#because he held the power to do this because he simply claimed ownership over a young girl as her father

[wheekingpig]

the fnv brotherhood of steel being such an intense parallel to being stuck with an abusive conservative family explored largely through a lesbian character whose constantly making excuses for them gighhrggurughh

[absolutebl]

Hey I have a question, for your dean and pharm post you said they’re “a touch sex negative” what does that mean?

Oh, thank you for the question. I love questions! 

Sex negativity as part of the seme/uke dynamic 

Dean and Pharm have an absolutely classic seme/uke pairing. 

Dean is older, physically stronger, richer, sterner, and taller. He is also strict, taciturn, and severe. He is the active pursuer social coded masculine. 

Pharm is the opposite, younger, sweeter, gentler, kinder, and more loving. He is the passive pursued, social coded feminine. 

This is, at it’s route, an extreme power differential on every level: age, appearance, economic position, etc... 

Why say this up front? 

Because for all the delights of the seme/uke dynamic and the way it encourages a paternal obligation of care (seme wants to look after the uke as an expression of love) is ALSO encourages a certain amount of sex negativity, here’s how: 

Yaoi Source Code 

BL still draws on yaoi mostly through an over emphasis on seme/uke (especially Thailand) but many of the tropes and visuals that I love so much in BL and blog about all the time are actually sourced in that dynamic (like care and feeding, boyfriend claiming - that’s ownership obvs). 

So how does this relate to sex?

In a lot of original yaoi manga, the seme gets so overcome by his feelings for the uke and is so bad at admitting to them (or coping with how they change his sexual identity) that he lashes out at the source, the uke. 

This can take the form of physical fights (especially in an enemies to lovers trope with a tough or tsundere uke – see Pete and Kao in Kiss Me Again). Or it can take the form stalker behavior, obsession, kidnapping, jealous rages, and rape (or start as rape until the uke submits - sigh). Chinese shows like Addicted, or some of the early Taiwanese and Japanese stuff often portray these graphically on screen. 

This results is an unsafe kink component to most uke/semi sexual interactions, where the uke will be physically held down and taken by the seme (even a sweetheart seme like Ae in Love By Chance), because the uke character is EXPECTED TO RESIST. He is expected to not want sex, because for him sex is coupled to submission: giving in or “giving it up.” 

His participation is assumed as unwilling - sex will hurt him and diminish him. 

Something is being taken away from the uke - if not his will then some component of his masculinity and autonomy because (to put it bluntly) as the one penetrated he is lesser - through the lens of the narrative. 

This is a VERY heterosexual mindset, not to mention ignorant of the realities of gay sexual activity. It has to do with the prevailing BL inclination to heterosexual dysmorphia (only being able to conceive of gay relationships through the lens of het), i.e. one party must “be the girl” or in the case of Thailand “the wife”. 

 There is also a counter assumption that if the uke doesn’t want sex with the seme, as a male, he should just defend himself physically. 

We aren’t going to talk about TharnType, okay, I just... can’t with those characters. 

So, back to my babies: 

How Does this Apply To My Beloved Dean & Pharm? 

The kinder, gentler, and smaller the uke character, the more the onus is on the seme to “be the gentleman in the relationship.” However, this simultaneously justifies the moment when our seme can’t stand it anymore and has to have the uke - because the uke is simply too cute. 

But if the uke shows an active interest in sex, he is rendered impure or dirty by this interest. He will be thought of as a flirt, or as having no morals, the seme may threaten to “punish” him (because having sex is a punishment for the uke). 

The uke is supposed to protest but also his protestations are his only form of flirtation or encouragement (which is a real old romance trope AKA no means yes) and I hope you can see how damaging it is? 

Honestly our poor uke characters can’t catch a break, can they? 

The seme eventually will no longer be able to take no for an answer because his needs are too great and because he is in charge, his needs are paramount. There is a looming future where he will not be able to control himself because he is a “real man” easily overcome by lust and if he can’t resist, in the end, it’s not his fault, the uke was just... too cute. (A show like Addicted goes there, most Thai BL merely threatens to go there.) 

You end up in Dean and Pharm’s situation where Pharm is acting the part of the blushing uke maiden, “I couldn’t possibly” while Dean is forced into a seme roll and that looks like this: 

Seme gets easily overwhelmed by his lust for uke, especially when battling high emotions. (That scene in Pharm’s kitchen where Dean grabs his ass.) 

The seme makes the choice  to have sex for the uke, because that way the uke is not at fault and is still innocent of desire.

The seme must read the uke’s mind and know what the uke really wants.

Sex of any kind diminishes both parties (and cheapens the purity of the romantic love) but particularly the one submitting, so the uke can’t possibly bear the responsibility of wanting sex, so the decision must be made by the seme for both of them. 

Which is what Dean does. 

And that is what I mean by sex negativity. 

Now In, Pharm’s previous self, somehow had none of these issues (one of the reasons In had to die). If Until We Meet Again’s narrative had given Pharm one iota of In’s gumption, it could have avoided all my complaints. If Pharm was shown investigating safe sex, or buying lube/condoms for example. Or if he had simply not winced so much when Dean touched him. I think, as a character, they could have gone there with Pharm, but as an uke archetype I suspect that they felt that they could not. 

Pharm had to be a perfect uke, and a perfect uke doesn’t want sex. 

This absolutely does not stop Until We Meet Again from being my favorite BL of all time. This is really my only complaint with this show, and I actually consider it a minor one for BL. 

More on the blushing maiden trope. 

(source) 

[tanadrin]

Notes on some Rare Economic Systems (That Do Not Work)

1.

A little more than two hundred years ago, the state of Kezaria was rapidly changing, but straining against a patchwork of antiquated laws supported by a corrupt government. The Kezarian parliament was filled with representatives of rotten boroughs, its aristocracy refused to endorse any kind of political reform, and its population was moving from the countryside to the cities as enclosures on the one hand and the growth of the urban economy on the other conspired to convert the country from an agrarian economy to an industrial one. Eventually, protests broke out which threatened to become a real revolution. Terrified of the consequences of such a revolution, the State Council of Kezaria forced through a series of reforms that included, among its provisions, a regular cash disbursement for the relief of the poor. As all this happened before Speenhamland, a prejudice against such a program had not yet been established in Kezaria, and the State Council was desperate for anything that would keep the government from being overthrown.

Incidentally, it worked, and though initially considered a minor provision, direct poverty relief became a cornerstone of Kezarian government. As the country moved further in a socialist direction–now through gradual reform aided by democracy, rather than revolution or the threat of revolution–this provision was expanded, and eventually enshrined in the Kezarian constitution. But some thinkers still considered the economic system fundamentally unjust; redistribution, they said, was not enough. It was still possible that wealth should be unequally amassed, that the resources of each citizen should be too different in magnitude, and therefore some would have unelected power over their fellows; and a state that was a democracy worthy of the name should make all its citizens equal in matters of money as well as law. And so in due course, all income *outside of* the Kezarian basic income was banned.

This is the Kezarian system as it stands today: each month, an account in every citizen’s name is reset to 2,000 Kezarian lions–although the lion no longer functions as a true currency, the name is retained for the sake of historical continuity. The lion may be spent, but not accumulated: an excess of lions, as well as a dearth, is wiped out at the end of each calendar month. As accounts may be held only by natural persons, no business has a single swan (the Kezarian cent) to its name, except what its managers and executives might pool of their common monthly resources. Transaction taxes are very high–as much as 20 or 30 percent of any purchase–in order to keep the lion in circulation, but nobody much minds, as they are not really losing any money in the long run.

The inconvertibility of the lion means that, naturally, tourism is nearly nonexistent in Kezaria, and all imports must be purchased by the state and imported using its foreign currency reserves. But the Kezarians seem content with their system, for they can look around at their neighbors and friends and politicians–all the people who *really* matter, after all–and be confident that no one is doing much better, or much worse, than them.

2.

Miskando is perhaps unique in the world for being a modern, industrialized, and prosperous gift economy.

Miskando has few laws, not because its people are of an especially libertarian bent, but because informal rules in Miskandese culture to an unusual degree. Whereas the British have no need of a written constitution, because convention governs their parliament so strictly, the Miskandese have little need of written laws, because contravening the rules of polite society is unthinkable. Such behavior puts one in the same category as a child, imbecile, or foreigner; and if you truly do not know how to behave in a given situation, well, Miskandese bookshops do a brisk trade in manuals of etiquette, and the most popular section of the newspapers is invariably the one given over entirely to advice columns.

The commercial storefront in Miskando is in fact an evolution of the private home; as such, there isn’t a strict distinction between “house” and “shop,” and one observes the niceties of calling on a friend or acquaintance when one enters a shop, even if the proprietor is totally unknown to them. If you need something–a new hat, perhaps, or a week’s worth of groceries–the custom is that you wander into a shop and look about for a little while. The shopkeeper or the clerk will ask you if they can help; you must refuse at least once. When they insist (as they invariably will), you will begrudingly admit that there are one or two things you might want, and after a little back-and-forth and some polite chit-chat about the weather, you will gather the items on your list, enquire after your interlocutor’s health and the health of their children, and then depart.

The provision of services, even complex ongoing services, is furnished in much the same way. A bilateral relationship must be carefully cultivated between members of two different firms; as a rule, favors are exchanged, rather than contracts being made, and are never quite repaid fully: to do so would be to formally disobligate someone, and thus to end your relationship with them. This is seen as a terrible snub when it occurs between individuals, and when it occurs between businesses is usually due to one party incurring the other’s greatest displeasure

.Outsiders attempting to do business in Miskando have generally found the process bewildering, even those from politeness-heavy societies. The Miskandese, for their part, have adapted fairly well to commerce with other nations; after all, if they have need of hard currency, they usually have a friend who owes them a favor that they can ask.

3.

In Gharat, all money is in the form of immense bronze pillars.

Long ago, it is said, the people of Gharat exchanged certain standardized, useful goods, like knives or wool cloth, whose value was widely agreed upon. These eventually gave way to the ancient Gharat knife-currency, a chunk of bronze of a fixed weight whose resemblance to the older medium of exchange was only passing. The real value was in the metal itself; and because of its weight, large amounts of these heavy pieces were often bound together to prevent theft.

One day, a thoughtful merchant had the bright idea of simply melting all his bronze into one enormous mass, which he could simply leave outside his house–after all, it was impossible to steal. Many others began to follow suit, and some began to craft the displays of their wealth into more elaborate shapes, and eventually, the tradition of the bronze pillar currency was enshrined. It didn’t matter that it couldn’t be transported; after all, the metal wasn’t *used* for anything anymore–the Gharati had by this time moved on to iron tools. And (so the Gharati held) assiduous recordkeeping meant that it was always widely known who owned what pillar, even if the pillar in question happened to be three provinces over.

The centralization of the Gharati nation in the 18th and 19th century and the codification of Gharati customary law necessitated the establishment of a centralized record of ownership of the pillars; and it was eventually discovered, to the horror of the nation’s leaders, that the records of ownership were, in fact, a contradictory mess. They *could*, perhaps, be sorted out, and the spurious claims distinguished from the genuine ones, but to do so would be to devastate the wealth of the nation: multiple ownership of the same pillars more than quintupled the country’s GDP, with some particularly contested pillars being owned by as many as fifty people. Perhaps they could keep the situation a secret; but if word ever got out, they feared, there would be chaos and riots as a result.

The solution came from Gharati religious law, which had always been rather more concerned with metaphysical matters over practical ones. One object, the scriptures said, might really be two, depending on how you look at it; so the Gharati lawmakers simply proclaimed all claims of ownership that had existed on a certain date, a few years previous, to be valid; and any *appearance* that one pillar might be owned by more than one person was, in fact, an illusion of the material world. Really, these were multiple pillars that happened to be superimposed on one another. They might *literally* be made of the same particles of metal, but they were *conceptually* distinct. There was some grumbling when this was announced–but no one wanted to risk losing the lion’s share of their net worth overnight, so it was quickly accepted.

Yet despite proposals, the Gharati have never made the shift entirely to a pillar-backed paper currency, or to a fiat currency entirely. After all, they say, money ought to be something *real.* A bronze pillar has mass and heft; and thus, it is possible to imagine, it had real value. To abolish the system entirely would simply turn the idea of money into a farce.

4.

Clasimarion is, its inhabitants say, the most perfect place of liberty to have ever existed–even if they are all slaves.

The island of Usvasaari was settled by Tiravec peoples from the south, who founded the city; Clasimarion was a prosperous trade republic in its middle years, but declined as the mercantile empires around it grew, and its once-vaunted navy was unable to secure its trading rights by force. When the Third Bull Government was overthrown, a new order was proclaimed. The constitution consisted of a single line: “The forceful interference with an individual or their property may be met with force.” The state was abolished; henceforth the Clasmain common law of property was supreme.

Despite the cynicism of foreign observes, Clasimarion did *not* immediately collapse into anarchy. No warlord rose to power, no neighboring state invaded, and, for a little while, life continued much as it had before, without the burden of taxes or unnecessary bureaucracy. The former merchant-lords of the city managed their holdings without outside interference now, and any petty squabbles that might result in violence between their private mercenary corps did not interfere with life in the rest of the city.

This state lasted about thirty years. One day, a certain Orsil San, the last of an old Clasmain family now living abroad, discovered that according to ancient Clasmain law, his quintuple-great-grandmother had at one time owned all of the northern peninsula of Usvasaari, the very land on which Clasimarion was built. What had been thought freehold title, converted to allodial title at the time of the revolution, was in fact only on an indefinite lease to the government; and, the deed said, should the institutions of that government be dissolved, “all land, chattels, movable and immovable goods, and any other right of property within that domain, not held by persons outside it, shall revert to the San family."

This meant that all Clasimarion was the property of one man. And worse: because Clasmain common law had never abolished the condition of slavery (though it had been centuries since it had been practiced), and that slaves could not own property, all of the *inhabitants* of Clasimarion were his property as well, to dispose of, with absolute rights, as he wished.

And Orsil San did wish. He sold the deed to an overseas company, a fortune-cookie company called Voystaykan & Son, and retired to a dissolute life that ended when he fell off his yacht and drowned. Voystaykan sent a delegation to Clasimarion, contracts in hand, and all of the most eminent jurists of the city agreed with doleful solemnity: Orsil San had the right, and the contracts were valid. To rebel, to attempt to rescind the contract, to appoint a parliament or king to change the law, would be an intolerable violation of the constitution, an affront to the most deeply held principles of liberty. The entire city submitted without a fight, and became the property of the newly-rebranded Voystaykan Company.

The Company is not cruel. It knows that morale is important to get the most out of its property. The people labor by day, singing their work-songs and shanties, and they retire in the evening to adequate meals within their barracks. They have their games and celebrations. Life in Clasimarion is well-ordered, and peaceful. But the will of the city’s managers is an iron law. The CEO of the Company, like a distant god. The company’s property may supplicate before it; they may beg and plead and weep, but the law of that country is clear: they are objects of another’s rights, not agents of their own. They may hope, and they may dream; but their labor does not cease, and their fate is not their own to determine. And they may gaze out over the cold waters that surround Usvasaari, but they cannot leave. For what would they be then, but thieves stealing themselves away? To do so would mean that they despise that most important right of all, the right to property. It would mean that they hate justice and law and liberty above all. And whatever else it may be, Clasimarion is free.

[familiar-finn]

Lost It All || Self Para

“This is a mistake...” Finn protested, forced back as a couple of guards entered Ben’s suite. 

His master gave him the news weeks ago that he’d be returning to America to run his clan and invited the familiar to join him. Ever since he’d woken up in a cell here over three years ago, Finn dreamed of the day he’d be able to leave this godforsaken castle. But Ben’s offer didn’t provoke an easy response. 

As much as he wanted to get out of here and do his best to return to the life he once had, there were other factors he needed to consider. Charlie, for one, still under the Italian councilman’s ownership and he wanted to keep an eye on his kid. And now the return of his witch from the dead and enslaved in the castle... he’d lost Faust once before, he couldn’t leave his side again. He knew this place, knew what it was capable of, and the thought of his loved ones still stuck here left his stomach in a nauseating knot. 

So he asked Ben for a little more time in Krovs. He had some things to wrap up here and he couldn’t afford to leave just yet. Thankfully Faust had recently been claimed and moved out of the Undercroft even if it was by Gareth’s hand, no doubt in an attempt to piss Finn off. Which it did. He had faith Faust could handle a young vampire like Gareth though. Either way, it was one step closer to getting both of them out of this place. 

He needed at least a few more months before he could meet his master in his home, hopefully with his witch’s freedom from the castle. Surprisingly, Ben allowed it and drew up the paperwork for a temporary guardianship deal to a master of his choosing while Finn stayed in the castle. The demon had no interest in working for the people who had enslaved him nor did he want to move full time into the village and lose access to Faust. With agreement all around, the papers were submitted for Raiden Proulx to be Finn’s owner until he left to meet Ben again. The choice in guardian was obvious for Finn; Raiden was now the oldest councilman after Ben, strong and powerful as fuck, and didn’t seem to give a shit what Finn did so long as Raiden got his dick wet when needed. The demon grew accustomed to his master’s laissez-faire ways after two years together and the tribrid seemed the type to give the same freedoms. 

Except...

“There’s no mistake,” the guard in charge replied, “We’ll be escorting you back down to the Undercroft now that Master Redfield has left.” 

“But I haven’t been unclaimed,” the familiar argued, raising his voice in frustration, “My master submitted paperwork to transfer his ownership to Raiden. They’ve both signed––” 

“We haven’t received any word of that,” the guard said simply, “Master Proulx can take that up with our chief of staff. Until then, you can either make this easy for yourself and come with us willingly, or...” The guard on his right reached for his well stocked belt of gear and the one on his left held up the standard collar meant for unclaimed slaves. “We can do this the hard way.” 

Finn knew it wasn’t a joke. Or a lie. The guard’s heartbeat held steady at his claim and panic surged within him. This choice for him was easy, even if his common sense knew he’d probably regret it in the end. Worth a shot anyway because no way in hell was he going back down to the Undercroft. Not without a fucking fight. Maybe he should have taken Ben up on his offer when he left... 

In one quick movement, Finn thrust his fist forward, directing a gust of wind powerful enough to knock all three guards out the door and against the wall with echoing grunts. He raced full speed ahead out of the suite and down the hall while the one guard yelled into his walkie talkie for backup, among other things. Finn skidded to a halt as guards came running towards him, quickly assessing the situation while they blocked his path. Two wolves by the smell of them and with every fiber of his being refusing to be enslaved again, he kept running and knocked them out of his way like bowling pins. 

Maybe he could catch up with Ben, retain the freedom his master had given him, and find his way back to Krovs to keep an eye on Faust and Charlie another way. He’d figure it out later once he succeeded with part one of his impromptu escape plan. 

The castle entrance soon was in his sights and he picked up the pace, wanting to get as far away from this hellhole as he could while he still had somewhat of a chance at that. His heart thundered in his ears as he sprinted towards the large double doors, ready to blow right through them.

“Oof!” Finn collided hard enough with an invisible force to send him flying back on his ass as opposed to the graceful breeze he’d prepared himself for. “What the fuck––” The hot jolt he received upon contact left him stunned and by the time he gathered his bearings, the guards caught up to him and dragged him to his feet. His gaze settled on the door to see what the hell hit him and his eyes widened at the line of salt freshly drawn over the entrance. 

No. 

He squirmed and writhed in the guards grasps, three of them trying their best to restrain the thrashing and yelling demon while another removed Ben’s collar from him. By the time Finn managed to free his hand to cut through the line of salt with a blast of air, the guard sealed a generic collar around his neck and promptly severed his connection to his magic and strength. Panic surged through Finn as the harsh reality of his predicament settled in and he sucked in a breath before screaming at the top of his lungs for someone, anyone to listen to him. 

“No! You don’t understand! This isn’t–– Get the fuck off me! I don’t belong down there, please!” 

Already a crowd had gathered at the commotion in the castle lobby, everyone watching as Finn was dragged off to the Undercroft. Some faces he recognized – one in particular a staff member he enjoyed tormenting from time to time who shot him a Cheshire cat grin on his way down this stairs, though he didn’t think much of it. Surely there’d be plenty of folks around here who’d be pleased to see him down here again. His human strength wasn’t enough to get the guards to release their firm grip on him before tossing him in a cell. 

“I’m sure you know the rules at this point. Might want to behave or shit’s gonna be much worse for you,” the one guard warned. Like Finn hadn’t been in this castle long enough to know that already.

Finn didn’t want to hear it. With all the adrenaline pumping through him, he still had enough strength to flip and kick the cot in his cell against the cell bars with an echoing clang! as the door locked shut on him. He cried out in frustration and lunged forward, grasping and shaking the metal bars as he yelled after the retreating guards. “This is a fuckin’ mistake! I’ve gained my freedom! I don’t belong down here! Let me out!” 

No one paid him any mind as he ranted and raved. Eventually he quieted down as the anxiety settled heavy in his gut. He sure as fuck hoped that Raiden would look into the issue, that he’d find wherever the paperwork went and this would all be resolved. Finn knew full well that he’d made some enemies here in Krovs and that he’d flaunted Ben’s protection keeping him from harm. With that gone and his powers locked away from the collar, he had no idea what his future in Krovs with people like Gareth and Nik lurking around and more than likely to take advantage of the situation. 

Finn clutched at his heaving chest, breathing deep while he settled back against the cell wall and slid down to the floor. He had it. His freedom had been in his grasp mere moments ago. And now? Two years of work, hope, and patience gone. In only a few minutes, he’d lost it all and ended right back up at square one to start all over again. 

[nobodyfamousposts]

I am in love with adrien's lament. Love the Akuma vipermouse so much! Could you explain how they went evil? Or what it would look like of they were 'saved' by the heroes?

Um...angst times ahead?

________________________

Luka froze. “What?”

“The Miraculous in question is that of the Butterfly.” Sass repeated, slowly. He didn’t appear the slightest bit annoyed or frustrated at his chosen’s confusion. He merely was cautious. Curious even.

There was a look in the young man’s eyes. His expression...

He was worried.

“This...this Butterfly Miraculous...what does it look like?”

Sass frowned, uncertain. “It appears in the form of a brooch or pin. It normally looks like an amethyst with extensions in the form of what could be perceived as wings. It can alter it’s appearance if not in use, appearing to be little more than the stone itself when in its untransformed state.”

The boy...his eyes widened in recognition. And fear.

“Luka?”

“And you’re saying it’s being used?” He demanded, insistently.

Sass nodded. “Yes. I cannot say its power has been put to use or to what extent, we have been able to sense Nooroo’s activation. Someone has claimed ownership of the Miraculous with intent to use it. Though to what purpose, I am afraid we cannot know.”

Luka stared at Sass, his fear even more evident. The kwami frowned. This...this wasn’t normal. This wasn’t fear of facing an enemy or being chosen. This boy...

“Luka, do you perhaps know something?” He asked, warily. Fu was cautious in his choices, especially now that the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous were missing. But he had not completed his Guardian training. And he was human. it was fully possible for the man to have made an error in judgement. But to accidentally entrust him to to an ally of the Butterfly User?

No. The boy was afraid. And it was clear he hadn’t known what was going on. But...if he did know the User and decided to aid them?

Sass watched carefully as Luka took a breath.

“It...it has to be her.”

Sass blinked in surprise. “Her?”

“My sister. Jules. Our mom...she found these things and has been in the hospital ever since. But she left them to us.” Luka shook his head, clearly startled. “But she wouldn’t! She knows better!”

“Luka...”

“Please!” The boy exclaimed, nearly begging. “Just...just let me talk to her! She hasn't done anything yet. She doesn’t know! I can...I can talk to her. Maybe we can work this out. Just...please.”

It did not seem wise to confront the Butterfly User directly. Not before coming into his strength or even meeting his intended partner for this task. And there was a part of the kwami that told him he should have them go to Fu immediately and talk to him first.

But...

The boy was desperate. And he was sincere in his desire for peace.

Sass couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

“Very well.”

He would regret that decision for some time to come.

________________________

He hadn’t wanted to believe it. Some part of his mind was still desperately insisting it wasn’t true.

Even when he remembered the jewelry his Mother had found.

Even when Sass described the Miraculous in question.

Even when he checked his lockbox—known only to himself and his sister, and hidden specifically from his father’s prying eyes—only to find it empty.

He knew.

He just hoped it wasn’t true.

That hope wasn’t simply dashed, but brutally snuffed out when he stormed into where he knew his sister was hiding, and found her there with the Miraculous in its full glory pinned to her chest, big and bright. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought it to be a decorative bow.

“Jules...no...”

She was in a form he had never seen before. Her hair was pulled back and colored a dark purple at the tips. She wore a full dress, shorter in the front but reaching to her ankles in the back. Black lace accenting the outfit’s shoulders and covering her own hands. She gasped at him in horror, a light lavender butterfly half-mask covering her left eye.

“Luka!”

“What are you doing?” He asked her. “You know what that thing did to Mom!”

“It was only the Peacock one responsible!” She explained, hurriedly. “And that’s just because it’s damaged. This one isn’t. It’s fine. And I’m fine, see?” She smiled in a way that was clearly forced, and Luka wasn’t buying it.

“Broken or not, you know those things shouldn’t be used. So why?”

She clenched her fists at that, actually making Luka draw back. He’d never seen her look that angry.

“Jules?”

“I’ve been talking to Nooroo. Trying to find a way to fix things.”

That...that was okay, he reasoned. Nothing wrong with talking to the kwami and learning things, right?

“Did you know?” She bit out harshly. “That there are two Miraculous that when used together can grant a Wish? Any Wish?”

That got his attention. And only made his fear grow.

“You’re not...” He took a breath, nervously. “Jules, you’re not saying you’re thinking of—”

“I’m saying that someone else already has!” She shouted, rage and hurt pouring off her in waves just as the tears started to fall. “Someone made that Wish and OUR Mom paid the price for it! That’s why...! THAT’S why...!”

Luka’s eyes widened in horror. “No.”

That...that couldn’t be true, could it? He wanted to ask Sass and find out for himself, but—

“THAT’S why Mom’s hurt! THAT’S why we’re here! THAT’S why we’re with HIM! THAT’S why I can’t...why I’m going to have to...” She sobbed out. “It’s...it’s THIER fault!”

If what she was saying was true...

How cruel could someone be to inflict this on them?

But...how bad must it have been for that person to drive them to?

“That’s why...I’M going to find them this time!” She swore.

That made his blood freeze.

“I’ll find them! I’m going to find the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous and make the Wish to make things RIGHT this time!”

“Jules, no!” He insisted, stepping closer to her. “There are other ways!”

“What other ways?!” She demanded heatedly. “Mom’s in a coma! Even if she wakes up, she’s not going to be able to take care of us! No court would let her!”

He held up his hands, reassuringly. “I’ve told you, I can get emancipated! And then I’ll get you and—”

“And what are the chances of THAT?!” She shouted, tears only increasing. “How are you going to support yourself? You know he isn’t going to help! What can you actually do to convince the courts to let you live alone and adopt me when he can just as easily bribe people to claim the opposite? And you KNOW he can just pull the plug on Mom at any time!”

“Jules...”

“It’s not FAIR!” She sobbed into her hands. “I don’t know him! I don’t love him! I’ve never met him! And...and he doesn’t even care about me anyway! So why do I have to...”

He took another step towards her and reached forward. “I know. I’m sorry, I know. But this...Jules, this isn’t the way.” Closer now, he took hold of her shoulders in a desperate attempt to comfort her. “Please...just...just take it off. We can talk! We can...try to come up with something else—”

“THERE IS NOTHING ELSE!” She screamed, pushing him away.

The effect of this was two-fold. Not only was he sent to the floor, but the action dislodged Sass, who fell as well.

In full sight of Juleka, who stared at him in shock and growing horror. Her gaze snapped from Sass to Luka and down to the Miraculous on Luka’s wrist.

Immediately, he realized what conclusion she had come to.

“Jules! It’s not what you think!”

“You...you were going to fight me?”

“No! I would never want to fight you! I was just—” What WAS he expecting to do? Talk things out and hope she agreed? The look in her eyes was wild and desperate. He knew she had been suffering, but this latest incident had pushed her over the edge and he KNEW that.

He slowly rose to his feet, hands held out in a peaceful gesture. Sass only looked up at him worriedly. Not that Luka blamed him, because he was terrified at this point himself.

“I just wanted to talk things out! We can solve this! I know we can! No magic. No Miraculous. Just...just you and me. Please!”

She glared up at him at that, furious. “Easy for YOU to say! You’re not the one being forced into a marriage you don’t want! YOU’RE not the one he insults every day! You just follow after him and nod your head and do whatever he tells you!”

“It’s hard on me, too!” Luka insisted, hurt and frustrated. Did she really think he LIKED being forced to be around that man? To have to obey his orders and follow his instructions? To be under constant watch and have EVERYTHING he did critiqued? To be forced to hold up that wall between himself and anyone else?

He hated it.

He hated it!

“At least YOU’RE useful to him!” She shouted. “At least he CARES about you! I’m just...I’m just a tool!”

He didn’t want to.

“Juleka!”

He would forever swear he didn’t want to.

“And you...you’re just like him!”

But he heard those words and his world turned red.

“SASS, SCALES SLITHER!”

He wasn’t anything like that man.

He wasn’t!

Every dark memory flooded his mind. Of the tension of his father’s presence. Every harsh word. Every time he had to see his mother and sister cry. The few instances he got to actually visit his mother in the hospital. The way he was forced to be silent and see his sister broken down. How he was pushed to acts he despised and loathed himself for in their cruelty for that man’s satisfaction. The sole moments of peace he was able to obtain being with his sister and Marinette...

And how he had to make both of them cry.

He hated all of it!

She hated it more.

He wasn’t thinking.

Neither was she.

He just wanted to keep her safe!

She just wanted a chance to save herself.

He charged forward to try and grab the Miraculous.

She defended herself with power she didn’t fully understand how to use.

A butterfly flapped its wings and just as swiftly submerged into his Miraculous.

And suddenly

And suddenly...

Everything ceased to matter.

She had fallen too deep.

[project-rebirth]

Multi-Universe Holy Grail War

Overview

The Holy Grail Wars is a Multi-Universal competition that decides the ownership of the artifact known as the Holy Grail through intense battle royale. While there have been many conflicts over supposed Holy Grails in the past, this term refers to those specifically based around Contractors, usually proficient magicians or magic users, summoning the Contracted, Legendary Spirits brought forth as familiars, and meeting in battle until only one pair is left to claim the Holy Grail.

The Multi-Universe Holy Grail War was designed by three magic families; the Einsworth, the Yukari, and the Knightwalker bloodlines, all as a means to reach the Centre of all existence.  it is currently thought to be only a competition for something recognized as a possible Holy Grail. Nine Magicians are chosen by the Grail as Contractors and, with support from the Grail, allowed to summon Nine Legendary Spirits to do battle. The winning pair is supposed to be able to claim the Holy Grail and utilize it to grant a wish for each of them. Its true purpose is to actually utilize the Nine Spirits returning to the Centre of Existence as a way to form a hole directly to it.

At the time there was also a serious flaw in this system, As the Grail required the energy of all Nine Spirits to help activate the Greater Grail and open a hole to CORE, it would mean that all Spirits including the victor Spirit would have to be killed, and since the Grail can only be held by a Legendary Spirit, activating the Greater Grail, let alone retrieving the Holy Grail, cannot be achieved, as Contractors are incapable of doing so without a Contracted Familiar. This flaw made the Grail capable of only granting wishes to Contractors and Contracted.

There has yet to be even one true winner who actually claimed the Grail in all wars up until now, and due to Gaelion being created by the Fallen's Essence and summoned in the Third Holy Grail War, it would be impossible for a winner to have their true wish granted in most cases. The Grail, which is normally "colorless", was corrupted and turned into a manifestation of All the Multi-Universe's Evils. It cannot grant wishes without also causing great destruction, though only the Knightwalkers and Einsworths are directly aware of this fact. Overall, the Multi-universe Holy Grail War is a major event in the Cosmic Side, as it is a conflict that would determine the fate of the Multi-Universe itself. Because of the potential and the high stakes, the grail wars would not only have its main participants and their organizations/parties supporting them, but also third parties getting involved as well for the sake of obtaining the grail, or in some cases, destroying it. As a result, large scale conflicts and disasters have been known to take place on the worlds housing the Grail War event, including major world wars.

Origins

The original idea for the ritual was devised by Darnic Einsworth, who had received a vision that detailed the total annihilation of the Multi-Universe and that its salvation lay in CORE, the theoretical Centre of all Existence. Centuries before the current year of the timeline, Darnic traveled the cosmos, looking for anything that would be able to create a gateway to CORE. The search was long in that he was forced to turn himself into a conceptual existence, one that overwrites the bodies of his descendants. Eventually, he came across PANDORA, a being who was cursed with immortality by an unknown god, and sought her own death, being unable to open the mystical box that she carried around, which she said would open to a realm beyond mortal comprehension and thus, would hold the key to her end. Darnic met Yukari Masato and Zolgen Knightwalker and the three of them created the Multi-Universal Holy Grail War system.

Procedure

It was created for the sake of finding someone who would serve as the Holy Grail and become the sacrifice that opens Pandora's Box upon the Grail's utilization. However, it required nine magic users summoning nine Legendary Spirits to do battle. The person chosen as the grail will have a connection formed between themselves and Pandora's Box, to which they will take in the mana used from the defeated Legendary Spirits to start the progress of becoming the Holy Grail. After all Legendary Spirits are defeated, the winning pair would be obtain the grail and have their wish granted, although the intent of the ritual is for the victor of the war to have their Contracted Spirit commit suicide so that the mana used from the grail would finally open Pandora's Box, which would lead to CORE.

The Box requires 100 years in order to amass enough mana to summon spirits, making the planning period span over generations. If the Grail is unable to utilize its energy, that which is leftover can reduce the time to as little as a decade, such as in the case of the period between the Fourth and Fifth Wars.

The Grail selects potential Contractors anywhere from years in advance to right before the start of the Holy Grail War. It favors those from the three founding families and then picks out suitable magicians through a mostly unknown process. There can be more than nine potential Masters, but only the first nine who manage to summon spirits gain Contractor Crests and the right to act as a Contractor. It is possible for other unchosen people to gain the right to act as Contractors by contracting with Contractorless Familiars.

The Servants can be summoned in advance as well, but more than two months, such as in SOLDIER's case, is an anomaly. They can be summoned far away from the site of the ritual, allowing them to be initially summoned in one world and then brought to the world where the event is held. While played off as only a battle royal where the winner is granted a wish, the real point is to fill the vessel of the Grail with the souls of all nine spirits. Defeated Spirits revert to being pure energy and, while the would normally disappear from the timeline by returning to the Phase of Legends as information for the true Legendary Spirits, the Grail stops that process temporarily and collects them.

It is possible to make a wish upon it with only the power of six Legendary Spirits, allowing it to grant most wishes. It is still incomplete, and will take at least seven to bring it into form. Its true purpose, opening Pandora's Box to the CORE, requires all nine. Once the vessel is filled, the energy of the Legendary Spirits returning to the "Phase" is used by the box in a ritual to open a "hole" leading to CORE. Due to the corruption of the ritual, most wishes will require great destruction.

The Nine Legendary Spirits that are summoned by the Magicians are inserted into nine different classes, which reflects upon the kind of life they lead when they were alive or at a certain period of their lives. The classes are:

KNIGHT

SOLDIER

WARRIOR

MAGUS

DEITY

KILLER

LEADER

BERSERKER

FORGER

There is also an unoffical class called CALAMITY, which represents destruction itself, and Gaelion is the only one to fall into this class.

Wars

First War: The events of the First War are unknown, however it was remarked that the war ended in failure, mostly due to not finding a vessel, in which the defeated Legendary Spirits were simply returned to the PHASE of Legends and thus Pandora's Box was unable to be opened.

Second War: This war is also a complete mystery, though it also ended in failure for one reason or another.

Third War: After two losses and an inconclusive result, the Einsworths and Knightwalkers colluded to cheat the very system they had created. They had tried to summon an entity created by the Fallen's Essence  known as Gaelion. A being with such a violent history, they thought that it would help turn the tide of the war, however what they summoned proved to be beyond what they could handle. In the end, the war had spirled out of control wich ended in the collapse of the many civilizations that were on the planet. The monster that was summoned was defeated, however, it took the combined efforts of all of the selected participants and their contracted spirits. In the end, more than half of the main participants were slaughtered, making the war a lot shorter than the previous ones. Pandora's box was unable to be opened still and the energy from Gaelion had caused it to become corrupted.

Fourth War: The fourth war took place 10 years before the current timeline on an unknown world that was important to the Ministry of Science and other interdimensional communities and organizations, and because of it, it was a really big event. According to Rosalia Echidimont, the war had gone on for about 2 months, with multiple governments and organizations siding with the participants and fighting each other over it. The magical and scientific battles that ensued resulted in certain cities being forced to evacuate its civilians. It was also around this time that the Deus Ex Machina Empire had participated in the war and started to heavily occupy multiple countries on that world. The invasion and occupation caused the deaths pof millions and had caused a young Yukari Elise to be separated from her family and be sent to Prime Earth, away from  the conflict.

In the later stages of the war, a Magician became the Holy Grail Vessel and manifested as such, however the master of Stacia at the time, had seen the Grail's corruption and had decided to destroy it. The destruction had caused black mud to spill out and smother the planet, destroying most of the life living there and a total collapse to what little of civilization that was functioning. All the organizations and interdimensional superpowers that were invested in the place had pulled out immediately, and the world was left as an abandoned wasteland. Quinella, the DEITY class spirit that was summoned was reincarnated via the dark mud and was allowed to remain in existence from that point forward. The destroyer of the grail had vanished after all was concluded. Because of the many tragedies that occured, it was refered to as one of the darkest moments in Multi-Universal history.

Due to the inconclusive termination of the War, the Grail's failure to grant a wish to the selected victor and the victor's subsequent destruction of the Grail, it resulted in the premature occurrence of the subsequent Fifth Holy Grail War only ten years later rather that 100. The expended magic power accumulated through the elimination of Legendary Spirits was recycled due to the destruction of the Lesser Grail before the Greater Grail could direct the accumulated mana to establish its pathway, thus trapping some of the unused mana within the Grail.

Fifth War: Darnic, now using the body of  his descendant, Gideon Einsworth, maintains his contract with Quinella from the previous war and plans to participate in the war once more. This time, he summons the Warrior Class Spirit, Artorias, the Black Knight, while using Vivian Einsworth, as well as Beatrix Ralgris as his primary enforcers. This war is set to take place on Prime Earth, specifically in the nation of Japan which houses Academy City, the Capital of Science and Esper Development. Yukari Elise, now 19, summons MAGUS and participates in the war, to use it to create a world where humans can understand one another. Rosalia Echidimont, who researched the war some point in the past, takes notice of the marking that has appeared on the hand of her significant other, Bowen Chuuno and realizes that he was chosen as a Contractor of the war. The Ministry of Science, having remembered the events of the last war, while not fully understanding it due to fragmented information, sends the two of them to Prime Earth Academy City, where they come into contact with an old alley of theirs. This alley of theirs is of course, Kamijou Touma, who had both fought against and alongside with to save a girl.

Having already formed a treaty from a previous, yet unrelated incident, the Ministry of Science also contacts Aleister Crowley, as well as the heads of the Magic side to inform them of what is coming, and they prepare for the ramifications that such a war would bring. Many organizations from the Magic Side, and Cosmic Side take interest and watch events unfold from both within and outside the city, waiting for the right moment for their involvement. Aleister decides to have Kamijou Touma work alongside Bowen and Rosalia, as well as from some members of Nessecarius to destroy the holy grail and end this series of wars once and for all. The Science/Magic/Cosmic Coalition summons Stacia once again with Bowen becoming her contractor and the battle for the war initiates. This war is still ongoing and the ending has yet to be reached.

In another continuity in a multiverse that had been pruned due to uncertain reasons, an alternate version of this war had been manifested, in which the entire world had been thrown into chaos with the human race and civilization destroyed. This was the very first singularity that the Cosmic Security Coalition detected and had been resolved by none other than Kamijou Touma himself.

Tagging: @tetsuwan-atom​ @whitecrowns-blackthrones @cantusecho @lawain-dimensional-heroes @breaking-the-boundaries @x-ame-x-damnee-x

[faewhump]

Unseelie Pet: 1. Prologue

While involuntarily attending a ball at the Unseelie Court the human Alex meets Lord Malachi. Charmed by the beautiful and alluring Fae, Alex only realises his true intentions when it’s already way too late...

Masterlist Next

Warnings for this part: mentions of torture, drugging (faerie food)

The moment the Unseelie Fae smiled at him across the room Alex knew he that was in deep, deep trouble. Of course he’d been in trouble before already, it was impossible to deny that with the lesser faerie that cornered him, but in truth it had started even before he’d come to the Unseelie Court. After how horrible his experiences with the Unseelie Lord Rían had been, he’d sworn himself to never seek out the fair folk ever again and to just stay out of the woods all together for good measure. Following his escape from the Court, he had tried his best to stay hidden, and for about ten years the faerie world seemed to have forgotten about him. But of course it hadn’t stayed this way.

About a week ago an old acquaintance of his had delivered a message from the Seelie Court which they served, offering him a favour in exchange of his services as a spy at the upcoming equinox festivities at one of the Unseelie Courts. Apparently, they had feared that any faerie spy of theirs would be detected immediately, and so they needed a human who already knew their way around and therefore wouldn’t attract attention. Of course Alex had declined, no favour they offered was big enough to make him consider ever setting a foot near such a place again, but eventually the thinly veiled threats against his family and friends had convinced him.

Despite how jarring it was to be surrounded by faeries again, at first everything seemed to be going well. He had snuck into the beautiful palace without any problems, and due to his purposeful walk all faeries simply assumed that he was nothing but a servant running an errand for his master and paid him no mind. He had successfully infiltrated the main ballroom, where he inconspicuously listened in on the conversations around, trying to find out where and when an attack on the Seelie Court was supposed to take place – in case such a plan even existed. Everything had been going so well, he had even managed not to think too much of the human pets some of the faeries held by their sides, but of course it couldn’t have been that easy.

No, the part where this awful experience had truly deteriorated was when Darerca recognised him. The lesser faerie had been one of Rían’s vassals and was quite intrigued to see her Lord’s escaped human sneaking around at this Court, promptly deciding to confront him - and so Alex had suddenly found himself cornered by one of the faces that still haunted his nightmares. He’d tried his best to bargain with her, but Darerca seemed quite set in her objective to punish him for his escape by torturing him to death. The faeries that had overheard their exchange curiously turned towards them, excited for the prospects of a promising entertainment. That was when the Unseelie Fae joined them.

“Excuse me,” he said, elegantly sliding up to Alex as the surrounding faeries moved out of his way. The man’s immaculate glamour clearly marked him as High Fae, not a single of the many faerie traits he surely possessed showed, making him look almost perfectly human.

“Lord Malachi,” Darerca said, standing up a little straighter.

“Darerca,” Malachi greeted, his cultured voice and easy smile sending shivers over Alex’s back. “What is going on here?”

“Nothing,” Darerca replied a bit to quickly. “This human belongs to Lord Rían, so I wanted to have some fun with it, give everyone a show.”

“I don’t belong to anyone!” Alex protested. He immediately regretted his outbreak when the High Fae’s dark eyes turned on him, the intensity of their gaze almost palpable on Alex’s skin.

“Hmm, it seems to disagree,” Malachi remarked, and Alex bristled at being referred to as an ‘it’. “Besides, Rían has been gone for a decade now, so any claim of ownership he might have had doesn’t hold much weight if he isn’t here to defend it.”

Darerca looked like she wanted to object but didn’t dare to disagree with Malachi. All the faeries that had waited excitedly for Alex to get tortured had dispersed again, clearly afraid to get involved in the argument. Alex swallowed, this Lord Malachi must be a very, very powerful and high-ranking Fae to evoke such strong respect.

“Come with me, human,” Malachi said in a tone that brooked no resistance and turned to leave.

“No!” Darerca called and stepped forward to block Alex’s way.

Malachi turned back slowly. “Is there a problem, Darerca?” he asked and raised a perfect eyebrow.

“Of course not, Lord Malachi,” Darerca pressed out, grinding her teeth in anger, but didn’t move again when Alex walked around her to follow the High Fae.

Throwing a nervous look back at Darerca Alex quickly followed Malachi through the ballroom, faeries moving out of the Fae Lord’s way respectfully, and on along the entwined corridors of the palace. Alex’s stomach churned with nervosity, although Malachi had saved his life he knew better than to assume that his intentions were good. For all he knew, the Fae Lord simply wanted to torture him in private instead of allowing Darerca to do it in public, but he couldn’t stop the quiet hope that he merely wanted to cause mischief and would let him go just to annoy the other faeries.

After walking in silence for a while they came to a halt in front of an ornate gate, which Malachi unlocked with a golden key.

“After you,” he said politely and held the door for Alex.  

Wary, but unwilling to antagonise the Fae, Alex entered a spacious sitting room. There were comfortable looking couches and armchairs strewn around with a low table holing all sorts of delicacies in their middle. As all rooms in the palace, this one also seemed strangely alive, the wood of the walls and furniture looked organically grown, and Alex could even see greened twigs sprouting in a corner.

“Please, take a seat,” Malachi said, settling himself in a high-backed armchair. Alex gingerly sat down on the couch across him, muscles wound tight and ready to jump up any time.

“You must be horribly hungry,” Malachi stated. “Please, eat.”

He gestured towards the richly laid meal between them, flashing the frightened human a charming smile, and Alex suddenly was overwhelmed with how breathtakingly beautiful the Fae was. He had jet-black hair and equally dark eyebrows, his unnaturally pale skin almost gleamed in contrast, and he wore some of the most elegant and noble clothes Alex had ever seen. His face was smooth and ethereally handsome, looking to be about Alex’s age, but Alex knew with certainty that in truth it was closer to 300 than to 30. Of course his insane beauty was probably only due to his strong glamour, hidden underneath it there would be inhuman Fae traits of unknown horrors.

“Come on, eat,” Malachi repeated, his pose open and suggesting hospitality.

Alex hesitated, he had experienced the bewitching effect faerie food had on humans first-hand already and knew that he shouldn’t take the risk of it dulling his senses. But he couldn’t deny that he was quite hungry, and the food just looked so good. Besides, refusing Malachi’s hospitality would be extremely impolite and a clear affront, especially after he’d saved his life.

Slowly Alex reached out and picked up a small bread roll from a basket, carefully taking a tiny bite. He closed his eyes as the explosion of flavour hit his tongue, the bread roll was perfectly crisp and fluffy, the warm grounding taste of the dough complemented perfectly by the mixture of spices. He must have forgotten how irresistible faerie food was, everything tasted so much more intense and delicious, from the bread and meats to the fruits and cheese, even the water was cooler and more refreshing than it had any right to be. At first he tried to eat only as little as possible, but soon found himself unable stop and didn’t even pay much attention to the Fae watching him with a slight smile.

“What is your name?” Malachi asked, breaking the spell of the food for a moment.

“A- Kieran,” Alex said, his mind thankfully still quick enough to remember to give his fake name. He had felt so smart and invincible when he’d come to the fair folk a decade ago, just because he’d thought of a fake name to use, but had quickly learned that even without the absolute control real names gave them, faeries were incredibly dangerous.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Kieran.” The Fae inclined his head. “You may call me Malachi, for now.”

Alex smiled back, the effect of the faerie food was finally sinking in, calming him and making everything seem even more intense and pretty. His initial fear and anxiety had all but passed, he felt warm and safe, only a small voice nagging at the back of his mind told him to resist and stay alert, but why would he listen to it? There was nothing to worry about, Malachi had saved him and was so nice to him, and he was so beautiful…

“You’re so beautiful,” Alex mumbled, looking away embarrassed when he realised what he’d said.

Malachi’s smile widened. “Why, thank you. You are an extraordinarily adorable human as well.”

Alex blushed shyly, only vaguely registering that maybe it wasn’t a good thing to have so much attention from a powerful Fae.

“Is that why you saved me?”

Malachi chuckled. “Partially, yes.”

“What will happen now?” Alex asked. “Will you just let me leave or bring me back to the human world? Or do you want to make a deal?”

“You want to leave already?” Malachi acted surprised. “Why that? Have I not been an accommodating host? Wouldn’t I deserve some more of your company?”

Alex licked his lips, nervosity starting to bubble up under the faerie food induced calmness. “Thank you for your offer, Lord Malachi, but I really should go.”

Malachi clicked his tongue and stood up. “The way outside is such a labyrinth, a little human like you could get lost easily.” He slowly walked around the table towards Alex. “And I would be quite sad if you left so soon. After all, I haven’t had a sweet human pet in such a long time.” With that he leaned over Alex and brushed a thumb over his cheek, still smiling.

Alex froze, the Fae’s touch felt almost electrifying, and he gradually began to realise the scale of the mess he was in.

“No, no, I have to – I want to go,” Alex stuttered.

Malachi gently placed his index finger upon Alex’s lips and said, “You can't always get what you want, little human.”

Alex was locked into place, unable to move, and he knew that he’d be panicking right now if it wasn’t for the faerie food he’d made the mistake to eat.

“Don’t worry, Kieran,” Malachi said. “I will take good care of you.”

The Fae’s unwavering smile was the last thing Alex saw before everything went dark.

[love-and-monsters]

Wyvern Prince 6

The ride back to the castle was fairly uneventful, though the prince seemed quiet and a little moody. Even when you arrived back at the castle and took him up to his room, he still seemed out of sorts. You hesitated before leaving him for the day.

“Sire, are you sure you’re all right?” you asked. The prince gave you a wan smile.

“I am. I suppose I still have a lot to learn about humanity.” He frowned at nothing, staring toward the window. You bowed and stepped toward the room.

“Good night, sire,” you said. He didn’t even acknowledge you, still staring out the window.

It was both relieving and a little bit depressing to be back in your own bed. The beds the inns had provided were far more comfortable than your own, but it was still nice to be back in your own room. After taking a little time to make sure all your belongings were accounted for and properly arranged, you went straight to sleep.

It took no time at all to slip right back into your old pattern of early rising, and you were up with the sun the next morning. You cleaned, dressed, and took up the prince’s meal to take to his room.

You opened the door and took two steps across the threshold before realizing something was wrong. There was a chill in the air, a soft breeze that made the curtains around the prince’s bed flutter lazily. The open curtains. Drifting around the prince’s empty bed. In a breeze from the open window.

Panic arced through every limb. The prince was gone. Think. Think! What could have happened? The bedsheets were disturbed, so he must have been in bed for a time before… before what? Getting taken? Had the prince been kidnapped? How? And why? Had people really been that upset about the treaty?

There was an enormous gust of wind through the open window, one strong enough to push the curtains back and make your heavy skirts flutter, and a shadow crossed the sky. Something outside crunched, like stone crumbling, and the view of the field and sky was blocked by a wall of green scales. A massive head lowered and peered through the window.

An enormous wyvern was staring at you.

If you hadn’t worked as a servant for so many years, you might have panicked. The wyvern was close enough that you could see its teeth glinting in its mouth and hear the rush of its breathing. This close, you were very intimately aware that this wyvern could kill you with little effort. Just reach out its head and snap you in half.

But you had been a servant for long enough that your reactions were tempered. Servants were to be composed at all times, no matter what they walked in on. Even looking at a wyvern, you could feel your face smoothing over into a stern mask.

The wyvern cocked its head at you and blinked its eyes. Its brilliant, orange-yellow eyes. Those eyes were familiar, weren’t they? Bright and warm, like candle light.

You let out a breath. “Good morning, sire.”

The prince crawled into the room. He wasn’t as large as you’d expected. He was still bigger than you, but he was at least small enough to fit in the room, albeit curled into a tight ball. The longer you looked at him, the more familiar he became. The horns on his head were the same shape in both forms, his scales were precisely the same shade of green, and the ridges on his tail were the same, just sized up. You didn’t get long to look at him, though. As soon as he had fully climbed into the room, his body twisted, shivered, and shrank back in on itself. In less than a minute, the prince was smoothing down his hair and adjusting his robe.

“Sara,” he said. “I apologize if my absence worried you. I just needed to get out for a little bit.” He tugged at the robe again, pulling it closed over his bedclothes.

“I wouldn’t advise doing so again,” you said, setting down the tray and crossing to close the window. “If someone had spotted you, that could have caused some trouble. Especially near the castle.”

“My intention was to stay out only when it was dark. I suppose I simply lost track of time.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I have not been in a good mood recently.”

“I am sorry to hear that, sire,” you said.  

His head snapped to you, eyes narrowing a little. “You’ve worked here for years now. You can’t possible believe that the royalty are better than anybody else.”

You latched the window and started to make the prince’s bed. “The royals are not perfect, I will say that, but they are royalty for a reason. They are rulers for a reason.”

“Because they are better than you, and everyone else in the kingdom,” the prince said. Bitterness rolled off his tongue.

“They are the royal family. There is power inherent within them. Majesty,” you said. “Sire, if I may, I do not understand why you are so focused on this.”

The prince frowned and sat down at the table. He poked unenthusiastically at his breakfast. “It’s so different from what I know. To state that a family is above the others would be a grave insult. And no wyvern would accept that they are below others.”

“But wyverns have a royal family. You’re part of it, sire,” you said.

“I have explained this already. It is a position we hold only at the discretion of our subjects. If we were to fail them enough, we would be removed as royalty. But that wouldn’t happen for your rulers, would it?”

“No.”

The prince glared at the table for a moment longer, then sighed. “I am sorry. None of this is your fault or something you should concern yourself with. It is only strange to me to live in a culture where one group considers itself beneath another. It seems such a foolish distinction to draw. You are much alike, to me.”

“Don’t say that in front of any nobility. They wouldn’t like to have their status compared to a commoner,” you warned. The prince gave a smile that was strained and full of bared teeth.

“I will keep that in mind.” He picked at his breakfast for a few moments, then looked up at you. “Would you like to know something else that I should never tell any of the royals?”

You looked at him. He was leaning toward you, eyes shining with amusement. His smile had softened into something genuinely sweet. It made you a little nervous to talk about the royals like this. Anyone overhearing you could easily cost you your job. But there was something kind of enticing in his smile. He seemed so genuinely happy to speak to you. It was nice.

“Sure,” you said after a few seconds of nervous thought. The prince grinned and leaned further across the table to you.

“I have been talking to both you and the nobility for almost two months now,” he said. “And I am quite certain that you are the best person out of all of them.”

You blushed, both from the compliment and because of the brazenness of his statement. “Sire! You can’t say that. What if someone were to hear?”

“Then they would head me speaking the truth. It is what I believe. You are far better than any of them.” His voice was no longer amused as he spoke. It was firm.

It took a few deep breaths to get the blush to fade. “Just be careful what you say around the royals, sire.”

“I will. You needn’t worry. I just wanted you to know.” The prince started to eat, but the smile didn’t leave his face. A small smile stayed on your face as you cleaned.

“What are my tasks for today, sire?” you asked as he emerged from the bathroom, dressed in his usual clothes.

“Today, I thought I would give you a bit of a lesson in wyvern society. It has come to my attention that, while you have given me much instruction on the way humans operate, I have not returned the favor. It may give you some greater understanding of how I look at the world.”

“If you wish, sire,” you said. The prince nodded and moved the tray aside, gesturing for you to sit down with him.

“I should first describe the way wyverns own land. There is no money nor is there any form of deed stating who owns the land. Instead, land ownership is determined by one’s ability to maintain their own borders…”

Land ownership among wyverns was uncomplicated, at least in comparison to humans, you learned. If you could keep anyone else from using your land, it was yours. If you died, your land went to whoever claimed it next. Land squabbles were common right after new territory opened up, but usually they settled down as wyverns learned what land they could maintain on their own.

“If there is a land dispute that, for whatever reason, cannot be managed by the parties present, they may appeal to my parents for a decision,” the prince concluded. “Typically my parents will hear them out and will put down a judgement. If the judgement is not held up, my parents will intervene.”

“They fight the aggressor?” you asked.

“Often. Usually it is a small fight. My family is respected enough that all are loathe to significantly injure them, lest my parents refuse to intervene on their behalf again. They are respected as a necessary part of the community, and that gives them some measure of protection. Should they struggle to control a wyvern, they can be reasonably assured of assistance from those who recognize their necessity.”

You frowned at the table. “Wyverns are largely self-governing, then?”

“Yes. We are not as social as humans, so we don’t feel the need to gather in large groups that require a government. We are solitary by nature.”

“You don’t see that solitary,” you said. The prince laughed gently.

“I am unusual for my kind, in that regard. And even I have my limits. I find it much easier to interact with people in a one-on-one capacity, as we are doing now, than in large groups. And, of course, there are always people we simply find we appreciate more than others. Our mates, for example.”

“Your mates?” you repeated.

“Our husbands, our wives, our significant other. Our romantic partners,” the prince clarified. “Wyverns mate for life and usually share their home and territory. It is often the most social interaction they have in their lives. My parents and myself are probably the most social wyverns.”

“You don’t have friends?” you asked.

“It’s not as sad as you’re thinking. I have no real need for friends. Humans have a need for social interaction. Wyverns do not. I could spend the rest of my life alone in the mountains and I would not suffer for it. Not as a human would.”

“Oh.” That… hurt, surprisingly. It stung you in some undefinable way. You couldn’t quite sort out why, exactly. He didn’t get lonely, so what? If anything, that was a positive for him. Why should you care? You struggled to find a way to respond, but before you could think of something, the prince’s expression grew soft and he reached out a hand to rest on top of one of yours.

“I should clarify,” he said. “I do not need social interaction. But that does not mean I don’t want it.” His smooth, warm fingers trailed over the back of your hand. The hair on the back of your neck lifted. “I am not naturally very social. But I find it easier with you, and I find that I enjoy it. Not being social does not make interacting with you a chore for me. Rather, I find it a choice I make over and over, not out of a need, but out of a desire.” His voice was low, and you found yourself focusing on its soothing timbre. His eyes looked molten, like endless pools of honey and gold and warmth. “Certainly after everything I’ve said to you, you don’t still doubt how special you are to me?”

The words hit you like a kick in the stomach. No! You jerked up, knocking the chair down behind you. The prince jumped at the clatter.

“Sire,” you said. Your voice was strangled and you found yourself almost gasping for air. “You can’t say such things. It is not becoming of your class.”

He blinked, startled. “I- no, that’s not what I meant. Sara-” He reached out as if to catch your arm. You dodged him.

“I should go, sire. I apologize.” You hurried to the door.

“Sara, wait! I-” The heavy door slammed shut behind you, cutting off his words.

You stood on the landing, staring down into the depths of the spiraling staircase. For several long moments you waited for the prince to open the door and… and… do something. Anything. Probably yell, but maybe plead or maybe just calmly ask you to come back and sit down because you weren’t done yet. The longer you waited for the other shoe to drop, the worse the dread you felt became.

After at least five minutes of waiting, the dread had congealed into a kind of despairing sludge. If the prince wasn’t going to come out to yell at you, then what was he going to do? Dismiss you from your position? Maybe. Or he could simply work you harder, make your job torture. He could do anything he wanted to you. And he would. Right?

That look on his face… Unbidden, his image appeared behind your eyes. His eyes were soft and his expression was earnest. He looked… happy. Gentle. Kind. You could still feel his fingertips against the back of your hand.

It was awful. So truly awful. It made you sick with dread and the desperate effort to squash any warm feelings back down into the pits of your being where they would never see the light of day again. Not again. You scrubbed your hands over your eyes. No crying. There was no need to cry. Nothing had changed. Your future remained as unchanged as it ever did. Tomorrow, you would apologize to the prince, beg for your job back if you needed to. Then you would work for him like usual and you would not think about how he was nice to you and kindhearted and oh-so pretty. Maybe he was all those things, but you wouldn’t think about it. You couldn’t. He was a noble. He was, no matter how good and kind he seemed, ultimately out of your league.

Remember, you thought to yourself as you took your first step down the stairs and then another, Remember that they don’t care about you. No matter what they say, no matter what they do, they are nobles and you are not. Nobles don’t care about servants.

You repeated that as you walked down the stairs, as you absently cleaned and straightened up whatever rooms of the castle you found yourself in, when you bathed at the end of the day, and when you finally lay down for bed at night. And no matter how many times you repeated it to yourself, there was still a little fragment of your mind, a tiny seed poking up through the pile of denial and disregard you’d shoveled on top of it, whispering back at you.

It whispered, but what if he does?

[shytalia]

A Prince and a Pirate’s Fate (USUK fanfic)

Summary: When the future King and Queen of the Spade's Kingdom come of age, a mark appears on their body. Alfred is the kind Prince of Spades, heir to the throne. Arthur is his fated husband, the future Queen. The only problem is, Arthur is one of the most infamous pirates to sail the seas, a wanted man in all four kingdoms, and he violently refuses his place in the castle.

No attempts at capturing him have been successful and he remains on the run, fulfilling his lust for defiance. Alfred, following his nineteenth birthday, decides to take the task of bringing Arthur home into his own hands.

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Also available on my AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shytalia

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Chapter One

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Sometimes, Alfred swore The Gods were laughing at them.

As he kneeled before an altar, dressed in shabby clothes and in a small, port town with nothing but fish and brothels to its name, he wondered how this had all happened.

Arthur Kirkland, one of the four kingdom’s most wanted pirates, was named the next Queen of Spades.

Alfred had laughed at first when he heard the news since he figured it had to be some sort of shitty joke, only the punchline never came. It was confirmed that Arthur was, in fact, the correct person. It wasn’t easy, of course. A lot of people tried to take fake ownership over the title, brandishing their skin with false symbols of the Spades. But they were each debunked as frauds and the search for the real queen had continued.

Usually, it was not this difficult to find the queen. When the next King and Queen came of age, slowly a mark began to appear on their bodies to reveal their true destiny. So, as one might imagine, a deep, navy mark in the shape of a spade on someone’s skin coming out of nowhere was fairly hard to ignore. There were no rules as to where it appeared, it could be flashy and materialize on someone’s wrist, for all to see. Or, it could be more intimate, on the small of their back or on their thigh.

Alfred knew his mark was due to appear soon after his eighteen birthday and it wasted no time making itself known on his right hip. His many fans marveled at the placement, it was easy to cover up, but it also conjured seductive fantasies into their minds at the prospect.

Of course Alfred expected the reaction, ever since he had been a young teen, girls and boys alike wished to see the matching mark appear on their own skin. Not only for the power and the wealth, but many wanted Alfred himself. Why wouldn’t they? He was the Spadian Golden Boy.

Everyone swooned over his tanned skin, revealing in the way it shone with sweat when he sparred or practiced his weaponry skills. They simply wanted to run their fingers through his wheat blonde hair and stare into his eyes, often equated to the vast, blue sky in which their gods shone down on them. Everyone wanted him.

Well, almost everyone.

Arthur’s mark had appeared before even Alfred’s had, considering he was a good four years older. By this point, he had already become one of the most hated people in all the kingdoms.

He had started to make a name for himself early on, seemingly coming out of nowhere but with such a feisty attitude, wit, and the will to fight, he quickly rose from just some shabby nobody to a master of strategy on the sea. He gained a following and by the age of seventeen had already accumulated enough loyal people to call himself a Captain. This also meant he rose to the top of most wanted criminals, but despite the navy’s best efforts to collect him, Arthur always managed to escape. Almost.

There had been one faithful day in which the British Spadian had not been as lucky and was promptly detained by military guards. They had been following the Captain and cornered him in a coastal town, managing to lock him up and report back to the castle that they finally had the menace in custody. All they needed to do then was escort the prisoner back to the capital to face judgement.

That was how it was supposed to go, anyway. But before they could make it to their destination, they had to prepare the prisoner to enter the castle. They surely didn’t trust a pirate not to have weapons hidden on him, after all, and a change of clothing to better prepare him to stand before the current king and queen was only proper. That way, they wouldn’t have to subject themselves to peering down at a rogue pirate, dressed to fit the description. He had been in torn, black pants, a low cut shirt, jewelry no doubt stolen, piercings in his ears, and a deep, blood red coat to show his authority. That power held no meaning with the guards, however, as they began to strip the bound prisoner to change him into more moderate clothing.

It was then that the fate of the Spade Kingdom would change forever.

As they undressed him, they could tell the captain grew more and more agitated. He turned and twisted, making it progressively difficult for them to take off his shirt. Eventually, one of the guards buckled under the annoyance and pulled out a knife. Reportedly, Arthur had not shown any fear at the blade and only matched the sharpness with his own, cold glares.

His resolve wavered slightly, however, when he realized the knife was not meant for his skin but for his clothing. In one quick movement, the guard had yanked his shirt and cut through it, making it impossible for Arthur to fight the removal any longer. It was then that both guards stopped and stared, questioning their sanity as well as their positions to the crown.

Before them was a man, gagged to keep his curses muffled and hands cuffed to keep him from running. A wanted gunman with blood on his hands. But on his back, between his shoulder blades, was a distinct, dark mark perfectly in the shape of a spade.

Having been trained relentlessly to find the queen should they come across them, like all royal guards and military personnel, their first instinct was to test if the mark was truly what they feared it would be or if it was just a normal tattoo. To their horror, the truth was revealed that the pirate in their custody was marked as their next queen. They sent word immediately to the castle, who at first did not believe them, but upon inspection after inspection, and test after test, there was no denying the horrible fact that Arthur was indeed Alfred’s intended by fate.

He was to be brought to the castle immediately.

By some miracle, at least in Arthur’s eyes, the wagon was intercepted and he was freed by members of his crew and, strangely enough, a new friend they had made along the way. His name was Lukas, he learned, and he was not only a devoted priest of The Gods, he was an excellent mage with magical powers almost unmatched. With his help, the loyal crew members were able to rescue their captain from his undesired destiny.

Shortly after, word spread of the shocking revelation. People didn’t believe it, not at first. But, as the gossip spread farther and farther, the infamous Arthur Kirkland became wanted less for the crimes he had committed and more because the royal family wanted their rogue queen apprehended and brought to them.

Alfred was finding it particularly hard to pray when all these thoughts kept swirling around in his head. It was said that The Goddess herself marked the new queens with the royal symbols, but the young prince simply couldn’t understand why She had to mark Arthur Kirkland of all people.

He had lots of dreams about his future and the person he was going to be spending it with. He had prayed fervently to The Goddess in hopes to have a joyful and easy love life with his mysterious, future queen. Many monarchs simply tolerated each other, if they didn’t down right loathe one another, and very few ever actually fell in love. Alfred didn’t want a life of hating his partner but now, as he kneel before a statue in Her honor, he could only imagine she was laughing at him.

It had been nearly four years since Arthur’s secret was discovered and in those years, the royal military had tried desperately to claim him. Their navy occupied the seas he sailed, their guards watched many ports and coasts like hawks, they even put out a handsome reward for anyone who could capture the elusive Brit and deliver him. All these attempts at capture had failed miserably.

Many balked at the way Arthur evaded his fate, shouldn’t he want to claim his place? He was practically promised riches, food, clothing. Anything he ever desired, he could have in the palm of his hand. The royal court had tried desperately to play on this mindset as well, promising the Brit that if he surrendered himself, he would face no judicial punishment based on his past actions. It was unheard of! For a pirate captain as notorious as him to be given full pardon, everyone figured it was only a matter of time before Arthur came waltzing up to the castle gates himself. But as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, they realized the stubborn pirate was not interested.

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Alfred’s eighteenth birthday had been celebrated with a feast and loud celebrations. He had finally come of age and was expected to marry his queen soon. The lack of the new queen at the festivities put a sour mood in Alfred’s mouth, despite his signature smile and all the gifts. Don’t get him wrong, he was not at all thrilled about being married to Arthur-renegade pirate-Kirkland, but he was the Prince and therefore, needed to put aside his own feelings for the betterment of the kingdom. It struck a nerve in him to think that Arthur was considered any sort of ‘betterment’, he had no idea what The Goddess could possibly be thinking with this.

Nonetheless, it had been years since that fateful day his future husband was found out. Every single day they had failed ceremoniously to bring him home. So now, at age nineteen, Alfred decided he would be the one to bring Arthur back himself. He had waited patiently, as he was told to, but now that a year had past since his eighteenth birthday and they still were no closer to capturing Arthur, he grew tired of being idle. He was past his coming of age and Arthur was already twenty three, well past the usual marriage of a future queen. It was only adding insult to injury.

So here he was, in a small, modest temple fit dimly by candles and incense. He finished his prayer and stood up, walking out into the chilly, sea-salt air.

He had not been permitted to leave the castle on his own and surely not on some wild goose chase after a wanted criminal. That was why he had to sneak out, he was a prince after all and he knew how to evade his guards so he could go have a good time. He was notorious for sneaking out and just having fun in the capital, talking, helping, eating, drinking, and dancing with the locals. It was part of why he was so loved by them, he felt like one of them, not just some up-tight kid sitting on a throne of privilege. Alfred loved his people and showed it openly and without apology, and in turn they adored him for it too.

Now, those secret passages out of the castle grounds served a new purpose, to get him out so he could find Arthur. That’s exactly what he did, only pausing to leave a parting note for his dear parents.

He also made sure to dress less extravagantly, he didn’t want to tip anyone off as to who he was or get robbed. Many people knew his name and who he was, but surprisingly many also did not know his face as well as they thought they did. Once he managed to sneak out of the main capital, it became easier and easier to blend in. In towns and villages not as close to the castle as the big city, less people recognized him and that made traveling easier. After all, they weren’t as invested in the royal family as those closer to the castle. They had hard jobs to do dealing with agriculture and fishing, too busy working with their hands to provide for their families to care what some rich people looked like.

That worked in Alfred’s favor as he made his way to the coast, in a little town near where he had heard Arthur was last sighted. He searched for clues and asked subtle questions, but found himself disappointed when not much was revealed. After a couple of days, he was starting to lose hope in his search, as no one he talked to seemed to have any sort of lead for him to follow. That was, until, he heard someone mention a large ship coming towards the dock. His ears perked up at that and he listened in.

A large ship of some sort was coming to dock at their shores and the people of the town readied themselves. They were either there to pillage or to spend money, and being in a coastal town, you had to be prepared for both.

Alfred took this information and ran with it, making his way towards the waters to see just what ship they were talking about. Upon lying his eyes on it, he knew there was no mistaking it.

This was a vessel he had never seen with his own eyes, but had heard described like it was a prayer. The dark, mahogany wood stood proud against the cool waters of the sea. The masts, to Alfred, were a synonym for depravity and refusal of divine fate. But, it was the figurehead that protruded from the front of the ship that was truly a dead giveaway, no other ship had anything like it.

It came in the shape of a wooden woman facing outward, her hair curling around her face and behind her, as if the wind itself was blowing through it. In her hands was a bow and an arrow, ready to be shot at the foes foolish enough to stand before her. She was a symbol of fear to those unlucky enough to come across her wrath but a thing of beauty and grace for those who simply watched it bob from the waves. It was the famed figurehead of The Siren's Arrow.

Alfred knew he couldn’t let this chance pass him by, so he slowly made his way closer to where the boat had stopped and allowed some of its passengers to exit. Thankfully, they all looked rather docile at the moment, laughing with one another and heading right for humanly indulgences in the form of either food, bars or brothels.

The young prince watched them each carefully, but his frown sunk lower when each passed that didn’t match Arthur’s depiction. He had never seen Arthur in person, obviously, but there were enough “Wanted” posters around to know what he looked like.

Finally, after a painfully long half an hour in which he lazily leaned against a wall and watched, he caught sight of something that made him catch his breath. From among the crew members still spilling from the ship, he pinpointed a bustle of messy, blonde hair. He moved to lean in closer, squinting his eyes to watch the newcomer as he stepped off the ship and onto the pier.

He was smaller than Alfred expected. He had heard stories of the unlikely captain, that he was not as tall or large as many other pirates tended to be. In fact, he looked petite beside his rough cohorts. He was also rather attractive. Alfred caught his thoughts before they trailed off too far and kicked himself for thinking that the man walking casually onto the beach was anything but a slimy criminal. Small or not, the prince knew that Arthur was a dangerous man, not above breaking the law or killing him if he saw him as a threat.

He was also sure he would be less than pleased to see a royal, of all people. This was where Alfred’s plan came to a fault. He had been evading guards and gathering clues as to where Arthur was, with no real plan of action to actually get him back home with him. He surely was stronger than him physically, just based on their bodies, but he couldn’t exactly pick the Brit up and run all the way back to the castle with him. Surely, he’d be dead before he even got out of this town.

He had been so trapped in his thoughts again as he watched Arthur, he didn’t process that the man in question was growing ever closer to him. He also didn’t notice that the other blonde noticed him staring intently.

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[rahab-of-the-sea]

Christmas in Nosgoth

Before Raziels execution, during the early days of Kains empire when all the Clans had settled in their lands and had adapted well over the centuries, another year was slowly passing them by once more an new one was soon to begin, yet there was nothing but desolation in the land of Nosgoth. The dusty barren lands held no life to them, even the monsters that had once claimed them seemed to have dwindled in size and become on the verge of extinction.

For those of Kains sons, in each clan territory, things carried on the same. Feed on humans, torture humans, train hard, feed on more humans and so on. Nothing for them seemed out of the ordinary.

Raziels clan were always so gluttonous with their self egoistic and self assured nature. They thought of themselves as royalty over the others and felt like they only needed to feed most of the time in their lush feeding rooms. In the hotter lands where the lava flows like water, Turels own Clan were too busy in training hard to improve themselves and creating armor and weapons in their blacksmith lairs. They were always good at keeping to their own business unless Razielim caused a scene somewhere. Though Turelim and their leader were always far too busy training to be stronger and more powerful then the rest. Like an underdog that was just waiting for the chance to rise up.

In the far side was Dumahs lands. They were similar to the Turelim, train, eat, train, eat. Although perhaps Dumah himself liked to busy himself personally with vampiric affairs, he never seemed to distracted or did he ever seem to lack. He always seemed close to Raziel at times, but such visits were rare between the two lords. Meanwhile in the high up mountains where an abandoned cathedral lay to ruin was Zephon. Perhaps one of the strangest of clans to be known. Always in hiding and sticking to the shadows when their master didn’t task them on spying, even with the smoke in the air they never seemed to venture out of their little ruin.

Zephon most of all was the master behind his puppets, or so he saw his own clan as. He’d send out scouts to different areas to study, observe and inform Zephon of the on goings in other Clan areas. He couldn’t care much for Humans besides them being a simple filling meal from time to time. His clan was perhaps the busiest but they were always hiding. Between the twisted self torture routines, they never seemed like the other clans.

Another with an oddity was Melchiah. He’d taken ownership of the necropolis area. His clan was almost similar to Zephons. They never ventured out much . Always kept to their own clan area. The only time any of them left was to find food when needed, attack humans when a battle has been arranged but usually Melachahim weren’t the strongest and always left aside with the Zephonim. Their physical strength was little to non and therefore the Turelim, Razilim and Dumahim were the ones always on the front lines. However Melchiah and his clan would carry about their days as per usual, study the arts of Necromancy and death, feed, study more. Their Lord had his own interests in arts, crafting from the flesh of humans was one of his many talents. But one Clan compared to all was the most reclusive. Rahabim.

Unlike the others, Rahabim were an in between of offensive and defensive. They were not like Zephim ad Melachahim, nor did they possess the strength of Dumahim or Razilim. They would barley be able to win an arm wrestling match against a Turelim. They were unique but more so keepers of the sea. They had a sense of pride the others did not, but also had adapted to their sires jealous like nature towards the other clans. They trained hard, submerged in water for hours, days and even weeks to become ‘stronger’ and more able. They studied during their spare time or collected artifacts for their Lord, and then when they could, they would feed. Feeding was needed mostly for the fledglings, but once the more mature ones managed to adapt to water like their sire, they themselves trained in the arts of fighting. Unlike Dumahim or Zephonim. They ‘danced’. Their agility made them unique in ways, but their ability to adapt to water and use it as a weapon made them all the more powerful.

Even the fledglings had an ego to them. They didn’t see themselves as nobles, kings or royalty. They simply saw themselves better then the others, more dangerous and yet they kept it to themselves. Never once mentioning their own egoistic nature or desires to be better. Perhaps that was what made them dangerous. Collect, calm and calculated. Never on the front lines, but always watching and waiting. Plotting and designing new ways to expand Kains Empire. For Rahab himself, his days were never dull. Musical instruments healed his burning soul, or what remained of it, and he’d study between the cultures of humans and war tactics. He always tried to find a way to be better then the others without exactly showing off like Raziel would do. All Rahab wanted was to gain Kain’s favor. He wanted to be the no.1, he wanted to be the best but he never showed it. There was also his love for fighting, he’d train alongside the others, even assist fledglings in adapting to water much better.

Yet on this day he felt something odd. Information had been passed down from a Zephonim spy that the humans in one of their guarded cities where celebrating some kind of odd festival. Rahab had always found that understanding his enemy better is key to their downfall. He’d waited until late that evening before he would venture out on his own lands and into human territory. When he came to the old city he watched from outside is high prison like walls. The sky was softly lite by the glow of the cities lights from amber candle lights. It seemed silent in there, all but the faintest sound of singing could be heard.

This perked the Vampires ears a little. For the songs they sung were between cheerful and calm, yet the tone was enough to almost subdue the vampire into a lull state, almost forgetting his original purpose. He needed to understand why these humans carried on this way, was it because the year was ending in just a few short days? Perhaps they thought they had conquered the vampires by hiding? Curiosity edged the vampire lord on as he found a way to get to the inner sanctum of the city. As much as he hated the idea, the pipping from the sea that led into the city were helpful as the vampire lord found himself in the darkness of the humans drainage. The mixture of odd smelling humans decorated in a spice like smell and the scent of the salty water had an odd combination that was somewhat bitter but somewhat nice.

From one of the metal gratings in the city, Rahab was able to look up and peer into the city. He saw colors of red, green and white that decorated the area. Rahab didn’t comprehend this, was it perhaps the humans color that symbolized them or their city? Then there was a decorative banner, it was ancient as time could be and there appeared to be a man on it. A halo decorated around his head illuminating his white wiry hair, his robes where distinctive. Red and white with a cross on the white sashes. Rahab knew this was a saint, he’d seen many human artworks of their beloved saints, but this one was different. He’d never seen such a saint honored in such an odd way. Why did the humans sing softly with cheer and the children play late of night? Did they no longer fear the vampires or a possible attack?

A bitterness inside Rahab grew as he grumbled softly. He needed a closure look and so he found himself walking further and further into the city through the pipping until he came to a dark alley way where a single metal grate was his doorway into this strange human city. Rahab could have almost laughed at how easy it was to get in here. They were so unaware, so focused on this saint and singing, which made Rahab all the more curious. He did not intend to feast while he was here, he’d wait to be safely back in his own lands for such a thing. Despite how defenseless they where, there was another task at hand. One of knowledge.

Then there was a rumbling that made Rahab snapping turn his head in the direction of the noise, drums began to loudly go off accompanied by a barbaric sound of yelling and beastly gurgling. Rahab peered around the corner, there he saw a line of humans clapping and laughing, others were screaming in horror and fear. The different scents made Rahab confused, for he didn’t understand this at all. As he found himself moving through the shadows to get a better look, he watched these odd beasts stomp about. They were not demons, nor where they a resemblance of any vampires. perhaps the red ones seemed like demons but it was odd.  Then there were the goat like ones, but they stood on two legs and banged drums about like humans. They had horns on their heads, decorated where some, others not so much. They laughed and taunted various children. Some younglings were even grabbed, gently hit with these odd stick like tools similar to a human broom. Other younglings where picked up and placed inside a primitive looking cage made of sticks, some where carried on the backs of these beasts. The children will wail in horror and it seemed these beasts would cart the children off, but then they would release them back to their parents, whom only seemed to laugh. How odd this was.

A saint, cheerful singing and beasts kidnapping and then releasing children? What on Nosgoth did these humans celebrate? Had the humans really falling so far in their culture and ways to be lunatics? None of this seemed to make any sort of sense. It was disgraceful, disturbing but also it made Rahab curious. He needed to know more. As the parade of these beasts left there came a man, he obviously wasn’t the one in these banners, but his attire was similar to this saint. He walked around and gave small gifts to the humans, the tiny younglings that had been crying before hand where now glowing with joy and happiness. Was this like some twisted experiment similar to the Zephonim? a way to make younglings stronger?

More songs followed with the presence of the fake saint and his false praising words. And then, then there was silence. As the fake saint left, the humans joined their hands together in an odd manner, their eyes closed and then they just seemed to fall silent. Did they just fall asleep? Moving from one small little house to the next, Rahab observed them and their odd nature. It was only then, during his moments of movement, did he find a book on a small outside wooden table. The title was Saint Nicholas And the Krampus. An odd title and odd names but Rahab took it, pouching it behind his back. Perhaps it would have more useful content then these humans.

So time drew on before the humans, one by one, seemed to come back to life from their small slumber. They then moved off to their little houses and it was then that Rahab withdrew carefully back to the Alley and down into the pipping once more. He had witnessed something bizzare, something truly terrifying but also intriguing. Briefly he glanced down at the book once more from its secure position by his side before he ventured through the narrow pipping and back out toward the sea. He had once made the mistake of swimming his way back with such ‘precious’ and fragile items these humans created. Books where not meant to survive in water obviously. Therefore Rahab didn’t wish to make the same mistake. A small boat was sighted, unoccupied thankfully as Rahab took possession of it and sailed his way back to his home. It was much more time consuming, but during the time he read over the book, he hadn’t even gotten past the first few chapters of it. By the time he arrived back to the safety of his clan land, the Drowned Abbey was a blissful sight to see, compared to the human city. Yet what Rahab understood was that the humans where reenacting the story of this saint and these devil beasts called Krampus’. It was still bizzare but Rahab found it oddly beautiful. Retreating to his private chambers, the vampire lord was determined to understand more of this celebration. Though it may lack use for Kain, it certainly didn’t lack use for Rahab of his clan.

[saiilorstars]

Next Stop, Everywhere

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Female OC x 10th Doctor

(OC Face claim: Victoria Camacho)

// Story Masterlist //

Chapter 5: A Christmas To Die For

Chapter summary: The next time Joy sees the Doctor, he’s crashing his TARDIS into the street and he’s not who he was before. It’s only when Rose explains to her and the others what happened that Joy (as well as Jackie and Mickey) can believe the Doctor has returned. 

~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~ 0 ~

"Jackie!" I rushed inside to get rid of the cold prickling through my skin. I shut the doors behind me. "Guess what!? I got the raise!"

She hopped off the small stairs by the Christmas tree and rushed to hug me, "Oh, that's fantastic!"

We hugged and squealed in delight.

"She said yes because I had made quite the progress in some of their biggest experiments," I explained, laughing, "She might be a prune to people but to me she's been quite right."

"It's a Christmas miracle then!" she gestured to the newly decorated tree.

"Yes!" I went around it, "You did a good job. It's lovely! Oh, and Santa came!" I looked down to the presents underneath.

"Yes, he did," Jackie smiled, "And I think there's a present for you and Rose."

I glanced at her, smiling, "Thank you."

She opened her arms and I gave her another hug. As we did, we heard a sort of...wheezing sound? We both pulled back and remained quiet as the noise became more and more audible. Without a warning, not that it was needed, we dashed out of the apartment and down the stairs. On the street, we met up with Mickey.

"The TARDIS!" he exclaimed, pointing.

I nodded happily, "I know! They're back!"

"But...but where are they?" Jackie looked around.

All three began spinning around, frantically looking for the box of wonders. Suddenly, we saw it...crashing down against the sides of the buildings. Jackie screamed and held onto Mickey. I spun round and round, trying to keep up with the radical box. It crashed down in front of us, but finally came to a complete halt.

As soon as it did, a head peered out with a wide open grin. "Here we are!" it was a man, "London! Earth! The Solar System! We did it!" He stepped out in the Doctor's clothes.

I blinked, my mouth hanging open. Mickey and Jackie were right beside me, both silent like I was.

The strange man turned to us, as if just realizing we were there. "Joy! Jackie! Mickey!" he exclaimed, "Blimey! No, no, no, no, hold on," he stumbled backwards, "Wait there, I've got something to say. There was something I had to tell you," he paused, "What was it? Hold on...hold on..." he walked up and grouped us into a hug, "Now hold on, shush, shush, shush, shush, shush...OH!"

Us three jumped back in alarm. He, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to everything...and very excited for some reason. I glanced back at the TARDIS, wondering who the hell this was. Was there a third box? A third man with the a box like this? Oh, the Doctor just had to explain this to me now. He'd simply refuse to talk about the possible dual ownership of the boxes.

"I know!" The man grabbed my hand and pulled me against him, leaving me wide-eyed as I blinked, "Especially you. I haven't seen you in a long time! Blimey! Now... what was it I had to say? Ah yes, Merry Christmas!"

And then, he collapsed right in front of me...and right on me.

I stumbled back with this great, strange man on me, "Uh...a little help?" I tried pulling him to his feet.

Mickey and Jackie quickly pulled him off me and set him on the ground. Rose came out of the TARDIS and ran to us.

"What happened? Is he alright?" she asked.

"Rose, where the hell is the Doctor?" I demanded, "And who the hell is this?"

"That's the Doctor," she answered quietly, "Right there," she pointed.

I looked down to the strange man on the ground, "What?" I looked him over, "That is not my stupid alien with big ears."

"It is," She nodded, "Can can you help me get him up please?"

~0~

"I still say we should bring him to the hospital," Jackie remarked as Rose put a stethoscope to the 'Doctor's' chest.

"We can't. They'd lock him up and dissect him," Rose answered, "Oh good, both are working."

"What do you mean both?" I asked, confused.

"He's got two hearts."

"Two?"

"Yeah, don't you know?" she looked up.

I crossed my arms, severely irritated I had not been informed of this massive 'secret', "No..."

"Oh..." she removed the stethoscope from herself, "Must have slipped his mind."

Somehow, I doubt having two hearts could be easy to forget...

"But...this is him?" I pointed to the man on the bed, "This is the Doctor?" She nodded. "Rose..." my voice cracked, "What?"

"I'm sorry, but I just don't know," she stood up, frustrated, "If you can find out, by all means do it," she walked past me, "I need some air."

Jackie glanced at me, hopeful that I'd let her go off with her daughter. Like she even had to ask? "Just go," I sighed, looking back to the Doctor. She followed her out while I remained in the room.

I stared at him...terrified, but sad at the same time. Slowly, I walked round the room, my eyes always fixated on him. I took Rose's seat and stared and stared.

"You lied," I whispered, looking him up and down with such sadness, "You didn't come back. We didn't get to talk. But I should have known right? It's you and Rose...Joy's just the tag-along."

Suddenly, he opened his mouth and out came golden dust. I leaned back on my chair, eyes wide with shock.

"Rose?" I said, but really quiet. I figured I should go and get her, seeing as she knew him much better than I. I stood up from the chair and rushed out. I was going to bust into the kitchen but I saw Rose had red, puffy eyes. Quickly, I remained against the wall.

"The thing is, Mum...I thought I knew him..." Rose was saying, almost to tears I should add, "I thought me and him were..." I looked to the side, somewhat sad. "And then he goes and does this..." She sniffled.

"You fell in love, you idiot," I muttered then walked back to the Doctor, staring harshly at him, "I told you not to..." I walked up to him, "And don't you dare say I didn't because I did. You fell in love with her."

And even though I hadn't told him word for word of his growing feelings for Rose, I had made subtle comments when Rose made calls home and the Doctor had been passed on to me. But he was just such an...idiot? Oblivious? I don't know...

"Joy?" Rose's voice startled me.

I quickly turned around, "Sorry, yeah?"

"Do you mind staying here and um, watching him?" she pointed, "Mickey and I wanted to, um..."

Understanding, I nodded, "Go ahead. I'll stay here..."

She smiled, 'Thanks. My Mum's here too."

I nodded again. "Thanks..."

She walked out.

I sighed and turned back to the Doctor, "What's worse, she fell in love with you too."

~0~

"Are you really reading on Christmas?" Jackie came in with a tray of tea, "Come on and let's finish the tree."

"It's okay," I shook my head, taking one cup of tea, "I think I should stay here, and um, babysit."

"You know," she leaned by the doorway, "I don't think it's fair how he treats you."

I smiled, looking confused, "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," She nodded, "Honey, he doesn't even know you and much less what happened to you after he just dropped you off."

"I asked him to," I reminded quietly, not wanting the full blame to fall on him.

"Don't make any excuses," she scolded lightly, "My own daughter takes part in this and the only reason I don't say anything is because you've asked me not to. Why won't you just say something?"

I sighed, glancing at the sleeping alien, "He's just been...preoccupied. But he'll see what he's doing soon. Maybe this version of him won't be so oblivious."

"New version?" She raised an eyebrow.

I nodded, "I was reading on the Internet earlier and I managed to hack into UNIT where this man," I gestured to the alien, "Apparently worked in. Well, still works anyways...never quite resigned," I eyed him again, "And apparently, he has the ability to change his whole body to avoid death."

"That's bloody insane!"

"...that's...that's brilliant," I corrected softly, taking in the new features of the Doctor quickly, "I mean, for his species anyways. Humans wouldn't be able to control that kind of power; always cheat death. But he could, he's always noble and...generous. He'd never take advantage of that power."

"Well, let me know when he knows your name, alright?" She scoffed, shaking her head. "And why'd you even read about him?"

"Because I wanted to know how he did it," I explained, "And now I wanna know why he had to do it. Why was he going to die?"

"Oh Joy, this is what I'm talking about. He doesn't deserve your kindness."

"Jackie don't say that," I scolded, dead serious, "This man has saved my life countless times. He deserves that and more."

"What kind of hero saves the world out of habit yet continously hurts his friend?"

I sighed and moved my chair closer to the Doctor, "But he'll see what he's doing sooner or later."

"You have such hope..." she sighed, Well, when he wakes up, you give him a slap across that new face of his and get that soon sooner...and maybe give him that cup of tea too," She pointed to the tray on the table.

I chuckled, "Jackie Tyler..." I shook my head. My laugh was cut short by another wisp of golden dust coming out from the Doctor's mouth. "You're still weird." I declared then sighed. "But you'll realize soon enough what you're doing to me. I'm sure you will. You'll realize it all on your own then apologize. And I'll forgive you...I will forgive you in a heartbeat because I know you're not mean. And, I know you don't think I'm not important, I hope."

I admitted to myself that the reason I didn't want to tell the Doctor of his hurtful attitude towards me was because I wanted to see just how much his focus on Rose was. I wanted to see how far I'd be cast away on account of his feelings for the blonde. As hurtful as it was, I wanted to see if he cared for me like he cared for her, on a platonic level though. He'd never turn twice at me anyways. But I wanted to see if I was on his list of important people, right there with Rose.

~0~

I continued reading my book until I heard commotion coming from the living room. It sounded like Rose and Mickey were back.

A few minutes later, there were yells. I jumped up from my seat when the three entered the room in a rush. "What's going on?" I demanded, but received no answer.

Jackie and Mickey slid a wardrobe piece in front of the door. Rose rushed over and pushed me out of the way. "Doctor, wake up!" she shook him gently, "Doctor please..."

There was commotion on the other side of the door. Mickey and Jackie leaned against the furniture piece. Rose took out the Doctor's screwdriver from his jacket and placed it in his hand, but in vain. Suddenly, our Christmas tree burst through the doors, sending Mickey and Jackie to the ground.

"I'm gonna get killed by a Christmas tree!" Jackie cried.

Rose leaned down to the Doctor's ear, "Help me," she whispered.

I was much surprised to see him actually wake up and sit up. He pointed the screwdriver at the tree and made it explode.

"Remote control, but who's controlling it?" he got out of the bed.

I couldn't stop staring. I was just...dumbfounded. Maybe stupefied?

We followed him out to the balcony where he looked out to see three plastic Santas below, staring up at him.

"It's them," Mickey pointed, "What are they?"

"Shush!" Rose exclaimed.

The Doctor pointed the screwdriver at them and slowly they gathered up and disappeared.

"Can someone explain to me what the hell just happened?" I looked around, "Rose?"

"Pilot Fish," the Doctor said, coldly.

"Excuse me?"

"They were just Pilot Fish." He began coughing and suddenly, pushed himself against the wall in pain. We all hurried beside him.

"What's wrong?" Rose asked.

"You woke me up too soon," He answered in between his panting, "I'm still regenerating. I'm bursting with energy."

"Aren't you always?" I blurted. He looked at me with an amused smile.

He let out more golden dust from his mouth. "You see? The Pilot Fish could smell it from a million miles away. So they eliminate the defense, that'd be you lot, and they carry me off. They could run their batteries on me for a couple of year-" he groaned, forcing himself forwards. "My head!" he gritted his teeth, "I'm having a neuron imlosion. I need-"

"Yes, what do you need!?" cried Jackie frantically.

"I need-"

"Tell me!" Jackie said, "Say it, c'mon now!"

"I need-"

"Pain killers?"

"I need-"

"Do you need aspirin?"

"I-"

But Jackie would not let him finish.

"Codein? Paracetamol? Oh I don't know, Pepto Bismol?"

"I need-"

"Liquid paraffin? Vitamin C? D? E?"

"I need-"

"Is it food?" Jackie insisted. I sighed; it was only a matter of time before he snapped. "Or how about a nice bowl of soup?"

"I need you to shut up!" The Doctor exclaimed.

She frowned, "Well, you haven't changed that much."

He forced himself up against the wall, "We haven't got much time. If there's Pilot Fish then-" he took out an apple from his robe, "Why's there an apple in my dressing gown?"

"That's Howard's," I pointed.

"Who the hell is Howard?" he snapped. I looked to Jackie, letting her have that one. "Is he your boyfriend?" he asked.

I snapped my head at him, "What? No! I'm only-"

He suddenly shouted in pain again, collapsing to the ground. "Brain...collapsing..." Rose quickly rushed over to him, trying to help him back up. "The Pilot Fish..." he told her, "It means...that something...something..." he paused and took a deep breath, "Something's coming," He collapsed into Rose's lap.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. For the first time in my life, I admitted I needed someone's help. Too bad that this one time that I actually needed it, he was horribly sick.

~0~

We brought the Doctor back to bed and helped him, or Rose, I should say, helped him. Mickey passed by with the laptop, nodding to us then continued his way to the living room.

"Rose..." I stepped up, "If you want, I could help-"

"It's okay, I've got it," she cut me off.

"Right, but um, I actually know my way around the nurse fiel-"

"Look, I said I've got it," She glanced at me, slightly irritated.

I tried to keep myself contain as usual.

She was hurting. She was hurting. She was hurting. 

I needed to remember that because otherwise I might pop. With a sigh, I turned on my heels then walked into the living room.

"Didn't go so well?" Mickey asked from his seat.

"Not really."

"I still say you should say something."

I took a seat beside him on the couch, "For what? To play the guilt card?"

"No, to let them know how you feel? You know you exist, right?"

I nodded, "I do."

"Well, let them know."

I smiled and shook my head, "Maybe later..."

~0~

"I found it," Mickey announced as Rose came out of the Doctor's room. She and Jackie crowded beside us. "They're scavengers like the Doctor said. Harmless. They're tiny but the point here is...the little fish swim alongside the big fish."

"You mean like sharks?" I asked.

He nodded, "Always on the point, Minnie." I smiled. "So, what the Doctor means is, we had them...now we get that," the shark on the screen snapped.

"Something is coming..." Rose repeated. The TV in front of us suddenly went static. "How close?"

"There's no way of telling but the Pilot Fish don't swim far from their daddy," Mickey said.

"So it's close?"

"Funny sort of rocks," Jackie looked to the TV.

"That's not rocks..." Rose shook her head.

"Coming live from the depths of space on Christmas morning."

An alien appeared on the TV screen, roaring out loud.

"I think it's here," I nodded slowly, my eyes fixated on the screen.

"What do we do now?" Mickey asked.

"Access UNIT," I ordered, "Access the accounts or files or something. But we have to know what's up there."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Mickey glanced at me.

"Because you can?" I raised an eye brow, "Because I did. Now do it."

"How do you know about UNIT?" Rose asked me while Mickey worked.

"The Doctor and I had some kind of a conversation," I shrugged, "You don't have the Doctor, resort to UNIT."

We waited for Mickey to access what I had ordered and when he did, we quickly looked into the laptop screen once again.

"There's a ship," he began, "It's big, it's fast, and it's on its way."

"It's coming for the Doctor," Rose whispered, sadly.

Four aliens of the same type that had been on the TV, appeared on screen. It was talking, no doubt, but what it was saying? Who knew.

"I don't understand what they're saying," Rose frowned, "The TARDIS translates alien languages inside my head all the time. Wherever I am."

"So why isn't it doing it now?" Mickey asked.

"...must be the Doctor." I said, quietly.

"Yeah," Rose agreed, nodding her head, "It's like he's part of the circuit, and he's..." her gaze fell to the ground, "He's broken."

~0~

Mickey continued doing his research and Rose was by the Doctor's side. Me? I only watched. Rose wouldn't let me help, and I know she didn't mean bad but it was getting annoying. I just wanted to help!

In the end, I did end up asleep on the ground. I was clever, but I couldn't do anything...

I was awakened by the sound of television. I fluttered my eyes opened and saw none of them were in the room anymore except for the Doctor and I. I stood up and walked out into the living room.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"We're done," Mickey looked at me, "No one to save us now."

I didn't get it at first, but then I saw Rose holding back her tears. Things had gotten worse overnight. I rubbed my face and groaned.

"I refuse," I spat, making them turn to me.

"What are you saying?" Rose asked, "They're asking for the Doctor and he's not here. We're just humans, we can't do it."

"I may be human and I may be non-special, but I refuse to hand over my life," I snapped, growing angry, probably more since it had been suppressed since she and the newest Doctor had arrived, "You've traveled with the Doctor much longer than I have. Shame on you for giving up! You don't do that, Rose. Ever. You don't ever give up," I turned back for the room and stared at the Doctor, "He taught us, and you should feel ashamed you didn't learn."

While Rose remained with her mother, crying and crying, I remained with the Doctor. I didn't believe I was quite ready to rejoin them. It was just so bothersome that she traveled much more with the Doctor and she didn't learn anything!

Suddenly, the windows smashed into pieces. I jumped up from my seat and looked around. I peered out through the broken window and saw a spaceship flying in the sky.

"Rose?" I called, deciding to let go of my annoyance for a moment. A few seconds later she ran inside.

"We're carrying him," she and I both said.

~0~

"So how exactly do you fly this thing?" Mickey walked around the console.

"No idea," Rose shook her head.

Jackie and I were setting the Doctor against the wall. "But he taught you," I reminded. I took the food Jackie had brought along with us.

"But it's been like...wiped out of my brain," She leaned against the console, "Is there a chance you know?"

I scoffed, "Please..." I set down a thermal canister beside us, "Might as well sit down for tea because we're not going anywhere."

"Solution to everything," Jackie nodded, "Now hold on, I'll go get the rest of it," she walked out.

Mickey went along the console, stopping in front of the computer screen. "How does this thing work? It picks up TV, maybe we could see what's going on out there. Maybe we've surrendered."

"I don't know, it sort of tunes itself," Rose snapped.

Mickey started pressing the buttons around it. There was a bleeping sound becoming audible for all to hear. "Maybe it's a distress signal," He suggested.

"Fat lot of good that's gonna do," Rose continued with her attitude.

"Misery all the time now?" I glanced at her, "Don't."

"Yes," she snapped, even throwing me a glare.

"May I suggest you go see what's taking Jackie so long?" I asked, gritting my teeth.

I understood she was hurting but that did not mean she could be rude to the rest of us. Now, I was not the fighting type but if she kept pressing my buttons, she'd get hurt very soon.

"I will," Rose muttered and walked to the doors. As soon as she opened them, she screamed!

"What the hell!?" I turned to her but saw she was pulled back.

I was going to dart for the door but Mickey shook his finger to me and rushed after her. When he did, I heard Rose yell to him. The doors became shut with a loud thud. I jumped up and rushed to them, going to open them but heard unfamiliar sounds from the other side. I realized I should stay inside and try to help from here. I ran back to the screen and tried playing something that would tell me where we were. I heard the familiar roars from the aliens. I looked to the doors, shocked.

We weren't on earth anymore.

"Oh we can't be..." I mumbled, stumbling back. My foot kicked the tea thermus and spilled it around the Doctor. "Oh, crap," I bent down but then sighed, "You know what," I stood up again, "What does it matter if you smell like tea? It'll be a step up from Howard's robe," I walked around the console.

"Think, think, think," I said out-loud, taking steps towards the doors then backwards repeatedly. "Joy, you don't give up. That's one good thing you got from your mother: you're stubborn. You're hot-headed. And you refuse," I nodded to myself, "And I refuse to die." A steaming noise made me turn around. I gasped when I saw the steam engulfing the Doctor's head. "Oh my god!" I clasped my hand over my mouth.

He inhaled deeply then let out more golden dust.

I looked around the console as it began lighting up. "Just like the desert..." I remembered the steam coming from the TARDIS. The screen even came to life and soon I heard Rose's and the alien's voices. I turned to it, forgetting about the Doctor momentarily. "How on earth did we move?" I muttered to myself. "Really?" I stopped, standing straight, "I'm in the middle of an alien invasion, in an alien spaceship, next to an unconscious alien, and that's my question?"

A tap on my shoulder made me scream and turn around. My eyes widened when I saw the Doctor standing right in front of me. My eyes flickered from him to the place he had just been on the ground, wondering how the hell he had managed to move so quietly.

"But...you...but..." I pointed between him and the ground. He remained silent as I continued my stuttering. "I don't...Rose..." I pointed back to the doors.

He tilted his head, staring intently, "I never noticed your eyes before."

And for some reason, they were wide as could be. I was both nervous, terrified, and just shocked. How am I supposed to be calm about this? Was there a way?

He carefully stared into my eyes, as if trying to figure something out, "Their color...are they...Jade?" He stepped closer.

"Uh...yes?" I moved to back away but remembered I was already against the console and therefore remained in place, swallowing hard at our sudden closeness.

He half-smiled, "I like them..."

"Th-thank you," my nervousness would not die down, "There's an alien invasion out there, just so you know. If you wanna stop it...that-that would be great."

"Oh, yes!" He looked up, realizing, "Let's go!" He grabbed my hand and yanked me towards the door.

"Woah!" I was brought to the doors in a snap.

"Don't just stand there, we've got visitors!" He exclaimed, noticing my abrupt stop.

I blinked, stepping back, "I'm scared," I said the first thing to come to mind.

"Hm, take a moment, then," He opened the door and walked out.

I watched after him, completely awestruck. This version seemed more...odd? I don't even know how to explain it. He seemed less worried of personal boundaries and more studious. I took a moment to gather myself then rushed out. I bumped into one of the aliens, causing me to yelp.

"Minnie!" Mickey exclaimed. I rushed over to them, keeping my head down.

One of the aliens tried attacking the Doctor with a staff. The Doctor simply snatched it and snapped it over his knee then threw it to the floor. "You just can't get the staff," He wagged a finger, "Now just wait, I'm busy," he turned to us.

"Mickey! Hello!" he exclaimed, giving a handshake. "Good to be back," he moved onto me, "Minnie?" He raised an eye brow, "We'll discuss that later. But thank you for leaving that tea on the ground. I won't be smelling like it just so you know..." He strolled off to Harriet Jones. "And Harriet Jones MP for Flydale North! Blimey, it's like 'This is your Life!" He moved to Rose. "And you, I've got a serious question to ask." Rose nodded, ready for such a thing. "Am. I...Ginger?"

I looked down, shaking my head. And he seemed just as stupid as the last version.

"No, you're just sort of brown..." Rose answered quietly, mimicking his new, big hair.

"Aw," he looked away, pouting, "I wanted to be ginger. I've never been ginger!" He turned back to her with a violent, pointing finger, "And you, Rose Tyler, fat lot of good you were- you gave up on me-oh," he paused, "That was rude. That's sort of man I am now? Rude," he thought about it, "Rude and not ginger."

"I'm sorry who is this?" Harriet asked, done with the man's rambles.

"I'm the Doctor," he turned.

"But what happened to my Doctor? Or is it a title that's just passed on?"

"I'm him. I'm literally him," he walked up to her, "Same man, new face. Well...new everything."

"But you can't be..."

"Harriet Jones, we were trapped in Downing Street and the only thing that scared you was the thought of your mother being on her own."

And with that, she stood dumbfounded. "Oh my god...it is you."

"Did you win the election?" he asked, smiling.

"Landslide majority."

"If I might interrupt!" the invading alien yelled.

"Yes, sorry big fella," the Doctor turned to them,

"Who exactly are you?"

"That's the question."

"I demand to know who you are!" the alien roared.

"I DON'T KNOW!" the Doctor imitated his roaring yell, "See, there's the thing," he continued calmly again, "I'm the Doctor but beyond that I...I just don't know. I literally do not know who I am. It's all untested," He started walking around, looking at each of us, "Am I funny? Am I sarcastic?" He stopped by Rose, "Sexy?" He winked then continued on his way.

"Forgot to ask if he was more deranged..." I said without thinking and earned a snicker from Mickey. I saw the Doctor throw me a glance. I quickly looked away, biting my own laugh down.

"Right old misery?" He continued his speech, "Life and soul? Right-handed? Left handed? A gambler? A fighter? A coward? A traitor? A liar? A nervous wreck? I mean, judging by the evidence, I've certainly got a gob," his smile turned wickedly insane when he saw the big red button at the top of stairs, "A great big threatening button!" He exclaimed, running up the stairs, "A great big threatening button which must not be pressed under any circumstances. Am I right?" He looked around. "Let me guess, it's some sort of control matrix? Hold on, what's feeding it?" He bent down and pulled open a door under the button. "And what have we got here? Blood?" He dipped his finger in a red liquid. "Yup, definitely human blood. A-Positive. With just a dash of iron. Blood control! Haven't seen blood control for years! You're controlling all the A-Positives! Which leaves us with a great big stinking problem...cause I really don't know who I am. I don't know when to stop. So if I see a Great Big Threatening Button Which Should Never Ever Be Pressed...then I just wanna do this," he pressed the button with all his might.

"No!" Rose and Harriet cried.

"You killed them!" A man yelled.

"What do you think, big fella?" the Doctor calmly turned to the alien, not at all worried by his action, "Are they dead?"

"We allow them to live," the alien announced.

"Allow?" the Doctor scoffed, "You've no choice! I mean, that's all blood control is! Cheap bit of voodoo! Scare the pants off you but that's as far as it goes. It's like hypnosis. You can hypnotize someone to walk like a chicken or sing like Elvis but you can't hypnotize them to death. Survival instinct's too strong."

"Blood control was just one form of conquest. I can summon the armada and take this world by force."

"You could do that, of course you could. Look at these people," the Doctor gestured to us, "These human beings. Consider their potential. From the day they arrive on the planet and blinking step into the sun. There is more..."

As he continued speaking, I started thinking of those words he was saying, sounding awfully familiar. Finally, it donned on me what they were. I cleared my throat, "Uh...Doctor?"

He quit talking and glanced back, "Joy? A little busy here," he gestured to the aliens.

"Yeah, sorry, but um...that's the Lion King," I pointed.

He blinked, "Is it?" I nodded, "Oh..." He turned back to the aliens, "Always right, this one," he shook his head, "Well, the point still stands. Leave them alone!"

"Or what?" the alien sneered.

"Or..." the Doctor grabbed a sword from one of the aliens around then rushed down the stairs, "I challenge you," he raised the sword in the air. The aliens began laughing at him, "Oh, that struck a chord, am I right that the sanctified rules of combat still apply?"

"You stand as this world's champion?" the alien walked down the stairs calmly and held out his sword.

The Doctor shrugged of his robe and chucked it to Rose. "Thank you. I've no idea who I am but you just summed me up. So, you accept my challenge? Or are you just a cranak pel casacree salvak?"

The alien hissed angrily, "For the planet?"

"For the planet."

And so they began their fight. I had to admit, I didn't like the idea of the Doctor with a sword. He was clumsy, that much I knew. And that was all I needed to become nervous. What if this version was even clumsier than before?

In one of those, the Doctor was thrown aside. He ignored the laugh from the alien and stood back up. He led the alien back up the stairs. "Bit of fresh air?" He asked before hitting a button and making a door open.

We quickly followed the two outside the ship. The alien was able to slightly get the Doctor on his nose. The Doctor groaned and shook his head. He saw Rose coming to him and quickly stopped her.

"Don't! Invalidate the challenge and he wins the planet," he warned.

"Rose, get back here," I quickly ordered, "I like my planet and I wanna keep it."

The pair clashed swords and the Doctor was sent back to the ground. The alien neared him and slashed at the Doctor's wrist. I gasped when his lower arm fell below. It was actually cut off.

"You cut my hand off!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"Yah! Sycorax!"

The Doctor got on his feet, "And now I know what sort of man I am. I'm lucky. Cause quite by chance, I'm still within the first fifteen hours of my regeneration cycle. Which means I've got just enough residual cellular energy...to do this," He held up what used to be his full arm and allowed us to see it regrow. He had his full arm back!

"Witchcraft," the Sycorax spat.

"Time Lord," the Doctor declared, dead serious.

"Doctor!" Rose cried and threw him a new sword.

"Oh, so I'm still the Doctor, then?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Rose smiled, "No arguments from me!"

"Wanna know the best bit? This new hand..." he acquired a Texan accent, "It's a fightin' hand!" He ran to the Sycorax and clashed swords. He took opportunity and jabbed the sword into the alien's stomach. He repeated it twice more and sent it to the ground. "I win."

"Then kill me..." the Sycorax struggled to speak.

"I'll spare your life if you'll take this champion's command: leave this planet and never return. What do you say?"

"Yes."

The Doctor pointed the sword to the stomach of the alien, "Swear on the blood of your species."

"I swear."

"There we are, then!" he exclaimed, "Cheers big fella!" He let the sword go.

Harriet clapped, "Bravo!"

Rose rushed to him, "That says it all. Bravo!" She helped him into the robe again.

"Yeah, not bad for a man in his jim-jams," I chuckled as Mickey and I approached them.

"Hold on, what have I got in here?" He took out a satsuma from his pocket.

I smiled, "Howard."

"Quite the friend," he nodded. He gestured for us to start leaving.

"He's Jackie's friend," I corrected before he got any crazy ideas.

Mickey and I went ahead, with Harriet beside us. We weren't even midway through when I saw the satsuma hit a switch on the wall. The ground began to crumble and when we turned around we saw the alien the Doctor had fought tumble down.

"No second chances. I'm that sort of a man," the Doctor said coldly.

When the spaceship finally left the planet, we erupted in cheers. I watched Mickey and Rose hug and yell happily. Jackie and I hugged and laughed. The Doctor neared Harriet and started talking, although I couldn't exactly hear them.

"Minnie!" Mickey yelled, opening his arms for me. I rushed to give him a hug. "We did it!"

"Yeah we did!" I pulled back.

"So, are you gonna tell them now?" he asked in a quieter tone.

"It's Christmas," I reminded, "It's not important and you know it."

"It's not good to keep it in."

"But it's fine."

"Minnie Souza, don't you lie."

"Oh, stop it," I pushed him.

He chuckled, "Merry Christmas!"

Jackie and Rose called the Doctor forwards. I noticed a man coming up to Harriet and saying something quietly. I took a few steps forwards and heard just in time.

"It's a message from Torchwood. They say they're ready," he said to Harriet.

I blinked, "Wait, Torchwood-"

"Tell them to fire!" Harriet ordered.

"No!" I exclaimed, but it was too late.

"Fire at will," the man instructed through his earpiece.

I looked up and saw a beam of green light shooting up. Three more of them fired to become one massive attack. A few moments later, the crashing of the ship was heard.

"That was murder!" The Doctor marched towards Harriet.

"That was defense," Harriet corrected, "It's adapted from alien technology. A shop that fell to earth over ten years ago!"

"But they were leaving!"

"You said it yourself, it'd go back to the stars and tell the others about Earth," Harriet sighed, "I'm sorry, Doctor, but you're not here all the time. They were murdered. They died right in front of me while you were sleeping. We have to defend ourselves."

The Doctor looked her over with disgust, "Britain's Golden Age."

"It comes with a price."

"I gave them the wrong warning. I should've told them to run as fast as they can. Run and hide because the monsters are coming: the human race."

I had to admit, I took offense to that. But he was so angry I didn't dare make a remark.

"Those are the people I represent," Harriet stood calm, "I did it on their behalf."

"On their behalf?" the Doctor raised an eyebrow. He glanced at me and suddenly yanked me towards them. "Joy, would you have want this?"

"What?" I blinked, too rattled from his yank to understand.

"You're part of the people she represents. Would. You. Have. Wanted. This?" He gritted his teeth.

"N-no," I answered, looking between him and Harriet. I was a little scared by the way he was looking at me. "I don't believe it was necessary. They were leaving."

"But they would have killed you," Harriet reminded.

"We don't know that," I said, bluntly, "And we never will."

She wasn't at all happy with my response. "Hm, that's one little girl, not the entire population."

I frowned, "Oi, I'm not a little girl."

"Harriet Jones don't test me," the Doctor shook his head, "I'm a new man and I could bring down your government with a single word."

Harriet smiled warmly, "You're the most remarkable man I've ever met but I don't think you're quite capable of that."

"You're right...it'd only take six," He looked down at her.

"I highly doubt it."

"Six."

"Now stop it."

The Doctor stared for a few seconds before walking around her to the man who had given the orders. He whispered something in his ear then stood straight with a dim smile. He walked past them towards the rest. I looked between him and the now-alarmed Harriet Jones.

"Doctor, what did you say!?" She cried, "Doctor! What did you say!?"

But the Doctor continued walking without a word back.

"I'm sorry," Harriet said, much quieter now.

Gazing upon her like this made me feel pity. I rushed to catch up with the Doctor. "That was a bit rash don't you think? What did you say?" He looked down at me with a serious look. "Sorry I asked," I muttered and walked ahead.

~0~

"I still don't get why you eat turkey on Christmas," I chuckled as Mickey carved a turkey in the kitchen.

"I still don't get why you won't eat it," he imitated me, earning a whack from me.

"What did you eat back home?" Jackie asked, taking out glasses from the cupboard.

"Well...nothing really," I shrugged, "Whatever my parents brought on the way from work."

"Nothing?" Mickey raised an eye brow, "You're joking?"

I smiled, "Well...my grandma, she used to help bake these delicious snicker doodles on Christmas day."

"Why didn't you say so? I could've brought the mix!" Jackie exclaimed.

"It doesn't matter."

She tilted her head, wagging a finger at me, "You need to quit saying those words."

"Sorry," I said as she walked out.

Rose walked in and joined us, "How's the turkey coming along?"

"Want a slice?" Mickey held up a piece for her. She swatted his hand away. "Don't worry, this one's for Minnie," he glanced at me.

Rose smiled, confused, "Why do you..." She pointed between us, "...call her M-""

"Joy?" Jackie walked in, holding her cellphone in hand, "There's someone on the line..."

"Who?" I asked, almost not believing. It was Christmas!

"Work," she said serious.

"You found a job again?" Rose asked. I nodded. "Congrats!"

"Thanks," I glanced to Jackie, "But..."

"She doesn't sound too happy..." Jackie warned.

I sighed, "I'll be outside." I took her phone and walked for the door. "Hello?"

Her piercing yell made me hold out the phone. I walked out and leaned against the rail. "If you could calm down..."

But she kept yelling.

I became angry as well. My patience was running thin from today's events and the last thing I needed was a woman yelling at me over the phone.

"I don't have to explain my beliefs to you. That's not part of the job description. And pardon my language, but I am off the clock, who the hell do you think you are calling me on an Off Day otherwise known as Christmas to demand an explanation of my opinions? Quite frankly, I think she messed up and she's paying the price. You follow orders and so do I when I'm on the clock. And if you want to talk about my job on Monday, then by all means. But for now, Merry Christmas and a happy new year." I hung up and groaned in frustration. I took a moment to process what had just happened. I stood straight and sighed. "I think I just lost my job."

"Something the matter?" The Doctor's voice startled me.

Wearily, I glanced over. My eyes half-widened when I took in his new wardrobe. I looked him over, up and down, down and up...

"Joy?" He called again, slightly confused.

I blinked, "Oh..." I looked away, realizing my long stare and blushing.

"Are you okay?" He stepped closer.

"Uh...yeah, yeah," I kept looking away, "You changed..."

"Huh? Oh yes, yes! Do I look fine?"

I forced myself to give him a quick glance, "Just fine..."

That pleased him, according to a grin he now wore. "Did you say something about a job?"

"Um...yeah, I got a new job," I said, not so convinced after what I had just told the boss.

"You did? Oh that's great!"

I smiled, slowly able to look at him once more. "Yeah, it's great actually. Everything's actually great right now..." My smile grew bigger. It was as if I wanted to say everything fast because he was actually paying attention and I was afraid I'd quickly lose it.

"Is it?"

I nodded, "Yeah! I think I'll finally be able to save some money again. Hopefully..."

"Oh, that's great!" He hugged me. Taken aback, I lightly patted his back. "I also wanted to thank you..."

"For what?"

"Not giving up."

I stared, still not getting it.

"I heard what you told Rose while I was, uh..."

"Taking a nap?"

He playfully rolled his eyes, "Yes, taking a nap."

I smiled softly, "Well, I meant every last word of it. You taught us giving up should never be an option. I don't ever give up."

"No you do not," he agreed.

I chuckled while he smiled and stared in silence. What?" I asked, smiling nervously as a minute of silence had passed by and he hadn't stop.

His smile deepened, "Your eyes are really beautiful."

"Oh," I felt my face warm up, "Thank you..."

"Jade, right?"

I nodded.

"I've traveled for years and I've seen green eyes all the time, but that shade of Jade? You're the first."

"Well, I'm honored to be the first," I joked, not finding anything else I could say. "Jade is a difficult green shade to have," I moved for the door, as my face would not cool down. "Shall we go inside?"

"Yeah," he followed me in.

When we entered the house, everyone was already sat by the table with the food set in front of them.

"Minnie! I've got a cracker!" Mickey waved.

I smiled, walking to the seat between him and Jackie, "I've never used one."

"What?" He asked, genuinely shocked. "What kind of Christmas do you celebrate?"

I chuckled, "I already told you."

"Next Christmas, I'm buying the snicker doodle mix," Jackie announced.

"You don't have to," I shook my head.

"Oh, please, I can see right away that you would love to have one at this moment."

I smiled, sheepishly, "Well, my grandma always made them at Christmas and they were so irresistibly delicious I always devoured them. It became a tradition, actually. Each Christmas she'd bake those snicker doodles and sometimes I'd help her. But I always ate the left over batter afterwards."

"Rose used to do the same thing with chocolate chip cookies," Jackie threw her a glance.

Rose shrugged, nonchalantly, "They were good."

I placed Jackie's cellphone on the table and passed it to her, "Thanks."

"Doctor," Rose waved her own Christmas cracker.

He had taken the seat beside her and was more than ready to try it. Both pulled and even though the Doctor won, he gave it to her.

"This one's yours," He chuckled as he handed the pink party hat to her.

"Minnie, now you try one," Mickey held out a new one for us.

"Okay, but it better not be loud," I grabbed onto the cracker.

"1...2...3!" Mickey yelled and we pulled the cracker.

I yelped, shutting my eyes for a moment. "I told you!" I whacked Mickey's arm.

"In any case, you won," He held out the paper hat.

"I hate pink," I muttered, "Give me a red one instead," I took the hat and put it on, chuckling, "You better bow down."

"Look, it's Harriet Jones!" Rose pointed.

We turned back and saw the prime minister on the television. I noticed the Doctor placing on new, black and thick-rimmed glasses.

"Since when do you wear glasses?" I asked.

"Sh!" He fixed his gaze on the TV.

I rolled my eyes.

Prime Minister, is it true you're no longer fit to be in position?

Poor Harriet was being bombarded with so many reporters and their questions.

No. Now, can we talk about other things.

Harriet looked distressed as she tried keeping up.

Is is true you're unfit for office?

Look, there is nothing wrong with my health! I don't know where these stories are coming from! And a vote of no confidence... is completely unjustified.

Jackie's cellphone went off in the midst of the commotion. Harriet could barely keep up. I truly felt sorry for her.

"What did you do?" I turned back to the Doctor.

He looked at me through those new glasses, emotionless. I grew irritated with his silent answers, if they could be considered answers. I was going to repeat the question when Jackie tugged on my arm.

"Joy, it's for you," she said, holding out the phone,

"If it's them again tell them I'm-"

"No," she shook her head. I noticed by her reserved attitude that it was someone completely different.

"Who is it then?"

She looked around before answering. She shook her head, "Here..."

I wouldn't take the phone. "I want to know who it is."

"Joy...it's your..." she bit her lip. I gestured I was waiting for her to finish. "Honey, just take it." She grabbed my hand and placed the phone.

I looked at her, strangely. I raised the phone to my ear, "Hello?"

"Sweetie, thank god you're alright!"

My eyes widened and I threw the phone to the table.

"Minnie what is it!?" Mickey quickly reached for me.

My eyes frantically looked around the table while my brain registered the voice on the phone.

"Is she alright?" I heard Rose question.

"Joy, who was it?" the Doctor asked.

"No one important," I whispered.

"Honey," Jackie reached for the phone, "Take the call."

I shook my head, "No."

"But it sounded like she was worried. Take the call. It's Christmas."

I looked to her, biting my anger down. "No."

She sighed. Mickey reached for the phone and scooted closer, "Minnie, take the call. It'll do good for both of you," I remained silent and didn't move. He sighed, "You're being stubborn. Don't be stubborn on Christmas. Take the call."

I stared at the phone, my eyes threatening to spill tears. For that matter, I took the phone and stood up, "I'll be outside," I announced quietly and went out.

With a trembling arm, I raised the cell phone to my ear again. "H-hello?"

"Joycelyn, is that you?"

I laughed, sarcastically, "Huh, you dare ask? What are you doing? What time is it? Isn't it pretty early over there? And the most important question of all, how did you get this number?"

"We're 8 hours behind, not a day. And...an important man helped. "

'Right..." I muttered, rolling my eyes, "...and who the hell is the man?"

"I just wanted to call. Your father and I were worried sick over you. Are you alright? Were you hurt?"

"If you're referring to the alien attack, then you can rest assure I am fine. You can go back to work," I looked out into the view from the rail.

"Why don't you come back? We'd love to have you again."

"Which one of you would I be seeing?"

"Don't snap young lady. I'm your-"

"Yeah, my mother," I rolled my eyes, "I know."

She sighed, "What's the necessity of you living in a girl's bedroom with people you don't even know? You have your perfectly, large room here with everything you could possibly want."

"I do know them. They know me better than anyone else. And I stay because for once, I'm actually steady with a job. I haven't traveled anymore because I found a place I actually love. You wouldn't believe it, Mom. I found this job that is just perfect and all I do is-"

"Why work? There's no need for you. Come back, you're just a little-"

"If this is why you called, then we can end it here," I said, coldly, "It's not the night for it."

She sighed again and for a moment, I believed she hung up on me. It wouldn't be the first time. "...Merry Christmas, sweetie. I love you."

I shut my eyes and sniffed very deeply, "...Merry Christmas, Mom."

I can't believe she called. That was a Christmas miracle. I loved her, I really did , but...

I placed a hand over my mouth to muffle my sobbing. Something white caught my eye and made me look up. It was snowing. Slowly, I lowered my hand and walked forth to the railing. It had begun snowing and people were already hurrying outside.

Maybe this was a sweet gesture from the stars to make me stop my sobs. I hurried down the stairs, but not before yelling for the others. I hopped onto the mushy, white ground. I laughed in delight as the snow started hitting my face and wetting my hair. I held out my hand and caught snow.

"Got you!" Mickey jumped on me from behind.

I yelled shortly then laughed, "Not cool!" I turned around, frowning.

"So, how'd it go?" he gestured to the phone in my hand.

I sighed, "She was worried. The aliens freaked her out. For the first time, she gave a crap about her last child."

"And the only," he corrected, "Therefore, of course she'd call."

"Yeah, but it didn't get us through a breakthrough. She wants me to come back and be what I used to be. Never." I crossed my arms. I noticed the Doctor and Rose coming forth with Jackie a few feet behind. I looked up to the sky and saw what looked like meteors falling through. "Look!" I pointed, "Meteors!"

"They're not meteors," the Doctor corrected, oddly (for him anyways) quiet.

"What is it?" Rose asked curiously, also looking up.

"This isn't snow. It's ash."

"Not so beautiful anymore..." she muttered.

"This is a brand new planet Earth. No denying the existence of aliens now- everyone saw it," the Doctor looked up, "Everything's new."

"Oh...and what about you?" Rose asked, suddenly growing quieter as well. "What are you gonna do next?" She maintained her look on Mickey and I, like she was avoiding him.

"Well...back in the TARDIS...same old life," the Doctor answer, not very spirited if you asked me.

"On...on your own?" Rose bit her nail.

"Why, don't you wanna come?" He looked down to her.

"Well...yeah..." she finally looked at him, nervously.

"Really? I just thought...'cause I changed..."

"Well I thought...'cause you changed...you might not want me anymore," Rose dimly smiled.

"Oh I'd love you to come!" He finally showed some excitement.

"Okay!"

Mickey and I glanced at each other, amused, then rolled our eyes. I walked over to Jackie and held out her phone. "Thank you."

She smiled warmly, "How'd it go?"

I sighed, looking around, "You know...mother calls, mother says a few things, mother hangs up." I paused, "Joy remains Joy."

She tilted her head, "It sounded like she was really worried."

"Yeah, I don't doubt that. But I don't think she wants me home for that reason; to be safe. And I can't go back like that."

"Be honest with yourself, do you ever plan on going home?"

The thought of it sent a short tremble through my body. I shook my head, forcing very hard to keep all my tears inside my eyes. "No..."

She tilted her head, "Not on Christmas you don't," She wiped a tear off my cheek.

I smiled, "You know what?" I looked at her and Mickey, "I'm gonna show you how I celebrated Christmas once upon a time!"

They glanced at each other, surprised. They gave each other a nod then turned to me with smiles.

"Really?" Mickey raised an eye brow.

I nodded, "Well, the way grandma and I celebrated it anyways. I'm thinking," I put a finger to my cheek as I thought, taking a step back, "A really good movie. Oh! Like the Breakfast Club! With some hot chocolate!"

"Should I run and get the snicker doodle mix then?" Jackie pointed, "I'm sure there's one store open around here."

I laughed and shook my head, not wanting her to go through the trouble. I looked at her and Mickey for a good moment and sighed with content. I thought Christmas this year would be a joke and plain bad but I was so wrong. Never did I believe in my years of traveling that I'd ever spend Christmas with people I could call family.

"Joy?" the Doctor called, cutting my thoughts short. I turned around to him and Rose. "I want you to come with us," he stepped forwards.

"Where?" I raised an eye brow.

"Anywhere," He shrugged, "Still haven't figured that part out yet. But I'd like you to come with us," he gestured to Rose.

"Why?" I asked, wearily. The thought of being a third wheel made me so tired. I didn't want to be a third wheel...

"It's my thank you," he stuffed his hands in his pockets, "Because if it wasn't for your cleverness and your clumsiness, everyone would have probably died tonight."

"It wasn't me," I said flatly, "Rose brought you here and Jackie made the tea."

"Joy," he walked up to me and looked down with a new serious face, "Please. Let me thank you."

I looked up, remaining silent. I knew it drove him crazy which is probably why I took a little longer. A little pay back here and there wouldn't hurt anyone. "Okay..."

He smiled brightly, and hugged me, "Brilliant! We'll have fun, that much I promise!"

I chuckled, "With you it's bound to happen some way or another."

I would only travel one trip. No more. I still didn't want to be a third wheel. I guess I was also hoping he'd actually acknowledge my existence since this was a trip to thank me.

[lexmagnum]

Structure of the Birth Certificate

Did the State Pledge Your Body to a Bank?

Right: Some birth and marriage certificates are now "warehouse receipts," printed on banknote paper, which may mark you and yours as 'chattel' property of the banks that our government borrows from every day.

A certificate is a "paper establishing an ownership claim." - Barron's Dictionary of Banking Terms. Registration of births began in 1915, by the Bureau of Census, with all states adopting the practice by 1933.

Birth and marriage certificates are a form of securities called "warehouse receipts." The items included on a warehouse receipt, as descried at §7-202 of the Uniform Commercial Code, the law which governs commercial paper and transactions, which parallel a birth or marriage certificate are:

-the location of the warehouse where the goods are stored...(residence)

-the date of issue of the receipt.....("Date issued")

-the consecutive number of the receipt...(found on back or front of the certificate, usually in red numbers)

-a description of the goods or of the packages containing them...(name, sex, date of birth, etc.)

-the signature of the warehouseman, which may be made by his authorized agent...(municipal clerk or state registrar's signature)

Birth/marriage certificates now appear to at least qualify as "warehouse receipts" under the Uniform Commercial Code. Black's Law Dictionary, 7th ed. defines:

warehouse receipt. "...A warehouse receipt, which is considered a document of title, may be a negotiable instrument and is often used for financing with inventory as security."

Since the U.S. went bankrupt in 1933, all new money has to be borrowed into existence. All states started issuing serial-numbered, certificated "warehouse receipts" for births and marriages in order to pledge us as collateral against those loans and municipal bonds taken out with the Federal Reserve's banks. The "Full faith and Credit" of the American people is said to be that which back the nation's debt. That simply means the American people's ability to labor and pay back that debt. In order to catalog its laborers, the government needed an efficient, methodical system of tracking its property to that end. Humans today are looked upon merely as resources - "human resources," that is.

Governmental assignment of a dollar value to the heads of citizens began on July 14, 1862 when President Lincoln offered 6 percent interest bearing-bonds to states who freed their slaves on a "per head" basis. This practice of valuating humans (cattle?) continues today with our current system of debt-based currency reliant upon a steady stream of fresh new chattels to back it.

Additional Birth Certificate Research

Federal Children

by Joyce Rosenwald

In 1921, the federal Sheppard-Towner Maternity Act created the birth "registration" or what we now know as the "birth certificate." It was known as the "Maternity Act" and was sold to the American people as a law that would reduce maternal and infant mortality, protect the health of mothers and infants, and for "other purposes." One of those other purposes provided for the establishment of a federal bureau designed to cooperate with state agencies in the overseeing of its operations and expenditures. What it really did was create a federal birth registry which exists today, creating "federal children." This government, under the doctrine of "Parens Patriae," now legislates for American children as if they are owned by the federal government. Through the public school enrollment process and continuing license requirements for most aspects of daily life, these children grow up to be adults indoctrinated into the process of asking for "permission" from Daddy government to do all those things necessary to carry out daily activities that exist in what is called a "free country."

Before 1921 the records of births and names of children were entered into family bibles, as were the records of marriages and deaths. These records were readily accepted by both the family and the law as "official" records. Since 1921 the American people have been registering the births and names of their children with the government of the state in which they are born, even though there is no federal law requiring it. The state tells you that registering your child's birth through the birth certificate serves as proof that he/she was born in the united States , thereby making him/her a United States Citizen. For the past several years a social security number has been mandated by the federal government to be issued at birth.

In 1933, bankruptcy was declared by President Roosevelt. The governors of the then 48 States pledged the "full faith and credit" of their states, including the citizenry, as collateral for loans of credit from the Federal Reserve system. To wit:"Full faith and credit" clause of Const. U.S. article 4. sec. 1, requires that foreign judgement be given such faith and credit as it had by law or usage of state of it's origin. That foreign statutes are to have force and effect to which they are entitled in home state. And that a judgement or record shall have the same faith, credit, conclusive effect, and obligatory force in other states as it has by law or usage in the state from whence taken.

Black's Law Dictionary, 4th Ed. cites omitted.

The state claims an interest in every child within it's jurisdiction. The state will, if it deems it necessary, nullify your parental rights and appoint a guardian (trustee) over your children. The subject of every birth certificate is a child. The child is a valuable asset, which if properly trained, can contribute valuable assets provided by its labor for many years. It is presumed by those who have researched this issue, that the child itself is the asset of the trust established by the birth certificate, and the social security number is the numbering or registration of the trust, allowing for the assets of the trust to be tracked. If this information is true, your child is now owned by the state. Each one of us, including our children, are considered assets of the bankrupt united states. We are now designated by this government as "HUMAN RESOURCES," with a new crop born every year."

In 1923, a suit was brought against federal officials charged with the administration of the maternity act, who were citizens of another state, to enjoin them from enforcing it, wherein the plaintiff averred that the act was unconstitutional, and that it's purpose was to induce the States to yield sovereign rights reserved by them through the federal Constitution's 10th amendment and not granted to the federal government, and that the burden of the appropriations falls unequally upon the several States, held, that, as the statute does not require the plaintiff to do or yield anything, and as no burden is imposed by it other than that of taxation, which falls, not on the State but on her inhabitants, who are within the federal as well as the state taxing power, the complaint resolves down to the naked contention that Congress has usurped reserved powers of the States by the mere enactment of the statute, though nothing has been, or is to be, done under it without their consent (Commonwealth of Massachusetts vs. Mellon, Secretary of the Treasury, et al.; Frothingham v. Mellon, Secretary of the Treasury et.al..) Mr. Alexander Lincoln, Assistant Attorney General, argued for the Commonwealth of Massachusetts . To wit:

I. The act is unconstitutional. It purports to vest in agencies of the Federal Government powers which are almost wholly undefined, in matters relating to maternity and infancy, and to authorize appropriations of federal funds for the purposes of the act.

Many examples may be given and were stated in the debates on the bill in Congress of regulations which may be imposed under the act. THE FORCED REGISTRATION OF PREGNANCY, GOVERNMENTAL PRENATAL EXAMINATION OF EXPECTANT MOTHERS, RESTRICTIONS ON THE RIGHT OF A WOMAN TO SECURE THE SERVICES OF A MIDWIFE OR PHYSICIAN OF HER OWN SELECTION, are measures to which the people of those States which accept its provisions may be subjected. There is nothing which prohibits the payment of subsidies out of federal appropriations. INSURANCE OF MOTHERS MAY BE MADE COMPULSORY. THE TEACHING OF BIRTH CONTROL AND PHYSICAL INSPECTION OF PERSONS ABOUT TO MARRY MAY BE REQUIRED.

By section 4 of the act, the Children's Bureau is given all necessary powers to cooperate with the state agencies in the administration of the act. Hence it is given the power to assist in the enforcement of the plans submitted to it, and for that purpose by its agents to go into the several States and to do those acts for which the plans submitted may provide. As to what those plans shall provide, the final arbiters are the Bureau and the Board. THE FACT THAT IT WAS CONSIDERED NECESSARY IN EXPLICIT TERMS TO PRESERVE FROM INVASION BY FEDERAL OFFICIALS THE RIGHT OF THE PARENT TO THE CUSTODY AND CARE OF HIS CHILD AND THE SANCTITY OF HIS HOME SHOWS HOW FAR REACHING ARE THE POWERS WHICH WERE INTENDED TO BE GRANTED BY THE ACT.

(1) The act is invalid because it assumes powers not granted to Congress and usurps the local police power. McCulloch v. Maryland , 4 Wheat. 316, 405; United States v. Cruikshank, 92 U.S. 542, 549-551.

In more recent cases, however, the Court has shown that there are limits to the power of Congress to pass legislation purporting to be based on one of the powers expressly granted to Congress which in fact usurps the reserved powers of the States, and that laws showing on their face detailed regulation of a matter wholly within the police power of the States will be held to be unconstitutional although they purport to be passed in the exercise of some constitutional power. Hammer v. Dagenhart, 247 U.S. 251; Child Labor Tax Case, 259 U.S. 20; Hill v. Wallace, 259 U.S. 44.

The act is not made valid by the circumstance that federal powers are to be exercised only with respect to those States which accept the act, for Congress cannot assume, and state legislatures cannot yield, the powers reserved to the States by the Constitution. Message of President Monroe, May 4, 1822 ; 4 Elliot's Debates, p. 525; Pollard's Lessee v. Hagan, 3 How. 212; Escanaba Co. v. Chicago , 107 U.S. 678; Coyle v. Oklahoma , 221 U.S. 559; Cincinnati v. Louisville & Nashville R.R. Co., 223 U.S. 390.

(2) The act is invalid because it imposes on each State an illegal option either to yield a part of its powers reserved by the Tenth Amendment or to give up its share of appropriations under the act. A statute attempting, by imposing conditions upon a general privilege, to exact a waiver of a constitutional right, is null and void. Harrison v. St. Louis & San Francisco R.R. Co., 232 U.S. 318; Terral v. Burke Construction Co., 257 U.S. 529.

(3) The act is invalid because it sets up a system of government by cooperation between the Federal Government and certain of the States, not provided by the Constitution. Congress cannot make laws for the States, and it cannot delegate to the States the power to make laws for the United States . In re Rahrer, 140 U.S. 545; Knickerbocker Ice Co. v. Stewart, 253 U.S. 149; Opinion of the Justices, 239 Mass. 606.

The Maternity Act was eventually repealed, but parts of it have been found in other legislative acts. What this act attempted to do was set up government by appointment, run by bureaucrats with re-delegated authority to tax, which is in itself unconstitutional. What was once declared as unconstitutional by the Supreme Court of this nation in the past should be upheld in a court challenge today. The constitution hasn't changed. What has changed is the way this government views human life. Today we are defined as human resources, believed to be owned by government. The government now wants us, as individuals, to be tagged and tracked. Government mandated or legislated National I.D. is unconstitutional anyway you look at it. Federal jurisdiction to legislate for the several states does not exist and could never survive a court challenge as shown above. Writing letters to elected public servants won't save us when we all know their agenda does not include serving those who placed them in power. Perhaps the 10th amendment of the federal constitution guaranteeing states rights will, if challenged, when making it known that we as individuals of the several states will not be treated as chattel of the U.S. government. If the federal government believes they own us, and as such have the right to demand national I.D. cards, and health I.D. cards, which will in truth tag us as we tag our animals, then let them bring forth the documents to prove their authority to legislate for it. If our G-D given rights to liberty and freedom, which were the foundation upon which this nation was created do not exist, and liberty and freedom is only an illusion under which the American people suffer, then let the governments of this nation come forward and tell the people. But...if we are indeed free, then we should not have to plead or beg before our elected public servants to be treated as such. If, in truth we are not free, then perhaps it's time to let the final chapter of the Great American Revolution be written..........

[bloodsworn-marshal]

List of my AUs....

[[ Finally took the time to write out a bunch of nonsense AUs I’ve been mainly keeping to myself... very self-indulgent but fun ideas I liked to explore if only for the creativity out of it...! ]]

Bandit AU

Before the inevitable would come to be that his own parents would sell his life away, Pipin had instead chosen to run away from home a few days prior after coming upon the evidence that his biological father had prepared to do such. He thought his luck better in the wilds than to be forced into child labor. So it would be that he fled in the dead of night with what few rations and belongings he called his own, striking out a new life for himself… Out in the never ending sands of the desert. A new place he would soon call home.

From there Pipin spent a large portion of his life adapting and surviving. Learning the ways of the land, making himself at home in what caverns or caves he might find unoccupied. He grew strong by living on the land and learning how to hunt on his own, finding himself in favor of the curved blades and daggers that bandits would normally make use of.

As time went on, he would no longer be alone as he took on other runaway children and others who no longer had a life to return to. Creating a small band of bandits that stole not from just anyone—but from those of great wealth and fortune. Even from other bandits of the desert should they stray too close to their own hideouts. They were secretly lauded as heroes, as Pipin made habit to return most of the stolen wealth back to those of less fortune. Few would be willing to sell them out, considering they technically helped the poorer class without being held down by any of Ul’dah’s typical ruling.

That’s not to say that there aren’t those that oppose him or his ethics. Though much of his crew remain nameless, Pipin’s name and face is notorious around Thanalan… especially to those of the Brass Blades and Immortal Flames. He is known to fool with the guardsmen and sellswords, purposefully creating havoc as he plays by his own rules and defies the law without care. Though he still performs with ‘good intentions’ in his and most of every other’s eyes… he is a public nuisance upon the higher class. Thus does he find himself in trouble often with those of political weight and power. Mayhaps even found himself in a gaol or two before busting himself out.

If ever there was one so highly sought after, it would be he with his ever growing bounty on his head…

Royal AU

All begins to come to light with but a single visit. One who approached Pipin with a withered and torn letter, claiming that he is the missing prince of a particular kingdom. In the letter it contained the final words of his supposed true parents, that he was sent away when the fall of their kingdom was eminent. The messenger themselves also claimed to be the very one who brought him to Ul’dah as an infant and left him on a couple’s doorstep. Left to be blissfully unaware that he may belong elsewhere. The messenger also stating they thought never to be able to find Pipin yet again, but heard of his rise in power to the newly instated Flame General. That there may still yet be a flame left that wishes to lead a broken home…

Pipin meant to hide this and be in full denial of such nonsense! The messenger left him be, stating they’d be back some day for an answer while leaving the final letter in Pipin’s hands. The name’s of his supposed parents etched in writing… which might prove to be a familiar name should he wish to research it and confirm the roots with those who might know of the royal line.

In hopes of learning the truth and to find the answers he so desperately seeks, he speaks with Nanamo in privacy. That maybe she might be able to recognize the names or the kingdom mentioned within the contents of the letter. But of course… walls have ears in the Ul’dahn palace, as news swiftly spread of the General’s uncertain upbringing.

A power struggle begins as tensions start to flare. The Monetarists are attempting to take advantage of this uncertainty and tirelessly push Pipin towards resignation of the Immortal Flames, if he is to be of a different nationality, let alone belonging onto another royal line. Those of the other kingdom, having learned word of his finding, are beginning to show up and call for him to return home.

All the while Pipin is merely trying to find a balance he struggles with this weight thrusted upon his shoulders. Knowing only that he wished to remain in Ul’dah and keep hold of all that he’s achieved… not to be cast out for what he may very well be. Though the Sultana herself vouched for him, she too was beginning to grow involved… in that she had taken him under her wing to teach him the finer lifestyle of behaving like a ‘prince’.

Merchant AU

A fun little AU with @high-stakes-gambler where Teledji happens to purchase the very mines a young Pipin was working in at the time… and comes to find out that his biological father took advantage by selling his child along with as a means to get some coin out of the exchange. Thus does Teledji find himself in ownership and technical fatherhood of the young lad… supposing he may as well get something out of the kid by teaching him the ways of merchantry! Pipin soon to become known as a merchant’s son by his guidance.

Over time the two learn each other. Teledji ever the crooked Monetarist who took advantage of markets and the like, Pipin but a simple bright-eyed child taking to a new home and doing his best to learn how to please his sudden new father. Growing up in years however and becoming privy to Teledji’s plots and schemes… he increasingly finds himself unimpressed, if not in full disagreement with how oft the old man likes to break the law.

Their relationship goes in throws. Sometimes well mannered and sweet, but often soured by the fact that Teledji Adeledji was simply naught but a crook and scammer playing the system. Turning away for a time, Pipin joined with the Immortal Flames in search of doing honest work. He enjoys being able to help the people and learn the ways of the blade. The gap between the two continued to grow… until the very tipping point where Pipin caught onto his father’s scheme to poison the Sultana.

The young man confronts Teledji before he is to slip the poison. Exchanging a vast amount of fiery words before Pipin blurts the contents of his heart. That he didn’t want Teledji to break the law, nor did he want the man to be killed… that he was his only family to give him a true home, despite all else. These words catch the monetarist off guard and he breaks down upon realizing these truths, choosing then to ditch the plan and flee Ul’dah instead.

There Pipin helped lend a hand in secretly leaving through Vesper Bay to procure a new livelihood in Limsa Lominsa. Where Pipin finally takes a shine to learning true merchantry and operating under a new business name and all to help grow Teledji’s business from the ground up. Finally living an honest life where they might learn and grow together in a new market field.

Dwarf AU

Pipitt is a part of the Tholl tribe and son of the leading chieftain. Once a shy boy who simply rode on the coattails of their father growing up, he later on wished to take leave from Tomra. Not only to travel and explore the world over (or at least, what left remains of it), but also because he found his mindset against that of the elders and their ‘traditions’. Their rules were unchangeable. They feared outsiders and let the world rot around them both before and after the flood. Kind they may be to one’s face, but very few ever wish to leave home in the instance their kind be turned upon.

In solitude Pipitt had grown. Such strictness had molded him for a time, until he broke out of his shell and eventually wanted to leave to see the world for himself. Mayhaps even return to Tomra one day and bring about change. If he could prove his mettle on the First and encourage others to venture out as well, that they need no longer fear the outside… that in itself would prove the journey worth it. 

In the days of finalizing his plan, he happened to run into an exiled dwarf by the name of Zurott. They had taken to hiding within the inner mountains all this time in shame for their past deeds… After hearing parts of their story, Pipitt took it upon himself to offer for the other to join him. A new life in a world where the warrior of darkness had rid them of everlasting light. The night had but recently returned, and they intended on learning the mysteries of the First.

Together they would go. A dwarf who had been sheltered and privileged all his life, and another who had thrown it all way and embraced freedom. Pipitt however...would finally need to learn how to fight and fend for himself.

[thequeenoffish]

17 Years of Freedom - Chapter 2

Ship: Starker

Warning: Incest

Summary:

In a world were omegas must have a legal alpha there is only one loophole, children. If an omega has a child and is not mated, they effectively own themselves till their youngest child comes of age. If that child is an alpha, they take over legal ownership, if not, the omega is owned by their last alpha guardian or the government.

Tony Stark is 24, he has been owned legally by Obadiah Stane since he was 17, but he knows Stane is tired of owning him legally without mating with him, so he gets pregnant. 9 months later Peter Stark is born, he is an alpha. Tony loves his son more than life itself and is determined to raise an alpha who truly respects omegas. But, as his son grows into an adult, things start to get complicated for them both.

Read Chapter two here on Ao3

---

Tony wakes the morning after his rescue to find 5 missed calls and ten text messages, all from Hill and Fury. The messages make it clear that Fury is pissed that Peter intervened and that they went back to the tower instead of straight to S.H.I.E.L.D. to be debriefed. Tony looks at Peter, curled against his chest, still dead asleep. He kisses his hair gently and lays in bed till voices drift into the room. “Of course, Phil, I’ll get them. Just wait here,” Tony hears Pepper’s voice. Tony’s arms tighten around Peter involuntarily at the mention of the agent being in their home. He doesn’t want S.H.I.E.L.D. near Peter. He’d taken significant measures to stop them finding out he’d been bitten and gained powers. Up till now, Peter has been content to train with Tony and build a suit to fit his powers, but Tony knew he’d want to use them for more soon…

Pepper opens the door and smiles softly at the scene. “Tony, S.H.I.E.L.D. needs you and Pete for the debriefing,” she tells him. Tony groans. He can feel Peter starting to stir. “Come on, Bud, time to wake up and come to work with Daddy,” he jokes. Peter lets out a soft groan and presses closer to Tony’s chest. “Five more minutes” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep. Tony laughs and rolls him onto his back. “Sorry kid, if you want to be a hero, you have to get used to the part of the job where you get shouted at for doing the right thing,” he tells him. Peter groans. “You’ll be with me?” he asks, eyes fluttering open. Tony strokes his cheek. “Wouldn’t let them separate us, kid,” he reassures. Peter leans into his hand and smiles sleepily.

---

An hour later, they’re sitting in a meeting room at S.H.I.E.L.D. Peter and Tony, being forced to wait in uncomfortable chairs, have pushed them closer together so they can lean against each other. Peter keeps scent marking Tony. It makes Tony’s heart ache. Peter must have been so worried. “You think I have time for a nap?” Peter asks, yawning. At that instant, the door opens. “No, you don’t, Spider-Boy,” Nick Fury exclaims. Peter seems unintimidated. He simply looks at the man and says, “You know, I think you were right about waiting to be a hero, Dad. ‘Boy’ really doesn’t have the same ring to it as ���man,’ does it?” he asks. Tony grins, extremely proud of his son. “Boy is a little patronising,” he agrees. Fury does not appreciate the joke. He strides across the room and puts his hands on the table. “You did something incredibly dangerous, Pup. This is no laughing matter!” he snaps. Peter’s nose crinkles at the word, a word used only by parents for their own children unless it’s being used as an insult to talk down to someone else’s child. “And you were all just standing around! At least I did something. In fact, I did a lot of somethings,” he points out. Tony chest warms at how confident Peter is against this full-grown alpha.

Fury growls. The warm feeling disappears and in a second Tony is standing, hands on the table as he growls at Fury, right in his face. “You don’t fucking growl at Peter,” he spits out. “If you do, then you can forget this whole debrief, clear?” The two stare each other down. “In case you’re forgetting, Director, I tracked down the location my Dad was being kept hours if not days before S.H.I.E.L.D. was able to. I called and gave you the coordinates in time for S.H.I.E.L.D. to arrive 30 minutes after I did. As much as you want to act like I’m an idiot, I thought about this before I did it, and I am not going to apologise,” Peter says, voice confident, though it wavers a bit on the last word. Fury pulls back and glares at Peter. “It was reckless and dangerous, and you could have ruined the whole operation if you’d been caught,” he snaps. Peter rolls his eyes. “But I didn’t, did I?” he points out. “How exactly did you do it, Pete?” Tony asks, sitting back and sliding his arm around Peter’s shoulder. “You didn’t get a chance to tell me yesterday, and despite already seeing the footage that I sent to S.H.I.E.L.D., they’ll want the details in your own words” he points out. Peter smiles proudly at Tony. “I tracked you by following the unique trace of the arc reactor,” he says. Tony raises an eyebrow, impressed. “That took a few hours to get right, and then I used my override code to activate four Iron Man suits,” he explains. “I arrived at the coordinates with just the mark 13, then had my drone do a flyover to get a basic scan of the building. I went in through the vents since basically no one else would have been able to get into them. The vents had sheer drops with nowhere to attach a line to lower yourself down. I listened in from the vents, found out where you were being held, got into the room you were in, and beat the shit out of the two fucking asshole rapists. Then S.H.I.E.L.D. arrived due to my tip, with backup from the two other suits. Then the mark 12 and 13 came to pick us up, we helped S.H.I.E.L.D. clear the building a little, and then we flew back to the tower,” Peter finishes.

Fury looked unimpressed. “If you had been caught, you would have tipped them off, and then you, SI tech, and your Omega would have all been taken,” he snaps. Peter flinches. “Yes, well done, you do understand failure,” he snaps back, “But if my Dad had waited for you, he would have been raped!” Peter exclaims, a growl creeping into his tone. Fury steps forward again. “He knew the risks of fighting and getting caught as an omega!” he growls. Peter’s sensitive ears ring with the loud growl and he sways, but he won’t back down. Tony stands, ready to hit Fury for talking about him like that and growling at Peter again. “Stop!”

Their heads all snap to the door. It’s Steve. He’s glaring fiercely at Fury. “I can’t believe you just implied that, Fury, and watch your damn tone with Pete, he’s only a kid!” he snaps as he strides towards them. “I think this meeting is over. Come on, guys,” he says. Tony grabs Peter’s arm and pulls him out of the room as Peter continues to glare at Fury until he’s out of sight. Steve leads them through the base in silence to a rec room where the rest of the Avengers are.

Before Tony can speak and defend Peter, Steve is turning and hugging Peter. “Well done,” the Captain says. Peter blinks and hugs him back. “T-thank you,” he stutters, surprised. Steve pulls back enough to look him in the eye, hands still on his shoulders. “We may technically work for S.H.I.E.L.D., but we aren’t that conformist,” he pauses. “I think we can admit that, before yesterday, we might not have listened to you if you came to us with a plan since we still see you as a little kid sometimes. But next time, tell us your plan and we can go together without their approval, okay kid?” he asks quietly.

Peter’s eyes fill with tears and he nods. “O-okay,” he stutters. “You were very brave to do what you did, and I am so grateful that you were smart about it and that you saved Tony,” he says, voice quiet. “We watched the footage, Pete. Your upper hook needs some practice. We’ll have to spar together,” Natasha tells him, smiling. Peter looks shocked. “I, I’d like that Nat. I normally only spar with my Dad and Rhodey.” “You need to practise your aim,” Clint states. “We can practise with your stun darts,” he says, putting a hand on his shoulder. Suddenly Peter is lifted up from behind. “You are a warrior, Pete, and so on Asgard a man!” Thor exclaims as he hugs him back into his chest. Peter laughs. “Then put me down!” he exclaims. “I am a superior warrior. I get to hug you,” Thor tells him smugly. Peter laughs and Thor puts him down after a few more seconds. Bruce comes closer. “You’ll have to show me how you tracked Tony down so fast, Peter,” he tells him, smiling.

Tony watches them all, a warm feeling in his chest, and thinks that this is what it’s like to have a large family.

--- After the kidnapping incident, Peter finds himself becoming more protective and possessive of his Dad. This, however, is not an entirely new feeling for him. Peter was 12 when he first smelled alpha cum on his Dad. The stink of sex and alpha clinging to his skin made his nose scrunch up and the first protective alpha instincts rise in his chest.  His Dad assumed that the possessive hug was because Peter smelled another alpha on him. Not because, despite the shower Tony took to wash away the smell of sex, Peter’s enhanced nose can still smell the other alpha’s claim. At the time, Peter wasn’t sure what the smell was exactly, just knowing in his chest that it was in some way another alpha’s mark on his Dad. Peter remembers holding his Dad tight and wanting to keep him away from anyone who’d put that kind of mark on him ever again.

Now Peter is 15 and he controls himself better, understanding that his Dad is entitled to enjoy his freedom while Peter is maturing into a proper alpha. But then Peter starts smelling the same alpha over and over, and only him, for two months, and he starts to get worried. He needs to do something, now. He primes his innocent puppy eyes and pout that he knows his Dad can’t resist and one night during dinner he casually says, “Are you serious about this alpha?”

Tony chokes on his food for a few seconds.

“Which alpha?” he asks, looking guilty. “The one you smell of whenever you come back from ‘business dinners.’ I’m not stupid Dad, god,” he says, rolling his eyes. Tony laughs and rubs his neck. “Sorry, Buddy, I should have told the truth. We are pretty serious,” he admits. Peter looks at his Dad with wide puppy eyes. “I thought you wanted me to be your Alpha and look after you,” he says, making his voice sound soft and hurt. Tony’s face contorts in pain at seeing Peter upset and he reaches for his hand and squeezes it. “I, I am sorry, baby. I just met someone and they’re pretty nice and I like them a lot. I didn’t plan it,” he explains softly. Peter hums and then pouts. “I get to meet them! I don’t care if I’m not your guardian Alpha yet, I want to keep you safe!” he demands. Tony laughs and squeezes his hand again. “Okay, Bud, it’s about time anyway,” he agrees. Peter smiles. Step one of the plan is a go. ---- Peter hates the dinner.

Sitting and eating dinner with some businessman named Carl Werewood and having to watch him touch his Dad all over like he owns him feels like torture. Carl’s hand is always around Dad’s waist, on his thigh, holding his hand, or on his lower back. It takes a lot not to break his hand when he sees the man squeeze his Omega’s ass when he thinks Peter isn’t looking. What’s worse is the scent of slight arousal coming from his Dad at the action.

And aside from all of that, disregarding his jealousy over this strange alpha, his spider-sense tells him the man is dangerous. Before, he was jealous, but now he’s worried too. Peter is the perfect son, polite and intelligent, and Carl seems impressed with him. Alphas are often very protective so it isn’t strange when Peter asks lots of questions and even makes Tony sit in the back of the car with him on the way back from dinner. “I was worried that might go badly, with you full with hormones and all, but I forgot it’s you, Pete. I don’t know why I was worried,” Dad says, kissing his cheek when they are back home. Peter’s chest swells with the praise. “I wanted to make a good impression for you, Dad,” he says. Tony smiles fondly. “You did great, thanks,” he says, eyes full of love. “What did you think of him?” “He seemed nice, smart, rich. He seemed to like you a lot,” Peter suddenly looks at his feet and pauses. “It, it might be nothing, but...” he trails off. Tony tilts his chin up. “But?” he asks, frowning. “He triggered my spider-sense. He felt like danger. Maybe it’s nothing, but... be careful okay?” he says softly. Tony hugs him. “I know that your sense can be pretty serious, so I promise to be careful, okay?” he murmurs. Peter hugs back tightly. “Love you, Dad.” “Love you too, kid.” ----

Now Peter’s got a name, a face, and a scent. He’s ready to start phase two. He is sure there’s something wrong which, while concerning for his Dad, is convenient for him because if there is, he doesn’t have to compete against the alpha in the same way. He had been planning to stalk Carl to find out his flaws and attempt to expose them, but if there is something really wrong, this won’t be needed. The next date they are going on is a few days later. In a show of protectiveness that he is sure Tony finds cute, he asks where he is going and when he will be back. Tony tells him and promises to stay safe.

Peter first has to negotiate with Karen. “Here’s the deal: either you don’t share my location with Friday, or I leave my watch, phone and suit home and risk getting hurt with no backup.” Karen is silent. “Locking baby monitor protocol for three hours,” she finally responds. Peter grins. “Great.” He goes to the restaurant and waits outside on the rooftop in his stealth suit. A little while later, Tony and Carl leave the restaurant. They kiss, far too passionately for Peter’s liking. He doesn’t like the man’s wandering hands.

He follows Carl’s taxi. This is day one of surveillance and he expects to simply find out where he lives, but instead Carl takes the taxi to a BDSM dungeon. This is an immediate red flag. He and Tony are exclusive. Peter already knows Carl is probably cheating, but there’s a chance Tony could forgive that. He needs to know what the man goes there to do. The suit changes to its normal colours and he strides in, going up to the counter where the beta hostess stares at him in shock. “I need information for an investigation I’m working on. How much?” Peter asks, getting straight to business. The woman blinks a few times. “Depends what it is.” “I want to talk to the person who served a man who has been here before and is here now, and I want to know how many times he has visited,” Peter explains. “I’ll pay you and the person who served them.” The woman looks him up and down. “$500 for what I can give you, but I won’t negotiate for them,” she answers. Peter draws out his wallet and counts out ten $50 bills. He offers half of it. “Other half after you give me the information,” he demands. She takes it. “Name.” “Carl Werewood,” he answers. Her face turns grim. “At least 4 times a month for the last 5 months or so,” she tells him. He nods. “Can I talk to anyone who served him?” he asks. She checks her computer screen then nods. “Yeah, one of the boys is free right now. Come through here so you don’t run into him,” she tells him, guiding him into a room. It’s half BDSM dungeon, half bedroom. “I don’t have anyone for 40 minutes, I’m on break-” the man stops when he sees Peter. “Spider-Man,” he whispers. Peter gives the woman her other $250. “He just wants to ask some questions. He pays well,” she tells him. The man nods, looking at Peter with wide eyes. “What do you need, Sir?” he asks. “I need to know what Carl Werewood pays for here,” Peter says. The boy’s face turns pale. Whatever it is must be bad to provoke such a reaction. The man swallows. “He shouldn’t be allowed here, but he pays the mistress too well,” he whispers. It is bad. “What does he do?” Peter repeats in a gentler tone. The omega twists his hands together. “He picks the omegas who are older like me and have some muscle and brown hair, and then…” he trails off, shaking. “He beats us half to death, then has sex with us, and then beats us again till he’s satisfied. It, it takes hours for him to be done. I was in the hospital for a week,” he whispers. Peter feels disgusted. “I‘m very sorry for what has happened to you,” he says softly. He takes out the other $500 and presses it into the omega’s hand and then gets out some more. “Give the other $500 to whoever he’s with now, for me. Could you do that?” he asks. The omega nods, wiping his eyes. Peter nods. “Thank you,” he says, starting to leave. “There is something e-else,” the man says suddenly. Peter turns back. “Yes?” “He, he calls us Tony,” he whispers.

Peter barely restrains a growl. “Thank you for telling me. If I can, I will ensure that he never touches you again,” he promises before striding out.

---

He gets back to the tower just as Tony calls him. “Hey,” he calls. Tony turns, hand falling from his ear. Peter pulls his mask off. “I’m glad you’re here, but why wouldn’t Karen tell Friday your location?” he asks worriedly, striding towards him. Peter looks at the floor. “I bribed her not to because I was doing something you’d disapprove of,” he says quietly. Tony cups his face in his hands. “Baby, what were you doing?” he asks quietly. Peter surges forward and hugs Tony tightly. “I was worried, Daddy, so I followed Carl after the date. I just felt like something bad was going to happen,” he says, voice shaking, face buried in Tony’s neck. “Peter, that is a violation of his privacy. I am angry about that and we will be discussing it, but are you satisfied that he is fine now?” Tony asks sounding upset and angry but not too much due to Peter’s tears. Peter pulls back. “Something did happen, Dad,” he whispers as he cries. Tony’s face morphs into concern. “What? Is he okay?!” he demands. Peter nods, still crying. “Karen, play, play from when I arrived at the place C-Carl stopped,” he orders. A screen flickers to life and Tony lets go of him and steps away to stare at it as he watches Carl enter the club. “Th-that doesn’t mean he’s cheating. He might just have business there,” Tony says, but Peter can hear the worry. “Keep playing, Karen,” he whispers. He steps closer to his Dad, and when the man he questioned starts talking, he watches Tony’s face transform into betrayal and then horror, especially at the last line. “I’m sorry,” Peter whispers because he is. He thought maybe the guy was involved in under the table dealings or crime or wanted Tony for his money, but not this. Tony is shaking. “He, he hurt all those men to, to maintain a facade, to stay calm around me so I trusted him, and, and then when I couldn’t leave, he would have…” Tony trails off. Peter reaches forward and touches his shoulder. “Omega?” he whispers. Tony needs his Alpha, not his son, right now. Tony looks at him so scared, shaking and almost crying. “It’s going to be okay. You’re safe. Come here,” he coaxes. Tony steps closer and Peter pulls him into his arms. “I’ve got you,” Peter promises. “It isn’t your fault, any of it. It’s going to be okay, Omega,” he promises. Tony lets out a sob, then another, and another. Peter holds him in the kitchen, and then in bed. The next day, Tony confronts Carl, and Peter is there for support as Tony shouts at the alpha. The man denies it and denies it, and when Tony steps back to leave saying he doesn’t care to be lied to anymore, he grabs Tony’s wrist, his eyes full of anger, and raises a hand. Peter surges forward and grabs his wrist and throat. “You let go of my Dad right now or you will regret it,” he growls. Carl gasps for breath and Peter squeezes. He lets go. Tony spits on him. Tony keeps it together till they get back to the car. Peter holds him as his Dad cries. Later, when they’re eating ice cream, snuggled up on Tony’s bed, he whispers, “I don’t deserve such a good son.” Peter strokes his hair. “I love you. I want you to be safe and happy, Dad. I’ll always be here for you,” he promises, lacing their fingers together. Tony presses closer. “Love you too, Pete.”

---

Peter tells Aunt Nat the basics of what happened. She assures him that the man will get his comeuppance in the future with flames in her eyes.

---

Tony doesn’t come home smelling of another alpha’s cum for 9 months after Carl. Peter feels bad because Tony now seems to have lost trust in himself, and his Dad is nothing if not wonderful and smart. But now if he has anything more than a passing interest in an alpha, they very quickly meet Peter so he can check them out with his spider-sense.

First is Sarah. He has a bad feeling about her. She is caught attempting to steal the plans for the Iron Man suit.

Second is Harry. He is involved in black market dealings.

And finally, when he is 16 years and 5 months, there is Charles. He is a gold digger, mixing in high society circles in order to marry and social climb. Peter observes him on the date and he seems genuinely charmed by Tony. But in the end, Peter decides he can’t trust Charles with something as precious as his Dad’s heart. Tony is used to social climbers after so many years so he mostly shrugs off the evidence until Peter cups Tony’s face in his hands and looks into his eyes. “Dad, you deserve someone who would love you even if you were dirt poor. You deserve so much better than Charles.” Tony’s eyes fill with tears and he looks away quickly, blinking them back. “O-okay,” he whispers. A few days later, he breaks it off.

Peter feels bad about Tony’s loss of confidence and tries to rebuild it when they work together in the lab and when they train in the gym together, but him being wary of alphas in a romantic sense isn’t something Peter tries to dispel. It’s still 7 months till Tony is his Omega. He doesn’t want someone to take him away before that.

----

Tony sometimes wakes up in cold sweats thinking about what could have happened if Peter hadn’t warned him. It reassures Tony to have Peter come and meet alphas he has been on more than two dates with, telling them he wants them to get along when really Peter is protecting him. Not even his Alpha yet and protecting him.

It reassures Tony. Peter is protecting him from all these alphas. He clearly doesn’t intend to just sell him off to the highest bidder. But perhaps even his sweet, wonderful son has a price.

[dreadhaus-literature]

{Story} Cruel

A continuation of Gentle.

This is more than I can stand.

Casa Al Mare was teeming with life, which to some might be a little ironic considering some of the occupants of the illustrious, infamous estate lived without a beating pulse beneath their flesh. The night air was filled with the sound of laughter and music, the scent of rich, exotic foods and as the stars twinkled merrily overhead in the indigo sky death seemed like the furthest thing from any of the attending guests’ minds.

Securing an invitation to a Frenzy event was cause for celebration whether the guest of honor were celebrity, government official, or simply another affluent member of the vampire clan’s golden circle. This event was to welcome the changing seasons, the shortening of days and the lengthening of brisk autumn evenings that promised shadows and the cover of night in which to do...whatever one might be so inclined to get up to. It was no secret, whether citizen or police official, that the Syndicate was not just a criminal organization but the criminal organization but they were also untouchable. Any foolish hand attempting to skim from their deep pockets found itself missing fingers and any nose stupid enough to stick itself in their business was suddenly absent a face. The Frenzy brood were thusly free to do as they pleased and what Monica, Head of the Family, pleased to do was entertain and spend her vast amount of riches on showing the rest of the population how the good life was meant to be lived. Did she enjoy socializing? Not particularly, but she enjoyed the envy and she enjoyed the clamor of the general population constantly attempting to find footing on one of her ultra-exclusive guest lists. Just recently she’d denied a certain blonde celebrity access to a party just to do it and the resulting singer’s decline in the affluent community had left Monica laughing so hard her sides ached. The power she wielded was nothing to scoff at, be it the might of her Syndicate or simply the flash of those fiery emerald eyes, able to stamp out another’s social life like a bug beneath her stunning silver heel.

“Another absolutely beautiful affair you’ve thrown, Miss Frenzy.”

Monica turned and offered a distracted but no less dazzling smile to someone whose name she didn’t care to remember but knew he frequented their guest list as often as was permitted--because this was not the first time he’d all but purred that sentence at her. Beautifully full lashes lifted to allow her to take in his appearance; passable, but she was not interested in decently good-looking. She wasn’t even looking to begin with, but that didn’t stop Mr. What’s-His-Name from trying his luck. Mistaking her eye contact with interest, the dark-haired male donned what Monica assumed he thought was a heart-stopping smile but it simply looked a little drunk, to her--crooked as the line that came spilling out next.

“And just where is your date tonight?” He glanced around as if for dramatic effect, reassuring himself that she was, in fact, alone. He turned back to her, smile still in place; just a little too pleased with his good fortune. “Don’t tell me that it’s my honor to escort the lovely Miss Frenzy around her own party.”

“It isn’t.” Monica punctuated her statement with a smile that knocked the wind out of her annoying party guest. “I can escort myself just fine.”

“Oh but you shouldn’t!” He stepped a little to the side to follow when she would have stepped around and left him standing there gaping like a fish on dry land. “The lady of the house needs a proper escort.”

“I have a proper escort.” Monica bit out curtly.

Another glance around the packed hall didn’t convince her persistent pursuer of anything and he turned back to her, puzzled. “Then where is he?"

None of your goddamn business would have been a decent enough answer, but his question gave Monica enough pause not to snap it between agitated fangs. Her escort was in her suite of rooms, sleeping, resting his love-bitten body because she was developing quite a taste for his candy apple sweet blood. Osamu Furuya had been her Consort a few months previous but now, now they were so much more. Monica had purchased his Consort contract outright and now he served her and her alone--and relished every moment of his ownership. He wore her Family crest, along with a picture of her, in a locket around his neck and he rarely, if ever, left the estate without her. Monica wouldn’t necessarily call him a pet--though she had once during sex and he’d seemed all too eager to latch onto the affectionate nickname--simply because what they shared seemed deeper than just physical intimacy. Osamu was her shadow; he was at her beck and call for more than just to satisfy the ache in her fangs and as time progressed, the older gentleman became more and more in need of her--her touch, her voice, her affections, anything she was willing to give him. He took from her just as greedily as she did from his veins and she was finding she didn’t mind; in fact, she was beginning to suspect he loved her and she...knew if he said it, she would say it back without hesitation. This had not been her intent when she procured him as her Consort but she didn’t mind what it had blossomed into and she knew Osamu had not a single objection.

“Perhaps you’ll meet him later.” Monica finally answered, this time stalking around this insignificant gnat of a guest with the air of finality and grace one would expect from a vampire of such standing.

The little man knew better than to push his luck and could only stare, openly pining, after the object of so many’s desire as she stalked deeper into her gilded party hall.

Up the beautiful, winding staircase and beyond two sets of locked doors, Monica’s pet stirred, relishing in the delicious lethargy that came from her feeding. Osamu was littered with bites and had never felt more contented and happy in his life. Blond lashes swept up, drinking in the dim light and the faintest din of party guests having the time of their lives. It helped clear the cotton candy cobwebs of sleep from his mind as he turned over onto his broad back, the lush sheets drawing slowly down his porcelain torso to expose sinewy muscle and more of Monica’s bruising bites. He specifically asked her never to heal her bites, only close them (after all, his blood was for her to enjoy and he was determined not to waste a single drop) and she obliged, leaving him to enjoy her possessive claim and he flaunted every single bite he had. The collars of his shirts were never buttoned, exposing raw, passionate bites along his throat and his sleeves were often times rolled up to expose his love-bitten wrists. He relished every title that came with her claim; if he was her plaything, her boy-toy (truthfully at his age that made him laugh, but he still didn’t object), her pet--he might be fondest of that one the most. It implied a certain amount of...wanton neediness on his behalf, and that was something he was fine, even proud, to display. If she wanted to collar him and lead him around on a leash he’d go obediently and with his head held high. Monica was a goddess, his Empress, and he was wrapped around her little finger in much the same way she wrapped her petite legs around his waist every night.

“Your party clothes, Mr. Furuya.”

The blond turned his head, dark eyes landing on a servant gesturing to the standing bureau, where a crisp white suit with blue accents was hanging with the utmost care.

“Is my Beloved already there?” Osamu’s deep voice was husky from sleep, but even with the quiet rumble there was a wealth of affection in his nickname for Monica and given it was used so often, the servant didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes, sir.” The servant folded his hands against his middle. “Would you like any assistance dressing?”

“No,” Osamu slowly lifted to a sitting position, the sheets falling to bunch against his lap, giving a shake of his blond head. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”

The servant bowed respectfully and showed himself out, closing the double doors quietly as Osamu rose from the bed he shared with his Beloved. A momentary question swirled around like a lazy fly and he gave it passing thought; why hadn’t Monica woken him for the party? But the moment he questioned, he knew what her answer would be. It was the same every time she fed deeply, leaving him lethargic and with a lovesick smile on his face--

“You need to rest, baby, or I can’t feed again anytime soon.”

The very idea of not feeling her fangs pierce his pale flesh was enough to wipe the satisfied smile right off Osamu’s handsome face and he dismissed the buzzing thought with a slight shake of his head.

Given Osamu was already bare, dressing was blissfully quick; the more he woke up, the more he found himself missing Monica and desiring to be at her side. His suit was perfectly tailored, a specialty order from Monica to her twin no doubt, and Osamu’s smile was almost coy with affection as he straightened the collar of his sapphire button-up. Monica remarked often how much she liked him in white; given how light his features were it played up his angelic appearance but Osamu was always quick to argue Monica was the angel. There was no way she could possibly be real but if she was, then she had to have been crafted by loving, heavenly hands. Monica often tried to laugh off such affectionate words but he meant every single one he said. Even now, as he was admiring himself in the full-length mirror, the only thing he could focus on was what Monica would be wearing. The couple often wore complimentary clothes and if his accents were blue then her outfit must be in the same shade of sapphire and he lost himself to fantasizing, imagining swathes of expensive fabric hugging curves he worshiped day and night.

Long fingers deftly buttoned his sleeves as his eyes stared glassily, relishing the pull of lovebites that would take days to heal--unless Monica bit them back open and he desperately wanted her to. Who would have ever thought he would meet the love of his life Consorting? He certainly didn’t, but here she was, taking over every second of his every day and he had no desire to stop her.

If anything he somehow desired more.

The bedroom doors were opened for him as he approached on long legs and polished dress shoes, and Osamu gave a polite, grateful smile to the servant s he passed. This was the life of luxury, with an Empress on his arm, but Osamu would have lived anywhere with Monica, and he would have done anything necessary to keep her in the life she deserved--it was simply fortune that she was already eating with a silver spoon engraved in her name. His vampire had the world at her beck and call but selfishly he wanted her to think of him first, always. Already he was taking over many of the duties servants had provided for her, doing things like washing and pressing her expensive clothes, polishing her jewelry, brushing her hair--he wanted to be the one to provide for her, to give the world to her as she had done for him. Love does things to a man, changes them but what Osamu hadn’t been prepared for was the devoted way he followed her like he’d had no purpose in life before knowing her name. He was tall, broad shouldered and though lean was graced with muscle that kept him from being lanky; more jaguar than cheetah in his build he knew he could command attention if he wanted it but he never had, before. Consorting hadn’t meant a thing to him because there was no intimacy to it, for him; it was a job, something he was good at but the moment he’d laid eyes on Monica it was as if someone had thrown open the curtains and let the moonlight in. She sucked the air out of his lungs when she looked at him, eyes glittering like precious gemstones, ready to feed from his veins and the exchange of his life for hers was one he made as often as she desired it. She could bleed him dry and he would thank her with his dying breath.

Osamu’s thoughts were so often on Monica it didn’t surprise him that she was still at the forefront when he started to encounter party guests littering the outer halls. Now that he’d left his and Monica’s private suite of rooms there were well-dressed elites sprinkled around like accent pieces, discussing anything from the latest gossip to upcoming movies. Some gave him a passing glance or two as he went by, eyes drifting to the silver locket on display, resting against his chest. With the buttons of his dress shirt undone, the locket was resting against bare flesh and right beside a biting mark. There could be little doubt who Osamu was or who he was here for and the whispers were of awe and jealousy.

“That’s him? The lucky bastard Monica’s interested in?”

“No fucking way, do you have any idea how hard I’ve tried to get her to notice me?! I’ve been to every party she’s thrown the past two years!”

“...I’m so jealous, look at those bites. She’s got beautiful fangs, you can tell.”

“I can tell I’m going to be thinking about her fangs even more than I already was.”

Osamu’s smile lifted a little higher as he rounded the corner, pride straightening his spine all the more. Let them envy him, at least then they’d know to keep a respectful distance--

Osamu’s breath slammed from his lungs the instant he lifted his gaze, his heart turning to ice just to drop to the pit of his stomach. Across the packed hall, looking every inch the vision he knew her to be, was his Beloved--and someone who was entirely too close for comfort. She was in the middle of laughing, the melodious sound reaching him over the din of the party simply because he was always listening for her. Her fangs caught the room light, beckoned and enticed and the man standing next to her was staring so intently at her upturned face Osamu felt his fingers ball into fists. He didn’t consider himself a violent man and before Monica had never been jealous a day in his life but he was finding it was an ugly emotion; rage black as the night outside was welling up like a storm and where there had been ice in his veins now there was only heat, flames licking along his skin like bolts of lightning. He felt the color flood his cheeks, his angled jaw tightening as if on a screw hinge and it was a wonder his teeth didn’t crack from the pressure.

...Who...the hell...was that?

Monica’s laughter quieted, and without taking his eyes off her he knew others around her were straining to chase the beautiful sound as it vanished. Monica was in a group, enchanting creature that she was of course she’d drawn a small crowd of her enamored guests and while that might not necessarily have bothered Osamu (at least, he would have simply walked over and greeted her, establishing his claim on her effortlessly) it was the way that man, that bastard was trying to monopolize her attention. Whether it was because he was a man or because Osamu knew how hard he always worked to keep Monica’s attention he recognized the moves for what they were; the bastard kept slight hold of her elbow to keep her at his side rather than drifting amongst the group, and his body language was open to her, facing her at all times as if to present his full attention.Osamu’s dark brown eyes were murky as the ocean moments before the tsunami lays waste to the beach and as he watched, the would-be suitor leaned in closer just to try and speak to Monica rather than engage the rest of the group. Osamu was a mere human man, he didn’t possess the abilities of his vampire and so the words were lost on him, but what wasn’t was the mere inches between her and him.

Monica could not, would not ever be blamed for who she was--a stunning vision, beauty incarnate, she was an angel among the unworthy and Osamu would never dream of placing blame upon her petite shoulders. No, his jealous rage had a target and that target was narrowing to a finely sharpened knife’s tip the longer this dragged on.

This had to stop.

He would put a stop to this.

She was his, same as he had been hers from the moment she’d laid those breath-taking eyes on him. He couldn’t lose her, not now.

“Unfair, huh?”

Osamu’s head snapped down, gaze landing on an obviously drunk brunette, whose flushed cheeks were more red than pink at this point. The glass in his hand sloshed as the shorter male gestured, obviously in Monica’s direction.

“She’s...fucking perfect, but what are we?” The male brought his hand to his chest, spilling the caramel colored liquid onto his shirt. “Human, that’s what we are. That’s why she wouldn’t give me the time of day earlier. Human. Not like Mr. Fangtastic Fucker over there.”

Osamu’s stormy gaze was riveted to the bastard in question and there they were, plain as day. Two gleaming fangs, a compliment to Monica’s even as the idea roiled Osamu’s stomach. The bastard was smiling as if showing them off, and Osamu wondered for a moment if he’d been foolish to smile at Monica without them. Was this what she wanted? It was what she deserved. She deserved someone powerful and strong, someone to compliment the tall, dark, and handsome that so often accompanied her species and Osamu looked like a ray of sunlight standing beside her. She was everything the night had to offer; her skin held the most delicious kiss of color that enraptured him every time he saw her laid bare. Her hair was dark enough to hold the stars from the sky and the secretive way her lips tilted in a smile when she kissed him reminded him of the same thrill he used to feel as a little boy, running down the darkened hallway for a sneaky midnight treat. She made him feel young and in love, and she made him feel powerful in his own way, that he could tempt her fangs to pierce deep and drink what he freely gave. He didn’t want to lose that, couldn’t lose her.

The very idea sent one single tear spilling over scarcely blinking eyes, splashing unnoticed on the front of Osamu’s sapphire shirt.

This was more than he could stand.

“Kennet, that’s just dumb.” Monica’s incredulous laughter masked the sharp sting of her very truthful statement. She meant every word, but this dim-witted guest just wasn’t getting it.

“Oh I’m very serious, Miss Frenzy.” Kennet replied easily, in a way he thought was incredibly charming. After all, the tone worked on all the other women he used it on.

“Oh I’m sure you are.” Was Monica’s effortlessly sarcastic tone, again sailing over the man’s head as she raised her crystal flute to her lips. The liqueur inside would do, but it just made her fangs ache for--”Osamu?”

The blond materialized as if out of thin air, standing tall and imposing in a way Monica had never seen before. His broad shoulders were squared and as he stepped forward he openly moved Kennet away from her--something she was immediately, immensely grateful for. The vampire made a somewhat startled, almost disgruntled noise but Osamu was not backing down and made no move to concede even politely. Monica knew her man, she knew he was a gentleman who was always extremely mindful of how he presented himself when she was on his arm but he was uncharacteristically stoic and intimidating. There was a hard line to his jaw, his eyes sharp enough to cut as he stared Kennet down. Osamu was taller, impressive for a human over a supernatural, and as Kennet stared back Osamu tilted his head up and stared down his nose at the vampire. There was no denying something was very wrong with Osamu and as he slid his arm around Monica’s waist, his grip was surprisingly tight, his fingers cinching around her hip to pull her beneath the hollow of his shoulder. Slowly, he dragged his gaze from Kennet to lower to her, his lips finding her forehead with affection that was a direct contrast to the anger radiating off his body in waves.

“Hello, Beloved. I’m so very sorry I’m so late.”

Monica cleared her throat, more affected by the rough, husky depth to Osamu’s voice than she wanted to be in front of others, but she leaned into his kiss all the same. “T-That’s all right, you’re here now.”

Osamu straightened up, eyes slashing back to Kennet as he spoke. “Yes. I am.”

Kennet looked between the lovers with a somewhat ill-masked look of disbelief. He’d heard Monica had a human lover but had simply assumed he could take her off the feeble mortal’s arm without much fuss. The way she fit beneath the man’s shoulder, the possessive grip he had on her--Kennet had been elbowed out the door into the cold without realizing he’d never been invited inside.

“...I don’t believe we’ve met.” Kennet’s tone was tight, no longer the easy-going charmer he thought he was. He extended his hand with a cock of his lips, not bothering to hide his disdain. “Kennet.”

Osamu, rather than shake Kennet’s hand, brought Monica’s hand up to the warmth of his mouth, but his eyes were on Kennet all the same. “Thank you for keeping my Beloved company while I was away, Kennet.”

Kennet lowered his hand, bristled but unable to do anything about it. He knew better than to attack the human; anyone causing a disruption at a Frenzy affair was made an example out of and by attacking Monica’s lover? He’d be strung up like tinsel on a Christmas tree. “...Not a problem.”

Monica looked up at Osamu, noting that his jaw was still tense and his posture was rigid. Her brow furrowed in concern and she turned, giving the group a dismissive but polite smile.

“Would you all excuse us?”

There were politely murmured replies but when Monica moved to step away from Osamu, to lead him to the hall, he made a noise deep in his chest and refused to release her. Instead, he took the lead and escorted her through the throngs of guests with his grip still ironclad around her waist.

Only once out in a side hall, quickly cleared of guests, did Osamu allow Monica out of his grasp--and that was only because she insisted, so she could face him and ask--

“What’s wrong?”

Osamu’s gaze was to the side, his posture still tense, poised, and Monica watched his marked throat work to swallow--but he failed to in the end.

“Osamu, what happened? Are you mad at me?”

“No!” Osamu turned to her so quickly it nearly startled her. The honesty on his face put her at ease almost immediately. “No,” he answered again, quieter and more like himself. “Never.”

“Then was it Kennet?” She was on the right path, she could see a vein pulse slightly in his throat at the mention of the other man. “What is it, what did he do?”

“Touch you.”

The quiet admission was not lost on her exceptional hearing but she asked him to repeat it all the same.

“He...touched you.” Osamu reached for her bare elbow, his calloused fingertips soft against the flesh. “He touched you and I...hate him for it.”

Confusion brought Monica’s brow together even as Osamu continued to lightly feather his touch over her skin, his eyes on her arm first, then trailing up to her shoulder, her throat, to her face and then he was moving down the beautiful curves of her body, his face such a mix of emotion she couldn’t read all of them at once.

“You look so beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that first.”

“That’s not...” Monica floundered, shaking her head. “Thank you, but what are you talking about, with Kennet? It was just a stupid conversation, I barely remember what he said.”

“It isn’t that.” Osamu’s fingers slid up, following the natural, breath-taking lines of her body to curve around her shoulder and then up to cup her throat, his thumb moving to her soft cheek. “I know you. Or, I like to think I do. It isn’t you who needs to apologize to me.”

“You...want Kennet to apologize to you?”

“Yes.” Osamu gripped Monica’s chin in a move so fluid he scarcely seemed the human he was. “I want him to apologize for touching you, when you belong to me.”

Monica, had she a pulse, would have felt her heart stammer at the heavy weight of truth in Osamu’s low tone.

“I won’t stand for him or anyone else putting their hands on you.” Osamu’s grip wasn’t bruising but it was as insistent as his words. “It is my blood that flows in your veins and that makes it my right to touch you. No one else.”

This was a side of Osamu Monica had never seen before. He was always so gentle and soft-spoken, he often reminded her of a house cat. He liked to cuddle, he all but purred under her attention, and she never once saw his teeth bared in aggression. But the man staring at her now was a tiger, all sharp teeth and with horrible, promising intent in his eyes. Monica knew the look in his eyes wasn’t for her, his touch was too gentle, his voice too soft. The look of malice, of raw hatred in his eyes was for Kennet. Osamu meant every word he’d said, and Monica knew then what she was feeling radiating off of him right alongside his rage.

Jealousy.

Monica didn’t trust herself to speak, her body was responding way too much to his actions and words, but the trembling tips of her fingers reached for him and when she cupped his face he let out an almost pained noise, some of the tension seeping out of him almost immediately. It gave her a little more nerve.

“You don’t...need to be jealous of him or anyone else.” Monica watched Osamu turn, pressing kisses to her palm that she felt clear down to her toes.

“I’m yours. Every fiber of my being, every drop of blood in my veins, every beat of this mortal heart belongs to you. I’m yours,” Osamu spoke against her satin skin, his dark eyes on her. “Are you mine?”

Monica nodded, unable to look away from the desperation forming in those glassy eyes.

Osamu ducked his head, brought his forehead to hers as he was quickly losing the battle of how much space he could tolerate between them. “Say it for me, please, Monica. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I-I’m y-yours,” Monica was helpless to do anything else, whether responding to the hitch in his voice, the tremble in his body, or the small, teardrop stain on his shirt right next to her picture in his locket.

Osamu closed the distance between them in an instant, his lips searing in a claiming kiss that sealed her words to him like a promise. It soothed across his frantically beating heart like a balm even as his large hands fell to her hips, curving around the small of her back to lift her petite frame into his. She fit perfectly, as he knew her to do, and he knew this was how it should always be.

Jealousy was a cruel teacher, but Osamu knew the hard lesson learned was that he would not, could not, lose her.

[forlorninquiry]

@weiwuxiian:

He led Lan Wangji out of the party once most of them had gone home. Xichen was drunk, and there was no one stopping them as they went down the hill to a secluded corner of the Cloud Recesses. Even Wei Wuxian had only been here once, a few months ago. Now, it looked even more abandoned as it had been, even more forlorn than ever. Xichen mentioned before that no one ever trepassed this area anymore, because of the memory it holds, and Lan Wangji, even more so.

Short, fine dew grass spreads across the valley as Wei Wuxian led a blindfolded Lan Wangji neart a little hut. He knew that the other man knew this route too well, too familiar, that he might have second thoughts whether to come with him. But Wei Wuxian was never one to sit still or allowed something like that to stop what he wanted to do. So a blindfold fixed it, added with his coaxing of wanting to give him a surprise.

Lan Wangji never liked materialistic gifts. The fact that with his status, there isn’t anything he wouldn’t get if he wanted, didn’t help. So that was out of the question. But he knew—oh, Lan Wangj is as transparent as a transluscent glass. There were knots, bitter memory stuck in the hollow of his chest, suffocating him for years that even the Gusu Lan Sect Leader wasn’t fully aware. Wei Wuxian wanted to untie those knots for him, or attempt trying.

A shadow darkens the smile of his face as he pushed the door ajar with one hand, while slipping the blindfold off Lan Wangji’s eyes with the other. There, in the center of the single room of the hut, lied the guqin Wangji. Next to it was Chenqing. These were the only set of new items in the room. Everything else was untouched, including the desk where his mother had used to display the calligraphy and drawings gifted to her by her sons.

❝Lan Zhan, lets stay here tonight, alright?❞ He took his hands with both hands now, pulling the hesitant man into the room, ❝You can tell me all about your mother. I always wanted to know what sort of person was Mrs. Lan. I wanted to know the person who raised you, who also made you shut yourself from the world. Tell me everything. Keep nothing from me, even if it’s sad. Promise me, can you?❞

Lan Wangji intentionally did not share in the drink that Lan Xichen and a few others seemed to partake in. He wanted to experience the evening and the night with clarity and with the full presence of mind, no matter what the evening held in store. By the time the attendees had begun to leave for the night, Wei Wuxian called him over. In his mind, he wondered and suspected what happened now that they were leaving, but he didn’t dare to assume. The blindfold confused him somewhat, because where would they go that he would need to be blinded? Lan Wangji didn’t want to remind Wei Wuxian that he spent over thirty years in the Cloud Recesses and could walk the paths expertly and unaided with the blindfold on. But being urged to follow him in that voice - Lan Wangji was willing to let himself be blindfolded, and follow him while he was weak at the knees for that coaxing voice of his. 

The journey is not terribly long, and he knows when they near the end of the destination. They turn and step onto a landing, and he hears a door. But, it wasn’t the door to his own room. As he feels the fabric at his eyes slip away, Lan Wangji’s eyes round in surprise. All thought of what he thought he was being led to vanish, because he didn’t expect this. 

The sight before him comes into full view, and the taller man freezes. He even stops breathing for a moment as he looks around the single-room space that hasn’t held a living soul in decades. It was exactly as he remembered it from the vague memories of childhood blurred now by time, and exactly how he had left it when he visited last. Voices, sounds, and the smells of this room from his memories surge suddenly, and Lan Wangji actively keeps his mind above the sea of visions that press in on him. The smell of his mother’s perfume lingering on his own clothing and hair from where he pressed his head into her shoulder… the sound of his name on her voice, and the way she would play silly, meaningless games with him and Lan Huan. How different he was, then. How different everything was, back then. 

Being here is suffocating. The bindings that he tied himself to keep his own feelings of sorrow and heartbreak hidden away from the world strained in a way that hadn’t hurt in so many years. It feels like a sharp, splitting feeling that rises in his throat and makes his teeth ache. 

But his hearing his name brings the numb silence back. His eyes dart to Wei Wuxian suddenly, almost too fast. How alien he must look to his husband… this vulnerability wasn’t a side of him that he wished to reveal or expose to anyone that didn’t already know: Lan Huan, and Lan Qiren - but even then he expended quite a bit of effort to hide that part of himself from them. How fragile he must appear, now. 

If it wasn’t for Wei Wuxian being here and taking his hands, Lan Wangji was certain that he would have turned away and fled to the comfort and safety of his own room. He likely would have avoided all mention of the situation for some time. But Lan Wangji curls his fingers around Wei Wuxian’s, looking deep into his darkened grey eyes and knowing that he truly saw him now for what he was. It was when he holds the other man’s warm hands in his cool grip that he unexpectedly feels a sense of calm take him over. Even the slight shiver in his fingers is stilled as he follows Wei Wuxian guiding him into the room. This had not happened before. Was this what Wei Ying felt every time he assured him it was going to be alright, that he didn’t need to explain himself? What had before been an insurmountable grief that the memories of this room brought him now felt manageable. Lan Wangji feels more calm than he did when the room was revealed as he is led to where his guqin rested. 

There is a pause before he answers Wei Ying. He truly wants to know him, and he requested the privilege. He didn’t demand it of him. He didn’t cite some uncaring obligation to know simply because he was his husband now. And it was because of the manner of his request, and his desire to understand the most formative part of his youth, that he dips his chin in a nonverbal agreement to his promise. “Sit with me.” His voice is solemn as he lets his hands slip from his husband’s and sits with proper form in front of Wangji. 

There is a long silence where Lan Zhan looks down at his guqin as he formulates where to begin. His hands even rise to take their place at the strings with their ever-present grace, but he does not yet play. 

“She doted on us. Lan Xichen preferred our father’s presence, and I preferred hers. She was everything I desired to be. She was gentle, and affectionate, and playful, and sentimental. She retained everything that we produced for her. Childish art, calligraphy, flowers.” There are pauses in between his sentences as he thinks on what to say next. The simple words he chooses are noticeably stilted - he has difficulty saying such personal feelings even with simplicity. Such personal thoughts did not need to be dressed in alliteration or poetic imagery. “Her circumstances kept her locked in this very house. She could not leave these walls. Visits were permitted only once a month. It was a time I looked forward to, and she did as well. I remember happiness, laughter, and smiling… when I was with her. Even my brother knew how I was back then.” In his mind, he makes the decision to show him the simple paintings of her he had done periodically when he worried that his memory of her face would fade from memory. They are not here, however, and so he doesn’t immediately bring them up.

A thin ghost of a smile lifts the corners of his lips as he recalls those times - but the smile vanishes so quickly it would be easy to doubt that it was ever there. A finger curls, and a carefully-manicured nail plucks a note from Wangji. His other hand slides on the vibrating string, and the note transforms. Then another followed it after a long silence, not unlike his slow recollection of thoughts: the silence between the notes often held more meaning simply from the absence of sound, much like how his memories seemed all the more poignant from the absence of explicit description. What wasn’t said was often more powerful than what was.

“I refused to understand that she passed away.” Even though his eyes sting and his vision wavers from the simple recollection of this event, he continues talking though he closes his eyes to hide the reddening tinge around his eyes from Wei Wuxian. The number of times he had seen tears on his face could be counted on one hand. “Every month, for two seasons, I waited for her to appear. Lan Xichen had to collect me from the threshold we stepped over not moments ago when I fell asleep while waiting. I refused to leave otherwise.” He doesn’t describe the utter loneliness that muted him and turned his visage into stone. He doesn’t describe how foreign the hurt in his chest was and how empty he felt. The transformation could be implied from the way he described himself as a child to how he was when Wei Wuxian met him so long ago in the Cloud Recesses.

The heartbreak comes again, and Lan Wangji clenches his jaw tight as his fingers press down flat on the strings of his guqin to quiet them abruptly with a dissonant sound. How jarring the sudden silencing of these strings is, he thinks to himself, isn’t this what happened to me back then? 

“The passing of my mother marked the end of my childhood.” It feels strange to claim ownership of this ancient grief that carved its presence into his soul simply by saying ‘my mother’. It feels oddly liberating, and he feels as though he can breathe again as the crushing ache in his chest eases. Letting out a slow breath, Lan Zhan opens his eyes and looks up at Wei Ying. 

The night is kind to his face. He is beautiful at all times, but the play of moonlight on his features bring an elegance that makes Lan Wangji in awe of just how lucky he is that he had a second chance with him. Unlike the times before he met Wei Wuxian, he didn’t have to be alone again. 

The self-imposed bindings over this old hurt eased, and Lan Zhan felt like a weight was ever-so-slowly lifting from him. 

The look on his face softens in a way no one else but his husband got to see, and his lips part to speak again even as he begins to play again. “Wei Ying… what do you want to know about her?”