughing, Veko was sure of it. His brother had always had a good relationship with his horses.

Eloise returned a moment later with a bucket of water. Veko immediately took it from her and poured it into the empty trough.

“What’s her name?” Eloise asked. If he could blush, Veko would’ve been scarlet.

“Nine,” he said.

“‘Nine’?” Eloise repeated. “Does that mean something in another language or like, the number?”

“The, uh, the number.”

Eloise slapped Veko’s hand as it reached for his scars. “Why?”

“She’s my... ninth horse.”

There was beat before Eloise burst out laughing. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Veko smirked to cover his embarrassment. “So I’ve been told.”

Eloise rolled her eyes and headed over to the opposite end of the barn. The far wall was lined with bales of hay. Before she could even reach for one, Veko rushed over and hoisted one over his shoulder. Eloise put her hands on her hips.

“You know I’ve been doing this for years even before you showed up, right?” And she had a point; what was wrong with him?

“I, uh,” he looked anywhere but at Eloise, trying to find an excuse. “I figured it’s... been a while since I’ve been here so I, uh, owe you. I guess.”

“Are you telling me or asking me?”

“Yes.”

Eloise laughed. “Ok then,” she said, heading back out of the barn. “I’ll get the gate at least.”

Veko followed Eloise to the paddock and held Ren by a leather strap around her neck while he made his way through the gate. The other goats immediately began following him. As soon as the hay hit the ground, the goats descended. Eloise let Ren go and the other goats parted to let her through.

“I never realized how scary goats were,” Veko said as Eloise latched the gate closed.

“To be fair, I have quite the herd of characters,” she replied. “Most people have a rooster to wake them at sunrise; I have Georgina and her screaming. Ren is like my own personal guard hound. Sometimes she gets out and chases off anyone who gets near the house. The others are still young, yet, but they’re slowly starting to show their personalities.”

“I’ll stick with horses, I think,” Veko said. “They’re enough trouble as it is.”

“Apparently!” Eloise laughed as she and Veko made their way back to the house. “Seeing as you’ve had nine of them!”

“This is a dangerous job!” Veko defended, but the tone was joking. “Plus in the grand scheme of things, nine horses hasn’t been a lot for how long I’ve been on the Path.”

Eloise’s brow furrowed. “How old are you?”

“Old.”

Eloise scoffed and started gathering some of her paints. Veko followed her into her art room, not sure what else to do at this point, and found the walls covered in different paintings than the last time he’d been here. One in an ornate frame was her father, exactly as real as if he was standing before them.

Eloise picked up a few leather straps from one of the tables. “Help me with something,” she said. “I’m going to repaint the goats’ collars and I don’t know what color to give who. I want you to help me decide.”

“Ok?” Veko said, taking a seat. “Why?”

“Something you said to my father, when you saved him,” Eloise replied. “It always confused him. He told you he lived in the house with the blue roof and you said it suited him. Why?”

Veko went to scratch his scars, but instead balled his hand into the fabric of his pants. “Well, it’s, uh,” he hesitated. Of all things for that old man to focus on!

“My father was always fascinated with color,” Eloise said, as if sensing Veko needed a minute. “That’s how I got into painting. He was never content with something being the original color it was. Hence, the blue roof. He said that you saying the blue suited him kind of, I don’t know, validated him.”

Veko’s chest felt tight. Now he felt fucking terrible for not being here before. Maybe Eloise’s father would’ve understood, or at least found it interesting that—

Veko cleared his throat. “So, sometimes,” he began, staring down at his hands. “When I think of things, or names, or... well anything, really. I get these senses.” When he looked up, Eloise was enraptured. “Like, your father, just looking at him, the color blue came to mind. I don’t know why.”

“Just colors?”

Veko shook his head. “Smells, sometimes. Like when I think of you... I, uh, I think of the smell of your paints.”

“That’s... that’s fascinating, Veko,” Eloise said. “Tell me more?”

Veko gestured to the collars. “Well, you’re trying to figure out what color for what goat. As soon as you said Georgina, green came to mind. I don’t know why. And Ren is red, but not because the name and word are close. Uh, sometimes when I picture my supplies in my pack, I see them like they’re all laid out on the table, lined up side-by-side, despite the fact that I know damn well they’re a jumbled mess in my bag. And in my head, the order is always the same. I kinda do the same thing with months. I see them lined up like squares on a wall.” Veko grimaced. Fuck. “No, ‘see’ is the wrong word, cuz I don’t—I’m not hallucinating or anything!”

“I believe you,” Eloise said softly, taking one of Veko’s hands in hers. And she was telling the truth. Veko felt the tension in his body release.

“It’s weird, I know,” he said. “So I don’t normally say anything. When I was younger the trainers thought my head got fucked up by the mutagens but it’s just the way I’ve always been.”

“Does your brother have this too?”

“No,” Veko chuckled. “But he’s been the most receptive to it, even if he doesn’t understand it. Like, his favorite color is green, but when I think of him I think of like an indigo color. And I’m red, but I don’t know why.”

“What about me?” Veko met Eloise’s gaze and held it. The look on her face was one of honest curiosity and interest. She smiled at him and squeezed his fingers. “What do you see when you think of me?”

Veko swallowed. “I see turquoise, like the color your dress was the first time we met. I don’t know if it’s because that’s what you were wearing or what, but when I think ‘Eloise’ I think of that faint turquoise color.”

“Does it work for family names?”

“Sometimes. What is your full name, anyway?”

“Eloise Calold.”

Veko cocked his head to the side. “Yellow,” he said. “Calold is yellow.”

“But not because of anything I’m wearing,” Eloise said, gesturing to the paint-stained brown smock she was currently wearing.

“Guess not.”

“Veko,” Eloise breathed. “That is the most fascinating thing I’ve ever heard of. So you see colors? Or, think in colors? I wish I had that. I wonder how it would affect my art. I wonder how it would affect your art.”

Veko pulled away and put his hands up. “Hey, whoa, who said anything about me being an artist?” he said.

Eloise laughed. “I bet you’re better than you think,” she said.

“I bet not.”

Eloise smirked. “Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll drop the subject if you do something for me.”

“Name it?”

“Let me paint you.”

Veko again was struck silent. She wanted to paint him? Apparently his mouth was hanging open, because Eloise tapped his chin to close it. “Why?” he managed.

“Because,” she replied. “We’re... friends. Or I like to think we are. And in case... in case something happens to you...” she gazed at the painting of her father, smiling down warmly at them, “I want you to be immortalized with him.”

What the fuck could Veko say to that? “Oh. Ok,” he said dumbly. “Uh. How do you want me?”

Eloise jumped up and ran for a blank canvas. “Whatever’s comfortable!” she called. “It takes a while.”

Veko just... sat there as Eloise began setting up. He turned this way and that, never quite settling, before Eloise huffed and dragged an armchair over. Veko abandoned the stool he’d been on and sat back into the warn leather.

“Better,” he said. He turned, scar facing away, and immediately Eloise’s hand reached out to turn him back. Her fingers grazed the puckered mess that was his cheek and he flinched.

“I’m sorry,” Eloise said gently. “I just—I want to see it.”

“Why?” Veko whispered.

“Because it’s a part of you,” Eloise replied. “And gods know I’ve kept you from scratching it enough.”

There was a moment where neither of them said a word. Veko’s heart sped in his chest like it hadn’t in many years. Eloise gazed over his burn scars and gently brushed her fingers over them again. Veko didn’t flinch this time, but just barely. Her fingers were cool against the phantom heat of his burns, and as she traced the expanse of them along his jaw, he couldn’t hold back the full-body shiver the touch elicited.

Eloise pulled back and Veko scrambled to find something to say before she said anything else about them. “So—so how does this work?” he asked. “I, uh, I just sit here?”

Eloise nodded and finally pulled back. “Yes,” she said, not meeting his gaze. Now that he was out of his own head, Veko could hear her heart hammering in her chest. “Just, um, get comfortable, relax, and um, don’t... don’t move, if you can help it.”

Veko grinned. “Ok.” Eloise nodded and began mixing a few paints.

Veko just... watched her. As brush met paint and paint met canvas, he could almost see the cogs turning in her head. Instead of sticking her tongue out, like he’d heard some artists do, she made faces. A stroke here and her mouth pinched to the side; stroke there and her mouth opened in a little ‘o’.

Veko wanted to slip into meditation, as that would be the best way to sit still for her, but he found he just couldn’t. As much as Eloise was watching him for her painting, he wanted to watch her. He couldn’t help but think of the last time they’d seen each other, and what he thought of her then. She wasn’t all that attractive, merely plain by any standards. Her laugh was unladylike and jarring. She intimidated him. She swore. She—

She made him dinner. She let him sleep in her home. She told him stories and listened to his in turn. She wanted his opinions. She found his mental crap fascinating. She worried for him. She cried for him!

She called them friends.

As Veko sat, watching Eloise paint his portrait, a warm weight settled in his gut. He didn’t want to leave in the morning. Hells, he didn’t want her to ever finish this bloody painting. And although emotions aren’t exactly a Witcher’s strong point, he had a sinking suspicion that what he was feeling...

Fuck.

[jonathanvik]

Starlight Dream - Chapter 8

“Yes, suffer more!” A girl hiding behind a pillar said, watching her evil plan coming into motion. Emiyo watched from the sidelines expectantly, curious.

Emiyo waited and waited, but still, nobody screamed or howled in pain. She scanned around the packed food court and saw people going about their usual daily lives, laughing and having fun. Everything seemed normal, making Emiyo furrow her brow in confusion.

“Yes! Their suffering is so perfect!” The girl said again, her fairy partner smirking in satisfaction. The girl was a tiny thing, standing shorter than most pre-teen-aged girls. Her hair was bright pink, cut into a quick bob.

“Am I missing something?” Emiyo intensified her search, but found nothing but an average day at the mall.

“I don’t see anyone dead or unconscious.” Nyx flew around, searching for anything out of the ordinary. “It must be so subtle it’s invisible!”

“What, come on!” An annoyed teenage boy with pimples said behind a counter at a burger place. “I just filled that!”

“Hey, what gives? Where’s the ketchup? I’m in a hurry!” A customer said. “My movie starts in ten minutes!”

The boy winced. “Sorry, sir. I’ll get some right away.”

“Victory!” The girl said, her fist pumping upwards.

“Victory in what, exactly?” Emiyo asked behind the girl, who yelped in surprise.

“Emiyo, uh, hi! You aren’t usually out in the field.” Himari said, wearing a nervous grin on her face.

“Yeah, it’s nice to see you!” Liam, her partner, gave a reassuring smile.

“You never answered my question.”

“You know, magical girl stuff!” Himari said. “Causing all the suffering I can.”

Emiyo gestured to the calm food court, her patience thin. “What suffering?”

“Lots of it! We stole all that store’s condiments.” Liam replied. “Remember how annoyed that man was? He might miss the beginning of his movie! Now that employee needs to refill the condiment stand! What a bother, right?”

Himari gave an emphatic nod. “Right! And that worker got yelled at! No one likes that!”

Emiyo fought the urge to rub her temple, feeling a headache coming on. “This is your idea of suffering? Really?! Suffering is having your body crushed and living in never-ending agony. Suffering is losing everyone you’ve ever loved and having nothing to live for. Suffering is living in a nuclear wasteland!”

“That boy seemed pretty miserable to me,” Himari muttered under her breath.

Himari coughed, regaining her confidence. “I think you’re a little confused. I’m actually playing the long game!”

Despite herself, this piqued Emiyo’s interest. Perhaps she’d misjudged the girl?

“Yeah, nuclear wastelands are great and all, but it’s tacky and too easy.” Himari puffed out her chest. “I’m destroying worlds with a thousand cuts!”

“Sorry, what?”

“It’s simple. I’m causing countless small instances of suffering so they’ll build into something greater and more explosive. People will bottle up their frustration until they burst and cause untold havoc!”

Emiyo’s eye twitched. “This is your brilliant plan, really?”

“Totally evil, right?” The girl and her partner gave an emphatic nod.

In her head, Emiyo’s headache intensified. “No wonder the suffering levels in your universes have only increased by .00000000001 percent.”

“I’m playing the long game.”

“For two hundred years?!”

“The very long game.”

You incompetent little! Emiyo wanted to throttle the girl but kept professional calm. An outburst would be unseemly. “If this is the caliber of sector 8’s magical girls, no wonder the suffering levels haven’t increased much.”

Of sector 8’s magical girls, Himari is one of the few remaining who still lived. Emiyo had found the others dead, killed by the rebel. Why didn’t she save Emiyo the trouble and kill Himari too? It’d be so easy!

“Look, I’m currently assessing the entirety of Sector 8. When I get back, your universes’ suffering better increase by at least twenty percent!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll just accelerate my plans somewhat.” Himari pulled out a small vial, smirking. “I plan to put this into the water supply!”

Hope sparked in Emiyo’s heart. Poisoning water was an excellent way to spread fear and panic!

“It makes the water taste funny. Not horrible, but still unpleasant.” Himari said. “It will force people to buy bottled water instead! What a needless expense, right?”

Emiyo put her face into her hands and screamed.

---

Takako howled in pain as her opponent tossed her onto the padded mat.

“Are you okay?” Seina asked, concerned.

“No, it’s fine.” She said, rubbing her bruised arm. Even without her magical girl powers, Seina hit like a truck. Takako returned to her feet, determined to go again. Her pride refused to leave until she’d scored several points against her rival.

“Darn it.” Takako cursed as her back struck the padded floor once again. “I’m much quicker than you. Yet, you keep beating me!” Somehow, the girl seemed more like a wall than a person, deflecting back everything Takako threw against her.

“That’s because you aren’t sticking with what I’ve been teaching you.” Mr. Kiyojiro said. “You always go for the dirty move rather than the practical one.”

“But it’s totally predictable and lame!” Takako waved a dismissive hand. “Not my style at all.”

Seina smiled. “I suppose, but you always leave yourself wide open. You aren’t working on your defense enough.”

Takako turned away. “Whatever. My genius is too brilliant for you to understand.”

Seina sighed, but a slight smile appeared on her lips. “Okay, Maeko. Fine. Want to go again?”

“Always, best out five?”

Despite her best efforts, Seina still won most exchanges, moving with lighting precision. Yet, Takako didn’t mind it. Instead, it only pushed her to work harder. She hadn’t been this excited in decades. Usually, she found her magical girl duties dull, but she enjoyed the challenge Seina presented. The fighting made her feel alive. It’d be a shame when Seina inevitably died in days ahead, but Takako would enjoy her company until then. They chatted as they walked across town, enjoying the scenery. People were working hard to rebuild, invigorated with a new purpose after the vampire’s fall. Despite herself, their grit and determination impressed Takako.

“Is that the new school?” Aiko looked down towards the skeleton of a building from their vantage point.

Seina flinched. “Yes, Lotus High School.”

“No way! The Prime Minister named a school after you?” Aiko beamed with pride.

“Yeah,” Seina replied, with little enthusiasm. “They wanted to call it Kamiyama High School, but I vetoed that idea. And the statue.”

Aiko rolled her eyes. “Please, you deserve some recognition! You saved the world!”

“I guess.” Seina said, still unhappy. Uncle Kenji is adamant I should attend it once it’s finished. Isn’t that the worst, going to a school named after you?”

“Don’t worry, I'll be by your side if anyone bugs you about it.” Aiko puffed out her chest. “Never thought I’d ever attend high school. I’m so looking forward to it. Do you think it’ll be anything like those mangas Maeko likes?”

“I hope so,” Seina said. “Clubs, romance, lunch on the roof, meeting with friends every day. It sounds nice.”

Takako rolled her eyes. The dullest, most ordinary things always infatuated Aiko and Seina. What next? Wanting to attend cram school too? Even thinking about it gave Takako bad memories.

“How about you, Maeko?” Aiko said. “What are you looking forward to in high school?” The two girls looked at her expectantly.

Shows what you know. I’m too old to care about things like high school! She paused, realizing, despite being several hundred years old, she’d never attended high school. Soon, both Seina and Aiko would have a much higher education level than her. Takako had run away from home long before high school age. Not that she cared, of course. Takako was smart enough without it.

“Eh, seems boring if you ask me,” Takako said, not impressed..

“How can you say that after the vampires basically starved us of any education?” Seina said, irritated. “I had to learn basic reading and math in secret! Uncle Kenji had to risk his life to teach me how to add!”

Takako took a step back, surprised by the usually meek girl’s angry outburst. “Okay, okay. Sorry,”

“I’m sorry too.” Seina said.” I lost my temper. It just frustrates me what basic things the vampires denied us. We were just things to them, not even people!”

“I know what you mean,” Aiko said, nodding. “But the vampires can’t stop us now! Humanity can’t be stopped!”

“Right! Oh, I can’t wait for high school to start!” Seina said dreamily. “Mr. Kiyojiro’s tutoring is great, but I want to learn from a real teacher! Uh, no offense, Mr. Kiyojiro.”

“I’m not offended.” Mr. Kiyojiro said, finally joining the conversation. “Teaching from random textbooks is awkward.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not a great teacher.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. Any chance to learn!” Seina replied, trying to reassure her bodyguard and tutor. “You’re doing an excellent job teaching me Japanese. It’s my favorite subject. And I’m not too shabby at English either.”

“Private tutor, you’re lucky. I just wish I could understand half of my lessons.” Aiko rolled her eyes. “Ms. Inouye still hasn’t created a coherent study plan yet.”

“Hey, the adults are working hard to teach you youngsters.” Mr. Kiyojiro said. “A few kinks in the plan aren’t unexpected. You’ve already lost too many years. How can you become proper adults without the proper education?”

“No argument here.” Aiko said, and Seina nodded.

“Sure, but being a proper adult means getting a job and paying taxes and rent.” Takako said, piping in.

Mr. Kiyojiro coughed into his fist. “Well, yes. But, that’s part of growing up. You can’t stay a child forever.”

“Except, Seina will stay a child forever,” Takako said, pointing out the flaw in the bodyguard’s logic.

“Not in my heart. I can get a job anyway!” Seina said, retorting the point.

“You actually want a job?” Takako asked in disbelief. It sounded like such a needless bother. “You’re a magical girl! There’s nothing stopping you from doing whatever you want.”

“Yes, actually,” Seina replied, puffing out her chest. “I’ll still be an adult, even if I appear ten!”

Colten’s eyes lit in awe. “You’re so responsible, Seina!”

Takako snorted. “Stupid if you ask me.”

“Trust me, Maeko,” Seina said. “Being a magical girl isn’t as appealing as it sounds.”

“Whatever. Well, I better get going.” After all that hard training, Takako wanted to gorge herself on shaved ice and watch some anime.

“Later!” Seina and Aiko waved as she left.

“You’re too comfortable with those two,” Lilha said from an alleyway. “You’d almost think you’d become friends.”

“Friends? Not likely.” Takako was too evil and hardhearted for such nonsense.

“Good,” Lilha replied. “Come. There are matters we need to discuss. It won’t be long until we’re ready.”

“You’re acting already? I’ve barely learned anything. Mr. Kiyojirois still teaching us the basics!”

Lilha raised an eyebrow. “Are we meant to wait years while you play with Seina?”

“We are both immortal.” For someone who was ageless, Lilha certainly was impatient. “Is it that important for you to return to your nightmare world?”

“We are vampires. We rule.”

“Okay, but why ban schools? Why make children work 70-hour weeks?” Takako couldn’t resist asking these questions any further.

“The humans needed to know their place. My husband was always adamant about grinding them down as much as possible.”

“Why? Aren’t these policies more likely to cause humanity’s extinction?”

“It wouldn’t get that far. We’d keep them alive. They are our pets.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Why?”

“You’re a magical girl. It’s your job to make people suffer.” Lilha gave her a pointed look, making Takako hesitate. It was true. Why was she caring about this?

“Well?”

“Have you lost your nerve? Don’t you hate Siena as deeply as I do? I’ve seen how she humiliates you. Are you happy always being her inferior?”

Takako stood straighter. “I’m the strongest. Always will be. We will kill Seina.”

“Good. I see no further use in having you train with Seina. You’ve learned enough. I fear you’re getting too cozy with her. It’s time we enact our plan.” Lilha shone with excitement. “By tomorrow, Seina Kamiyama will be dead!”

Takako nodded, realizing her doubts were foolish. This was what they’d agreed upon. She glanced back, watching Seina talking and laughing with her friends without a care in the world. It left a strange bitterness in Takako’s heart. But no, for the sake of the magical girls and Starlight Dream, Seina’s death was necessary. After giving the girl a final look, Takako focused on the task at hand. No more useless doubts or distractions.

---

“A day out? Sounds great!” Seina said. Mr. Kiyojiro had given them the day off, and they were debating how to best spend it.

Aiko beamed. “I know this cute little place that’s becoming really popular. It’s super trendy!”

“Clothes shopping?” Colten sighed from his perch on Seina’s head. “Okay.”

Seina patted her fairy friend on the head. “It won’t be long, then we’ll get some ice cream.”

Colten perked up. “Really?”

Aiko snorted in amusement. “You spoil him too much. Yes, I promise it’ll be quick. I haven’t forgotten you, Colten. I have some activities planned for you too. There’s this street performer I heard about that might interest you. He does Kamishibai.”

Colten’s eyes lit in excitement. It also piqued Seina’s interest. Since DVD players and working TVs were still rare, the art form had reemerged on Osaka’s streets to entertain people. Though because of her training, she hadn’t caught one yet. The art form used still pictures accompanied by the performer, who narrates the story. Her fairy partner bounced on her head, unable to contain his excitement, making Seina giggle.

“Kamishibai?” Maeko said, showing genuine interest. “I haven’t seen one of those in forever.” Mr. Kiyojiro nodded in agreement, also genuinely interested.

Seina blinked. “Really? How?” The vampires were strict about punishing anyone who dared defy their edicts. Even singing could get you killed. Maeko’s past was so bizarre. Did her taskmaster even do his job?

Maeko coughed into her fist. “When I was really young. You know, before the vampires.”

Seina nodded, embarrassed by her misunderstanding. Unfortunately, most of her memories before the darkness were scarce and blurry. Worse, they consisted of people she’d rather not consider. Their presence tainted her childhood worse than anything the vampires had done. It sent blazing furious hatred through her and almost brought tears to her eyes. Why had her parents’ betrayal hurt her so much? Despite trying to forget them, thoughts of them returned at random moments, hurting her all over again. Sensing his partner’s distress, Colten rubbed her back, calming her.

“Are you okay?” Maeko said, worried by Seina’s sudden change in mood.

“It’s fine.” Her parents didn’t matter anymore. Besides, she had a new family and they wouldn’t hurt her as they had.

“There’s this ramen stand that recently opened up. I’d like to try. Would you mind having lunch there?” Mr. Kiyojiro said.

“Sounds great. Is there anywhere else you’d like to go?” Seina felt guilty for dragging her bodyguard around town without his input. Was he as bored by girls shopping as Colten was? But Mr. Kiyojiro only waved his hand, indicating his wishes didn’t matter. After some consideration, Seina decided she’d at least allow him to pick where they’d eat supper too.

“I have a suggestion.” Maeko had been quiet throughout the entire conversation, drawing everyone’s attention. “Before going anywhere else, there’s this manga shop nearby I’d like to try. I heard it sells brand new manga. I’m curious if the rumors are true.”

“Sounds fun.” Aiko replied. “It will give Colten something to read while he’s waiting!”

Brand new manga? That sounded interesting. It brought a smile to Seina’s heart. Little by little, humanity was reclaiming their lives. The vampire’s reign was becoming a distant memory.

“Is this the right place?” Aiko glanced around, eying their surroundings with curiosity. They’d entered a part of Osaka that still remained mostly abandoned. The streets were empty, but Seina couldn’t help but feel she was being watched. Yet, when she looked, she spotted no one around. Odd.

“Just down this alley, and we’ll be there,” Maeko said, pointing towards a colorful sign that showed the shop’s name, Shinobu Manga Emporium. Seina peeked down the alley and saw an open door, seeing shelves of colorful manga ready for purchase.

A sense of wrongness overcame Seina, and she stopped her step. The feeling of being watched intensified, but she still couldn’t locate its source. Aiko picked on her anxiety.

“Is something the matter?” Aiko glaced around, a worried expression on her face.

Maeko snorted. “Nothing’s the matter. It’s just a manga shop.”

She gave her bodyguard a meaningful look, and he nodded in agreement. He’d also sensed the prevailing wrongness. “How about we go somewhere else? This place seems kinda sketchy.” Before Maeko could offer a retort, Seina jumped aside as a humongous axe flew towards where her head had been a moment earlier. It flew past and crashed into a nearby building leveling it with a resounding crash.

A large vampire emerged from literally nowhere, brandishing an axe almost larger than his body. “You got lucky. Next time I won't miss.” Several more muscular vampires emerged, surrounding them. Aiko screamed in terror and hid behind Seina.

Maeko rubbed her temple. “Jentin, you idiot! Your eagerness alerted her to the trap. Never mind. We do this the hard way instead!” Much to Seina’s shock, her friend pulled out a brooch similar to hers. “Change Change, Magical Love Genocide Dress Up!”

What the heck was happening? The veil of illusion disappeared, revealing a face she hadn’t expected. “Takako?”

The dark magical girl smirked. “Is it that shocking? Now be a good girl and die.” She pointed her black pistol point-blank towards Seina’s midsection and fired