#but i feel like that could take centuries (depending on the amount of water)

[apollos-olives]

before i turn this god awful lab report in to my professor, can someone please tell me how to separate Fe2S3 and Fe(NO3)3 from each other if they were mixed up (WITHOUT applying any sort of heat because both chemicals decompose under heat)

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @iamburdened - thanks so much!! ♡

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

Cure Your Loneliness

Rain attacks your bedroom window, and a loud roar of thunder causes you to turn over and bury your head in your pillow. Lighning illuminates the room for a fraction of a second before you are plunged back into darkness, and you sigh. Even without the storm, you wouldnt be able to sleep, there’s too much on your mind. Well, that isnt strictly true. There’s one person on your mind, but he encapsulates your mind so completely that it’s impossible for you to sleep now. Shaking your head, you reach over to your bedside table and start smacking your hand against the wooden surface until you find the phone. Turning it on, the light from the screen blinds you. After blinking rapidly, your eyes adjust, and you realise the time. You consider your options as you bite your lip. Is 3am an acceptable time to text him? But before you can even consider turning your phone off again, you’ve sent a text. Nobody has a decent amount of self control at 3am, and especially not someone as hopelessly in love as you are.

You: hey

Anxiety consumes you, and you immediately regret your decision. However, much to your surprise, your phone hums pleasantly a few seconds later.

Spence: Hey, is the storm keeping you awake?

Smiling down at your phone, you sense the same kind and caring tone that Spencer gives you in every conversation you have with him.

You: I guess you could say that, yeah

Spence: 2-3% of the U.S population suffer from astraphobia, the fear of storms.

Spence: Wait, you “guess”? What else is keeping you up?

Your hands cover your face and you sigh into them, here goes nothing.

You: Im honestly suffering from extreme loneliness more than anything else. yeah, I hate storms, but what I hate more is needing someone to makeout with for half a century, and not having anyone willing to take me up on that offer

Spence: Are you at the point in your monthly cycle in which you’re experiencing fluctuations in arousal?

You: hahaha, no Spence! I just want to makeout with someone

Spence: For half a century? That’s a considerably long time.

You: maybe even a whole century, I wouldnt complain about that

Spence: Do you have someone in mind you would like to cure your loneliness with?

You: yeah, he has no idea, and even if he did, I dont think it would change anything

Spence: Why not? What guy wouldn’t want to makeout with you?

Spence: That came across far more flirtatious than I intended! What I meant was, any guy would be lucky to makeout with you for five minutes, let alone half a century.

You: if only you intentionally flirted with me

Spence: ...What?

Spence: Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but are you insinuating that I am the guy you want to spend half a century making out with?

You: yup, and as I said, it wont make a difference

Spence: Why wouldn’t it? I recall saying any guy would be lucky to makeout with you, and “any” includes me.

Staring at you screen in shock, you feel your heart skip a beat, and your stomach flip. He cant be serious, can he?

You: wait. you’re kidding.

Spence: I am absolutely not kidding!

You: so...would you be down to come over and makeout for half a century?

Spence: I’d be honoured. When would you like to see me?

You: depends how fast you can get here

Spence: I’ll be there as fast as humanly possible ;)

For a few moments, you sit up in your bed blinking rapidly into the darkness as the reality of your situation sinks in. Doctor Spencer Reid is on his way over. To makeout with you. At 3am. Oh my God.

Without wasting anymore time, you kick your bedcovers off of your body and turn your bedroom lights on, before you begin scrambling around your house. Darting into the bathroom, you splash your face with water and brush your teeth. Skidding back into your bedroom, you brush your hair and look over your pyjamas. The storm outside is little more than afterthought as you check your reflection in the mirror, wondering whether this set of pyjamas will do. Smiling fondly, you remember when you looked over your reflection in the BAU after wearing a new suit to work. Spencer just happened to walk behind you, he caught sight of you, stopped in his tracks and said “You shouldnt critique yourself, you’re beautiful.”

A knock at your front door pulls you from your flashback, and your eyes almost fall out of your skull as your body freezes on the spot. You’re frozen in shock for a few moments, until you recover control of your body and practically fly down your stairs and hitting the front door at full force. Unlocking the door, you tug it open, to be greeted by the sight of none other than Doctor Spencer Reid. Some of his hair sticks to his face because of the rain, and his clothes are damp from the same cause. You notice that he’s pulled some suit pants on, but left a soft silk button-up pyjama shirt on his top half.

“Was that dramatic thud the sound of you hitting your door because you ran down the stairs so fast?” Spencer chuckles.

You smile sheepishly “You betcha!”

Spencer reflects your own smile back at you. “Someone certainly seems eager.”

Overcome with a sudden shyness, you cast your eyes down. “You betcha, again...”

Spencer takes a step forward and lifts your chin with his finger. “Me too, beautiful.”

Your stomach does somersalts at his softspoken words, and you feel goosebumps rise on your skin as Spencer places a hand at the small of your back.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Spencer whispers, leaning close to your ear.

You nod frantically. “Never been more sure in my life.”

Spencer laughs darkly, turning you around and closing your front door in order to gently push you up against it and shut the storm outside. He licks his lips, his breath fanning your nose as he leans down. His lips ghost yours, just for a second, it’s enough to send your eyes fluttering closed. Spencer notices the affect he has on you, and he feels pride swelling in his chest as he pulls your body flush against his, his lips falling back onto yours in a kiss that is so soft and sweet. You can taste mint in his mouth, he must have brushed his teeth before this just like you did. Your hands shake at Spencer’s shoulders, too overwhelmed with the feeling of his lips on yours to fully concentrate on what to do with the rest of your body. Picking up on your nerves, Spencer uses his free hand to move your hands to the back of his neck. He pulls his lips from yours for a second.

“It’s alright, I’ve wanted this for a long time too. Just relax, there’s no rush.” Spencer whispers gently, placing a kiss on your nose before his lips fall back onto yours.

His soft and subtle dominance leaves you utterly breathless, you never suspected this side of Spencer even existed. Somehow, kissing you makes him less nervous and awkward than every other interaction he has experienced. His lips are soft, his touch so gentle but firm at the same time. A crash of thunder from the storm outside causes up to jump even closer to Spencer, which you didnt think was possible. He chuckles as he pulls away and tucks your head into his neck, rubbing slow circles in your back.

“Thunder cant hurt you, nothing can for that matter, not while Im here.” Spencer coos, and you melt into his embrace.

“Do you...Do you want to take this upstairs?” You suggest shyly.

“I’d love to, (Y/N).”

A warm wave of familiarity rushes over you as you remember the events of the night before. Waking up in the arms of Spencer Reid is something you’re never going to forget. You shouldnt be thinking about this now, in the middle of a restaurant, having dinner with the entire team, but you cant help it. Trying not to be too obvious, you retrieve your phone from your back pocket.

You: hey, Im no psychic but Im pretty sure I can predict that Im gonna be lonely again tonight

Spencer frowns as he feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket, and he’s quick to turn it on beneath the table to read your text. He cant help himself from laughing quietly, using his hand to cover his mouth in an effort to hide it from the team who are all laughing around you. A soft smile overtakes his features as he hits send, and that smile only widens when he lifts his gaze to you.

Spence: I’ll be sure to correct that prediction. Be sure to save some room for dessert.

[jtownraindancer]

I hate paywalls, so the full text (sans charts) is below the cut

What This Year’s ‘Astonishing’ Ocean Heat Means for the Planet

By Elena Shao Aug. 3, 2023

Brutal heat waves have baked the world this summer and they haven’t been contained to land. Earth’s oceans are the hottest they have been in modern history, by an unusually wide margin.

The planet’s average sea surface temperature spiked to a record high in April and the ocean has remained exceptionally warm ever since. In July, widespread marine heat waves drove temperatures back up to near-record highs, with some hot spots nearing 100 degrees Fahrenheit, or nearly 38 Celsius.

“I find it kind of astonishing,” said Gregory Johnson, an oceanographer at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, referring to this year’s trend. “This is a pretty big step up.”

The North Atlantic has seen some of the most exceptional warmth, with recent temperatures consistently reaching more than 2 degrees Fahrenheit, or 1.1 Celsius, higher than what is typical for this time of year.

Taking a dip in the waters off the coast of the Florida Keys could, at times, feel like stepping into a hot tub. Last week, one reading from a buoy recorded a stunning 101.1 degrees Fahrenheit, or just over 38 Celsius, possibly a world record for sea surface temperatures.

The extreme heat is devastating Florida’s coral reefs, but high ocean temperatures can have more widespread impacts, too, disrupting other marine ecosystems and the communities that depend on them.

El Niño, a recurring global climate pattern that is typically linked to warmer conditions in many regions, arrived in June, and is one contributor to the spike in global sea surface temperatures, said Michelle L’Heureux, a climate scientist with NOAA’s Climate Prediction Center.

But the underlying influence of human-driven climate change is undeniable, she added.

Global sea surface temperatures have been increasing since at least the early 20th century, when humans began sharply increasing the amount of greenhouse gases pumped into the atmosphere. This year’s spike in global sea surface temperatures is concerning, but it is not exactly unexpected in a warming world, said Zeke Hausfather, a climate scientist at Berkeley Earth, a nonprofit research institute.

Global climate models have projected how oceans could heat up if we continue to pump greenhouse gases into the atmosphere at roughly our current rate, and July’s high sea surface temperatures falls within the expected range, though at the higher end. In the North Atlantic, however, temperatures have been warmer than climate models projected. That suggests “something somewhat extraordinary may be happening there,” Dr. Hausfather said.

Experts have speculated that other factors, in addition to human-caused climate change and the arrival of El Niño, could be contributing to this year’s exceptional ocean heat.

Some have suggested that international rules aimed at reducing air pollution from maritime shipping could have inadvertently increased ocean warming. Others point to the unusual absence of Saharan dust over the North Atlantic this year, which can also have a cooling effect by blocking sunlight.

The eruption of an underwater volcano in the Pacific Ocean near Tonga last year, which spewed tens of millions of tons of water vapor into the stratosphere, may have also influenced this year’s ocean temperatures. Water vapor, like carbon dioxide, is a greenhouse gas that traps heat near Earth’s surface.

But early analyses have so far suggested that those factors cannot account for all of this year’s extra warming.

“The level of warmth we are seeing today is only possible because of the warming over the past 150 years due to human activity,” Dr. Hausfather said.

Scientists expect warm ocean conditions to continue into the fall, with El Niño intensifying in the months ahead. While sea surface readings take the temperature of the top layer of the ocean, up to a few hundred feet deep, climate scientists have also been charting how much heat is being absorbed by the ocean as a whole. In short: A lot.

The ocean, which covers about 70 percent of the world’s surface, has absorbed more than 90 percent of the heat unleashed by the burning of fossil fuels, deforestation and other human activity.

Put another way, the majority of the human-driven warming that has happened on Earth over the past six decades has accumulated in the ocean. But water has a much higher capacity than land to absorb and store all that heat.

The ocean has “been doing us a big service by delaying global warming considerably,” Dr. Johnson said, “but it comes at a cost.” As the ocean stores more heat, its water expands, contributing to sea level rise. Warmer ocean temperatures also provide more fodder for tropical cyclones and atmospheric river storms.

By the end of the century, ocean warming could contribute to a weakening, or even a shutdown, of the Atlantic ocean currents that help regulate the climate for a swath of the planet, a new analysis found.

“In many ways,” Dr. Hausfather said, the ocean is “the most accurate thermometer we have for the actual effect of climate change, because it’s where most of the heat ends up.”

The planet’s average sea surface temperature spiked to a record high in April and the ocean has remained exceptionally warm ever since. In July, widespread marine heat waves drove temperatures back up to near-record highs, with some hot spots nearing 100 degrees Fahrenheit, or nearly 38 Celsius.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝘽𝙊𝙔𝙁𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙉𝘿 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗 (18+)

∘ request(s): I am in love w all of you and i'm getting to the others when they fit :)

my personal favorites:

∘ pairing: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader

∘ warnings: nsfw (minors dni), smut, choking, fingering, slight domination

∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂

a/n: my incentive for getting these done (when they're fuffy) is listening to 21st Century Vampire in a dark room for four days, in case you guys were wondering.

Your tongue felt like sandpaper as you chewed the inside of your cheek. "No, uh… I think I need some time…" you trailed, your eyes flashing to his. "... To think…"

He nodded slightly, taking one last look at you before slipping out your front door, the lock clicking shut behind him.

Your heart hammered in your ears. You took a seat on your couch, carding your fingers through your hair as his face flashed into your mind, the somewhat confused expression boring a hole in your heart. You’d led him on, you knew it. It wasn’t that you weren’t into him, but the cold fear of what the two of you had vanishing after assigning labels flushed through your body. What if it was only as strong as it was because you weren’t stuck to each other? Was the fact that you were choosing to sleep with him and him alone not enough? What more could he want?

Then it dawned on you; what more would it be? The two of you were already attached at the hip a ridiculous amount of time, you already knew more about him than you cared to, and obviously, the two of you were already past the awkwardness of building a sexual relationship.

So what the fuck was wrong with you? Would it be so awful to be his girlfriend?

You avoided him for a few weeks, your mind burning with guilt and indecisiveness. As soon as you had straightened your thoughts and favored one reality over another, it was like buyer’s guilt persuaded you the other way.

Lectures were quiet, even lonesome for you without him around. That would add to your Pro Karl list; he was great company, especially in public, when he knew people were watching the two of you. Would that element be different when the two of you were dating?

You hadn’t realized how apparent your moping had become until your roommate brought it up one night. You were tucked into your favorite spot on the couch, mind racing with how to solve your problems. “I called Karl. I’m sick of this weepy, self-loathing bullshit. Man up and tie him down. I know you want to,” she stated bluntly, tugging open the curtains in the room to get to the windows. The night breeze wafted in as if it’d been knocking against the glass for an hour. “He’s outside.”

You blinked at her as she pulled you out of your seat. “He’s what?”

She pulled you behind her, slipping on her jacket. “I’m going to Clay’s. Work this shit out and let me know if I need to vacate for the week,” she jested, making you roll your eyes as she pushed you out in front of her. As she headed down the stairwell, Karl was on his way up, greeting her brightly as he usually did.

He smiled at you gently as he stopped in front of you, fondness and allure playing in his eyes. Even if you looked disheveled, he still looked upon you with pride and admiration. His hair was longer, but despite that, he looked exactly the same way you’d left him. You cleared your throat, the wind bringing his scent towards you. “We need to talk,” you mumbled. “You were right.”

He pressed his back against the dividing wall, tucking a cigarette behind his ear that he had between his fingers and looking out over the railing behind you. The city lights reflected in his eyes. "I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything. I just..." He looked at you softly. "Fuck, I really like you."

You crossed your arms, hands rubbing against the sleeves of your hoodie to generate more warmth. You were so torn. Most of you, wanted to wrap yourself up in him and give in to his offer while the ugly, nagging thoughts in your brain told you to run. "What about after we cool down then?" You asked, making one of his eyebrows feign to furrow. "Are you still going to be attracted to me after I'm… domesticated?"

He smiled slightly. "I'll probably be attracted to you even when your tits sag to your waist, baby." You rolled your eyes at his joke and he crossed the space between the two of you, shoes dragging against the cement. He pushed his fingers into your hair, settling his hand against your neck so his thumb brushed against your jaw soothingly. You leaned into his touch. "I just want to be locked down by you," he chided. "... Officially."

You let out a small wheeze. "You're not gonna be into my friends next week, are you?" It was a joke, but it came out as more of an insecurity.

He fought not to grin. "You're fuckin' serious?" He used his other hand to separate your arms gently, stepping into your embrace. "When I'm with other people, all I can think about is how they're not you."

He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, eliciting a pleasant sigh from between your lips. You tightened your arms around him, basking in the warmth of his body as you threaded your hands beneath his jacket. "Even your mom?"

He snorted. "Don't make this weird," he jested, making you laugh softly. He pulled your body completely against him, digging his face into the crook of your neck as you sighed tiredly, your cheek pressing against his shoulder.

The bathwater was warm against your skin, Karl’s arm wrapping around your shoulder to pull you closer to him in the small tub, making you giggle slightly. You paused what you were doing as he dug his nose into the crook of your neck. You struggled to shrug from his grasp. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna mess up your nails,” you wheezed, before he surrendered, leaning his back against the porcelain.

It was a brighter color than he usually wore, but the hue still gave him the dark appearance he prided himself on. Goosebumps peppered your skin as he drew absent-minded shapes into your back with the pad of his finger. “I missed you,” he hummed. Despite having your back to him and concentrating on not smearing his nail polish, you could hear the content smile in his voice. “And now, I’m your boyfriend,” he mocked, eliciting a snort from you.

You screwed the cap on the polish when you were satisfied with your work. “I feel like a middle school girl every time you say that,” you grumbled, jokingly.

He snickered. “Me too.” You could feel him watching you carefully as you blew on the nail polish, his fingers to your lips to test their dryness. He curled around you again, pressing his lips to your neck, his other arm curling around your torso. His breath was sweet against your skin, mixing with the steam from the water. “Stop it, or I’ll get too excited,” he groaned, making you smile.

You moved his hand to rest in the crook of your neck, fingers threatening to demonstrate his true strength. He swapped hands, his fingers dipping beneath the water towards your heat. His other hand wrapped around your neck, waiting for your first moans until applying pressure. Your head tilted back against his shoulder as he rubbed circles against your bundle of nerves, a sigh of pleasure spilling past your lips as his teeth nipped gently at your shoulders.

Your knees peeked out above the surface of the water as you leaned further back against him. He pressed his lips to the skin behind your ear. “Look at my girlfriend, so needy so quickly,” he moaned in your ear, slipping one of his fingers into you. His name fell from your lips as if your life depended on you repeating it. He pumped another finger into you, basking in the way you reacted to him. You hated how well he knew your body.

Before you knew it, your back was pressing into your sheets, Karl hovering over you. You dug your fingers into his hair, tugging lightly on his locks as he pushed himself into you with a moan. His hips rolled against yours, his forearms resting on either side of your head, pressing his lips to your shoulder. It wasn’t long until he was thrusting in and out of you, teeth printing his mark on your skin. “All mine,” he moaned as your fingernails pressed into his skin.

You smirked slightly, rutting your hips against his. “Oh, right there, Todd,” you moaned almost pornographically. Karl stiffened slightly, struggling not to laugh as you giggled.

His teeth dug into your neck, shutting you up with a moan. He pushed your hands above your head, intertwining his fingers with yours while his other hand moved to wrap around your throat. “He fucking wishes,” he hissed through gritted teeth, making your toes curl. His pace slowed, focused on driving himself deeper into you, reaching your sweet spot with each of his thrusts.

You moaned his name, pressing your lips to his shoulder as he dug his nose into the crook of your neck. He muttered pet names into your ear, coaxing you over the edge with his declarations of ownership over you.

The next morning, you wrapped your arms around Karl’s waist, pressing your cheek against the middle of his shoulder blades as he stirred whatever he was making. Your hands looped into the front pocket of his hoodie. The kitchen was humming with life as the radio hummed softly in one of the corners and the two of you lightly conversed.

You moved to lean against the counter beside him, attempting not to completely gush at the sight of his messy hair and lazy smile as he made you breakfast. “So, do I get to wear your letterman’s jacket now?” You joshed, making him smirk.

He flipped a pancake. “I mean, you can if you’d like, I think it’s at my mom’s,” he answered, soft tones of sleep still hanging in his voice. “You can twin with your pal, Todd. We went to the same high school.”

Your head tilted at the news, mouth slightly ajar. “No way. Please tell me you’re joking.”

He shrugged. “We lived down the road from each other growing up,” he recounted, making you chuckle at the irony.

You wet your lips slightly. “Now that we’re official, do you wanna have a threesome with him?” You asked sarcastically.

“If Todd’s dick comes anywhere near me, I’m moving to Iceland,” he finalized, making you laugh.

Tag List: @mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit @xxtakechancesxx @chxrrymilkshake @westyywifee @kiritokunuwu @theholycakehole

[the-insomniac-emporium]

I love your writing.

if it's not too much trouble may i make a request? I'm thinking the Dimitrescu women meeting and/or courting a fellow immortal.

the circumstances of the immortal's powers and possession of immorality are entirely up to you. I just like the idea of them meeting someone they could literally spend forever with...because they deserve it ❤

I wasn't sure if you wanted a story or headcanons? I went with HCs, here, but if you wanted more of a drabble or whatever just lemme know and I'll write something like that.

Also, I got excited and carried away so this has the whole Dimitrescu family, plus shorter ones for both Mother Miranda and Donna. Admittedly Alcina's is also a little on the shorter side? I tried to write everything that came to mind, but I am kinda tired right now, sorry. Might reblog this and add some more later.

(Under read-more for length)

Cassandra:

Tries (and fails) to hide her excitement. Mortality is one of the bigger things that has made her keep her distance to others, at least in the past. Every Maiden she’s ever been the slightest bit smitten with, up until this point, has been incredibly fragile. Seeing as she’s not exactly the softest person, one can easily imagine why that would be a turn off for her. But now that’s no longer a problem!

On the other had… having an immortal partner gives Cassandra pause. Why? Because what if they breakup? Normally, she can just, ahem, “dispose” of any exes (regardless of how much it hurts) so she doesn’t have to see them/deal with them anymore. If that’s not an option, she’ll definitely take longer than usual to do anything about her feelings. She wants to be sure, 100%, before she gets in over her head. Chances are she won’t hold back for as long as she wants though.

Likely to have a loud, messy confession. She’ll have been avoiding you for a few days, always ducking out of whatever rooms you enter, leaving you both hurt and confused. After enlisting the help of her sisters, you’ll be able to corner her outside. She’ll tell you, under no uncertain circumstances, to leave her alone. But you’ll refuse, demanding an explanation.

“I thought we had something. I thought you cared,” you’ll snap, eyes watering. “If that’s changed… if I was wrong, just tell me. I’ll leave and I’ll never come back.” Cue thunder and raining (because tropes) and Cassandra dramatically pulling you into a kiss, holding you so tightly you think you might bruise. Then she’s demanding that you stay, refusing to apologize but making it clear just how much she does care.

Being immortal, you’re not as defenseless as some of Cassandra’s past interests. Naturally, she doesn’t get quite as protective as she normally would. She’ll still have your back no matter what, ready to fight by your side against any foe, and will probably consider doing so a “fun bonding activity”. Oh, some lycans are encroaching on Dimitrescu territory? Time to go destroy them, as a power couple!

Despite having all the time in the world, Cassandra won’t change much of her actual courting behavior, nor the rate at which things advance. She’s still gonna get handsy fairly early on, still gonna “rah!” at you in the hallways, and still going to struggle with her jealousy.

Immortality Compatibility: I can see Cassandra going for another vampire (or vampire adjacent) creature, or someone demonic. She likes her lovers a bit rough, with some nice bite to their personalities. If you’ve got sharp teeth, or claws, or glowing eyes? Oh boy, she’s gonna be making heart eyes at you all the time.

Bela:

If your immortality isn’t immediately obvious, Bela is over the moon with joy when she finds out. Her eyes will go wide for a moment, before she tries to seem calm (so as to not freak you out), but her heart is pounding. This is what she’s been hoping for. As much as Mother Miranda has done for her family, there’s no guarantee that she’d be willing to give more. Even if Miranda granted Bela’s lover her “gift”, there was no telling what the results would be, or if the lover would survive. Now that there’s no need for such a transformation, it’s far easier for Bela to imagine herself in love (and eventually be in love).

Slow-burn romance over a decade or longer, oops. Doesn’t even necessarily mean to take things so slowly, just doesn’t feel a need to rush things, preferring that they develop organically. With both of you having unlimited time, you’re both used to working on a very large timescale. Maidens watching the two of you probably place bets on how long it’ll take you to hold hands for the first time. Everyone knows it’s coming, but no matter how much Cassandra and Daniela complain, Bela refuses to jump into things. By the time the two of you are officially together, you’re probably madly in love with each other.

More protective than Cassandra, if only because she knows just how rare you are. Immortal or not, you likely still have a weakness, and Bela will do everything in her power to make sure no one else knows what it is. If applicable, she will also ensure she has a countermeasure readily available. For example: If you were weak to fire, she’d make sure that the castle keeps extinguishers handy, just in case. Though they should probably already do that. Not that the Dimitrescu family cares much for OSHA compliance.

Somehow grows more in love with you with every passing year, and makes sure that you know this. Whether you’ve been together for one year or one century (because in this house we ignore canon), she’s always performing little acts of love, giving constant reminders of how strongly she feels. Gifts, special dates, book recommendations, etc.

Immortality Compatibility: Bela seems like the type to go for someone with a calming presence, and perhaps somewhat of a contrast to herself. I can picture her with someone somewhat angelic, or druidic, someone very in tune with nature. She’d love to feed deer with you and relax in the forest! Or lay against a tree by your side, listening to you talk about various microorganisms for hours at a time.

Daniela:

Practically tackles you when she finds out/connects the dots. This is just like one of her romance novels, where a lonely (attractive as fuck) immortal spends years in isolation before finally meeting the love of their life, who they get to spend the rest of eternity with. Absolutely ecstatic about the whole situation. Won’t stop kissing you and pulling you close, rambling about how great it’s gonna be to spend your lives together. Honestly? Kind of overwhelming. You might have to remind her a few times that you don’t have to rush into things, considering you have all the time in the world.

Introduces you to people as her “super cool/rad immortal life partner”. Genuinely cannot bring herself to not brag about you. If her sisters haven’t found someone like you yet, you can bet that Daniela will tease them about it all the time (much to their annoyance). If Momma Alcina doesn’t, though? Dani will keep her thoughts to herself, thank you very much (being grounded at her age does not impress the s/o).

Tries not to show it, but she’s actually very nervous. You’re immortal! You’ve probably seen a lot of shit (she certainly has)! Worries about keeping you interested in her, though she would never admit it. This tends to lead to her performing ridiculous acts to showcase her affection, regardless of the cost or, like, whether or not you’d even enjoy whatever she has planned. In order to counter her anxiety, you’ll want to reassure her whenever you can, and give her plenty of “I love you”s.

Strikes a decent balance between Cassandra’s nonchalant attitude and Bela’s protectiveness. Will defend you if you need it, playing up the romantic aspect, but also entirely willing to hide behind you in a scary situation.

Immortality Compatibility: Having probably read Twilight… Dani would date a werewolf, as long as they weren’t the smelly kind. Also interested in a sort of “magical”/elemental type, especially if their powers are influenced by emotions. In other words, if someone flirts with her in front of you, and your response is to subconsciously light your hands/the other person on fire? She thinks that’s hot, pun intended.

Alcina:

“Oh? Interesting,” she’d say, smiling softly (and trying to ignore the heat rushing to her face). Similarly to Cassandra, she’d try to play it off, not wanting to seem too excited. And, well, she’s not as excited as any of her daughters are. After all, she’s had more time than them to “get used” to the idea of outliving any potential romantic interests. So, she’s not exactly desperate for a relationship, even with someone she could spend an eternity with.

That being said, if she is romantically interested in them, she’s very relieved. Outliving a loved one can be incredibly traumatizing (fuck you c*pcom, you know what you did), and knowing that you’re safe (or at least safer than most) brings her no small amount of comfort.

Also, just glad to have another person close to her age around. Her daughters are somewhat stuck as young adults, and I imagine Alcina would want someone who gained immortality a little later in life, such as herself, as opposed to, ya know, reminding her of her children. That probably goes without saying. Hopefully.

More so than her daughters, Alcina would change her level of protectiveness depending on her s/o’s power level. If you’re a shapeshifter who can also turn into a big ass dragon? Then she’s not going to coddle you. If you’re immortal but still vulnerable, then she’s going to do her best to keep you safe, even going so far as to enlist the assistance of her daughters. “If you see a single Maiden growing mistletoe, or bringing some in from the village, let me know immediately,” or something like that, depending on your weakness.

Immortality Compatibility: Definitely would want someone in a situation similar to herself, having once been truly human, only to be “elevated” by something. Bonus points if you’re another disciple of Miranda, double bonus points if Miranda specifically “made” you to be Alcina’s boo/honey/darling/dear.

Bonus! Mother Miranda:

Oh god finally someone who won’t leave her (can’t leave her). No one can take you away from her, and that’s a relief that she’s been craving for over a century. Even if romance isn’t high on her priority list, she welcomes it with open arms, glad to have someone by her side through all of life’s chaos.

Admittedly slow to trust at first, probably just using you as a tool at first. But prove yourself enough, show that your devotion is more than just misdirected self-interest, and she’ll start to warm up to you. Forming a real relationship would likely take a couple decades, similar to with Bela. Once you are together, however, the two of you are inseparable in all matters.

You’d be her #1 follower, most trusted adviser, and the only person allowed to understand 100% of her thoughts and motives. While Miranda wouldn’t allow you to be seen as the same level as her (sorry), you’d still be a legend among the villagers. To them, you’re Mother Miranda’s champion, the epitome of a devoted follower that they all aspire to emulate. Not that they know the two of you are a couple, though.

Immortality Compatibility: No gimmicks, no cheap tricks, she wants (and respects) a fellow scientist, someone who clawed their way through adversity and forged themselves into something indestructible. Double the interest if you did so for a similar cause to her own, as she would appreciate your ability to relate to her suffering.

Bonus! Donna:

Someone to play with! FOREVER! No more losing people she cares about, no more accidentally breaking people, no more people scrambling to leave. Now that she has you, she can finally spend some quality time with another (living?) person. Honestly her dolls (or at least Angie) are just as excited as she is. Regardless of her relations with the other three Lords, Donna much prefers the company of a lover.

For real though she’s shy as hell and you might not even realize who’s pulling the strings until you’ve been in her house for over a year. She’d probably use her powers to trap you inside, at least at first, though they’d be nice hallucinations. You’d have to treat the dolls nicely, especially Angie, before she’d let you interact with her.

Eventually you’d be allowed to leave, and you’d be given a key to return whenever you wanted to. Assuming that you do, in fact, come back, the two of you would have a very, very slow romance, if only because of Donna’s anxiety. Hand holding makes both of your faces turn beet red, seriously.

Immortality Compatibility: *chanting* GHOST GIRLFRIEND GHOST GIRLFRIEND POLTERGEIST PARTNER POLTERGEIST PARTNER WOOHOO! Something with a flexible, only-sometimes-tangible form, who absolutely could have left at any time but didn’t because they wanted to stay.

[navegandoaciegas]

A long way

Kinktober 7/31: creampie

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: trucker!bucky, hitchhiking, smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, creampie, biting, hair pulling, one slap on the face, oral sex, alcohol consumption, degradading praise kink.

Summary: A broody and rough truck driver stops for you when no one else does. What happens when you spend a few days together?

A/N: day 7 of @itgetsdarksometimes35 spooky challenge + Kinktober. Thank you @buckycuddlebuddy for inspiring this and helping me out, ily baby!

You suppose he’s a nice guy under all the brooding, frowning, glaring; there must be some gentleness buried underneath all the roughness, some kindness hiding behind his steely eyes.

He’s got a hard exterior for sure, with his burly body and intricate tattoos, but he’s the only one who’s pulled over for you, all soaked, crying and alone on the side of the road, while other drivers sped past you, hitting potholes and splashing even more water and mud over you.

You have to admit, you would have done the same, because who the hell stops for hitchhikers in the middle of a thunderstorm? Bucky the trucker, apparently. At the same time, who in their right mind hitchhikes in the 21st century? Someone desperate enough. You.

The 70s and the Santa Rosa murders haven’t taught either of you much, it seems.

So either he’s a serial killer, or a sullen good samaritan.

“I’m gonna pull over in a couple miles, I need to rest a little.” he announces, voice flat, tightly gripping the steering wheel of his truck.

You have a feeling he doesn’t particularly like you. Nothing specific about you, just that you’re in his space, in his clothes, breathing his same air, and he can’t sulk on his own like he’s probably used to.

“It’s okay for me.” you mumble, fidgeting with the sleeves of his thick, grey sweatshirt. It wasn’t a question, but what else were you supposed to say?

He doesn’t acknowledge you.

Despite his murderous looks and apparent annoyance, you trust your gut feeling.

The guy could split your skull in half like a pistachio, but he doesn’t seem like he’ll actually go through with it, unless you change the frequency of that radio channel he’s listening to, or move around the pictures on his dashboard. Both of which you don’t intend on doing.

You observe his side profile, the delicate slope on his nose, chiselled jawline, high cheekbones, buzz cut chestnut hair, the tattoos snaking from his arm to the side of his neck, ending just below his ear.

He’s hot and menacing, and the idea that he could bang you like a screen door in a hurricane and kill you with his bare hands makes a shiver go down your spine and straight to your core.

You squirm in your seat, clenching your thighs, cursing you and your horny brain for the dirty images you’ve conveyed.

“You alright there, sugar?” he asks, and you think you see a little smirk dancing on his plush lips, “You seem a little bothered.”

The endearing name and the teasing are a new development, one that you don’t mind.

“Never been better.” you grumble, shooting him a glare of your own.

10 hours in his truck, and his mannerism is rubbing off on you already.

-

It’s a long way from Oregon to Florida when you have no money on you and you depend on a trucker’s route, a trucker you’ve been bickering and flirting with for hours.

45 hours later, you find yourself at a truck stop a long way from home, your feet propped against the dashboard, the seat reclined slightly.

It’s not the best setting, you’ll be honest with yourself.

Take out containers are littered around you, and Bucky keeps digging in the fries propped on your lap. You smile lazily at him, tipsy but still conscious on your second beer.

45 hours together is a long time when you spend it with the same person, in a small space. He’s still brooding, just looser. And drunker.

“So I said, fuck you and that two faced bitch, and spilled a wine bottle on his suit.” you hiccup, a hysterical laugh bubbling in your throat, “Red fuckin’ wine.”

Well, maybe you’re not as sober as you thought.

“No way.” he deadpans, taking a sip out of his beer. “Is that why you looked like a drowned rat hitchhiking in the middle of the night?”

“Mean, but yes. That cheating asshole. I hope his dick falls off. Not like he knew how to use it anyways.”

That seems to catch his attention.

“He didn’t?” he hums thoughtfully, with all the seriousness a drunk man can muster.

“He never got me off. Had to lock myself in the bathroom and do it myself.” you slur, “Never ate my pussy either.”

“God, suga’, that sounds tragic.”

Your lips twist in a disgusted expression, but you giggle when a thought stikes you.

“What about you? When was the last time you got any?”

He winces when he thinks about it, the frown on his forehead permanently etched there.

“A while ago.”

It’s silent for a moment, and maybe it’s the sexual tension that’s been building for a while, or the heat in his steely eyes, but you feel yourself grow warmer.

Your itch to touch him, taste him, feel him inside you. On your tongue, in your cunt, everywhere.

“Tragic.” you mumble, eyes boring into his.

It’s a rebound, or maybe it’s just that he’s hot and you’re both adults who can do whatever the hell you want.

It doesn’t make sense, the way you jump on him, slanting your mouth against his like you’ve never done before. The way his lips mold against yours, his tongue moves in sync with you, his hands on your body leave you feeling scorched. Your clothes and his sweater are discarded somewhere.

He tastes like beer, and tobacco, and his beard grazes against your skin, making you feel ticklish and giddy.

You’re drunk, and not on alcohol.

His touch is bruising, possessive, controlling. His teeth bite on your skin, he pulls on your hair, kneads the flesh of your ass, rolls and pinches your nipples.

Rough, just like him, and if the slick leaking out of you is any indication, you like that a lot.

“I’ll fuck you all the way to Florida babygirl, fuck you so good you never want to leave this fuckin’ truck.”

It’s embarrassing the way you’re panting, debauched already. Heat is pooling in your lower belly, and you want nothing more than for him to go feral on you.

“God, Bucky, I need you so much, need you inside me.” you whine, palming his cock through his denim jeans, feeling how hard and throbbing he is for you.

“Fuck.” he groans, quickly undoing your belt, freeing his cock.

It springs out of his briefs, standing against his stomach. He’s thick, and leaking with pre cum.

You bite your lips, shooting him a mischievous smile as you lower your face to his groin, ready to suck him off.

“No, I want to be inside you now.”

He grabs underneath your arms and lifts you up, maneuvering so that you’re straddling his lap.

You’re tipsy, about to let a man you barely know raw you in his truck, surrounded by containers of junk food.

It’s trashy, maybe, but who cares. Fuck trashy, and fuck your ex too.

You feel like all your breath has been knocked out of you when he pushes inside you, his cock stretching you out almost painfully.

“Fuck, you’re so big.” you whimper, steadying yourself on his broad chest, nails mapping out the outline of his tattoos.

“God baby, you’re so tight, I can feel that pretty pussy of yours squeezing me.” he moans, hands tightly gripping your hips, “Why don’t you show me how good you can ride my cock, yes?”

You grind yourself on his groin, rolling your hips in circular motion, feeling his cock hit all the sweet spots inside you. He suckles on your nipples, sending shivers down your spine.

Your pussy flutters around him, clamping down hard each time a wave of pleasure hits you.

“Look how good you’re doing, taking my cock so well like the little dumb slut you are baby.” he grunts, and his words shoot straight to your cunt, “Pretty cockdrunk whore, aren’t ya?”

You feel lightheaded.

Bouncing your ass up and down his cock, you feel yourself get closer.

“Fuck Buck- I’m-”

He cuts you off, swallowing your moans as you cum.

Your body shakes, your head spins and every nerve ending on your body is on fire, but he doesn’t give you time to come down from your high.

You slump against his bare chest, and he starts pounding inside you, holding your waist.

He pummels into your abused cunt, pulling one orgasm after the other out of you, until you’re sobbing. His sweaty skin slaps against yours, his balls against your ass. It’s so lewd it’s driving you crazy.

Tears and drool stream down your face.

“Look at you, messy girl, so eager for my cock. I can’t wait to fill you out with my cum baby, watch it drip out of your cunt.” he groans, balls getting tighter, thrusts messier. You feel him swell inside you. “I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Being filled with my cum to the brim.”

You’re lost in your own pleasure, and don’t answer until he slaps your face. Hard.

“Yes, please Bucky, I want you to fill my pussy, fuck-”

He bites down on your shoulder as he cums, painting your walls with his hot load as your pussy milks him dry.

“You did so good.” he hums, holding you close to his body as he comes down from his high, “Think you can give me one more?”

You nod, and lie on your back on the seats.

He watches entranced as his cum drips out of your cunt, and pushes it back inside with his fingers, smiling at the small noises you make.

He surprises you, latching his mouth around your swollen, overstimulated clit, sucking hard. He delves in your folds, circling his tongue on your bud, slurping up your juices and his, enjoying your taste mixing in with his as he keeps pumping his thick fingers inside you.

You’ve never felt this amount of pleasure before, and when you cum, your vision blacks out for several seconds, and you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or just the best orgasm of your life.

You clamp down on his fingers, your release gushing on his mouth as the pressure in your cunt finally snaps.

He looks up at you, face covered in your slick.

“Don’t think I’m done with you baby.” he smirks, “I’ll never get enough of this sweet pussy.”

You grin, and pull him down on you, ready to start all over again.

It’s a long way to Florida, and you’re not sure you ever want to reach your destination, after all.

—-

Not proofread bc i like living on edge like that. Please leave some feedback!

You can add yourself to my taglist on my pinned post 💓

[stvrchaser]

Time and Its Whereabouts ( James Potter )

summary : in which james breaks the only promise that matters

extended summary : reader returns to potter manor to fulfill a promise she’d made to james, years before his untimely death

warnings : angst, unrequited love, james is obviously dead, grief

word count : 1,786

March 27, 1960

The Potter Manor was a beacon of light. It had harbored guests throughout centuries with the special ability to make one feel as though they’d found a home of their own. Its tall windows flooded the halls with light. The crystal chandeliers illuminated marble floors and large corridors where she used to run with James as a child. It had been a safe haven during the lonely summers and holidays. When it became increasingly difficult to keep accepting her relatives as family. The Potters were family friends, so she and James had grown up together. They kept her away from her often overwhelming household. So at some point, the Potter Manor had become her home.

Until it wasn’t.

Maybe the comfort had gone when Fleamont and Euphemia passed in the summer of 1979, when they’d lost their lives to dragon pox. Or, maybe, it had happened the second James graduated Hogwarts and announced his intention to marry.

It was silly, she thinks. She knew the day would come when she would have had to stop depending on the Potters. It was only a matter of time before she and the boys grew up. While she would always be welcome at their home, she would eventually have to leave. But never had she expected to fear being in its vicinity.

James Potter was her friend — first of the few that mattered — and he was everything good about the world. He had the uncanny ability to make one smile with his crooked glasses and goofy grins. It used to make her feel like she could float. Not in the way that being on a broom felt. It didn’t provide the same thrill and sense of danger that quidditch presented. Not even the excitement of spotting the golden snitch. It was simply a state of being, something so natural that it had become a part of herself.

She loved him for it. More than she would have liked to admit. More than she ever did admit.

But he had never felt the same way. He didn’t long for her in the way she did for him. He didn’t look forward to her presence with the same need that she had. And she didn’t mind. Because no matter how he lacked, she knew he tried his best to keep his promise:

I’ll always be by your side. I’ll be there for you, whenever you need me.

—————————————————————

July 1, 1972

“You know, I could dig if you’re having trouble,” she teased as James struggled to break through the soil.

“Nope,” he adamantly refused. “I just have to break through this and the rest will come easy. You’ll see.”

“I can see that you haven’t gotten anywhere in the last ten minutes by stabbing the dirt like that.”

He huffed in his very ‘James’ nature — his persistent or, as she and Euphemia liked to call it, stubborn way of doing things.

“Well it’s harder than it looks without magic!” he insisted.

“Give me that,” she said without bothering to wait for his response, snatching the tree branch from his hand. She held it at her side, between her arm and torso, while she opened a the bottle of water she had brought for their picnic.

“That’s cheating!”

“It’s convenient,” she replied, smug at her success in softening the soil.

A few months ago, Remus had told them about a muggle tradition called “time capsules” which required taking something of personal value and burying it underground only to dig it up after a decided amount of time. Since then, they had planned to do it over the summer, but the two of them had wanted to do it alone. While they cared deeply for Remus, Sirius, and Peter, they wanted to keep this to themselves— something special for only them who had become each other’s first friends.

Y/N genuinely liked the idea, but she suspected that James only wanted an excuse to get his hands dirty without his mother berating him for ruining her gardens.

“What are you putting in?” she asked him, glancing curiously at the box in his hand. It was no longer than his forearm, it’s sides about the size of his hand. It contained carvings of a few scattered stars, only clearly visible due to the sunlight.

“I’ve already put mine in.” He opened the gold latch and eagerly held it to her face to give her a good look. “There’s the letter I promised to write you, of course. I’ve also put the first quidditch game ticket Dad bought me, the photograph Mum took of us and the boys at the Platform, and Glynnis Griffiths’ autograph.”

“That’s it? Two of those are quidditch related.”

“So? Remus said we can put anything of ‘personal value’ didn’t he?”

“Yes, and Griffiths’ attractive physique has nothing to do with it?” she teased with a grin.

“That’s personal, Y/L/N,” he mocked in return. “Besides, I doubt you’ve got something better.”

“Don’t I?” Y/N reached into her bag, taking a folded piece of parchment, a familiar envelope, a necklace, and a small box.

“You actually kept that?” James laughed at the sight of the necklace. The necklace itself was simple, made of small intertwined silver chains. The real eye-catcher was the pendant — a ridiculously large figure of an angry garden gnome. “Sirius and I gave it to you as a joke! I didn’t think you’d keep it. That thing’s horrific!”

“I thought it was pretty cute,” she shrugged. It wasn’t. ‘Horrific’ was quite a kind word to describe it. The gnome had a long hooked nose, a red hat, and angrily furrowed brows. But she kept it for a treasured memory.

James and Sirius had given it to her in a pretty blue box, giggling through a poor attempt at feigning innocence. They eyes lit up with mischief and excitement— a special thrill like nothing she’d ever seen.

“You are so weird,” James replied. “And I’m guessing that’s your Hogwarts letter?” he pointed at the envelope. “I don’t see why it’s important. Your parents are both magical. You were guaranteed to receive it at some point.”

She only smiled softly.

“And the parchment must be the letter for me,” he continued. “So, what’s in the box?”

“Ah, I was hoping you’d ask.”

“Of course I’d ask! All your other stuff is boring. Did you really think I’d let you put that in without knowing—“

She opened the box.

“Y/N,” he stared, eyes wide. “You didn’t!”

She held a snitch in her hand, perfectly polished. “Yes, I did.” She tossed it to him.

“Is that really your first catch?” he asked, still bewildered.

“Yup! Thought it suited the terms. Personally valuable and all.”

“But— but— your first catch!”

“I’m well aware, James,” she chuckled at his disbelief.

“This should be kept on display or something, not buried underground! Are you sure you’re willing to part with this?” He held it in his hand, observing every inch.

“Yeah. I figured it wasn’t that big of a deal. It’s only the first of many, isn’t it?” James snorted.

“And everyone calls me arrogant.”

“Tread lightly, Potter. I might just scrap every nice thing I’ve said to you in my letter.”

“Alright, alright!” He held his hands up in defense. “Let’s just get going with this.”

One by one, they put her belongings into the wooden box with James’ things, carefully burying it in the patch of soil near Euphemia’s vibrant flowerbeds.

Y/N was surprised by the lack of emotion that came with her departure with the items she’d chosen. They held a special place in her heart, but it all felt quite underwhelming. She didn’t know what to do next.

“When should we dig this up again?” She asked James.

“Already missing your snitch, huh?” He grinned. “Let’s say… when we’re thirty?”

“It’s not fair to base it on birth date. I’m older than you!”

“Well, that’s too bad. You’ll just have to wait for me.” She huffed.

“Ugh, fine. But thirty? We’re not even halfway there! Do you really want to wait that long?”

“We’ve got all the time in the world! We could wait till fifty, if we wanted.” She frowned.

“And— but what if…” James noticed the sorrow in her voice.

“What if what?”

“What if we’re not friends anymore by then?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?” James asked, sounding aghast as if it were such an impossible outcome.

But Y/N didn’t have James’ optimism.

“I’m only saying. We’ll be long out of school. You… you’ll have a family and a career and— Well, I don’t know where that puts me,” she admitted, staring at the ground.

“Right beside me, that’s where.” He took her hands in his, holding them close. “I’ll always be by your side. I’ll be there for you, whenever you need me.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

—————————————————————

March 27, 1960

James Potter made several promises after that.

“I’ll always keep you happy.”

“You can tell me anything, and I won’t run.”

“There’s nothing in this world that can keep us apart.”

Some were kept, others were not. But they were never willingly broken. Not even knowingly.

His promise in regards of her happiness was first unknowingly broken by heartbreak — a pain caused by James Potter himself. It began where he declared his love for Lily Evans and had ground away at her heart by the time he had asked her to marry him.

His promise about his acceptance of her truths was broken when she knew, even in their early years at school, that he did not feel about her as she did for him. When she knew that she couldn’t reveal the way her heart ached for his love.

And then there was the last. Another version of the first, she supposed. The one that declared he’d always be with her.

The one which mattered the most.

She had been disappointed. Heartbroken. But through it all, James Potter was by her side. And so, nothing else mattered.

Until that, too, had gone.

His first and last promises, too, were broken. By Death and the horrors of war.

Now there was a single promise left — only it was one of hers to uphold.

Thirty.

She wondered where time had gone.

All she knew was frightening change — the comforts of Potter Manor, Euphemia’s lively flowers, Remus’ knowledge on muggle traditions, Sirius’ silly pranks, James’ company — none was left of it. Any of it. Nothing but the cold, empty manor.

Nothing but the heavy box in her hands that trembled while she kneeled beside Euphemia’s flowerbeds with freshly dug soil collecting her tears. She held it tight against her chest. And with a shaky breath, she whispered:

“Happy birthday, James.”

[aquilaofarkham]

title: mishpachah rating: T+ word count: 3,085 summary: Five years after rebuilding the manor—and the birth of a new Belmont into the world—Trevor decides to share an old recipe with his newfound family.

For @fibulaa 💛  Thanks so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

The first bread Trevor Belmont ate while living his newly orphaned vagabond life was so dry it cut at the inner walls of his throat. He swallowed each bite with grimace after grimace, knowing that despite the pain, the already hardened child of thirteen could stave off starvation for a little while longer. Until he tasted the faintest tinge of copper on his ruined tongue.

Putting those years far behind, he now stands in front of a wooden counter, blurry eyed and with a yawn reminiscent of a sun drunk cat. It seems clean at first glance but in every corner Trevor notices fragments of past meals which he tried wiping away once they were finished and placed on a more pristine table meant for family. Bits of salt, half minced vegetables, and crumbs of bread much softer than the ones belonging to a later childhood he would rather forget. This kitchen, warm in its early morning sunlight, was the final instalment of the manor, newly risen from the ashes. Or rather, simply rebuilt thanks to the calloused, blistered, and splintered hands. No more ruined stone, no more fire blackened beams holding together little less than an architectural skeleton. The somewhat mirror image of Trevor’s lost home has been faring better than the castle. Too many memories, fresh, ranging from bitter to incomprehensible.

Slowly, he grows conscious of his surroundings and his own self. A continuing habit of being the first to wake not just in this manor hold but in life. Reluctantly opening his eyes prior to dawn covering the landscape while still traveling alone only to drag a pair of worn boots back along a similar muddy road. Trevor never wanted to wake up before the sun. He just couldn’t bear to stay in the same place for much longer whether due to the laundry list of dangers or more often than not, his newfound hatred of whichever backwater hamlet he unfortunately found himself in.

He’s happy to wake up early. Happy to never feel a need to leave or escape, happy to know that lack of food replaced with pints of liquid pleasure mixed with death will never plague him again. Happy to prepare breakfast in a hot iron pot over a well stoked fire. What he thought he lost forever has come back, along with new additions to the family he’s carved out.

Another presence bounds her way into the kitchen and ambushes Trevor from behind. He’s not old—not yet, he’ll give it time—but years of drinking have made their permanent stay, dulling the more acute senses. Makes it easier for a five-year-old to catch him off guard. Trevor’s eyes bolt open as tiny arms hold him in a tight cage.

“Good morning, papa!”

His ears ring at the sound of Mirele’s loud voice, but at least he won’t have to worry about nodding off. He stares down at the youngest Belmont who looks as though someone had split Trevor and Sypha straight down their centres into four pieces and sewed each differing half onto the other in order to create a new person. A homunculi of messy dark chocolate hair, bright eyes shining with blue ice, full rosy cheeks somehow conspicuously smeared with some sort of dirt or jam, and enough energy to wear out an electric powered jackrabbit. 

“How’s my little monster doing this morning?” Everything Trevor says is laced with his own personal touch of affection and Mirele loves it.

“Mama and papa are still asleep. Help me wake them up! Pleaseeee?”

This doesn’t surprise him; Sypha has always preferred to savour her last moments of sleep longer than normal and Alucard is… well, Alucard.

“Tell you what.” Trevor places a lid onto the simmering pot with a heavy clank. “While this heats up for our breakfast, we’ll go wake up those lazy bones.”

“Right!” Hand in smaller hand, the two make their way upstairs into the shadowy master bedchamber. Curtains drawn with only a sliver of light cutting its singular path across the floor and over two distinct lumps covered by blankets and furs. They seem conjoined, linked in each other’s arms, unaware that a third party has been missing for long enough. Mirele plunges into the room first, jumping onto the bed as all children do when parents refuse to join the land of the conscious. She playfully shoves and cuddles her way between the two bodies who sink deeper beneath the covers, lazily moaning like ghosts.

“Mama! Papa! Wake up! It’s time to get up!”

Trevor hopes that his tactic of throwing open the weighted curtains works in a more effective manner. Listening to the rising chorus of wordless protests coming from behind, he’s pleased with the results. “Never thought I would be the one setting a good example for our daughter.”

“Do not get cheeky, especially this early.” Sypha’s response spills out like running water. It’s clear her mind isn’t quite all there yet. But she can scoop Mirele into her arms, find every ticklish spot, and illicit giggles that only canines might hear. “At least we both know how to have fun, right my sweet?”

“Vampires… nocturnal…” A deeper, muffled voice emerges from under one of the pillows.

“Something you’d like to share with us, Alucard?” Trevor quips, amused at how the other father of the household can never seem to shake off his morning dishevelment. Perhaps sleeping in a coffin would help—a very large one so he doesn’t have to be alone. Alucard reluctantly removes the pillow as tangled heaps of gold fall over his face.

“Vampires are supposed to be nocturnal. Would you rather I burst into ashes upon contact with the sun? Think of our girls, Trevor.”

“We’ve all seen you in the sun before, it’s about as dangerous as a clove of garlic.”

“I have my own means of physical protection. Far beyond your measly human comprehension, love.”

“Personally, I’ve been able to comprehend you plenty.”

Mirele stares up at Sypha, her bushy brows furrowed. “What does… comp… sshhheshion mean?”

“It’s just another word your fathers use whenever either of them want to feel smart.” 

Alucard gives Sypha a gentle pinch on either side of her abdomen. “I thought you were on my side.”

“What about my side?” Trevor asks, excelling at the greatest strength he possesses—the ability to never take anything seriously, only when he must.

“I’m hungry,” Mirele speaks up. “Hungry and bored. Can we eat now?”

--

This life is not normal, but then again it is. It always has been for them. Normal once meant coming together because of violence, encroaching darkness, and some flimsy prophecy stringing them along one dead body at a time. A prophecy which never said what had to be done after they followed it to the hard earned letter. Perhaps that’s why Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard floundered afterwards. No instruction on how to live their upturned lives.

Fuck prophecy.

They made this life by their own standards and in accordance with their own desires. They loved how they wanted to love and no prophecy could have foreseen Mirele. How she calls for her father while both Trevor and Alucard turn their heads at the same exact second. How she quickly calms herself when presented with a bowl of warm oatmeal drowning in honey and wild fruits hand plucked from the surrounding forest. But it’s not enough. Nothing ever is for someone always growing, always wanting more from life at such a young age.

“Can I have bread?”

Trevor, half way through his bitter coffee, turns to Sypha then Alucard as all three parental figures exchange glances. They haven’t the heart to tell Mirele. No bread at the ready, only the necessary ingredients and a considerable amount of flour bags to blanket Enisala. There’s the option of making it themselves, yet it depends on a certain someone’s capacity for patience.

“How do you feel about baking our own?” Trevor’s voice wavers, which he tries to mask with his characteristic dry tone. It’s been a long time since he’s made bread. Then again, helping the manor cooks was a somewhat selfish endeavour as it meant extra servings for the baby of the Belmonts. Yet his proposal goes over well with Mirele, whose inherited eyes light up at the prospect of trying something new.

“I wanna make bread! Can we? Can we please?”

“When was the last time you baked anything, Trevor?” Alucard asks, genuinely curious and with a healthy dose of skepticism. “You still won’t tell us much about anything concerning your former life, let alone the sort of foods your family ate.”

Trevor feels a twinge in his gut—still better than a punch. His two lovers, even his daughter, they only know of his mother; a matriarch in her own right. They know her name, the monsters she killed, and not much else. Trevor’s excuses: he doesn’t remember anything about her, despite the fact that he does. He didn’t know her for very long or very well, so there’s no point in missing her. Trevor did know Sonia and he does miss her, sometimes more than he can handle. Then the easiest excuse: it’s just another self-preservation tactic.

Out of this inner reflection comes an idea. It breaks tradition in a way. For the Belmonts and other Jewish families, everything is passed down through the mother—recipes, forms of worship, blood memories, centuries old tactics of bruising one’s knuckles and temples. Trevor doesn’t think this slight deviation from his culture’s norm will make him any less of what he’s always been. Mirele will simply have to pick up where he left off when she’s grown.

He doesn’t want to think about that now. She’s only five after all. One lesson at a time. 

“Alright. Gather round, pupils. The bread we’re making isn’t just any bread. Forget everything you know and everything you’ve been taught because this will be the closest thing to heaven you’ll ever taste.”

“How dramatic…” Sypha mutters under her breath. Alucard joins her amusement with a subdued chuckle. 

“I believe you were partially his influence.”

Trevor knows how much trouble he’ll be in if he puts Mirele through the most agonizing cruelty of waiting a second longer than necessary. Fearful of her pint-sized wrath, he gives everyone the order to start gathering ingredients: flour, eggs, honey, and some indulgent herbs to make this particular bread something special. As much of a strategic leader in the kitchen as he is when the world is coming to an end. With everything spread out on the countertops, Trevor guides his family step by step through the only recipe he remembers. He calls this bread “challah”, which Mirele immediately strains her freshly green vocal chords, trying to pronounce the word exactly as her father does. She quickly gives up and focuses on mixing the ingredients with an intense look—almost to a fault as bits of sloppy dough fly out of the bowl. Good. This enthusiasm is what Trevor wants to see.

Kneaded and allowed time to rise, the next step is the most important. Trevor divides the dough into four halves, then again, and again until each participant has their own handful of raw unbaked strips. 

“We have to braid them?” Mirele asks following his explanation. 

“That’s right. It’s what makes this bread different from all the rest.”

“Just like when papa let’s me braid his pretty hair!”

Every pair of eyes turns to Alucard, whose smile widens in that way which causes his eyes to shut tightly. Fangs happily bared as he pulls Mirele into his flour and dough covered arms while she giggles in delight. After they all return to work, her loaf turns out the same way as the braids she gives to him—lopsided, uneven, lacking a few outsticking stray hairs, but filled with affection and genuine resolve.

Three loaves are placed into the oven, including a fourth crudely constructed but still adequately done piece. Mirele is now more willing to play the waiting game—so she claims. Sitting in front of the oven while staring directly into its insides, utterly fascinated, oblivious to her surroundings. Unaware that her three parents are whispering behind her back. Eventually, Sypha has to gently pull her away with her bottom dragging along the kitchen floor.

“How about you and I do something a little more interesting while your fathers keep watch over things.”

“But what about the c… the calla!”

“Don’t worry, they will look after it. And we are not going far, my sweet.”

“We’ll make sure nothing burns down.” Trevor assures, despite it being Sypha who usually revels in cinders and ashes, intentionally or not.

The two retreat down the corridor past diamond shaped stained windows and into one of the manor’s smaller libraries where the cabinets reach the high ceiling painted in deep blue hues. Scattered from corner to corner are constellations of stars and midnight clouds obscuring each phase of the moon. Once when Alucard found Mirele curiously asleep atop a number of pillows when she should have been in her own bed, it was his decision to paint the library in new colours. Sypha moves aside an entire shelf of thick volumes as though trying to find a carefully hidden switch that will lead them into a secret chamber. It’s what Mirele hopes but turns mildly disappointed when the books do not in fact magically shift to reveal a stone passageway. Her soured anticipation is only countered when Sypha places a box on the desk.

“Can you guess what’s inside?”

“Is it treasure?”

“Close! You are almost right.” Sypha opens the lid just as Pandora did except there are no horrors, no evils to be wrought upon humanity. Mirele peeks inside and her eyes shine with the glistening silver of trinkets, pendants, and talismans. She resists the innate urge to reach her hands, still white with flour, into the box only to briefly experience the sensation of holding one between her fingers. Even children know when something is sacred.

“These belonged to your grandparents. They used them for protection and strength. A long time ago, before you were born, their home burned down and everything was destroyed.”

“Papa’s home?”

Sypha nods, grateful that this story now has its happy ending, slight as it may be. “However, when your other father started building the manor we live in, he found this box trapped amongst all the rubble. It managed to survive.”

“What do they say?”

Mirele points to one pendant molded in the shape of a sword. Inscribed along the curve of its ash-riddled blade are the Hebrew names of angels which must have been muttered by Sonia or Gabriel. The longer Mirele stares, attempting to decipher yet another new language, the brighter her cheeks grow red with frustration. Her mother acts quick just as her eyes begin to water. 

“It’s alright if you don’t understand what any of them say.”

“I can learn! Please, mama? I promise I’ll study really hard!”

Sypha’s lips curl as Mirele continues her begging. Oh the mind of a child. How quickly it changes.

--

The kitchen feels hotter, wafting through the air. Enveloping the room and everything caught between its walls. Trevor stands by the oven, a thick cloth ready in his hand. It shouldn’t take much longer. At least there’s no stench of something burning. Almost makes him pine for the days of his family’s massive stone oven and how he would sneak around at night and pick out leftover morsels from inside like an insatiable mouse. Not unlike the actual beasts which he hunted throughout the hallways before moving onto larger prey typical of a Belmonts’ work—or as large as his own runtish body mass could handle.

Minutes of quiet pass, still eyeing the loaves with a keen gaze. Trevor’s concentration soon broken by the feeling of two arms wrapping around his softening yet still robust midsection. Slow and careful, until his back is pressed against an equally broad chest.

“Can I help you?” He asks as Alucard buries his face into the curvature of his shoulder blades.

“You’re already helping.” The dhampir, unchanging in his physical appearance (a revelation both Trevor and Sypha refuse to acknowledge for the time being), tightens his embrace.

“Something wrong?”

“No… I just enjoy feeling how much softer and warmer you’ve become.”

Trevor’s cheeks blush ever so pinker and not because of the oven’s heat. By now he should be used to Alucard’s sudden bouts of outward affection.

“You even smell better.”

There it is. Trevor thought he would be waiting forever to hear that little jab, though said with nothing but a good heart.

“That might be the herbs you’re smelling.”

Alucard shifts around so that the two of them are side by side, cheek to cheek, as he chuckles in Trevor’s ear. “Come here.”

He doesn’t offer a kiss, not where Trevor was expecting. Instead of his lips, Alucard singles out every patch of stray flour on his face, kissing, wiping, even licking them clean. Cheek, jawline, and nose. Trevor’s expression twists into a ticklish, surprisingly delighted facade. 

“You’re a half vampire, not a cat.”

“Better to clean you now than later.”

“Always so fucking odd…”

“You love it.”

Much to his lucky stars, Trevor manages one curse mere seconds before Sypha and Mirele return. They let their daughter speak at a breakneck speed neither one can fully comprehend—something about silver pieces and whether they can teach her a new language—until one series of questions finally sticks.

“Is the bread ready yet? Can we eat it now? Can we please?”

Trevor placates Mirele by revealing the fruits of their joint hard earned labour: four freshly baked and perfectly shined challah loaves each representative of whoever did the braiding. She bounces in her chair before simmering down to an excited tremble once Trevor warns her of how they need to cool. In order to make this more of a meal, he rummages about in search of two other beacons from his childhood. He’s rewarded with one of the few fresh apples they have left while Sypha, ever in tune with his inner thoughts, grabs another small pot of honey for him.

Trevor thanks her by gently running his palm across her lower abdomen, over the growing bump. He keeps it there for just a second longer, a subtle gesture of love noticed by Sypha. Fingertips intertwined with each other, they join Alucard and Mirele at the table as the midday sun shines golden through the windows.

[ofbloodandbullets]

So it’s recently come to my attention that not everyone in the world has actually watched The Old Guard (WHO KNEW?!) so I’m going to try and do some info dumps about the world, the general canon and Andy’s history, personality, powers etc.  This will ... probably get kinda lengthy. 

Also: MAJOR MAJOR SPOILERS FOR COMICS & MOVIE.

The first thing you need to know is that for the main part, the history and the world that TOG takes place in is the exact same one as the real history of the world.  It’s set in modern day, though the plot points stretch back to 7k+ years ago.  It’s also important to note that there is a lot of historical inaccuracies and some things in canon that conflict themselves so it’s best to just take it all with a grain of salt and just go with what works best for your particular preferences etc. 

The main difference between reality and TOG is that in TOG there are a very minute like .00000000002% of the population that are immortals.  Now, it’s important to note that these people can die but they resurrect pretty close to immediately after they die no matter the amount of damage done.  Now it can take some time to fully heal or reform, depending on how extensive the trauma (being blown to bits or burned etc. will take longer to fix but there’s no amount of damage that we know of that can actually keep them dead).  

There are times when, for reasons unknown to the characters in character (or to us as readers  of the comics / viewers of the movie etc) that the immortality just stops.  There’ll just be a time that they suffer injuries that just don’t heal, and they die.  There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to this, be it age, number of times they’ve died, whatever.  Now, I have my own entirely headcanon and personal preference based theory which you can find HERE but it’s totally just a random idea that I had that I liked to explain the loss of Andy’s immortality in the movie (that doesn’t happen in the comics) and lets me say that she regains her immortality post canon so that I can nudge things back in the direction of the comics for post movie plots and so on.

Andy is, as far as we know, and as far as she knows, the oldest (human) immortal, coming in at around 7,000 years old.  She was born into a tribe, the Scythia (hence what she’s generally called: Andromache the Scythian).  A nomadic warrior tribe that I headcanon to be a matriarchy, Andy was betrayed by the ‘queen mother’ when she was sixteen and killed in battle because the leader feared that Andy posed a danger to her continuing rule.  This person was practically a mother to Andy and it was a horrific betrayal.  What was almost as shocking to Andy was the fact that she got back up again after being literally stabbed in the back and killed.

In the vein of trying to thwart prophecies making them happen, Andy killed the matriarch and took her placce ruling the tribe, eventually becoming a God King to her people and ruling over them for hundreds of years until her loneliness absolutely overwhelmed her and one day she just vanished.

At some point after this, she began to dream of a woman, feeling a pull towards this stranger that she couldn’t begin to explain.  After dozens, maybe hundreds of years, she managed to track down the woman in question (Noriko in the comics, Quynh in the movie) and realized that they’d been dreaming of each other.  (In the comics she meets Lykon before Quynh/Noriko, whom she had also been dreaming of).  

Now, the connection between these immortals isn’t explained in canon, and for a long time, Andy, Lykon, Noriko (and eventually Joe, Nicky, Book) thought they were the only ones but there is a scene in the second set of comics that implies that there are other ‘packs’ of immortals.  I headcanon that it’s a ‘like calls to like’ / kind of Sense8 simpatico type thing - like minded souls drawn to each other, which is why Andy and the others didn’t know about the other immortals, but again, that’s just entirely my thoughts on the matter. 

Lykon is the first to succumb to the loss of immortality, a short couple hundreds years after he and Andy find each other.   He dies on a battlefield, one that he and Quynh/Noriko and Andy fought on like a hundred/thousand before, champions for the abused etc.  Skip forward a couple hundred years again and enter Joe & Nicky, a Knight and a Muslim warrior who kill each other on the battlefield only to both wake up and spend (an unspecified amount of time) hunting and killing each other before eventually Andy & Quynh/Noriko find them.  In time, Joe & Nicky realize that they love each other.   (Important to note that Quynh/Noriko and Andy were also lovers).  In the movie, when the first major surge of witch hunts began, Quynh/Noriko and Andy go to help the women that stood accused, only to be captured and accused of witchcraft themselves.  After being hung, drowned, burned at the stake and coming back to life every time, the witch hunters settled on locking Quynh into an iron coffin and dropping her into the ocean.  (In the comics, Noriko is lost at sea during a massive storm that had thrown their ship entirely off course with Andy having no clue where they actually were at the time.) 

Joe & Nicky arrive in time to rescue Andy, but Noriko is already gone and despite spending decades tracking down every person even remotely involved in the so called ‘investigation’ into the women’s inquisition and punishment, Andy wasn’t able to find anything about where Quynh could be. 

Cue angst & depression & guilt for ages after.

The trio still steps in over the following decades, trying to help prevent the worst of atrocities, but Andy quickly begins to spiral into an, at best apathetic, at worst, entirely distant and withdrawn mindset and steadily begins to lose hope that they’re actually making any difference at all.

Skip ahead a century or two and enter Book; a Russian conscript who had been forced into the fight after being convicted of forgery.  Hung for desertion, Book spend days dying over and over again as he hung there, unable to attempt an escape until the troops finally packed up and moved on.   He and Andy, Nicky and Joe meet up and Book kinda reluctantly joins their little group.  It’s revealed that Book dreams, still, of Noriko/Quynh and while he can’t tell where hse is, dreams of her still dying, drowning on the floor of the ocean over and over and over like she had been for the last hundred or two years.  

Book returns at some point to his mortal family which ended in disaster when his last remaining son was dying of cancer, cursing and screaming at Book for ‘choosing not to save him’ by making him immortal too, even though it’s something Book had no ability to transfer or make happen.  Between his nightmares, losing his son and a number of other factors, Book decides he wants to end it all but no matter what he tries, doesn’t die and stay dead.

Eventually he’s approached by a pharmaceutical company that has figured out what he is and wants to run tests on him to see if they can unlock his healing / immortality for other people.  Merrick’s company works in league with an ex CIA agent whose wife died of a horrific terminal disease who hopes that they can find a way to keep anyone else from dying if they don’t have to.    Initially it was just supposed to be him, but he’d set up a display to stream for proof of what he was / they were and the corp decided they wanted all of the immortals.   Book ends up betraying the team, and he and the others end up locked up and tested on / killed / experimented on etc.  

There’s another character introduced in the meantime, the first new immortals in centuries, an American soldier named Niles.  There’s a lot more that goes on here, but the main point is that in the movie, Andy stops healing from her wounds shortly after she tracks down Nile and is put into incredible amounts of danger when Merrick (the leader of the pharmaceutical company) captures Andy, Joe, Book, Nicky.  Book is devastated, Nicky and Joe are furious, Andy’s just tired.

Eventually, Andy and the others break free with Niles’ help, destroy the lab they were originally held in etc and set out to try and hunt down any other proof, lab results, anything that Merrick got his hands on during the tests.

The group meets and settles on a hundred year exile for Booker (which I think is one of the stupidest things - like, the man’s clearly desperate and depressed and lonely and mentally unstable so by all means let’s isolate him for a fully century) and at the end of the movie we see him stumbling home to his apartment six months later to find Quynh standing in his apartment, pouring and drinking a glass of water which is a whole power move considering how many millions of times she died by drowning.

In the comics, Quynh/Noriko was driven entirely mad and to the point of wanting vengeance against Andy for abandoning her and spends a while gaslighting Andy and torturing her physically and emotionally and what not until she manages to isolate Andy from the other immortals and scoops in to ‘rescue’ Andy.  IDK what they’re going to adapt this to in the second movie, 

Again, via the link posted above, my Andy slowly begins to regain her immortality (again, IDK what they’re going to do with the next movie).  

Uhhhh yeah.  So I .. think that’s the majority of what you need to know for canon info about Andy.  THIS is also an important PSA regarding my Andy’s history & her longest lasting relationship that has nothing to do with canon at all but that is part of Andy’s bg in every verse, even if it never comes into play.

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #5

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Iolite of Cloudy Skies

Iolite. Its Japanese name was “blue flower stone”. The gem was blue with a purple tint stronger than that of a sapphire and had a unique viscosity that made it seem as if it was coated with a bit of dew. The level of hardness was seven. It was called iolite when treated as a gemstone, but when treated as a type of mineral, it was also called cordierite. It was an eccentric stone, which also appeared to have a grayish brown color instead of blue depending on the angle that one looked at it. Etc., etc.

“What happened, Seigi? Your eyes are dead.”

“How can I put it...? Surfeit, I guess.”

“Haah?”

I couldn’t memorize the stones’ names. They were too many.

The client who left just now had come because they wanted to see many sorts of blue stones, so Richard’s treasure box was packed with a great variety of blues. There were sapphires, of course, and also tanzanites, lapis lazuli, blue chalcedonies and this iolite.

Half a year before I had started working part-time in Etranger, the image I had of gemstones was limited to things such as diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds, I believed. Now I knew about the existence of a stone named zircon, which shone in the same way as a diamond, and also knew about the spinel, which was red like a ruby, as well as that the color of sapphires was not just blue, having a wide range from purple to yellow, and I had seen transparent jades that were impossible to tell apart from emeralds.

If I had as much knowledge of minerals as Tanimoto-san, I would’ve managed to sort stones inside my head by the differences the in chemical composition of each, but unfortunately, I was unfamiliar with such things, and I currently didn’t have enough enthusiasm or willpower to study them. If I were to explain figuratively, it felt like going out to hunt for clams at a beach, and when you innocently dove into the lake, you’d see the Mariana Trench spreading out below. It was a beautiful world, thus also too wide and too deep. And endless. To a terrifying extent.

When I told him roughly this, Richard laughed, the depths of his throat trembling with giggles. “It is not as if you are aiming to obtain a GIA or FGA qualification or anything, right? Isn’t it all right for you to observe as much as you like?”

“That might be the case, but...”

I found myself thinking that it was a waste.

After all, I’d be on my knees listening as Richard went, in earnest, through the trouble of introducing all kinds of stones to me one by one. I often heard from my senpais that “job hunting is a connection for people”, so I felt sorry that my connection with stones remained scoreless. Regardless, it wasn’t like I was suddenly going to get any smarter.

As I said this, Richard laughed again and beckoned me with a hand gesture. He then took something out of his suit’s pocket. One of those subdivision vinyl bags that I’d often see when he was handling jewels in the back room. It seemed there was an iolite inside. There was a label stuck to the bag packed with absorbent cotton, and something was written on it in horizontal letters. “Viking sunstone,” it read. Vikings? Like the ones that you’d imagine wearing horned helmets, carrying axes and coming from the sea on a ship? As I asked for confirmation, the jeweler nodded with a “precisely”.

“The words written on this label are associated with the former ‘purpose’ of the iolite. In the past, people used iolites as sun stones.”

“‘Used’ them as ‘sun stones’...?”

I didn’t understand anything from A to Z. What did that mean? For starters, why was gem of such a cold-looking color made into a stone of the sun?

Before I even had a breach to ask, the beautiful shopkeeper began talking, a smile ghosting his lips, “You might already know this, but a portion of the people residing in the current Britain are descendants of those who went through the Norman Conquest that began around the ninth century - in other words, of the Vikings. They were famous for having the skills to travel long distances, which was unusual at the time, so Seigi. If you were someone who travels the sea for long periods, how would you know your way?” Richard asked me.

A means to know the cardinal directions in the open sea. So it was a situation where there’d be no piece of land to act as a mark. The only thing I could use in such a case was a magnet. No, wait. Richard had said earlier that it was the ninth century. The compass would be invented only much later. I recalled memorizing that this was the invention that triggered the Age of Discovery back in high school for history class. If so, I recalled the words on the label. “Sunstone”. Yeah, it connected.

“They knew the directions by using the stone of the sun?”

“Good for you. Exactly. Isn’t it clear?”

“K-Kinda!”

“Then, what about under cloudy skies, when the sun is not visible, Mr. Enlightened Part-Timer?”

Speaking of which, the weather changed easily at sea. I had also heard that England was a country where the skies tended to be overcast. Bad weather must be frequent in those coastal waters. If the sky stayed cloudy for three or four days, what should I do? Was there nothing more that could be done at sea?

When I made a puzzled face, Richard smiled as though he had hit the nail on the head, his white hands displaying the iolite under a fluorescent light. “For instance, let’s try to put a mark on any of this iolite’s faceted sides with ink. Another one on a different side. On sunny days, we would record in which direction we can see the sun from one of these two points at given times, and on cloudy days, we would look for parts where the two points overlap. When doing so, since this stone can detect even the faintest light, we would be able to tell the sun’s position,” he said.

“So we can know the position of light with that stone...? Then couldn’t it be any other stone?”

“Light refracts. If it were passing through thick clouds, the human eye would find its shine in a different direction from the sun’s actual position. Iolites acted as polarized lenses, so to speak. By using this stone, the sailors could tell the correct position of the sun. Yet the most famous sunstone is not iolite, but a type of refraction stone called ‘Iceland spar’.”

A polarized lens. Now he was talking about physics? But I did remember the stuff about light refraction. Got it; so that was why it was a “stone of the sun”.

“I don’t get it very well, but I feel the gemstone romance from it. I like that kinda thing,” I said enthusiastically, Richard giving me a calm smile.

“You do get it. Just as you said, you ‘don’t understand stones very well but like them either way’. That is exactly why your eyes were open, so you thought only about how far your destination was and felt your teeth set on edge at it. You mustn’t expect to be able to understand everything overnight. Go steady, without rushing. Do not waver at the impatience stuck back-to-back to your ambitions. That is different from having no one to depend on due to not knowing where you are headed. The hardest times are probably the ones when you have no idea where you should go, but you know the exact position of the sun.”

So, in short, I knew exactly where I wanted to be?

While I remained quiet, Richard shrugged and added, “Of course, this is a metaphor. Even if little by little, the stones should definitely be leaving a trace inside you. Aren’t you supposed to be treasuring this instead of chasing after what goes away?”

Lastly, Richard threw in the trivia that, in the world of power stones, the iolite was said to be a stone that showed people the “right direction”. Taking the backbone of it into consideration, that was indeed a convincing talk. But more than that...

“It’d be great if you were by my side forever.”

“Hah?”

“You’re an expert at noticing what’s troubling other people, aren’t you? I really think you’re a handy guy, like a compass. Aah, ‘the world’s most beautiful compass’, huh?”

“Those are quite irrational words, on top of being illogical. You were born in Japan, raised in Japan and aspire to become a public servant of Japan, so why are you calling an English jeweler a ‘compass’?”

“Well, I don’t plan to ask you about how to prepare for the public servant exams, but I can rely on you when I run into bigger problems, right?”

Richard sighed with a face of thorough dismay. I could understand how he felt. This was like a child in nursery school saying, “It’d be great if my teacher could always be there to help me out.” Long story short, I was acting spoiled. Even though he was my superior at work.

“That’s right; about the custard pie that today’s costumer brought, it looks like it’s quick to expire. Wanna eat it? I’ll make some tea.”

“If you would. Aah, the sugar...”

“Holding back on it this month, right? I know.”

“Help me with half of it. The amount of sugar in it concerns me.”

“Leave it to me.”

This guy was truly good at leading the mood around, and the same applied for the not-too-straightforward way that he phrased himself when recommending gemstones to the customers. Apparently, he thought I was feeling down.

I cut the crunchy pie in half while the tea leaves boiled, then shared it with Richard in the reception room and we both ate it. Covered with powdered sugar, the pie was a dangerous white little thing, as the colorless powder could scatter around from the pie’s surface just by us breathing on it a tiny bit, so the snack time turned into a moment of silence. I felt like laughing at the much too surreal sight several times, but if I happened to cause a big damage to the beautiful shopkeeper’s high-grade suit by doing that, my pay would be reduced. In the end, I ate the pie entirely while looking at the wall.

On the way back home that day, as I looked up at the night sky, I thought about the Vikings of over a thousand years ago. It was said that they were after new lands. What about me? Where was I headed? Would there ever be a day when I would fall into a philosophical concern, like, “I have no idea where I’m trying to go”? Perhaps Richard too? I insolently prayed that the stones may help us out at least in times like those.

Stars were beginning to twinkle in the purplish-blue night sky. There was no doubt that the stars appearing in the sky had not changed ever since the Vikings’ era. Thinking about that as I walked, I mistook one of the streets I should have turned. I had the feeling that I heard Richard’s voice, telling me to mind at least my own steps. I get it, geez.

I decided to wait patiently for the benefits of the stone. It was best for something like that not to happen, but there was no guarantee that both of us wouldn’t lose our ways at the same time one day.

[mudpuddless]

Q-Branch's Saturday night dish

aka. tofu & veggie noodles, because they make everything better, even nightshifts. (recipe under the cut)

Ingredients are (as the name suggests) highly variable and partially not even strictly necessary but if you want a simple simple dish you can always eat microwave lasagna, so:

noodles (instant ramen? rice noodles? leftover spaghetti? anything goes)

veggies (I used aubergine, zucchini and pea pods because thats what I had on hand. usually at the very bottom of a fridge there are at least some carrots, even in q-branch)

tofu (self explanatory. also not technically required but. ya know. just do it. q-branch typically has some on hand because it keeps for forever)

furthermore:

soysauce

sesame oil (no, its not necessary. its only a teaspoon. I'm not saying you need to add it but you absolutely need to add it)

cooking oil or butter

chili (powder? chopped and dried? fresh? or *gasp* none at all? doesn't matter. of you're cooking for the rest of the team you might want to leave that to personal preference but ya know.((if you want to join team villains, just dumb a whole bunch and dont tell anyone))

lemon juice (again not necessary but you should still absolutely put it, trust me)

garlic

onions

cream/ coconut milk (as per preference. you can always leave it out completely but it helps if you prefer milder dishes)

peanuts (just. peanuts. they can be salted or plain or leftover from some trail mix. again: check with the rest of the shift if anyone is allergic. putting peanuts in food for someone with a nut allergy won't even land you in team villains, even we aren't that bad)

sugar (or honey, if your boss happens to be the extravagant kind and keeps honey for tea around)

water (you always need water. if not for the dish because your noodles are already cooked and your veggies dont need to be steamed, you could always drink some. also take your meds.)

Then you need some kitchen appliances:

a pan, coated of possible because yes

a cutting board for this veggies you are adding because scurvy is not something someone from the 21st century should die from. also for the tofu.

a knife (NOOO) or two knives. or three if youre feeling fancy. the more the merrier and so on

a pot or kettle if you need to cook your noodles and depending on which noodles you're using.

maybe a measuring spoon, but you know. the rules were made to be broken.

NOW. COOKING *cries in teenager*

(these steps read like a choose your own adventure novel except there are no numbers because no. just follow the instructions)

#1 NOODLES:

-> if you have leftover spaghetti: good for you. onto the veggies.

-> if you are using instant ramen: prepare them like usual, except you don't add the seasoning and chilipowder and plant oil and whatever else, to make the worlds most disappointing bowl of ramen.

-> if you are using any kind of asian noodles: usually you can cook them pretty easily by playing them in a bowl and pouring boiling water on top. just let them steep and you're fine. (if they need to cooked, as in "in a pot" cooked (like spaghetti) , do that instead. if you have a choice between spaghetti and any kind of ramen, choose the ramen though)

#2 VEGGIES:

(just. pick whichever veggies youre using, again: these can grow cold so you could use left overs. just. consider what spices are already on them)

-> carrots: cut into thin slices (like wheels but more angled for fanciness points), roast in cooking oil with a pinch of sugar

-> zucchini: cut into 3 mm or 1/8 inch wheels, place in a bowl, cover with boiling water and a pinch of salt, till you like the consistency (usually 7-10 minutes), then drain

-> aubergine: steam with water and a pinch of salt until done, add more water as necessary, place aside when done

-> peapods: roast with a bit of oil and a pinch of salt, place aside when done

-> broccoli or cauliflower: split the little tree thingies into quarters along the vertical axis, roast with a bit of oil and a pinch of salt, place aside when done

-> peas or corn: if they're fresh, add them to a pan with a spoon full of water and roast in a bit of oil and a pinch of slat and sugar when they're almost done

-> any canned veggies (peas, corn, bamboo sprout slices etc): drain and put aside, canned veggies are all cooked in the canning proccess

!!! IT DOESN'T MATTER OF YOU NOODLES/ VEGGIES COOL DOWN OR GO COLD ENTIRELY, SO JUST MAKE THEM WHENEVER YOU HAVE TIME!!!

#3 TOFU

-> cut your block of tofu into cubes (circa one inch or 1.3 cm), place the cubes on a paper towel to get rid of excess water. in a pan heat a tablespoon of oil, a pinch of sugar, a pinch of salt and some chili flakes. add the tofu when the oil is hot and fry till golden brown.

!!! IT DOESN'T MATTER OF YOU NOODLES/ VEGGIES COOL DOWN OR GO COLD ENTIRELY, SO JUST MAKE THEM WHENEVER YOU HAVE TIME!!!

to finish off:

slice up some onions and roast in a bit of oil and a pinch of sugar and salt.

add crushed and diced garlic

add crushed or diced peanuts

add all your veggies and stir

add your noodles and stir

add any amount of soy sauce depending on the amount of food you're making. keep in mind the amount of salt you added to the individual veggies. (safe amounts are anything form one to four table spoons of soy sauce)

add one teaspoon of sugar

stir.

when you think you're done, keep stirring for another ten seconds.

taste: does it need more salt? sugar? soy sauce? this recipe is too vague on everything else for me to give precise measurements for the sauce, so taste test!!!

if you added too much salt, added too much chili or like coconut milk: add coconut milk

stir again

place in a bowl

sprinkle as much chili as you like on top

add (depending on your portion size and preference) half to a full teaspoon of sesame oil by drizzling it on top

stir and enjoy

use your newfound energy to take over the British government from the inside. join team villains :)

[phoenixyfriend]

The “Momma Sturmvoraus was Literally Satan” AU

As requested by @spazzbot​. This AU was initially brainstormed on the GG fanworks server almost a year ago. Specifically, on the first day of 2020.

[ID: a truncated discord message by “Miss Nixy, Gay for RoboLadies” posted 01/01/2020. The message reads “I need to sleep but please for the moment consider:” and ends there.]

So. Let’s get to it.

Satan took a human form because why not see what's going on topside, live like a human, and “Oh shit is this pregnancy? This is pregnancy. Fuck, that's a tiny human. Which is now half demon. Am I supposed to take care it? Wonder if retconing this form into that Valois family was a bad idea. They do have SO much money though, I get to live like a queen. I suppose another child shouldn't hurt, it wasn't that bad. Oh, he's cute, this is actually making sense, why humans do all the sinning. Not counting dear Aaronev's murders, of course, those are just evil, but I did search out the worst of the humans to pair myself to...”

This is literally just "Tarvek and Anevka's mom was low-key Satan on a bored “let's be human for a decade or two to see what happens” jaunt, consequences happen because these kids are LITERALLY half-demon and arguably anti-Christs."

Also it's just Very Funny for Tarvek, ineffectual sexy lamp fashion twunk extraordinaire, to be an antichrist

Jeff thinks he’s pretty. Jeff keeps describing features that don’t entirely make sense. (Jeff’s canon name is Karl Thotep but they spent so long unnamed that the server collectively named them Jeff.)

This is not a crossover with anything, btw. Ambiguously Pop Culture Satan just got bored and went to have babies with a serial killer.

They’re just kids! That are vaguely demonic. So. Moreso than the rest of the Valois.

Sometimes "mom" comes back from the dead and visits Anevka and Tarvek to impart Wisdom and possibly magic lessons The rooms always smell faintly of sulfur after that...

They try to put Anevka in the machine but SHE isn't hurt and the MACHINE just melts

So that's the end of that.

It's very awkward for everyone, but the paperwork isn't too bad. It's very easy to write "incidental fire began during late-fugue experimentation, resulted in fire spreading through six rooms and several casualties, including Prince Aaronev Wilhelm Sturmvoraus."

As per @atagotiak​, “I feel like if we’re going in any way dimensional weirdness with thing, Tarvek got so good at exploring bc he could just clip through walls.”

With image provided by @thisarenotarealblog​:

Tarvek in Paris: My dead mother keeps showing up in my dreams to tell me I need to seduce my way out of my problems and also she looks like Satan. Tarvek's Voltaire-Appointed Therapist: I still don't know what that means. Just like the last five times. Tarvek: I keep telling her that I can’t seduce Colette, if seduction is that important she should get Anevka to do it.

Like he probably wouldn’t say most of that in front of any Voltaire-approved individual, but still.

Tarvek is still very good at self control but there's a Special Edge to his rants.

(Derailed in the moment to me thinking about Anevka in a sfw-but-concerningly-deadly succubus getup, because... yeah.)

Aaronev dies and goes to hell and his dead wife is just there like "hi! Time to be tortured for eternity!" He wasn't a good husband so. He can't exactly sentimentalize his way out.

“In the sexy way?” “... not for you, no.”

Mostly I just want the BULLSHIT that is "Storm Mom was actually just Satan getting bored and going on vacation as a retconned Valois girl, the kids are half-demons and sometimes it Shows."

To clarify: the Satan bit isn't the retcon. Grandma used to have one daughter. Now there are two. (Seffie and Martellus's mother doesn't remember being an only child, but sometimes...)

Satan retconned a new daughter in, which included a Valid Valois Venusian Vestment, so the blood tests play out.

The subtle signs of wrongness would be fun too. Anevka tends to smile a bit too wide and sharp for a human face. Inexplicable uneasiness, here you can’t point at any specific thing that’s wrong but it’s uncomfortable. Uncanny valley prettiness, almost like the porcelain she became in other timelines. Skin isn’t supposed to be that smooth.

My brain's pre-nap contribution at that point was "Satan's pronouns when not pretending to Human are sin/sinself" which is! Certainly a thing.

Tarvek, at some nebulous future point: I mean, your ancestors were monsters, but my dad was a serial killer and my mom was literally Satan, instead of just figuratively like Lucrezia, so. I mean. I kind of get what you're going through.

Per @firebirdeternal: Tarvek and Anevka growing up with "you're allergic to holy water" and not questioning it until a little later because What.

And then they test it and it's like "yeah, no, there's a rash now. That stung. What the fuck."

It INFURIATES Gil in Paris when Tarvek tells him that's a thing, because there's nothing chemically different about Holy water and regular water. But no, this is somehow happening.

It gets logged in medical journals as a Valois genetic thing because, well, Mom was like that too, right?

One time they both go into a church for an Adventure and Gil is very annoyed to find that Tarvek is like. Faintly smoking. It smells like burnt hair in here.

Gil: What smells like burnt hairgel? Tarvek: [glares]

Gil decides that it must be something particular to the church, like a fungus or something in the stone, contaminating the air and water so it only LOOKS like the holiness is what's setting off reactions.

It is not.

Tarvek once got into an argument with someone and ate a slab of raw, completely uncooked meat as a power move.

SVV seems to work perfectly. Everyone is fine. We get the ‘you fight like ducks’ moment.

And then Tarvek bursts into flames, and everyone panics because no they fixed this what the fuck is he still infected with Hogfarb’s oh my god... and then everything settles down and he's perfectly fine. Not a scratch on him, no longer turning funny colors. Completely unharmed. He's in a nicely tailored suit and looks faintly stunned

"I just met my dead mom, who's apparently Satan. She told me that after I died the first time just now, I should be harder to kill later, especially with fire, because now there's more demon and less mortal and guys I think I'm going crazy." "Is that a martini?" Tarvek looks down. "Apparently."

Tarvek starts just. Randomly setting things on fire by glaring too hard and has to tone it down. Meanwhile, Agatha and Gil are having crises about how he's somehow getting PRETTIER.

Is he faintly glowing? Maybe!

Gil handles it by angrily sniping at Tarvek about how of COURSE he's an evil little rat with a background like that.

Tarvek just wants a nap and to forget this ever happened. Many people are sworn to secrecy. It's very awkward.

Still, SVV did something, for handwave-y reasons, and so they're linked now. Gil and Agatha both getting tiny flashes of the same shenanigans.

They get none of the powers. They just keep getting Weird Shit.

Other characters with divine influence are like "Did you.... did you make a pact with a demon?" "What no that's our boyfriend."

Tho tbh I wouldn’t be surprised if a Heterodyne did sign a contract with a demon at some point in exchange for like. Materials. A hundred souls sacrificed in exchange for some succubus blood. Thanks!

Tarvek and Othar: Falling out of CW as in canon. Tarvek: WHAT THE HELL SINCE WHEN DO I HAVE WINGS HIDE THIS BEFORE I GET BOOTED FROM THE LINE FOR THE THRONE

IDK where Anevka is during all this. I think she might have decided to go sleep her way through the courts of the Ice Tsars. Vacation, y'know?

Othar after he's decided to make Tarvek his new Heroic Apprentice: AH, my poor afflicted young friend, it's noble of you to go against the dark nature of your tragic heritage like this. Tarvek: I hate you. I wish I could hate you to death. But you have a point. I shouldn't let my father's blood limit what I strive for in life. Othar: I... I thought your mother was... Tarvek: I know what I said.

Tarvek: Also you can't tell ANYONE about that, I can't have them thinking I'm not actually in line for the Storm King's throne.

He does admittedly have to like. Explain things to Grandma.

Terabithia is Tarvek’s maternal grandmother so this is supremely awkward. That said...

Grandma fondly remembers her pregnancy cravings; bone marrow and sulfur.

"Yeah so, my mother, your daughter, was... maybe actually Satan? But retconned into your life?" "Tarvek, darling, please. I figured that out half a century ago."

TARVEK ACCIDENTALLY FINDS HIM HIMSELF WEIRDLY INTENSE AT CONTRACTS

I mean that honestly just Tracks about Tarvek anyways? But like moreso.

He just. Writes something up and there's things getting signed or shook on and then the person tries to break the contract and either suddenly catch fire or are deeply unlucky for a set amount of time.

And Tarvek's just standing there like "how in the FUCK did I do that?"

Severity of infernal punishment depends on the severity of the breach of contract.

Tarvek finds out that Anevka's been convincing rich people to sign their souls over to her. It's a fun challenge. She keeps them in jars.

They can still remotely pilot their bodies but like. They can't TELL anyone what happened.

Satan: I'm going to go make babies and now everyone else has to deal with the consequences.

Anevka's living up to that whole "princess of hell" vibe. Tarvek's just like "nope nope nope I want the storm throne, not the hell throne, BYE MOM."

Satan's just feeling sinself down in hell like "awwww look at my babies go, aren't they adorable?"

Tarvek: Anevka, what... first off, how did you figure it out? Anevka: Well, I temporarily died when father put me in the machine, and... I can't say that hell kicked me out because they were afraid I'd take over, but mother DID say she'd rather I play about with human governments instead of Hell's. Tarvek: Okay, cool cool cool. What after you planning to DO with all these souls? Anevka: They make for some lovely reading lamps, don't they?

(Anevka absolutely sets herself the goal of acquiring new titles that rival her old ones, or even surpass them. She just black widows her way through Europa.)

I just want someone (probably Snackleford) to ascend, take one look at Tarvek, and run SCREAMING.

Tarvek still needed to be anchored to Higgs, because Tarvek is Baby.

Gil is eventually in a relationship with an Eternal God Queen and the Literal Son of Satan.

Family dinners can include ALL the in-laws if you duck down to hell! - You borrow Bill from... probably heaven, maybe purgatory. - You have Lu and Aaronev and Satan already there, though the first two... well. Aaronev and Lu get invited to dinner but they have to eat by themselves at the kiddy table and nobody talks to them or acknowledges their presence. After all, this is hell, and what better punishment for Lu than to be completely ignored, and for Aaronev to see Lu at her worst and be reminded that he gave everything for this horrible, horrible person who isn't even pretending to care about him anymore. - Zanta and Klaus get invited via portal. - Anevka saunters in with a blood-soaked dress and a complaint about militant demon-hunters refusing to let her go shopping for a new pair of shoes. - Zeetha tagged along with the OT3. (She can't wait to see this situation explode.)

Oh God, Satan is actually second place as far as good parenting goes.

Well, actually, fourth. Because Adam and Lilith. But second as far as bio parents go. 1. Zanta 2. Satan 3. Klaus 4/5. Lu and Aaronev N/A. Bill

Someone (Anevka) decides to stir the pot and invites Von Pinn, Terabithia, Bang.

Bang is basically Gil’s older sister, right? Right.

This is Zanta meeting Bang for the first time! Zanta is just: "It's so nice to meet my husband's adopted daughter." Klaus freezes. Bang freezes. Gil is the only one who is just. "Yeah." Meanwhile Zeetha is crying with laughter off to the side because both of them deserve this. (Zanta would legit love Bang though.)

Agatha: Tarvek, I think DuPree is-- Tarvek: Hitting on my sister? I know. Agatha: On your mom, actually. Tarvek: NO!

Also I do love the idea of like. Nobody tells Bang they're inviting her. She just wakes up in Hell like. "Ah. Yes. Fair enough."

Satan: Oh no no no my dear, you're here as a guest. Besides as well as you'd fit you're not one of mine, you've got other things waiting for you. Bang: Okay, but I love the decor. And is that Cheesecake?

Bang’s family has their own evil god in the novels, but! Bang DID pick on Tarvek a lot in Paris. Satan cares more than Anevka does. Bang might get the sexy punishment.

I feel like the fact that no permanent damage was done and it taught Tarvek a lot of things means Satan isn't gonna be all that upset about it.

And let's be real, if there's a character in GG who could look the literal Christian devil in the eye and be like "Yeah I tortured your kid, what're you going to do about it?" it's Bang.

Even Satan doesn't know what to do or think about Othar.

He sure is here! As Anevka’s arm candy! Nobody knows what to do except Anevka herself, who just wants to be Smug.

(What's that scene from Phineas and Ferb that's the mad scientist trapping the platypus within the rules of polite dining at a fine restaurant? Like he can't make a scene because that would be rude?) (That. Othar would dearly love to start a fight, but it's a Family Dinner. You're only allowed to fight verbally at those.)

(Othar isn't even fighting Satan, he just wants to argue with Klaus.) (And maybe fanboy in Bill's direction a bit).

[phoenixtakaramono]

SUMMARY: Let it not be said that Shen Yuan didn’t know how to be an accomplished—arguably better—writer than Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky! A middle-aged author in his hubris, he’d unknowingly triggered his fate and had his consciousness whisked away into an unfathomable mystical world that he would later learn to be based on Proud Immortal Demon Way and his very own work-in-progress. When given the opportunity to customize his character’s stats and to design his one remaining Customizable Skill Slot, as a veteran reader of transmigration stories and their tropes, Shen Yuan demanded, “Grant me the protagonist’s halo of course!”

The SYSTEM was silent all but for a minute.【Understood. Unique Skill "PROTAGONIST'S HALO" activated. Esteemed Host, you share the Unique Skill "PROTAGONIST'S HALO" with one other.】

“Who?”

【This world’s Luo Binghe. From the original novel series.】

“...Hold on, I need some time to process this.”

(Little did Shen Yuan know that this world’s Luo Binghe is the same sadistic “Bing gē” from the released Extra short story. It was also too bad that Shen Yuan, in his mortal form, resembled Shen Qingqiu by a good thirty-to-forty percent.)

This was the second time they’d held hands. Fingers threaded together, palms touching. A significant amount of information could be communicated in the simple act of taking someone’s hand—the shape and texture of it, the roughness or softness of the life they’d led, and the strength or fragility of their grip. Luo Binghe would remember the feeling of that pale hand gripping his tightly for the rest of his life.

The mist billowed under Luo Binghe the moment he was allowed entry into the dream realm of the divine. Instantly, he was besieged with the feeling of falling into a frozen lake. The cold was a shock through his body, forcing his hand to convulsively clamp down as he stumbled.

Foolish, Luo Binghe berated himself. To have been finally welcomed inside the dream realm of a celestial being meant this version of his shizun had thought highly of Luo Binghe and his constitution. Yet instead of a composed and dignified air, Luo Binghe had just shown his weak side.

Shen Yuan halted midstride. Concern was written upon those white brows upon seeing his reaction.

It was, nonetheless, an opportunity. Luo Binghe forced an amiable smile as he pretended to be oblivious, masking any sign of his discomfort as he leaned against Shen Yuan’s weight. The sensation of pins-and-needles assailing him wasn’t something he couldn’t tolerate, but it was unpleasant. Except for their one point of contact, no part had been spared. His gaze lingered on the long scholarly fingers wrapped trustingly around his, before sweeping a glance over their new surroundings.

He felt like he’d stepped into a world composed of silk screens. Ahead, the fine mist passing through the painted scenery shrouded the outline of the tall mountain range and forest. Even the walls of the buildings were composed of firm brushstrokes and soft ink wash.

Since Luo Binghe had difficulty walking, Shen Yuan had to support him. Both men, mutually depending on each other, took slow steps forward.

Droplets of water splashed quietly from their strides as Shen Yuan guided him in the direction of whatever he’d wanted Luo Binghe to see. Like black ink that had been dipped into clear water, the transparent surface was beginning to darken with each tread that Luo Binghe took.

He stared down at his feet. The sight of the ink and water swirling into one another as though they were made to be together gave rise to the tide of emotions which had been circulating within his mind.

In the newly fallen darkness, he could sense his companion had fallen into another state of deep contemplation. As the two men disembarked in companionable silence, Luo Binghe took a long, measuring look at the landscape—at the secrets hiding within the fog, behind the translucent silks.

The atmosphere was incomparably resplendent and harmonious, yet it painted an undeniable fact about his companion. Knowledge could be gleaned of how this revered existence perceived the outside world. Life was a flow of changes—transient and ephemeral. Being in this realm didn’t feel real, with the indifference of an observer who was transcendent and so far removed from the mortal scale.

They were truly opposites—not only in their physical appearance and status, but also in how their dream realms manifested.  

“…You’ve always had an unruly habit to roam and draw unnecessary attention to yourself!” An insidious and vicious whisper brushed against Luo Binghe’s mind like a wisp of smoke. “ It’s impressive you can even move so well inside this barrier. To think you’d chase him here on impulse!”

Hearing the litany of grievances, Luo Binghe hid the blade that was his smile. Unlike himself, he had no doubt that his senior might have been exorcised had he not taken refuge in Luo Binghe.

Because however convincingly Meng Mo conveyed his displeasure, his voice was nonetheless weakened by the barrier. He was merely being crotchety to maintain appearances.

Shen Yuan had made it clear that his invitation into his dream was extended to Luo Binghe only. With that one remark addressing the senior dream demon, and by performing the gesture of taking his hand, it couldn’t have been even more obvious what he’d wanted.

Earlier, Luo Binghe had gambled that on this fateful evening that the celestial fortuneteller would have no choice but to attend to his growing fatigue. His guard would be lowered and that was when the opportunity would present itself.

The practice of invading and manipulating a person’s dreams was nothing new. With his secret tutelage cultivating on the demonic path, beginning when he’d been a mere Cang Qiong Mountain sect disciple, he had learned to infiltrate many minds. Several had been his lovers—the first being his shījiě, accidental as it had been pulling his martial sister along with him—although the treatment his women received was far more considerate than the cruel methods he inflicted upon all those who opposed him.

He had seen the duplicity of people’s hearts and reproduced illusions of varying natures. He’d learned how to lure others when they were at their most defenseless and be able to find their worst fears and memories to inflict the maximum psychological torment. With his enemies who were impervious to physical torture, few could claim immunity upon being confronted with their own inner demons. And with his lovers, he could skim their memory fragments and indulge any spring dreams either of them had fantasized about, causing romantic feelings to overflow.

Because unlike the waking world, the dream realm was honest.

The capability to doubt was stripped away. Memories could be spied on. Falsehoods were exposed. And no secrets could be kept from him. Oftentimes one’s impulses could not be held back within the dream realm.

It was a glimpse into one’s truest state.

Meng Mo’s withered voice interrupted his thoughts.

“The ways of those of the Heavenly Realm are mysterious—but they are proud and have always held contempt for our kind. I know you are captivated by him, but be more prudent in choosing your words around him. Don’t be muddled in the head just because you believe he can replace the late Qing Jing Peak Lord….” Ridicule had crept into Meng Mo’s tone. “His looks aren’t bad but to have aspirations of eating the tofu of someone who bears the farseeing, discerning eyes of the Heavens…. Your ambition is bold, as is your guts. This elder doesn’t know whether to be impressed or scold you for your shamelessness.”

Although his lips had thinned into a white line, Luo Binghe remained silent.

Water shaped its course according to the nature of the ground over which it flowed. Tonight, many of his initial plans had been waylaid. Although he couldn’t have predicted its trajectory, he wasn’t discontent with the final outcome. He’d gained information that would be invaluable to him—and he’d finally found his shizun.

There had been a quiescent anticipation in the night as Luo Binghe waited like a spider spinning its web, searching and reaching for the only mind of this residence who was of interest to him, until he’d finally sensed the faintest reverberation of the otherworldly and ephemeral—a presence that could only belong to him.  

And he’d pulled.

As someone who used to humbly occupy the Mortal Realm, never in his imagination did Luo Binghe expect he could claim success to the achievement of accessing the dream realm of divinity.

The rush of triumph had been dampened once, upon seeking Shen Yuan, Luo Binghe encountered a Qi-condensed barrier—a mental defense meant to repel demonic influences. Impenetrable even against the combined efforts of himself and his senior who had centuries worth of infiltration experience, no matter how much he’d concentrated—redirecting the violent and rough flow of his Qi into something more finessed—he was unable to cross the boundary.

Luo Binghe had been stuck at an impasse. Breaching the barrier would require a much greater display of force, inflicting irreparable mental harm onto the dreamer.

He’d realized the barrier had to stay.

The passage of time was immeasurable in the world of dreams, but with every moment that had passed without the precious person inside revealing himself, the fear had mounted. Perhaps Shen Yuan had predicted such an incident would occur and had taken precautionary measures.

In hindsight, his action had indeed been too rash.

It was inevitable that they would be going their separate ways in the coming morning. Moreover, the last deep impression he’d leave behind would cast Luo Binghe in an extremely bad light, with Shen Yuan withdrawing back into seclusion and harboring a grudge for being taken advantage of. The opportunity would have slipped through Luo Binghe’s fingers like granules of sand.

All would be lost. Faced with the possibility of being abandoned, Luo Binghe had been inconsolable. The tension in the air around him had been so thick, it’d presented an oppressive miasma in his own dream realm.

The giant boulder which weighed down his heart vanished when, with the keen senses of a cultivator, his five senses had detected a ripple in the fog.

From faraway, he’d been spellbound. He’d seen a silhouette resembling that from legend, with the unattainable white moon that was Shen Yuan descending down from the stars which glistened like shards in the night.

Despite the offense, he had chosen to come to Luo Binghe from his own volition.

Another realization had struck Luo Binghe. Seeing the regal figure out of his immaculate finery—dressed down to his inner clothing and with his moonlit hair undone, without a headpiece in sight—was a rare sight beyond measure. Aside from the servants who tended to their master, no one else must have seen him in such a compromising state.

It’d also been fascinating observing how someone of the Nine Heavens would interact within his world; Shen Yuan had assimilated quickly. Wandering aimlessly in an unfamiliar environment, his appearance reminded Luo Binghe of the purest white snow, high above and unreachable, the likes of which remained untarnished. Such bearing was similar to what Luo Binghe expected for somebody of high status. Like a fairy unaffected by mortal matters, Shen Yuan’s manner had been aloof and vague. The only difference was that his attitude toward Luo Binghe had not been uncaring. Courtesy had been given, even knowing who he was—and what he’d done, and would be capable of doing.

There was no one who could deny Shen Yuan’s appearance was picturesque. When he was smiling, it was as moving as spring flowers and the autumn moon. When he was lost in thought, he projected an air of melancholy—solemn and ambiguous, like the subject of a painting one could only admire from a distance.

“…Xiōng dì.” A cultured and steady voice trickled into Luo Binghe’s awareness, pulling him from his deep reflection.

An invigorating energy suddenly blanketed him. All discomfort fled, replaced with the refreshing feeling of a spring brook engulfing him. Shen Yuan had fallen a step back so that they were now shoulder to shoulder.

Shen Yuan’s gaze was appraising as his breaths feathered the fur. “I had not expected you being here would be strenuous on you. Please take care of your body.” A hand went up to clasp him on the shoulder. “Endure the skinship. I think, for now, it’s better to stay close to me until you can stand on your own. You’ll be safer by my side.”

Luo Binghe inhaled sharply.

“Hoh. How considerate!” Meng Mo’s dryness filtered into his thoughts. “He treats you very well. Such goodwill. He certainly has a good heart.”

Stay out of this, Luo Binghe rebuked. You are not invited to take part in this conversation. Scram!

Replying in the affirmative though, he ducked his head. The hidden meaning of Shen Yuan’s words had not been lost on him. He simply hadn’t expected how protective Shen Yuan was of him.

In this lifetime, Luo Binghe would like to think he could recognize his shizun even if he turned into ashes—or took on a different appearance. Even the slow-witted were able to see that Shen Yuan was of different temperament, reminding Luo Binghe of the other “Shen Qingqiu” of the mirror world. This fortuneteller had a sincere and utterly honest personality, thoughtful and broadminded. Even when blood was shed, he didn’t condemn Luo Binghe.

This night was the first time they’d met, but it was undeniable that there was a flow to their conversations—as though they were not strangers but were, instead, dear friends reuniting. It was as if someone had seen the unfulfilled desires of his heart and had crafted him a companion to be compatible. Being with Shen Yuan felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Embracing him had felt natural.

Although he was a man, Shen Yuan had fit so perfectly in his arms. The firmness and strength of his body. Warm and solid. Alive and real. It hadn’t been the same as hugging a soft feminine figure but even now, Luo Binghe could recall how it’d felt folding him into his arms, at the simple pleasure of sharing body heat. Of inhaling his clean scent.

Being that close to him, the intimacy of such an act, had been so strangely powerful the connection between them had felt tangible.

Here was somebody meant to be unattainable and unreachable, whom mere mortals never would’ve had the fortune to meet unless they’d managed to ascend to the highest realm. Knowing that he was supposed to keep all divinity at a respectable distance made his awareness of what he was doing seem all the more enchanting.

There was no such thing as a string of coincidences. Luo Binghe held no illusion of what this really was; a second chance was being offered to him. Since they have finally encountered, it must have meant they were fated. Since fated, one must live up to the fate that the Heavens have bestowed.

(Cont.)

The rest can be read on AO3!

[jojomugi]

A Shred of Altruism for a ‘friend’

Context

This piece was something I had written for myself as part of a fanfiction series with my OC. Since I don't particularly feel too sure about posting it given my OC isn't crazy popular or anything, I figured I could just edit pronouns, names, ect so that maybe someone other than just me and three of my closest friends can enjoy it This takes place way before the events of part three, and before Dio's encounter with Enya AND Pucci. Basically, Reader is the first one Dio has encountered and is learning vauge amount of info on stands from. Spoilers/Content warnings ♡ Minor Stardust Crusaders/Stone Ocean spoilers ♡ Over Heaven book spoilers (would recommend reading before hand) ♡ CW:Dio not being an asshole lmao

♡ Technically not a warning, but their may be misplacements with POV's and pronoun usage. Translating this into an xReader wa difficult. «

Reader is 18+, a stand user (S/N=Stand Name), very SFW, gender neautrual pronouns used

»

The battle between you and the other user finally came to an end when you used all of your remaining energy to defeat him. S/N ability managed to bring them into retirement. All the while this happened, Dio could see just what was happening, how the two stands fought one another. He could only really feel the energy. However he was all around useless in that particular situation, seeing was one thing, but Dio did not yet have the stand—At least not yet. Dio had two options now that his companion was left unconscious. Leave you and be done with having to keep extra weight, or bring you back to the small hotel you had the both of you staying at. Dio obviously chose the latter. It was not out of altruism, or at least not in his mind, it was all simply done out of respect for all your efforts, sacrificing your chance of a ‘normal’ future to run off with him. Besides, in his weaker state you were his best bet to survive and learn about this new world quickly. Dio reached for your exhausted form, there was still a pulse, good. However, you were still out cold from the overexertion. When he finally was able to sneak into the hotel, he gently placed your body onto the bed. Technically speaking, his work here was done but his subconscious—The few times what shred of humanity he had—decided to take over. You were more than just a mere fling, or some kind of phase, your soul was what drew him to you like a moth to the flames. You had become his over your guy’s short time together, whether Dio was self aware of that or not was a different question. Dio manipulated your form around until he was able to get you under the covers. Thankfully he didn’t manage to disturb your rest. The blonde hastily scanned around the room. Water! You would probably need water whenever you’d awaken. He yanked a small rinse cup from the bathroom and set in onto the night stand beside you. Food. What did you have for food? Apparently not much given all he could find was an apple and banana. Not even an assortment of fruit in a bedroom for an upscale hotel? What a mockery. The vampire bit the side of his lip back and let out an exasperated huff. It had been years since the last time he worried about human nourishment like this. For him nourishment was far more simpler. This mere mortal of a human. How dare y/n make an omnipotent being like him do such humbling things for you. Who were you? However, none of that truly mattered when it came to his inconspicuous admiration for you. Even if he didn’t quite understand what it was, your power drew him to you. Y/n was angelic, beautifully devine in his eyes. The grace that radiated from you when you used that strange, raw power. It was something beyond what he even imagined being in the realm of possibility. It was very close to what he dreamt about during his time in his century long torpor state. But even with all y/n’s physical features, you were still knowledgeable and fascinating nonetheless—y/n was not one to boast about their knowledge demeaningly—but like a friend. However, even if this ‘feeling’, this ‘attraction’ was something of love or romance, Dio surely never felt such a thing in his life, at least not in a long time. The audacity of this human—A being below him—Having such an impact to make him so emotionally vulnerable just made his stomach turn. What nerve you had. And yet...He strangely didn’t mind this, this exotic feeling and emotion for him was somewhat of an indulgence. It was more or less as if y/n was the worthiest of his affections in the few times he did allow himself these moments. Y/n was holy, and he was obligated to give you that kind of credit. Dio took in a deep breath and sighed, glancing back down at your tired form. He scanned around, thinking of what else may help. He spotted your messy hair draped over your face and leaned forward, trying his best to wipe them from your eyes without awakening your. Just because he occasionally enjoyed being sweetly intimate, doesn’t mean he was good at it. Typically he lured in his prey sensuality, but tenderness and endearment were not things he often brushed up his skills on. ༺༻ Even if it was only a couple of hours, the silence was tedious. He really was missing having another person to speak to. He’d just spent far too long in silence, the thought of it drove him mad. He didn’t even notice himself tapping his foot in the air as he flipped through the glossy magazine pages. He knew that this power of theirs often resulted in a physical consequence, and the severity of that physical result was dependent on how much power you exerted. Dio could feel this power, but alas he could not see it. Not yet. Even though this was a setback in their plans, it was minor really. The battle brought them one step closer towards Dio finding the one who held the ability to grant these powers to the ones who weren’t naturally gifted like y/n was. Fortunately, Dio was able to force information out of the opposing user before he met his demise. Y/n’s e/c eyes softly fluttered open with a tired groan to follow. You tiredly threw a hand over your eyes with a deep breath. Dio perked up before you even had a chance to collect where you were and set down the cup of wine. “Y/n.” He said, an ounce of enthusiasm lacing his tone. It was almost as if he had completely just set aside his inner turmoil about his feelings in favor of your company again. You paused and turned your head. All Dio was met with was a disgruntled expression, as if they had been woken up out of nowhere during a deep sleeping session. “Dio…? Are we back at the hotel?” The wild blonde nodded. “Despite your unfavorable condition, you were victorious. It was quite a thrill to watch really.” Quickly you sat up and rubbed one of your eyes, almost a bit surprised. Y/n never really went up against another user per-say. You were fortunate enough to have grown up sheltered enough to not have many encounters with another due to an altercation, even with how un-glamours your youth with your parents was. It was also a fascinating discovery for someone like you who was curious about the functionality of stands. They really were an enigma; a shame however that other users were more or less aggressive. Y/n’s smile lasted for a moment until the realization hit them that they may have missed out important information for Dio. A long groan escaped you. Y/n pinched the bridge of their nose. “My apologies Dio...I got ahead of myself...we could’ve tried getting a lead and instead I-“ The corner of his lip lifted, the vampire dismissively waved an arm. “Do not worry about that. I was able to pry details from him before the final blow.” Y/n blinked and let out a sigh of relief, throwing their legs to the edge of the bed. “I must’ve blacked out because I don’t even remember that. Hm, but that doesn’t matter really.” They shrugged. Dio assumed a spot beside them, crossing his arms and throwing a leg over the other. “You got what we needed to know, that's what’s important.” You knowingly smiled up at him. Dio nodded in agreement. “You’re correct.” Dio lifted a finger up. “Anyways, you’re going to need to make preparations for us to embark to egypt as soon as you’re back to complete health.” “Egypt?” You tilted your head. “Yes. That is apparently where I will find the one who can grant others these ‘stands’. He said that she is an old witch of some sorts named Enya.” Y/n raised their brows in surprise. How in the world was he able to get so much precise information without fighting. Then again, this man was supernatural, perhaps he had his own ways of making one talk. Then again, if he did what point was there in making you do all the dirty work. Unless perhaps he wanted to just seize the opportunity to see what he could do and use your opponent as fodder. “Huh...Well. I suppose I was starting to get tired of this country anyways.” Y/n yawned, stretching their shoulder up to their cheek. “Luckily you have me around. Stand users tend to attract other stand users from my knowledge, so finding this woman shouldn’t take too long once we arrive.” “Perhaps. In any case, it may be best to be negotiable once we find this woman.” “Certainly, of course. And if she is an old woman, surely her power may be weaker. Despite today, I don’t particularly care for using my strength against someone weaker. Unless of course they instigate it.” They nodded. “Hm.” Dio glanced down at you for a moment, thinking about what you just said. “Part of me hopes we run into other users. As you know I cannot exactly see what is happening, I am still fascinated by what you can do.” Subconsciously your smile grew a little. You were a sucker for any kind of praise, but they had to keep their contentment dampered. “Thank you...I’m glad I can share my gift with you. When you have a stand as well, I can’t wait for you to fully experience what S/N can do. To be able to see it like I can see it.” Dio re-adjusted himself to a more comfortable position, sitting sideways to put more attention towards their conversation, leg still crossed over the other. “Oh yes, of course. I would be honored to further understand this power of yours more. If it wasn’t for you, I certainly would not be used to this body enough to even function without continued rest.” You shuddered a little internally, it was still a little strange that body was someone else's, even though you were used to this fact, you certainly did not need to be reminded. Y/n forced a smile and chuckled. “Thank you. I’m glad we’re friends as well.” ༺༻ ‘Friends’ that phrase echoed in Dio’s mind. Maybe he was their friend, but Dio did not have friends. Dio always had subjects. Pawns. Harems. Followers. Not that he couldn’t make friends but such relationships were beyond him. And with a human? He could just scoff at the thought. Most humans really weren’t nothing more than pawns, food, or a source of pleasure. Your relationship was not sexual, nor would he use someone who was doing such a big favor for him as food. But if you weren’t either of those, then what were you exactly? A guard dog? No. That was just insulting. Your relationship felt deeper than simply a subject or a pawn. Whatever. ‘Friends’ would suffice for now. The vampire cleared his throat between the silence. “Ahem. Yes. Friends.” Dio glanced at the food he left for them on the nightstand. “You should eat, dear, as I said, I wish to start our journey to Egypt as soon as you are feeling better.” Y/n peered back and took the banana. they opened their mouth to offer him the apple but remember he did not need that. “Right.” They nodded, peeling the banana. “By the way, I’d like to thank you. You could’ve just left me, but instead you tended to me when I was vulnerable.” They paused and continued to quickly eat their banana. “This may be a bit strange, being you’re a vampire, and above me on the food chain but…” Y/n paused and collected their thoughts, thinking how to word this without completely disinteresting him with their sentimentality. “I feel safe when I’m around you. I’m the one who is helping you but honestly? I suppose emotionally I feel secure around you. You’re the only person who seems to understand me and appreciate me.” Dio thought for a moment and scoffed. Not at you, but the fact that someone as smart, clever, and beautiful as you could go unappreciated. His legs uncrossed quickly. “Those who don’t appreciate you are simply putz.” He huffed and shook his head. “Fools. Utter fools.” Y/n froze, watching him place his hand over her head and pat it. “You are possibly the most useful person I’ve come across since my time out. I am uh…” Dio admittedly had faltered. “Grateful...For you as well.” “Really?” They smiled a bit, their gaze drifting up to his hand. “Here I was worried I’d gross you with all this sentimentality.” “No. I suppose even the most superior of beings need to express a bit of tenderness.” He nodded, continuing to gently pat your hair;It was quite soft really. “And if I am to express these sorts of emotions, it should be to one who is worthy of it. Someone I can trust not to use this as a weapon against me.” “Certainly. I know I would expect the same from you as well, Dio.” Your smile became a bit softer. The pair of you fell silent for a moment. The male hadn’t realized it but his hand had drifted down to feel your smooth locks. Y/n blinked and their eyes averted to the side. “Dio? What are you doing?” He quickly caught just what he was doing and pulled away, trying to play it off. Dio cleared his throat and got up from bed,, completely ignoring the subject. “In any case. Go rest. I’ll find some way of entertaining myself, don’t worry.”

[annawoodhull]

bring good news of a world so newly born

Requested by: me and my self-indulgent need for Ben and grilled cheese

Word Count: 1616

Prompt: Outlander AU in which Abigail introduces Ben to grilled cheese. That's the fic.

(Song title from '39 by Queen because I'm trash.)

There were a few inconveniences of being a woman from the future who now lived in late 18th century America. No air conditioning, no ibuprofen, but worst of all, no snacks. Late night runs to the convenience store a few blocks from her apartment with friends were the epitome of any college girl’s life, especially during finals time. And now she didn’t even have that!

But there was one thing she refused to give up (besides her bra if she could help it) was her favorite foods. By God, if she could find ways to modify them to make them work with what this time presented to her, she was bound and determined. The first attempt at this would be grilled cheese. If this went well, maybe she could attempt pizza.

Thankfully, she was able to purchase a loaf of bread and cheese from a few merchants in the town, but the butter was more difficult to come by. She had to resort to the old fashioned way, directly from the cow herself. Going through the process of letting the milk rest and then skimming the creak, or whatever the fuck it was called, off the top before she could churn it with a dasher. It was incredibly labor intensive and more work than she had expected, but again, her stubborn Irish ass was going to see this through.

She hadn’t intended to inform Ben of her little project until later on in the week, when they had agreed to meet. Between his battles both on and off the field, a lot of the major’s time was accounted for. She still insisted she would make a good asset to the Culper Ring, but he stubbornly refused to allow it. She suspected she knew the reason, but honestly thought it was ridiculous. You’d think you’d want a spy on your side who already knows how everything will play out.

Anyway, Abigail was sitting on the porch of her small cabin – abandoned by some previous squatter dweller type – and working on churning the butter. Her sleeves were rolled up and beads of perspiration rolled down the sides of her neck, trickling down the front of her bodice. She wrinkled her nose but kept on going. Sheesh, this was labor intensive as fuck. Twenty-first century people really had it made, though there were the Amish to consider.

Too busy plunging the dasher up and down while churning the butter, Abigail was too preoccupied to pay any attention her surroundings. By the time she heard a horse’s snort, she looked up and was pleasantly surprised to see Ben dismounting and leading the beautiful Gaius over towards a paddock to graze.

Then he turned around and took one look at her, a good long look that made Abigail flush from head to toe. She didn’t have to look in a mirror to know she looked like a train wreck, blonde hair all askew, face flushed and damped with sweat. She’d stopped her churning the moment she saw him and nearly forgot all about it when he approached her.

“Never pegged you for the type for churning butter,” Ben observed with a amused grin, “though I’m not surprised you’d be stubborn enough to try.”

She grinned. “There is a reason to my madness, Tallmadge.” She went to wipe her forehead when she remembered she couldn’t let the butter rest. With a tiny grunt, she resumed her work, working the dasher up and down in a gradual rhythm. Hey, she was starting to get the hang of this! “I’m cooking for us tonight and then forgot I couldn’t just buy everything in one place, like I used to.”

“You must be rich, from where you come from,” he commented.

Abigail laughed at that, thinking of all the student loan debt she had accumulated with both her bachelors and graduate degrees. On second thought, maybe it was a good thing she fell through the stones when she did. “Hardly. But it was convenient, so I wouldn’t have to resort to this.”

Ben’s gaze flickered between her face and to her hands, observing as she worked it rather well. Her hands twisting with purposeful intent, with increasing speed. It reminded him of something Caleb had often teased him about, something he hadn’t done in quite some time. And now that he had this visual in front of him…

Abigail glanced up, having no idea where his line of thought had taken him, and found that his face was now just as red as the coat of a British officer. “Are you all right?” she asked, confused and mildly concerned.

Clearing his throat, Ben shifted his position, angling himself so that he was now facing partially away from her. Odd. “Yes, just a bit… flushed from the journey. Could use some water, perhaps.”

Abigail nodded, understanding. “I just made a few bottles from the creek. Help yourself and cool down.”

He thanked her and practically took off like a bat out of hell into the cabin. Abigail continuing churning, increasing the pace. He was an odd duck, that one. A very attractive and delicious looking one but odd nevertheless.

It took quite a while to achieve the finished product, but with Ben’s company, from a suspicious far distance, the time just flew by. She carried her butter inside, grinning in triumph at her accomplishment and held it out proudly for him to inspect. He nodded his approval with no small amount of affection, which made her feel even more accomplished.

“So what are you preparing for us this evening?” he asked, “since you went to all the trouble churning butter.”

“Nothing terribly fancy I’m afraid, at least from my time,” Abigail admitted, “but in my opinion, it’s one of the finest delicacies in the world. A grilled cheese.”

Brows furrowed, Ben titled his head, much like a confused puppy. “A… what?”

“Trust me, you’ll like it,” she promised. She went to work on working the hearth, which Ben had to assist her with at several points. While he helped, she told him all about stoves and the different kinds that ran on gas versus electricity, both of which mystified and fascinated him. The more time she spent in that time and with him specifically, the more comfortable she felt sharing different tidbits of the future. The very knowledge there was a future for the country that he was fighting for was enough to give him hope. The thought of being the source, or at least associated with the source, of his inspiration made her feel things she had no right to be feeling.

Yet, she was completely and hopelessly attracted to the him.

Once everything was settled, she went to work on slicing the bread and cheese, which she set on separate plates. Then she buttered the bread generously on each slice before setting the buttered side down in the skillet, quickly followed by the cheese and the other slice of bread. She brought the skillet over the makeshift grilled and watched with amazement as the fire worked its magic.

It didn’t take too long before she flipped it over. A few minutes of cooking on the other side, she pulled back the skillet carefully and plated his grilled cheese before working on hers. It was a little tricky getting the sandwiches out of the skillet, but she had to admit, they didn’t turn out half bad.

“Do you want yours cut in half or diagonally?” she asked, right after she performed an elegant diagonal slice for hers.

“However you cut yours is fine with me,” he said. He had risen from his seat to poke around her, curious to see her creation and drawn to the wonderful mixture of grilled cheese, butter, and crispy goodness.

When done, she handed him his plate but warned him, “Be careful. It’s hot.” His soft, amused smile at the domestic remark caused her heart to skip a beat.

They sat together at the small wooden table, and after a few minutes, they dug into their meal, though Abigail waited a bit so she could take in his reaction. After his first bite, Ben’s eyes widened before closing with surprised delight. He moaned appreciatively. “Oh, this is very good.”

“Really?” she asked happily.

Nodding eagerly, he took to consuming the slice with an almost single-minded determination. He hesitated on picking up the second slice, perhaps figuring he should make it last. She grinned at his sudden look of sheepishness. “Thank you for sharing this with me. Believe me, after a few months of camp rations, this is just…” he sighed with pleasure.

Abigail grinned. “I’m glad you like it. Grilled cheese can cure anything. It’s the American dream, baby.”

“Is all of your food in the future this good?” Ben asked, enchanted by the mere thought.

“Depends on where you’re looking, but for the most part, yes,” she said. Spotting a bit of crumbs and cheese on the side of his mouth, she smothered a giggle. She touched her own face. “You’ve got a little…”

“Where?” he asked, immediately touching anywhere on his face but the area where she pointed.

Rolling her eyes in feigned exasperation, she leaned over the table and brushed it away herself, her thumb gently pressed against the corner of his mouth. His gaze locked onto hers at the touch, the sudden proximity. He inhaled sharply. Abigail swallowed nervously. The cabin, which was already quite small, felt even smaller, more intimate.

“We should…” he murmured, trailing off.

She blinked slowly. “Finish our dinner?”

After a beat, Ben nodded. “I… yes. Dinner.”

Who knew that all the trouble to make grilled cheese could cause even more trouble?

[angelinasway]

Regaining Hope

Chapter Five

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers

Warnings/Triggers: Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut

Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military  trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise  visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious  stranger her whole world is changed forever.

Previous Chapters: [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four]

[TTH] [AO3] [FFN]

Authors Notes: Hey all!!! Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews, you guys have been incredible, seriously. Now just for that we are about to embark on the romance portion of this fic, until the proverbial shit hits the fan so to speak. Anyway I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Massive thanks to Hipkarma for being such an amazing beta!!! Oh and don't be fooled by the mood board, there is actually no sex in the Champaign Room. Okay I think I just dated myself. Please leave a review, I'm really excited to hear what you all think. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Five

They had been back at the school about an hour now, the first forty-five minutes spent explaining to Faith and Gunn who and what Clark was. All in all, they’d taken it pretty well once they got past their utter disbelief and accusations of both Clark and Buffy trying to mess with them. Clark had told them pretty much what he had learned on the ship. That his planet was dying and his parents sent him to this world not only to save him, but to help the people of Earth not make the same mistakes the Kryptonian people made. Which of course led to him having to explain what the mistakes were, and even further explanation of what artificial population control was. Buffy had brought up the Matrix and A Brave New World which had the others grimacing at the visual. Clark had explained how he was the first natural birth on the planet in centuries because his parents believed that their people had lost something precious in taking away the option of free choice.

He then explained how the Earth’s sun is a more powerful source of radiation than on his home world and because of that he was pretty much invincible with the exception of anything mystical, of course. Gunn seemed to immediately understand and mentioned how on Pylea Angel could walk in the sun. Buffy wasn’t sure it was as cut and dry as that considering it was interdimensional and not planetary, but then again, she wasn’t exactly a philosopher nor a scientist so she could very well be wrong.

They had all eventually called it a night, and now Buffy and Clark were in her room. He was currently in the shower. Buffy having already taken one before they left for Lorne’s earlier that evening. She used the time to use the bathroom down the hall and change into a white camisole and her favorite blue pajama bottoms after she had scrubbed the small amount of makeup she had on, off her face. She then stopped by the linen closet on the way back to her room grabbing a sheet and blanket before proceeding to make up the couch for Clark. She just had to keep herself busy and her mind off the man currently naked in her bathroom. ‘God, what is wrong with me.’

She heard the water shut off and she stared at the bathroom door. Lorne's words from earlier running through her head.

   "He's what you've been searching for.” Lorne said matter-of-factly. “It’s why you were so drawn to Angel and Spike. Your Slayer has been searching for a suitable mate since the day you were called. She's always known you would be different from the rest. I suspect the Powers knew as well and that’s why you were hidden from the Council."

   "I... I don't understand?" She said in confusion.

   Lorne nodded. “The Powers knew you were the one who would change everything. They knew that it would be you who activated all the Slayers and tipped the power balance between good and evil.” He sighed, “Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end and I think we both aren't stupid enough to believe that the Awakening spell Willow used to call all the Slayers didn't have any consequences. Fewer and fewer girls are being called every year. It’s only a matter of time before there’s not a new generation of Slayers at all. And what happens when all of the girls finally die, whether it be some demon or old age? Are you supposed to toe the line until you finally do snap mentally and go insane?”

   Tears filled her eyes. He was right. They all noticed the extreme decline in Slayers being called over the past few years. It had worried all of them to the point of sleepless nights researching for a solution that they still hadn’t been able to find.

   “I… I don’t know,” she whispered.

   “I see something in your future that even you would have never imagined and I'm honestly not sure I should tell you what it is." He admitted.

   "What...why...is it...is it that bad?" She asked, imagining slowly losing her mind until who and what she was is unrecognizable.

   "No, it’s actually not bad at all.” He said, giving her a soft smile. “It’s a good thing. I see the Slayer line continuing, the how and why of that is the part that I feel would be better left for discussion at a later time. I can also say that I know why Willow and Wes have been trying so hard to find Clark and put him in your path." He answered.

   "Why?" she asked.

   "Well, they aren't up to anything nefarious if that’s what you're thinking.” He said, “Clark had two very different futures and I suspect the prophecy mentions both. One I'm not going to tell you about because as far as I can tell it won't happen. The other however, has a happy ending for you both. It won't be easy for either of you. Something’s coming Buffy, something he's going to have to face that he's not ready for."

   "What...what is it?" She whispered

   "I'm not going to tell you, but you will need all hands-on deck when it happens." He answered cryptically.

   "Lorne." Buffy warned, she hated when he did stuff like this. She got why he did it. She really did, but it was more than annoying.

 “No Sunshine.” He said firmly. “I’m not telling you. You can’t stop it from happening even if you wanted to.” He nodded. “He needs training in hand-to-hand combat, as much as you can give him.”

   She frowned. “I don’t like this, Lorne.”

   “I would think something was wrong if you did.” He answered.

   She huffed in annoyance. “Anything else?”

   “Yeah,” he said. “He’s your soulmate, your destiny.”

   Buffy blinked in surprise and then frowned in confusion. That couldn’t be right. “But I thought–”

   “That Angel was.” Lorne finished for her, “No, Princess. Angel was never your soulmate. The closest thing you ever had to a soulmate was Spike, and that’s only because your Slayer found an equal in him in the most primal sense.”

   “But then why did I–”

   “Because you were young. First love always hurts the worst, especially when it’s over.” He sighed. “You have this incredible capacity for love Buffy, and a need for it that is just as great. I think maybe your soul has been searching for Clark this whole time. That on some level it knew he was special, just like you. Angel was the substitute, but he was never the real thing.”

   She sighed looking at her lap. Her hands fidgeting with each other. That was a bit of a revelation for her. She always assumed because of how drawn to each other they had been and the fact that Whistler had sent him to her that they were somehow destined. Then she remembered Whistler’s words from so long ago. He said they weren’t supposed to fall in love. She blinked in surprise. Whistler had been angry at her for sleeping with Angel. Her stomach dropped.

   I mean she knew now, but maybe there was still some small part of her that believed she had killed her soulmate. God, she really was that pathetic. Why had they ever convinced themselves they were somehow this destined couple? It would have saved them so much frustration and heartache if they had just realized the truth.

   “Is there anything else?” She whispered, her self-loathing making her want to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

   “One more thing.” He said seriously. “I know you’ve been harboring a death wish for quite a few years now. That’s gonna need to stop, and I mean today.” She opened her mouth to argue and he held up his hand. “I don’t want to know what would happen to Clark if something happened to you. So, you promise me, right here and now that no matter what happens you will fight for your life as if the world depends on it.”

   Her eyes widened in surprise at his vehemence. It wasn’t every day that the kind hearted demon demanded something from her, and even less did he speak to her like that. He wasn’t necessarily wrong either. She had wanted to die for quite some time now. It’s one of the reasons she often took so many unnecessary risks. Just hoping that her final oblivion would actually be that. She didn’t want to promise him something that she wasn’t actually sure she could help, but she would try. For Lorne, who had been there for her in some of her darkest moments and for Clark, because the guy needed her and she wouldn’t bring him into this world just to throw him to wolves by dying on him.

   She nodded, “Okay…” She assured, “Okay, I promise.”

  The bathroom door suddenly swung open breaking her out of her memory. Her eyes widened as they stared at one of the most beautifully sculpted chests she’d ever seen. She’d honestly never realized chest hair could look so appealing on anyone until that moment. Her eyes traveled from where he wore a pair of grey sweats that hung low on his hips showing off those beautiful creases that disappeared below the elastic band, up his abdomen and the tight muscle there, to his pecs. Her mouth went dry and she licked her lips. ‘God, I’m in so much trouble.’

  When she met his eyes, they were still slightly glassy from their alcohol consumption tonight and seemed to be giving her the same kind of perusal she gave him. He swallowed visibly as they lingered on her chest, slowly moving over her tank top to her blue pajama bottoms where the material was hugging her thighs. When he noticed her watching him his cheeks went pink and he quickly averted his eyes, clearing his throat.

"So, umm...I had fun tonight." He said, moving to sit on the couch, but stopping short when he noticed the sheet tucked around it and a neatly folded blanket and pillow in the corner, so he sat on the armrest instead.

"Me too," she admitted, adjusting her pillows on the bed so she was sitting up more comfortably.

She watched him look around her room. His eyes landing on the few pictures she had on her dresser. He got up and picked up the one with her, Dawn, Abigail and Joyce. It was taken last year during Joyce's second birthday party. Xander had taken the picture while she'd been cuddling with Abby as Joyce said something that had both her and Dawn laughing.

Clark smiled softly at the photo, his eyes roaming over the picture. "Who's this." He asked.

"Me and my little sister with my two nieces," She answered smiling.

"I didn't realize you had a sister." He said surprised. "She wasn't mentioned in the book. Though, I didn't read all of it."

"No," Buffy agreed, "She wouldn't be." She sighed. "After she and Xander had the kids, they decided to be less involved with the Slaying gig. She used to be a Watcher, but now she’s a curator at the Metropolis Museum of Natural History and Xander owns his own contracting company. It’s one of the many reasons she's not mentioned in the book. The other being the less people who know about her true origin the better."

Clark frowned, looking back at the picture and sitting on the end of the bed. "What do you mean."

Buffy sighed again. "It's a really long story, but the gist of it is Dawn was created as my sister, but she wasn't always." Clark's frown deepened, so she elaborated. "She's a key. Her blood is capable of opening all dimensions. A Hell God was after her the year I died. Some monks changed her form, made her human, and sent her to me with all the memories of a life we never actually had together."

He looked at her a long time, his eyes roving over her face as a sudden realization seemed to dawn in them. “You died for her,” he finally whispered.

Tears began to fill her eyes at his words and that’s when she realized how intoxicated she still was, because she was never this emotional unless she was drunk. It’s one of the many reasons she hadn’t become an alcoholic by now. No one likes a sad drunk. So, she always kept her drinking as minimal as possible. Though there were those few occasions when she was alone, she would toast off half a fifth and cry her eyes out.

“Yes,” she admitted, quickly wiping her eyes.

"What happened?" He asked quietly.

She shook her head, sitting up straighter, and hugging her knees to her chest. "I was too late.” She whispered. “Glory got a hold of Dawn and by the time I got to her she was already bleeding and the world was falling apart."

She swallowed the lump in her throat as the memories came flooding back. She felt the bed dip and suddenly she was being pulled against a warm chest as strong arms wrapped around her. She couldn't hold back the tears then.

"Giles told me, I would have to kill her if we were too late, but I... I couldn't." She said emotion clogging her voice. "We had a big fight. I told him that if she died, I was done. I was quitting, even if the world went to hell, I wouldn't do it."

She felt his hand run along her back as she sniffled, her fingers absent mindedly coming up to gently run along the strong corded muscle of his chest the soft hair tickling her palm. She sighed, "There was so much bad that year. A Hell God after my sister, Riley basically cheating and then leaving me because I wasn't emotionally available enough for him, Spike was swearing up and down that he loved me and confusing the hell out of me, and my mom had a tumor and ended up passing away from an aneurysm.” She sniffled again. “And... he...he wanted me to kill the only family I had left. I was so angry with him. How could he possibly ask me to do that?”

His arms tightened around her and he sighed. “I’m so sorry, Buffy.”

“It’s okay.” She whispered. “Anyway, we were on this rickety tower and as I said before when I got to Dawn, she was already bleeding. There was this massive energy rift that was opening dimensions left and right. Dawn tried to run past me. She was gonna jump and try and stop it, but I couldn’t let her do that.” She shook her head. “Maybe I was selfish, but I knew if she died, I would lose myself. I would just completely shatter.” She sighed, “I realized then what I needed to do. Dawn…She was made from me; she had my blood. Summers’ blood. I had gone on a kinda vision quest not long before that and it told me that I’m full of love and death is my gift. It all made sense then. Death was my gift to her.” She bit her lip hoping the pain would stop the quivering in her voice. “I told her I loved her, I told her to take care of my friends, I told her to live for me, I kissed her, and then I jumped.”

His arms tightened even more around her as if the visual was causing him pain. She felt him shake his head before he finally said, “I don’t like the thought of you dying.”

“I used to covet it,” She admitted, finally looking up at him. “Coming back was so hard and then when I found out I was immortal it really screwed me up.” She sighed, “I’ve gotten better over the years but there are some days when dying sounds better than going on.”

He looked at her sadly, his hand coming up to run through her hair. “Why?” He asked quietly.

“Because I was in heaven Clark, and now I can never go back.” She said softly, tears once again filling her eyes.

He sucked in a breath of surprise, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. “Heaven,” he whispered. “It’s…it’s real?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And God?” He asked.

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know. I know of gods that do exist, but the one in the bible,” she shook her head again, “I have no idea.”

He sighed, his thumb running along her cheek, before he pulled her back in close and hugged her, planting a kiss on top of her head. “I’m so sorry Buffy,” he said again.

She laid her head on his chest, wrapped her arms around him and they stayed like that a long time. His warmth surrounded her and she could hear the steady cadence of his heartbeat, the sound eased her mind. She realized she’d never felt this comfortable around anyone before, not even Spike had made her feel this much at ease to just be herself.

She pulled back and met his blue eyes, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this open with anyone before. I…I normally fight this kinda thing and it usually takes me forever to really trust someone.” She could feel her face heat up at the words she was about to tell him, but the compulsion to let them be voiced was greater than her wariness of exposing herself so thoroughly. “You make me feel safe, I don’t remember the last time I’ve felt this safe.”

He sighed, his eyes soft and open. “Would you believe me if I told you, I feel the same?” He whispered. “I wanted to tell you what I was almost from the moment I met you. I’ve never wanted to do that with anyone before.”

“Yes,” she said softly. “I believe you.”

“Do you think it has to do with what—” he started, but abruptly stopped.

“The soulmates thing?” Buffy asked, seeing the uncertainty written on his face of whether he should mention it or not.

He seemed to sigh in relief at her words. “How much did he say?”

She shrugged, laying her head back on his chest. “Just that you’re my destiny. That I’ve been subconsciously searching for you all this time.” She sighed, “That you had two different destinies and one he wouldn’t tell me about. Also, something about restoring the Slayer line.” She huffed, “I hate how cryptic empaths are, but he also mentioned something coming for you and that I needed to get you ready.”

Clark nodded. “He told me pretty much the same thing, didn’t mention the Slayer line though.” He sighed, “He…he also told me about the other future.” He was quiet for a long time, eventually asking softly, “Do you want to know what he said?”

Buffy pulled away, something in his voice making her look into his eyes. He looked nervous, almost afraid to tell her. “Is it bad?”

He looked away and nodded, “Yes.” He admitted.

“Do you think it will happen?” She asked.

He met her eyes again and shook his head. “No,” He answered seriously.

She shook her head, “Then I don’t want to know.”

He sighed, a humorless laugh falling from his lips. “Thank God, I find it almost too hard to believe myself.”

Buffy was silent as she remembered her promise to Lorne. “Could this future happen if something happened to me?”

He suddenly went still, his eyes seeming to play out what could happen in his head, a frown marring his face “Possibly,” he acknowledged. “Why?”

She sighed. “Just something Lorne said,” She shrugged. “He basically made me promise not to die.”

Clark nodded, “Then I’d say it’s more than possible.”

She shrugged and yawned, her long flight and evening finally catching up with her, “I’ll just have to keep my promise then.”

Clark smiled, cupping her cheek again. “As much as I’d love to spend the rest of my night talking to you about this stuff, we should probably both get some sleep.”

Buffy nodded in agreement, untangling herself from him as he moved to stand, putting the photo of her sister and the kids back on her dresser and getting himself as comfortable as he could on her leather couch.

“Goodnight, Buffy.” He whispered.

“Goodnight,” She murmured, already halfway to dreamland.

****<S>**<S>****

He was the first one to hear it. His eyes flying open at the loud moan penetrating the neighboring wall. A crash sounded and as much as he tried not to listen, he couldn't block it out. Not with the overwhelming scent of jasmine and citrus filling his nostrils, the scent of Buffy surrounding him in this room. He was trying to be a gentleman here and the unmistakable sounds and smells of rough sex were now penetrating his resolve.

He heard Buffy groan and roll over, grabbing her pillow and covering her head with it. "You've got to be fucking kidding me!" She complained.

"My sentiments exactly." He muttered.

He looked at her as she got on her knees and slammed her hand against the wall. "Hey! There are people with super hearing sleeping next door!"

They both heard laughing and he watched her face scrunch up in annoyance when Faith shouted, “Prude!”

"At least I'm not an over sexed dominatrix!" She yelled back.

Clark couldn't help choking a laugh at her reply and she turned her head and glared at him.

"Oh, you think it funny do you. I'll have you know the last time I walked in on them; Faith was wearing a strap-on." Her face scrunched up. "I tell you, there's not enough brillo in the world to scrub that image from my brain."

He grimaced. Yeah, he didn't really need to visualize that either. "Are all Slayers so...domineering?"

Buffy laughed, "Oh god no. That’s totally a Faith thing." She shook her head. "I mean don't get me wrong," She blushed slightly and looked down, "I can certainly be dominant if asked or provoked, but I prefer to be much more submissive in the bedroom." She shrugged, “It’s probably why…well, why human men aren’t as appealing to me. Can’t really be believably pinned down or have that overwhelming loss of control when you’re fifty times stronger than the person you’re with.”

Clark swallowed, an image of him pinning Buffy's arms above her head as he kissed her floated through his mind. He groaned, his fists clenching at his sides. “You really shouldn’t tell me that kind of stuff.” He said gruffly, hearing another crash and loud moan through the wall.

She didn’t say anything for a while, but he knew she was watching him. When he turned his head to make sure he hadn’t offended her, their eyes met in the dark. She was fidgeting, having sat up completely at some point since they were both so rudely awakened.

“Can I…can I ask you something?” She whispered shyly, adding quickly, “It’s totally fine if you don’t want to answer, but I am curious.”

“Okay.” He said nervously, not quite sure what he expected her to ask.

“Why have you never…you know?” She bit her lip. “Like, I get the not wanting anyone to know what you are, but you could have always picked up some girl in a bar and taken her home for the night.”

Clark chuckled humorlessly at her words and removed the blanket sitting up looking at her fully, “Well, there are actually two answers to that question. The first one being that I’m not exactly that kind of guy. I highly doubt I can just have sex and not feel something for that person.” He watched her eyes soften at his words as she nodded in understanding. “The second reason is that I’m too strong. I’ve always been scared I was going to hurt someone if I tried.”

“Oh,” she said in surprise. “I never thought of that.” She blushed, “Though I probably should have, considering I’ve done that before.”

Clark raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You have?”

She nodded, “Yeah,” she said. “Once with my ex, Riley. It was in the beginning of our relationship. I well…I kinda squeezed him too hard,” Her blush deepened, “like from umm…the inside.”

It took Clark a minute to get what she meant, but dear god once he got it, he couldn’t stop his body’s reaction. He squeezed his eyes shut; his cock instantly hard as a soft moan tore from his lips. Just the thought of… ‘God, does she have any idea what she’s doing to me?’

He opened his eyes meeting hers, his breathing picking up at the look of desire in her eyes. She must have heard him. Her pupils were blown wide and he could see her chest rising and falling in time with his erratic breathing. His fist clenched harder as he tried to restrain himself. He hadn’t felt this out of control since he was a kid.

“Buffy,” he said in a strained voice. “That’s probably another one of those things you shouldn’t tell me.”

“Why,” she whispered, her voice suddenly sultry.

He squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled through his nose another humorless laugh falling from his lips, “Because I’m really trying to be a gentleman and my restraint is holding by a thread.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to be a gentleman,” she breathed. “Maybe I want you to kiss me.”

Whatever was left of his resolve finally snapped. He opened his eyes still having the frame of mind enough not to tackle her.

“Come here,” He whispered.

She slowly slid off the bed and walked towards him, her hands fisting the material of her pajama bottoms nervously. "Have you...have you ever kissed anyone before?"

He shook his head, “Not the way you’re suggesting.” He whispered, closing his eyes once again and breathing slowly through his nose to try and rein in his out-of-control hormones.

He felt her move closer still, gasping when he felt the couch dip as she straddled his thighs and he thanked God she didn't fully seat herself in his lap.

"Do you want me to show you how?" She asked, her hand running over the center of his chest, stopping right over his heart and he was sure she could feel how fast it was beating.

He could feel himself trembling just from that small touch alone and he was sure the couch was rattling just as much, but he kept his hands at his sides. Too afraid he would pull her close and she would feel the impact she was having on him.

"Yes," he whispered, his eyes opening to meet her gaze.

She was so close, her large green eyes studied his face as her hand slid up his chest, over his shoulder, and around the back of his neck where she cradled him as she brought him closer. She tilted her head slightly as her soft lips gently brushed his, almost as if she was teasing him. His fists tightened further and he gasped at the sensation, allowing her the chance to seal her lips against his.

Whatever control he thought he had over himself finally shattered. His arms coming around her and yanking her fully against his chest and into his lap. Her warm center gliding over his erection had both of them groaning and gasping in surprise.

The kiss felt wonderful and awkward all at once, not in a bad way. He just really didn’t feel very confident, but she was being patient, moving her lips slowly against his so he could easily follow her lead. When he felt the wet warmth of her tongue swipe along his bottom lip, he gasped allowing her to deepen the kiss. As she slipped into his mouth her taste exploded on his tongue and his hips shot up involuntarily a moan tearing from his lips.

She groaned into his mouth. Her hold on him tightening slightly and he stiffened in worry, pulling away. He tried to slow his breathing before he spoke but it was no use. He was far too worked up. “Did I…did I hurt you?”

“God no.” She laughed, shaking her head. “It felt wonderful.” As if to prove a point she reached her hand out and squeezed his shoulder until it actually did hurt. When he winced slightly, she let go. “You can’t hurt me like this Clark. I know you haven’t exactly seen how strong I am, but I promise you won’t hurt me.” And then she looked down and blushed. “And I’m not…I’m not asking you to have sex with me.” She paused, biting on her bottom lip. “It’s just if you are really my soulmate what’s the point of fighting this? I’m not ready for sex. I haven’t had it in eleven years and it’s gonna be a little while before I am, but I can’t deny,” she gestured between them, “whatever this is. I want you Clark,” She shrugged, “And I know you want me, but everyone’s gotta learn to walk before they can swim and I just… I haven’t felt this type of closeness to anyone for a very long time…” She breathed a sigh getting closer to his lips. “I just want to feel you,” and then she was really kissing him, her tongue sliding in and out of his mouth so sensually he didn’t know how to think straight.

When she tried to pull away, he chased after her sucking her tongue into his mouth. His hips once again slamming into her, grabbing her waist, and pressing her down onto him. He pulled away from her mouth choking out, “Oh god, I want you so much.”

Buffy moaned loudly, her hips beginning to gyrate and swirl against his cock. She looked at him knowingly, and then began to slowly kiss him from his jaw line up to his ear.

“Do you want to come, Clark?” Her hot breath tickled his ear before he felt her lips wrap around the lobe, sucking it into her mouth, and scraping her teeth along it.

"Oh fuck!" He moaned, his hips shooting up and meeting hers. It wasn't very often he cursed like that but right now seemed more than appropriate. God, he wanted to run his hands all over her, squeeze her breasts, cup her ass. His eyes rolled into the back of his head at the thought of tasting her. His whole body was on fire, he’d never felt anything like this in his life and he’d jerked off plenty of times. He wasn’t stupid, he knew sex would be different than masturbation but this wasn’t even sex.

He heard her gasp at his words and she pressed herself down into him harder. "Oh god." She moaned.

His hands pressed more firmly into her hips and he began to guide her movements. Words spilling from his lips that he never knew himself capable of using. "You like that don't you," He almost growled. "Like making me lose control, like getting yourself off on me."

She moaned louder this time. "God yes." Her hips moving faster against him.

He moaned and slipped his tongue into her mouth as she rocked back and forth. His teeth scraping along her bottom lip as he pulled away to watch her. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was partially open, her movements becoming jerky and needy. He'd seen enough porn to know the signs of a woman about to have an orgasm, even if he knew at least half of them were faked.

"Are you gonna come, Buffy?" He whispered hungrily, studying every little gasp and pant she made.

"Uh-huh.” She whimpered, nodding.

"Good," He panted, his cock throbbing with its own impending release. "Because I don't know how much longer I can hold out."

She doubled her efforts then, planting her hand firmly on his chest, her fingers curling into his hairs as she sped up. The couch they were on beginning to groan and creak under their unrelenting pace. It was by far the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, her chasing her release as she ground herself against him.

It didn't take long after that; a mewling whine of his name tore from her lips and she threw her head back, her spine arching as her orgasm slammed into her. The picture of her like that alone sent him over the edge, knowing he was at least partially responsible in making her do that. His arms wrapped around her and he buried his face in her shoulder as he cried out her name. His sweats soaking through as he came.

Her arms wrapped around him and they stayed like that a long time, wrapped in a warm embrace. Both of them trembling from their orgasm or what they had just experienced, he wasn’t sure. When they finally seemed to get the trembling and their breathing back to normal Buffy pulled away and gave him the softest, sweetest look anyone had ever given him.

“That was–”

“Incredible,” he breathed.

Buffy giggled. “I’d say more like earth shattering.”

Clark chuckled, “I didn’t know something could feel so good.”

Buffy nodded, “Honestly, neither did I. I know it’s been a while, but damn.” She looked at him shyly. “I don’t know what came over me,” And then she frowned, a worry line creasing her brow. “I wasn’t…I wasn’t too forceful or anything was I? I think I got kinda carried away and am almost feeling like I may have pushed you into this somehow.”

Clark eyes softened and he reached out and cupped her cheek, “Buffy if I didn’t want to do that, I would have pushed you away. What you just gave me… I can’t even express in words how beautiful it was.”

She sighed, before leaning up to kiss him softly. “Thank you.”

He blushed, clearing his throat. “I should probably take another shower.”

She bit her lip trying to hold back her proud smile and nodded standing up, but he grabbed her hand bringing her back down so he could softly kiss her again, before saying. “Try to get a couple more hours of sleep and then I’m taking you out to breakfast.”

She smiled and nodded in agreement, “Okay.” She said, heading towards her bed as he got up and headed back into the shower, glad he still had his boxers to fall back on.

****<S>**<S>****

The phone rang and Wes picked it up on the first ring. “Did he sing?”

There was a pause on the other line. “Yeah.”

“And?” Wes asked impatiently.

“Look Wes, I wanna know what this prophecy is all about. You can’t just drop something like this on me and not tell me.” Lorne said over the line.

Wes sighed, “It’s about a being from another world that will either destroy the Slayer line or sustain it.”

Lorne was quiet for a long time, “It’s him.”

Wes blew out a breath. “And his future?”

“Well, it’s not roses and daffodils, but I don’t think he’ll destroy the Slayer line.” Lorne answered seriously.

“Thank god for that.” Wesley murmured. “Anything else I should know?”

“Yeah,” Lorne said. “You should up the Slayers you have in and around India, Metropolis, and Kansas. You’re gonna need them there in about two weeks, toodles.” And then he hung up.

Wes glared at the phone, looking up when Willow walked in. “Is it done?” She asked

He nodded, “Yes it will only be a matter of time until they’re inseparable.”

“And the other thing?” She asked.

“Lorne doesn’t seem to think it will happen.” He answered.

Willow nodded, sighing in relief. “Well, that’s good news, right?”

Wes nodded, “Lets hope so.”