#damsel needed quite a bit of work before inking

[vickysaurus-art]

Shifty with the princesses as minis update! Today I inked the prettiest princess of them all, and Damsel too.

[hepalien]

Shrunkyclunks (Modern Bucky/Cap Steve) Fic Rec

Hate Sex & Hair Protocol by @maddiewritesstucky - Mature, 1.8k

SHIELD Agent Bucky, UST, Enemies to Lovers (in Steve’s head), Humor

They’re all full of shit, Steve decides.

His team don’t have a clue what they’re talking about, running their mouths about the way he and Bucky look at each other; the tension that seems to be at a constant near-snapping point between them.

'It’s called annoyance' Steve wants to yell in each of their faces, loud and one by one. It’s the pain of having to exist every day in close proximity with someone who drives you out of your fucking mind.

---

In which Steve discovers that ire and desire may just exist side by side in his brain.

Stop interrupting my grinding series by @rohkeutta - Teen, 2.5k

Nurse Bucky, Wrong Number, Fluff, Humor

“I tried to call Sam,” Captain America says, bewildered. He’s sprinting like Usain Bolt and doesn’t sound even a little out of breath. Fucker. “Who’re you?”

“Someone who’s watching you live on TV,” Bucky tells him as the tiny patriotic figure on the screen takes the turns like he instructed. Bucky should probably be a lot more freaked out about this, but honestly? After a tour in the Middle East and six years as a nurse in New York, even this isn’t enough to ruffle him. One sees a lot of shit in the ER. “Also, you better hang up now, that thing is behind the next bend.”

“Uh, okay,” Captain America says. “Thanks?”

“Whatever,” Bucky says, disconnects the call and turns the TV off to get ready for his shift.

Save a Horse, Ride a Captain by @galwednesday - Teen, 2.7k

War Vet Bucky, Meet Cute, Fluff, Humor, Modern Howlies

Bucky tapped him on the shoulder, swaying back and forth a little as he waited for the man to turn around. “Hello,” he said, and then promptly forgot what else he was going to say, because this guy was fucking beautiful. “Wow. Good face.”

Two of the guy’s friends, a man wearing a suit that fit so well it had to be bespoke and a man with a cute little gap between his front teeth, started cracking up. The petite redhead sitting next to them cocked her head to the side and pulled her phone out of her handbag. Beautiful Face just looked kind of pained, so Bucky redirected. He was a gentleman. He could take a hint. No hitting on beautiful guys who were uncomfortable with that sort of thing, no matter how lickable their jawlines were.

“Hello,” he repeated, doing his best to mind his manners. “I’m very sorry to bother you. Can I have a piggy-back ride?”

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet by @musette22 - Teen, 3.8k

Chef Bucky, POV Outsider, Fluff, Humor

“I made soda bread.”

Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.”

The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

more under the cut

Cafe Au Écoute by @littlesystems - Teen, 3.8k

Coffee Shop AU

No matter where Steve goes, there's always the chance that he'll overhear a conversation about himself - or rather, Captain America. This coffee shop is no different. The fact that he keeps eavesdropping well past the point of plausible deniability is another matter entirely.

#TweetMeDaddy by StarSpangled - Teen, 4.1k

SHIELD Employee Bucky, Misunderstandings, Crack, Humor

Coulson, for his part, stares up at Bucky with such a betrayed look of frozen horror that Natasha actually goes the extra step and presses another button, capturing the moment and airdropping the photograph to her phone for posterity. When he speaks, his voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “Why…?” He swallows and starts again, trying for some semblance of normality. “...Why would you tweet something like that?!”

“If you must know, sir,” and somehow he manages to make ‘sir’ come out with the same inflection most people reserve for ‘motherfucking son of a bitch’, “it’s because I have a difficult time doing my job when my job involves monitoring the man with the best fucking ass in the United States of America.” He slowly lowers himself back into his seat until he’s at eye level, making extreme eye contact with Coulson until Coulson turns away to make mortified eye contact in Natasha’s general direction through the one-way glass. Natasha would take another picture, if she weren’t too busy catching Steve’s red-faced sputtering. “Sometimes, I vent to my Twitter followers. Sometimes, it’s about hot men with washboard abs. Can I go now, or do you need a graphic description of how I pleasure myself at night?”

at first chance i'd take the bed warmed by the body by @spacebuck - Explicit, 8.2k

YouTuber Bucky

This close, Steve can see exactly how beautiful his hands are. He’s never really noticed before, or at least he’s never really had a reason to notice, but the man’s hands are large, tanned like he works outside all day. There’s an endearing callus on the heel of one of his palms, and Steve can’t quite work out when calluses became endearing.

Steve pauses the video. Swallows hard. Casts his eyes around for anything that’ll keep his mind off the hands on his screen, off the words inked into those hands, the delicate shape of a bird’s wing, the curling edge of a vine.

He looks down. The name of the channel is right there, blaring the man’s name right into Steve’s brain until it feels like he’s known it all along.

Bucky Barnes.

OR: the one where Bucky's a youtuber who solves puzzles on camera, and steve's smitten and horny

Came with my cool (I dropped it) by @liionne - Teen, 9.2k

Yoga Instructor Bucky

"When you said I need to loosen up, I didn't think you meant literally."

"I meant it every way. Mentally, emotionally, and physically." Natasha says, and thrusts a yoga mat at him.

there once was a diamond by bloobeary - Teen, 11.3k

Fluff, Thanksgiving

"You," Becca seethes, and hits him with a wooden spoon. "Could have told me," Hits him again. "You were dating Captain America." Final hit, Bucky laughs. He supposes he deserves it, giving her no more information than the fact he was bringing his boyfriend to Thanksgiving dinner at her house and then showing up with Steve.

Salt by littleblackfox @thelittleblackfox - Mature, 12k

Bakery AU

The cinnamon roll is gone in four bites. Four indecent, jaw-unhinging bites, and Steve sucks the last traces of lemon and icing from his fingers with a low, throaty sound of satisfaction. He glances up at Bucky, who is leaning against the counter and watching him with avid fascination.

“Um…” Steve says around his index finger. There’s still a little icing on the bed of his fingernail, and he stops trying to work it off with his tongue.

“You know those movies where the girl eats an eclair or something, and it’s really, like, sexually charged?” Bucky asks.

Steve pulls his finger out of his mouth. He’s never seen that kind of movie, but the thought of Bucky eating an eclair is certainly… well, it lingers. “Uh?”

“Yeah, well that was the exact opposite.” Steve scowls, and Bucky cackles gleefully. “You are something else, Steve.”

Leg Day by Brokenpitchpipe - Explicit, 12.1k

Gym Thot Bucky

“So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

Art Nouveau by voluptuous_panic - Explicit, 12.2k

Bartender Bucky, Tattooed & Pierced Bucky

Steve's on the worst date of his life. At least the bartender's cute.

much tattoo about nothing by @deisderium - Explicit, 14.5k

Tattoo Artist Bucky

Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.

No Wonder There's Panic in the Industry by sprinkle_of_cinnamon - Not Rated (I’d say Mature?), 20.5k

Stark Industries Intern Bucky, Team fic, Humor

In which Bucky Barnes and his BFF, Clint Barton, are NYU interns for Stark Media Group competing to be Pepper's favorite.

Or alternatively, the time Bucky assisted the P.A. team on the Steve Rogers piece and ended up (adopted) with a contact list full of Avengers.

Life of the Party by @aggressivewhenstartled - Explicit, 21.6k

Superhero Impersonator Bucky, Mistaken Identity

“You know, kids,” Steve heard from the backyard, “one of the most common threats a superhero has to face is inside an active volcano! We’re going to have to work on your evasion skills, so for the next five minutes, the floor is lava!” This was met by a sudden spike in both volume and pitch from the small children as they scrambled onto every raised surface they could find and immediately launched themselves right back off.

“I’ve never seen actual lava in my entire life,” Steve said, vaguely offended.

“You got a superhero impersonator for The Falcon’s niece’s birthday party,” Sam said, incredulous. “The Falcon, who is an actual superhero.”

Trust Enough by @geneticallydead - Explicit, 23.3k

Misunderstandings

“Saturday. Yeah, that’s good,” Steve says, and actually scuffs his shoe at the ground. Like a ridiculous shy superhero damsel. “Say eight? I live-“

“Yeah, big building with the A on it,” Bucky says, and can’t help a big stupid grin. Steve stares at him, looking a little dazed, and after their whole conversation it’s only now that Bucky’s brain catches up and realises Steve finds him quite attractive. So. Win for Bucky.

“Let me get your number,” Steve says finally, after they’ve stared stupidly at each other for about three hours, taking out his phone.

So they exchange numbers, and then Steve says he should go, and Bucky agrees, and they kind of stare at each other for a bit more, then Steve actually does go, but not before taking Bucky’s hand and squeezing it warmly in a way that makes Bucky want to shiver all over. Then Steve is gone, and Bucky is standing alone in the alley, grinning to himself.

Right up until the moment he remembers that Steve thinks Bucky is an escort he’s just hired.

Well fuck.

The Roommate by layersofart, Niitza - Teen, 28.6k

War Vet Bucky, Roommates AU, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Team fic

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

Brooklyn Baby by sprinkle_of_cinnamon - Mature, 33.7k

Coffee Shop AU, Modern Howlies, Mistaken Identity, Team Fic

In which Bucky is just trying to live life and enjoy his unofficial official table at the obnoxiously hipster coffee shop but some guy named Steve stole his spot.

Or, the time that Bucky unintentionally befriended the Avengers and had no idea.

Never Talk to Strangers by mambo @whtaft - Teen, 40.4k

Grad Student Bucky, Slow Burn

Never Talk to Strangers: or; How a Forgotten Childhood Lesson Led Bucky Barnes to Appreciate Charlie Chaplin, Befriend an A.I., Slip on Soap Bubbles, Be Mistaken for a Succubus, and Try to Woo a Superhero.

Sinking Our Teeth In The Heart Of The Sun by fallendarlings @pressrestartwrites - Explicit, 102.8k

Single Dad Bucky, Kid Fic, Slow Burn, Domestic, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Steve has Autism

Bucky Barnes never intended to become a single father at 25. But life has always enjoyed kicking him while he's down and it's showing no signs of stopping. A chance meeting with a brick wall of a guy named Steve in the formula aisle of the grocery store leads to a friendship it seems like both of them need. If only Bucky could remember that's all they are- friends. If only Steve didn't slot into their lives so perfectly and look so good spoiling Bucky's daughter (and Bucky, despite his protests).

Oh, if only Steve didn't turn out to be Captain America.

Steve Rogers is wandering around a world that he doesn't fit into, fighting for a government that he doesn't trust, just because he doesn't know what to do with himself if he ever relaxes long enough to actually think about anything other than the next mission.

And then came Bucky Barnes and his newborn baby.

More recs

[loving-inkpressions]

Burning Up [5/?]

Summary: When she applied to be the secretary for managing partner Rosé McCorkell, Denali hadn't expected to end up working for the biggest pain in her ass, nor did she expect anything beyond a professional relationship.

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Happy Wednesday all! Hope you enjoy the rollercoaster below with a side of jealousy and tenderness. ;)

Prefer reading it on AO3?

Denali stood near the bar, fiddling with the bracelet that Rosé had given her earlier that evening while she stared out at the sea of people.

It was the night of the S. Child Anniversary Gala, marking the ninth year since the three managing partners had built their law firm from the ground up. It was incredible to think how three strong women had managed to build S. Child from a small hole in the wall office to the major law firm that it was today.

And they were only in their mid thirties.

The anniversary galas had been a yearly affair since their fifth year, and it was always an event to behold filled with the city’s top socialites, celebrities, wealthy businessmen, politicians, the list of powerful people was endless. Denali hadn’t really thought that Rosé would ask her to be her plus one, seeing as how the charity benefit that she had attended the last time had been considered small compared to this.

When she had received the dress and note that morning, there had been little to no hesitation in her decision to say yes to Rosé, not after how much their relationship had grown, and especially not after Denali had finally acknowledged her own feelings for the older woman.

She remembered how she had gone into their morning meeting, her now treasured folio from Rosé in hand, and acted as if everything was normal, as if she hadn’t yet seen the dress or the note. It was like business as usual, and Denali had to smother the laughter she had wanted to let out when she saw how disappointed Rosé looked when she hadn’t brought it up. The redhead hadn’t either, not having the chance to since Denali had immediately started going through the managing partner’s itinerary for the day and given her the necessary case updates.

Denali had gotten up and turned to leave after she was done, but not before extracting the note from her folio and sliding it across Rosé’s desk with a small smile, “Yes” clearly written in blue ink at the bottom. When Rosé seen it, her returning smile had been almost blinding.

And now here she was at the gala. Alone.

Well, she hadn’t been alone for long. Rosé had been at her side since the beginning, having picked her up earlier. She had even surprised her with a delicate gold leaf bracelet, one that matched the necklace she had gotten for Denali the last time. The bracelet went well with the dress she was wearing, a dark blue backless number with a plunging neckline and thin straps that looped around her neck. The hem was down to her ankles with a long slit that reached mid thigh. She had no doubt that Rosé had picked that dress herself, with how she had whispered about how sinful her legs looked, causing Denali to blush and the redhead to smirk.

Once again, Rosé had stayed with her and was attentive to Denali’s every need, both spoken and non-spoken. There was barely a moment when she hadn’t been touching her, having her arm wrapped protectively around Denali’s waist. Her fingers would sometimes trace small mindless patterns on any exposed skin that was within her reach, causing Denali to perpetually have to bite the inside of her cheek in an attempt to stop herself from blushing or allowing herself to grin too widely. It didn’t help that throughout the night, Rosé had taken to constantly whispering in her ear about how beautiful she looked either, that she was surely the envy of every person in the room, and that there was no one else she would rather be with.

The last statement had thrown Denali off with how Rosé had sounded so sincere, the usual playful look on her face gone when she pulled away slightly. There had been a spark of sorts, the skin beneath Rosé’s fingertips suddenly feeling warmer than usual and Denali could see her gaze flitting from her eyes to her lips.

Denali swore that they would have actually kissed if Jan hadn’t turned up at that exact moment to pull Rosé away to meet a prospective business partner. Rosé had looked annoyed at the other woman’s interruption, but hadn’t complained. She left Denali reluctantly, but not before taking the blonde’s hand and pressing a quick kiss to the back of it, promising to be back soon. She had then disappeared in the crowd together with Jan, the other managing partner throwing an apologetic look Denali’s way as they departed.

And now here she was standing at the bar, trying to catch the attention of the bartender. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to want to pay her any concern with how he was fixated on the more prominent guests there, making Denali feel small and reminding her of who she really was in the grand scheme of things. She was just about to give up when she heard a voice behind her.

“Excuse me, I believe this beautiful young lady here has been waiting for you to take her order for quite a while now.”

Denali was startled and turned to find a statuesque blonde woman standing behind her, her lips curved into a smile as she winked down at Denali.

“Of course. My apologies, Miss Michaels.” The bartender muttered as he came over, attending to them.

“Go on, tell the nice bartender what you want.” The woman playfully nudged at Denali. She nodded in response and stammered out her order of a whiskey sour, followed by the other woman ordering a martini for herself, and watched as the bartender swiftly made their drinks before leaving to serve another wealthy businessman.

“Thank you, Miss Michaels..?”

“It was nothing, and I couldn’t very well leave a damsel in distress now, could I? And please, call me Kameron. Miss Michaels feels far too official.”

Kameron Michaels? Why did that name sound so familiar to Denali…

“And you are? Miss..?”

Denali snapped out of her thoughts and smiled. “Foxx. Denali Foxx.” She held out her hand to shake Kameron’s in a polite gesture, but was surprised when Kameron had taken her hand and kissed the back of it instead.

“Denali. Pretty name for a pretty girl.” Kameron smiled charmingly at her, causing Denali to blush, which she tried to hide by taking a sip of her drink as she carefully withdrew her hand. “So what brings you to this gala? And alone, no less.” Kameron continued, looking at her as she drank from her own glass.

“Oh, I’m not alone. I’m here as someone’s plus one.”

She raised her brow at Denali. “Really? Now who would be silly enough to leave you all by yourself in a room full of sharks? That’s not very safe.”

“Are you calling yourself a shark then, Kameron?” Denali couldn’t help herself from shooting back, feeling somewhat at ease as the other woman threw her head back in laughter.

“Witty and charming on top of being a beauty? Your partner really must have lost his senses to have left you alone.”

“Well, I can handle myself just fine. I don’t need her protection.”

Kameron’s eyes flashed at that. “Her protection?” She took a step closer to Denali. “Well, how about I be your partner in her stead? I’m sure it’d be better than being alone.”

“Oh, er-“

“Temporarily, of course, until she comes back. How about a dance?”

Denali faltered. Kameron seemed nice enough, and she wasn’t sure how long more till Rosé would be back. And it was just a dance.

Wasn’t it?

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, Denali, one dance wouldn’t hurt.”

She looked at the hand extended out towards her and the smile on Kameron’s face. She took one quick look around the room, not seeing Rosé anywhere in sight and nodded, not wanting to be rude.

“Just one dance then.”

Kameron smiled at Denali and took her drink from her, setting both their glasses down on the bar and leading them to the dance floor. She had been respectful, asking Denali if she would be alright with her placing her hand on her waist, knowing that her fingers would be on her bare skin with her backless dress, which was something Denali appreciated and she gave her consent. Taking hold of her other hand as Denali placed one on her shoulder, Kameron guided her as they danced and chatted, the atmosphere light between them.

Denali found that Kameron was funny and down to earth, something that was different in a sea of big wigs and uppity people. She genuinely found herself having a good time with her, almost forgetting that she was there with Rosé. Almost being the keyword. As lovely as Kameron was, it was still Rosé that Denali wanted to dance with, not Kameron.

As Denali laughed at something Kameron had said, the taller woman smiled warmly down at Denali.

“You really have no idea who I am, do you?”

Denali cocked her head to the side before she shook her head.

“No, should I? Though I have to admit that your name does sound familiar.”

Kameron grinned. “It’s nice, you know, having someone treat you like you’re a normal person, and not just because you’re rich.”

“Well, you seem normal enough to me. Money doesn’t change who you are unless you let it.” Denali replied, making the grin on Kameron’s face widen.

“You know, if you didn’t already have a partner, I’d whisk you away and steal you for myself.”

Denali paused, stunned at Kameron’s forwardness. “Oh, I-“

“Denali?”

She felt the hand on her waist tighten just a little as she heard Rosé’s voice behind her, not noticing how the smile on Kameron’s face slipped just a bit. She turned around, stepping out of Kameron’s arms, her face brightening when she saw Rosé.

“Rosé, you’re back-” Her voice died down when she saw the almost stony expression on the redhead’s face, and she gulped inwardly.

Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to dance with Kameron after all.

Rosé stepped forward and pulled Denali to her side, an arm wrapping around her waist in a possessive grip that left Denali tensing up a little.

“McCorkell.”

“Michaels. I see that you’ve met my partner here.”

Kameron’s smile slipped even more and was replaced with a sarcastic smirk.

“Oh, is Denali your partner now? I saw her all by herself and thought she was alone. It’s not in very good taste to leave one’s date alone, is it? Especially one as pretty and charming as her.”

Rosé’s eyes flashed, her grip on Denali tightened and the blonde swallowed hard, not knowing what to do.

“I agree, although I also don’t think it’s in very good taste to steal away another’s partner.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have left her in the first place.” Kameron sniped back, eyes narrowing.

“Watch yourself, Michaels, I don’t like it when other people touch what’s mine.”

“Or what, McCorkell? What are you going to do about it?”

Rosé’s jaw clenched at the challenge, her grip turning almost painful around Denali’s waist. Denali let out an involuntary whimper at the tightening grip, drawing both sets of eyes to her and Rosé quickly relaxed her hold. Kameron frowned, but didn’t say anything more after a moment’s consideration. Instead she turned her attention back to Denali, her expression dropping back to a pleasant one as she smiled at her.

“I think it’s best if I leave. It was lovely to meet you, Denali, and I hope to see you again soon. Perhaps in different circumstances.” Giving her one last smile, Kameron turned to leave, throwing a quick look of contempt at Rosé as she left.

Denali let out the breath the she had been unconsciously holding in as Kameron walked away before looking up at Rosé, who was staring after Kameron before looking down at Denali, the wrinkle between her brows smoothing as she looked down at her.

“Denali-“

“What was that?”

There was a pause. Rosé sighed, pulling Denali to the side where there were less people, before she replied. “I mean, she was clearly trying to make a move on you.” Denali frowned as she stepped away from Rosé.

“Even so, that doesn’t give you the right to act the way that you did.”

Rosé’s brows raised. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t know what just happened, and I don’t know whatever history there is between the two of you, but I don’t like being treated like some object. I am not a thing for you to own.” Denali shot back. She hadn’t liked being caught in the middle, hadn’t like the obvious tension and how Rosé had been. It had been clear that there was some bad blood between them.

“I’m not saying that you are-“

“Really? Then why did you act as if someone just snatched away your favourite toy? I was just dancing with her.”

Rosé sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Denali, you can’t be that oblivious.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you need to be more aware of who you are and who you’re talking to.”

The blonde frowned, clenching her fists in an attempt to control her rising anger. “Look Rosé, I know I’m here as your plus one, but that doesn’t give you the right to dictate what I can or cannot do.”

“That may be true, but don’t forget that at the end of the day, I am still your boss and you are my secretary!”

Denali recoiled at that, stunned at Rosé’s statement. It felt like a slap to the face, and every insecurity she had about her position, about who she was and who Rosé was came flooding back. It took Rosé a moment to realise the full impact of what she had just said, the realisation dawning on her face, but it was too late. She reached out for Denali, as if physically wanting to take her words back.

“I didn’t mean to-”

Denali took a step back, her face schooled into a carefully blank expression.

“I have to go.”

“Denali-”

“I’ll see you in the office, Miss McCorkell.”

Rosé’s face fell at how Denali addressed her as Miss McCorkell again.

“Please, at least let me drive you home.”

Denali shook her head, smiling bitterly. “There’s no need to, and it wouldn’t be very appropriate for you to drive your secretary home, would it?” She replied as she took another step back.

“I-“

“Have a good evening, Miss McCorkell.”

Denali turned and walked away from Rosé, not wanting to face her anymore, the careful mask on her face crumbling with every step. She could hear Rosé calling after her, but she ignored it, not wanting to face her.

Not when she could feel her heart slowly breaking with each step.

———

When she had gotten home that evening, she had refused to let herself cry. She instead stripped herself of her dress and stuffed it in the back of her closet, took a quick shower and collapsed into bed, letting herself fall into a fitful sleep.

Over the weekend, Denali had switched off her phone, knowing that Rosé would likely try to reach out to her, and instead chose to hole herself up in her apartment watching reruns and trying her hardest not to think about what had happened. She had buried herself under her blankets on her couch, wrapped up in an oversized hoodie while hugging a pillow to her chest and staring numbly at the screen. Denali couldn’t even bring herself to go to the rink to skate it out of her, her limbs feeling far too heavy and her insides hollow.

She felt foolish, having let herself dream that something could ever happen between the two of them, but the truth had hit her square in the face and she had come tumbling back to reality.

Rosé was her boss.

Denali was her secretary.

And that was it.

———

37 unread messages and 11 missed calls.

That was what greeted Denali when she finally switched her phone back on that Monday morning when she was entering the office building. She sighed as she unlocked her phone. Not everything had been from Rosé. Some were from friends, though mostly from Kandy wanting to know how her Friday night had been with Rosé, and if she and Rosé had finally slept with each other.

Denali felt the corner of her lips twitch at the irony of it as she scrolled through the rest of her unread messages, her thumb hovering over Rosé’s name in her message inbox before deciding to leave them unread. She still didn’t have the courage to look at them yet, the feeling of a heavy weight in her chest.

Dropping her bag onto the floor, Denali switched on her laptop and got to work, going through her emails and gathering all the necessary materials that she needed for her usual morning meeting with Rosé, already dreading it. Just seconds before their meeting, Denali found herself standing before the familiar wooden door, gnawing nervously at her bottom lip before finally squaring her shoulders and knocking on the door and waited, something she hadn’t done in a very long time.

If Rosé saw her as nothing but her secretary, then that was exactly what Denali was going to be.

There had been a minute of silence before the door opened, and Denali found herself face to face with a worn looking Rosé, which surprised her. Normally the redhead would look impeccable, not a crease in sight nor a strand of hair out of place. This Rosé however looked tired and just a touch unpolished. Denali felt herself wanting to reach out to Rosé, to comfort her, to do something, but stopped herself from doing so. Instead she tightened her hold on the folio that she hugged to her chest, as if it were a barrier between the two of them.

“Good morning, Miss McCorkell.”

Rosé stared at her for a moment before silently stepping aside to let her in. Denali walked over and sat in her usual seat in front of Rosé’s desk and opened her folio as Rosé sat in her own chair, the redhead clasping her hands as she looked at Denali. Even though her heart was racing, even though every fibre of her being wanted her to run, Denali kept things professional and did her job. She went through Rosé’s schedule for the day, highlighted to her the key points and important memos that she needed to know.

When she was done, she closed her folio and moved to leave.

“Denali?”

She stopped when she heard Rosé, but refused to look her in the eye.

“Listen, I’m-“

“If there is nothing else, Miss McCorkell, I’ll be taking my leave now. I have a stack of reports that I need to file by the end of the day.”

Rosé watched Denali for a beat, wanting to say something, but instead she sighed dejectedly, resigned.

“Right, of course.”

Denali nodded at her and left, trying her best to ignore how she could feel Rosé’s eyes burning the back of her head as she did.

———

For the next few days, Denali and Rosé went through the motions, with things between them kept strictly professional, both acting tentatively around each other. By Thursday, Denali felt drained from trying to hold herself back. She wanted things to go back to the way they used to be, but Rosé’s words kept haunting her, and her own words and insecurities echoed the same sentiments right back. She knew she was being dumb, but she would rather feel hurt now than risk hurting even more in the long run by letting herself live in delusion.

It was near the end of the day when Denali found herself back in the filing room sitting in the corner again, feeling more tired than usual and overwhelmed. It hadn’t been a very good day, having started with one of Rosé’s clients screaming at her over the phone, then the endless stream of emails for the new case, and finally when she had accidentally dropped her cup of coffee in the pantry and in the process shattering the cup that Rosé had gotten her weeks ago. She had promptly cleaned up the mess and retreated to the filing room to calm herself down, feeling herself starting to fray at the edges. She had to force herself not to cry, not wanting to show any sign of weakness and remain as strong as possible, but she was getting a little tired, just wanting to go back home and curl up in bed and sleep.

She sat there in the filing room alone for a good few minutes, letting her emotions settle down before she finally took a deep breath and got up, walking towards the door. Just when Denali was a few feet away from it, she heard the door knob rattle and twist open, revealing to her the very woman that had been haunting her thoughts and dreams for the past few days. She stopped in her tracks, eyes wide in surprise.

“Rosé- I mean, Miss McCorkell.”

Rosé looked wordlessly at Denali from the doorway before she entered the room, shutting the door with a click. She took a step towards Denali, her hands in her pockets as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, before finally speaking.

“Denali, I’m not letting you leave this room until you hear me out.”

Denali stared back at Rosé, feeling her hands go cold as anxiety settled in her bones.

“I-“

“No, let me finish this time. I’m done with letting you run away, and now you’re going to listen to me.”

Denali swallowed thickly as determined hazel eyes bored into her wavering brown ones, and she slowly nodded back in response.

“Okay,” She replied. “I’ll listen.”

Rosé nodded, and took one step towards her.

“Denali, I’m sorry for how I acted at the gala, and I’m sorry for what I said. It was stupid of me, and I never should have let my emotions get the better of me.”

Denali stared at her feet, her fingers twisting together.

She didn’t know what to say.

“Denali?”

“You really hurt my feelings.” She whispered, her voice shaking as she willed herself not to cry.

“I’m sorry.” Rosé took a step closer.

“I thought that you were looking down on me.” The tears that Denali was holding back were starting to blur her vision.

“Never, angel. I would never look down on you. Ever.” Two steps closer.

“It really, really hurt to think that you thought of me as nothing more than your secretary, even though that’s exactly what I am.”

A few more steps in and Rosé engulfed Denali in her arms as her tears started to fall.

“No Denali, never. You are so much more than that.”

Denali felt warm and gentle fingers brush the tears off of her cheeks. She blinked the remaining tears away and looked up, finding herself getting lost in Rosé’s gaze, her heart threatening to burst from her chest at how Rosé was looking at her, at how close they were. Rosé cupped Denali’s cheeks, thumbs tenderly stroking the curve of her cheekbones.

“You mean so much more to me than you know.”

Denali hesitated for a moment before tentatively resting her hands on top of the Rosé’s as she leaned closer, revelling in her warmth.

“You mean a lot to me too, Rosé.” Denali whispered back, for once not caring about the consequences of her words. Rosé’s lips curved into a smile, and Denali found herself slowly smiling back, the heavy weight in her chest finally disappearing.

Rosé leaned forward and gently grazed her lips against Denali’s forehead then tugged her into a tight embrace. They stood silently wrapped in each other’s arms, letting themselves finally relax in each other’s presence after so long.

It was like everything was finally falling into place.

———

That evening, Rosé had driven Denali home, and it was almost as if everything was back to normal.

Well, almost back to normal.

When Rosé had driven her home, instead of just dropping her off at the curb like she usually did, she had instead parked at the side and walked Denali to her door. At her doorstep, Rosé had carefully stroked her cheek, eyes full of warmth as she leaned in and kissed Denali on the cheek before she whispered good night and left, leaving Denali to ponder what had really transpired between the two of them.

The next morning, Denali had arrived at her desk to find a new cup to replace the one she had broken and next to it lay a dozen fully bloomed red roses. Denali had dropped her bag onto the ground and picked up the bouquet, a smile spreading across her face as she knew exactly who they were from. Holding them up to her nose, she breathed in the scent of the fresh blooms and let out a small laugh as they tickled her nose. There was a soft thump as a thick white card fell from the stalks and onto the floor.

Curious, Denali bent down and picked it up. She flipped the card over and read what was written on it, feeling her cheeks warm and her heart flutter at the words.

For the most beautiful woman I know.

Yours, Rosé

———

A/N: I was seriously contemplating on whether to leave this chapter on a cliffhanger, but I decided not to choose chaos today.

[sweeethinny]

The Duke - Chapter 5

I took a while to update, I thought about quitting sometimes, I won't lie, but, I started reading fanfics and books about Monarchy and regency era theme, and all my creativity came back.

Thank you as always, @theroomofreq who is very kind to me and helps me beta this story And to all my friends who need to listen to my crazy ideas

AO3 | FF.NET | SIYE (soon) 

| G. W |

It was barely dawn when that newspaper fell on the Weasleys' door and the elf caught it. It was like every other day, well rolled, with the ink still fresh, full of gossip, important news, and political speculation, in addition to that malicious hint that they introduced in the news, to be just mean to some stupid Viscount that was stolen - and deserved it - or a newly decorated Marquis who married a woman who struck him - and who also deserved it.

It was just another normal day.

Or so it was meant to be.

As soon as Ginny came down to breakfast, she felt that something was different in the air, or maybe it was the fact that her brothers and mother were on top of her father to be able to read the newspaper page too.

‘’Good morning.’’ She called, but no one paid any attention to her. ‘’What’s so important? Did we find a gold mine?’’ Ginny stood next to Ron, needing to tiptoe to read the main and most eye-catching story on the front page of the newspaper.

'’The - yet - Duke and Duchess of Godric’s Hollow, James and Lily Potter, open the doors of their country house, for the first time in 20 years, for the fiftieth Dueling Party.

Check out more information, and the guest list so far, on page 13.’’

‘’Were we invited?’’ Ginny asked, wanting her father to leave that page right away where showed a picture of the couple in front of their huge country house, with the two of them not looking so happy to pose for the camera.

‘‘We were.’’ Ron confirmed, still looking at the newspaper. ‘’I think… Did Mr Potter go crazy?’’

‘’Ron! Don't say that!’’ Molly slapped his son on the arm, scolding him. ‘’Arthur dear, do you know why… this? Lily's authorizing something like this to happen?’’

''James had talked about applying some measures at Godric's Hollow and some changes but ... I didn't imagine he would host the Dueling Party ... I mean, they have a pretty big list of guests.'' Father said, still standing at same page of the newspaper.

‘’I heard they think they know where their son is.’’ Fred said, a little quietly, as if saying something terrible.

‘’Lily will die looking for that son.. I don’t blame her, of course, but… It’s been almost 24 years, how does she think she can find the boy? Only Merlin knows who took him, where they took him…’’ Her mother put her hand on her chest, facing Ginny. ‘’We need to find you with a new dress.’’

‘‘No mom, please.’’ Ginny denied, looking back at the newspaper. ‘’But what if he’s really alive? How will they find him? Is that why they’re having the party this year?’’

‘’James says the boy was born with a brand.’‘ The father clarified. ‘’But I don’t know if that’s why they decided-- ’’

‘‘-- I’m sorry.’’ Henry’s voice interrupted Arthur’s, and the man bowed to everyone in the room. ''Mr. Weasley, I think you would like to accompany me.'' The man did not look at Ginny, as if he was afraid to show too much, holding a torn piece of paper tightly and having his left forearm grated and dirty. Had he fallen?

'‘Of course, Mr Figg. Excuse me, love.’’ Arthur kissed his wife respectfully and then followed Henry out of the dining room. Ginny almost ran after them, knowing it seemed to have something to do with her, just from the way Henry avoided looking at her.

She hated it when they made her look like a damsel in distress who couldn't distinguish fire from ice.

''Ginny, we will see this afternoon about your dress, and Ron, we also need to decide on new clothes for you ...'' Her mother continued to talk about the duties they would have for the next few days, but all Ginny could pay attention to was in Henry walking away. His cloak was torn in the back and it looked like he had just arrived - which was strange, because he never left in the morning, always preferring to go out in the afternoon when Ginny was at tea time with her mother, or at night, at dinner time. Henry always said that in the morning, it was the time that crazy people wake up and make a mess.

He looked over his shoulder after her dad turned the corner of the hall and disappeared towards the office, but he also followed the path before Ginny was able to have any appropriate reaction.

After his intrusion, and the delay for her father to return, Ginny had to be taken care of by another Auror (she was told that Henry needed to go to his office), and nowhere was Thomas as gentle and nice to her as Henry was. 

All morning, Ginny felt like she was being followed by a ghost, in silence for all the hours that passed, a little disconcerted that Thomas didn't like talking to her like Henry did - even though sometimes it was just yes and no - and when she had to leave the house to keep her mother company on the way to the center, Ginny was excited to at least hear different voices.

''Does Mrs. Potter know that I need to bring Mr. Figg?'' Ginny asked, looking at the windows they passed, daydreaming about those colorful and well-sewn dresses.

Even though her father was a Viscount, Arthur had been decorated one after the other 10 in front of him died, so there was not much inheritance for them to benefit from. They weren't really poor, Ginny could still choose a dress sewn by a top dressmaker on special occasions, but she knew that the family had far more limitations than other families who had a wardrobe all made just for them.

‘’I wouldn’t like you to bring him,’’ The mother started, raising her gloved hand as if she already knew that Ginny was going to interrupt her. "It's always quite threatening when he stays behind you wherever you go, and maybe that's what limits gentlemen to ask you out." The younger redhead bit her cheek, swallowing the urge to say what prevented men from getting close to her was that she was seen as crazy. ‘‘But your father would never let us leave the property without him following, so… Yes, Mrs. Potter already knows that Mr. Figg will be with you.’’

‘‘I thought they didn’t throw parties anymore.’’ She commented quietly, smiling at a lady who was looking at her a little terrified, pulling her little daughter aside when Ginny passed.

Ah, London hospitality, always so pleasant.

‘’We all thought so.’’ Molly spread the fan in her hands, fanning herself because of the heat that seemed to be almost deadly. ‘‘But it looks like Mrs. Potter is tired of leaving the doors closed.’’

‘’I don’t remember visiting their house.’’

‘’You first came right when you were born, we introduced you to them. We have a picture of you and little Harry in the crib.'' Her mother sighed, stopping in front of the shop for hats, gloves and other accessories (not as chic as the one on the top street where jewelry was sold) and smiled at Ginny . ‘’Let's go in, I want to see if we can find some hats for you. Maybe there is a suitor who captures your heart during the Dueling Party.’’

[...]

‘'The Dueling Party …’’ Ginny repeated, rereading the news for the tenth time. ‘’Do you know what they say about this party?’’ She asked, looking over her shoulder at Thomas, standing behind her, while she was dining alone.

He denied. Ginny snorted, annoyed by the silence.

‘’Do you know where Mr. Figg is?’’ It was a lot more fun to have dinner with his company.

‘’No, Miss.’’

‘’Do you know when he comes back?’’

‘‘No, Miss.’’ Ginny turned to the untouched plate in front of her. Her father had spent the day outside, just like Henry, Ron had gone out with Fred somewhere, and her mother had already gone to bed, saying she was having a headache from the heat. She sighed, alone.

Thomas was married, not that he told her, she had seen the ring in his hand, and Ginny hoped he would be more talkative outside of work, or she would send her condolences to the poor woman who was married to a ghost.

The day had been quite boring, even after going out with her mother - which resulted in her buying a new hat - her father had sent a Patron with strict orders not to leave the house. Not even to fly. So Ginny spent the afternoon reading, knitting, and even pruning some flowers. All without saying much, since Thomas seemed to hate any human interaction.

At first, Henry was like that, too, quietly, until he seemed to feel sorry for Ginny's loneliness (and his own, since he was 24/7 by her side), and they started talking and she was even able to convince him sit at the table with her when no one was attending dinner.

But today, even after Thomas has been with her a few times, he still seemed to completely ignore the warmth and preferred to remain silent, leaving Ginny talking to herself.

When she thought about starting dinner - even though the chicken looked pale and the potatoes didn't look so appetizing - she heard footsteps toward the dining room, and before she could understand who was coming in, his voice boomed through the quiet room; ‘’Mr. Thomas, you can go to your home. Thank you very much.’’ Henry bowed to her a little. ‘’Good night, Miss Weasley, forgive me for being late.’’

‘’Good night, Mr. Figg.’’ ’Ginny had to bite her cheek to avoid the smile that wanted to break her face. The other Auror bowed to her and left the room, looking even relieved of an unknown tension that weighed on his shoulders. ‘’He doesn’t seem to like me very much.’’ She continued to look at the door through which the man had disappeared.

‘’If you want to know a secret,’’ Henry spoke softly, and approached her a little. ‘‘I don’t think he even likes himself.’’ Ginny laughed, her chest seeming to burn with that feeling of comfort that the man gave to her. It was always so simple to be around him, even when they were around several people and Henry was not allowed to give his real opinions (he would never give them, anyway, but Ginny knew that when it was just the two of them, he could be one little less judicious)

‘’May I know where you and my father have been?’’ She gave up on dinner, turning entirely to Henry and putting her arms on the back of the chair, resting her head there and staring at him curiously. ‘’It was a very boring day.’’

‘’Sorry to leave you, Miss.’’ Like a great gentleman he was, he nodded politely. ‘’But unfortunately I can’t tell you where we went. You’ll have to ask your father.’’

‘’And will he tell me?’’ She tried hopefully.

''I do not think so. Sorry.''

‘‘It’s not your fault.’’ She shrugged, only then really looking at him. Henry was still as he was yesterday; his slightly old and crooked glasses made his green eyes even bigger, Auror's clothes were so tightly buttoned and without any wrinkles that Ginny was embarrassed about her dress, which had a slightly worn hem. But unlike yesterday, she realized that his left hand was bandaged. ''What happened?''

‘’Ah… problems.’’ Henry shrugged. ‘’Another time we can discuss this, but I don’t think it is an issue for a lady who… still needs dinner.’’ He looked over her shoulder at her untouched plate - which now seemed to have gained color and life.

‘’Have you eaten yet?’’ Ginny turned around, slicing the chicken and smiling eagerly for him to sit with her.

''Already, Miss. Sorry.’’ Ginny could even hear his sad smile.

"But sit still, you know I hate to eat alone." She helped herself to the wine, having to bite her cheek again to keep from smiling and bursting into words she swallowed all day, when he sat in front of her. ‘’Can I ask you just one thing?’’

‘’For sure, Miss.’’ Henry seemed to want to disagree when Ginny spilled wine in his glass, but said nothing.

''Your bruised hand, the disappearance for the whole day, and the bloody story... has to do with me?'' She said, filling her mouth with a good forkful of chicken, peas and puree, staring at Henry with a pink color on his cheeks and he looked away from hers for a second.

‘’Yes, Miss.’’ He sighed, looking tense. ‘’But I’m not allowed to say more than that.’’ And then Henry pointed his finger at the walls around them, silent, and then at his own ear.

The walls have ears.

Ginny could not contain the reaction of bulging her eyes and looking at the large window beside them, which showed the entire backyard of the dark and lost yard in the darkness of the night, the trees making a lot of noise, as well as the wind whistling in the small openings of the glass and some old wood.

Henry was still staring at her, his green eyes almost seemed to enter her mind.

‘’What was I doing when I got the scar on my leg?’’ Ginny was alarmed, placing her hand on the wand at her waist, and the other holding the knife even stronger.

‘’You went up on the roof to save a cat, and when I thought was safe and tried to go up too, you slipped and cut your leg on a loose tile.’’ She blew out the air she seemed to be holding. ‘’I’m glad you remember to ask this, but it would have been too late,’’ Henry said, without taking his eyes off her. ‘’You have to do this when I arrive, not after inviting me to sit.’’ He warned her, his eyebrow dark and cut in half by the scar, rising and arching.

‘’I would know if you were an impostor.’’ For some reason she couldn’t take her eyes off him, feeling her chest burn and her hands tremble. And unlike any other time this happened, it was as if her magic was more controlled rather than totally insane inside Ginny.

‘’Miss didn’t seem so sure of that.’’ Henry didn’t seem bothered to look her in the eye either.

‘’I just doubted it. But I would know.’’ She didn’t know how, but something inside her said she would know.

‘’I’m happy that no imposter would take my place.’’ Henry smirked. ‘’I would also know how to differentiate you from an impostor.’’ And then he looked away at the window, and Ginny’s chest seemed to almost break without the pressure that was building there.

She even managed to fill her lungs with air.

| H. F |

‘’If you allow me to ask..’’ Ginny started, as they walked to the place where they were training duels. A place that Mr. Weasley had built after the clearing, where no one would get hurt or end up drawing much attention. It was not respectful for girls born in good families to know the art of dueling.

It was another day, nearly seven in the morning when Henry had to wake Ginny up so they could train the duel. After yesterday's threat, it would be necessary for her to be more than prepared if he could not defend her alone - but he was training even more so that it would not happen.

‘’Where do your scars come from? The one you have on your forehead. I mean.'' She pointed with her gloved hand at his forehead, almost touching where the lightning-like scar was marked on his skin.

‘’It’s too bloody a story for seven in the morning. And for a lady like you.’’ He kept up his education, already seeing the hut they haven’t visited in a few months, trying to ignore the feeling of failure due to having to make a woman like her, needing to learn the art of dueling. Dueling with an auror, to top it off, and not with figures he would transfigure, as he did for the boys who had been a tutor a few years ago.

No Auror learned to duel as Ginny Weasley needed to learn.

Women usually - if they learned to duel - did it with transfigured birds, wooden figures, and sometimes, if it was very necessary, the teacher would participate or call another woman who also trained, so that they would duel.

Ginny was dueling with an Auror who could do this even with his eyes closed, and who had already killed so many men that he almost needed a third hand to count how many.

''Well, if I'm asking for the story of your scar, I'm wise enough to know that I'm going to hear a bloody story.'' Henry opened the wooden hut door for her to enter first, and the smell of damp wood and dust entered their noses. Sunlight passed through broken planks and windows, and the lack of furniture (or what was left over and already broken) caused their voices to echo.

‘’They tried to kill me when I was a kid.’’ He didn’t have to look at her to see her eyes bulge, instead he walked to his usual place and started getting ready for them to start dueling.

‘’Who would do that ?! This is ... This is horrible!’’

‘’I know, Miss.’’ Henry never doubted that. ''But you would be astonished at how many crazy people there are.'' He saw her getting ready across the room, taking off the cloak, gloves and hat that her mother insisted she really wear, even inside the property.

‘’How did you get out alive?’’ Her brown eyes looked a little horrified and a little angry, as if she wanted to protect him. Henry wanted to laugh at the concern of a Viscount's daughter, at a poor man like him. In no dream or hallucination would a woman so above him look at him and speak as she did, always so friendly, seeming not even to notice how foolish she left him.

Henry was only above the bourgeois and, obviously, the miserable and squib (a class that his mother, unfortunately, belonged to), and by very little yet. If it weren't for sheer luck and being in the right place at the right time, Henry would never know what it was like to step inside the Auror Department.

‘‘My mom saved me.’’ He said, simply, but Ginny was still staring at him absurdly. ‘’In fact, she’s not my birth mother… My birth mother died at the hands of the Death Eaters. But she has looked after me since one of the Death Eaters tried to kill me, and here I am, safe and sound.’’

''I've never seen a spell that left a scar.'' She approached, eyes fixed on Henry's forehead, and her bare hand touched his skin, making him shiver and make him walk away in fright, as if her touch burned his face. ‘‘Sorry.’’ Ginny blushed furiously, still looking more scared, withdrawing her hand.

'’It's okay, Miss.’’ Henry swallowed, the wand in his hand shaking slightly, as if the magic wanted to explode out of it at all costs. ‘’And, I don’t know how I came out with just a scar. Maybe my magic saved me.’’

‘’Yeah… maybe it is.’’ Ginny now looked into his eyes, looking a little too serious, the brown eyes that Henry thought were so beautiful, seemed to carry a mountain of feelings that she would never let out. At least, not for him. ‘’Come on… let’s train.’’ And then she turned her back on him, the purple robes making her look like a witch from a Muggle fairy tale. Her hair tied tightly in the braid made her look a little more challenging than she usually was.

Henry knew he would never find a woman more beautiful than she was, and he cursed himself for thinking of her that way.

‘’We’re going to start.’’ He had to breathe deeply, before getting back in line and starting.

They bowed to each other in a sign of respect - if there was any respect in a duel - and then raised their wands.

Ginny and Henry had already dueled a few times, much more than a lady should, and he knew that she was really good and that if they accepted women at the Auror Academy, she would be even better than most the men who worked there. But whenever they dueled, Henry felt that electricity running in his wand, making it difficult to keep the spells for a long time, as if his wands refused to duel.

The magic was out of control - that's why Mr. Weasley had a hut built away from everyone and empty - and he could see the intensity of her magic almost greater than his. There always seemed to be something missing to make his strengths equal, and Henry thought that maybe it was the fact that he always feared for hurting her, while Ginny was instructed to use all her strength.

‘’Expelliarmus.’’ He whispered to himself

‘‘Estupor.’’ Ginny also spoke in an almost lower tone than Henry, and then the spells dueled, and the electricity almost looked like it was about to kill him. His arm was shaking, and the strength of the spells facing each other made the boards tremble and the rest of the entire furniture began to want to dismantle.

But for some reason Ginny lost her focus, and then Henry's magic won and her wand flew into his hands, just as her body stumbled over the furniture behind her.

He also lost his balance, and had it not been for the table well placed behind him, he would have been shamefully thrown back.

‘’I heard a noise.’’ She said, startled. ''I saw someone passing by, behind the house.'' And as if all the strength was suddenly recovered, Henry stood up and looked behind him, through the gaps in the wood where all you could see was the forest.

‘’Are you sure?’’ He asked, already casting a protective spell around them and throwing her wand at her, walking towards her and keeping her behind him - even though she insisted on going to his side.

''Yes. I saw someone. It wasn't a deer or anything. It was a person.’’ Henry’s magic trembled again, and just for safety, he cast three more protective spells around them, and grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the house. ''Don't let me stay behind, someone can hit me from behind and you won't even see.'' She complained when he once again put his body in front of hers, stamping her feet next to Henry, who was looking at the forest silent around them.

‘’Miss, you will stay in the circle of protection, while I will see if there is anyone, understood?’’ He stared at her, the taste of blood dominating the palate with the idea of ​​yet another crazy men trying to kill her.

''But I--''

‘’--Don’t make me petrify you. And I will. ’’ Henry didn’t even give her time to complain, throwing more protections around her, stepping out of the circle and preparing to grab another idiot who tried to get close to Ginny.

Yesterday morning Henry had found a miserable boy, doing the dirty work for wealthy people, bringing with him a cursed Ginny doll and a letter detailing exactly what they would do when they caught her. Henry didn't even like to remember the fury that surrounded him when he read what they intended to do. Not even over his corpse, would anyone touch her.

They were starting to be more creative now. It was the second cursed item they tried to get to Ginny.

Making sure she was still safe - and she looked furious in the circle Henry had created - he started walking around, looking at the sides of the house and a little way through the trees, but never losing sight of Ginny, who was so well protected that he could barely hear her voice.

But maybe Henry should have paid attention to what she was screaming, or trying to scream, because when a spell tried to hit him and ricocheted away, he knew it was she who was protecting him, and that they were with visitors. But he saw no one.

Turning to her, even more furious, Henry felt protected once again, seeing that Ginny was also surrounding him with protective spells, and he made the sign that she needed to leave. He told her to Apparate, but Ginny stayed there, denying it while Henry felt his protective sense scream inside him.

Better him than her.

He hid behind a tree, still feeling protected, and concentrating on the image of Ginny and her mesmerizing eyes, Henry struggled to enter her mind, as they had trained exhaustively. But it always seemed easier with her.

''Apparate out of here.. Now.''

He ordered, even though that part of the Forest was strangely quiet. Had they given up?

‘’Not without you.’’ She snapped in his mind, and Henry wished he could shake her shoulders.

‘’You are more important than me.Get out. They won’t see you, you’re protected.’’

''Not. Without. You.''

Henry took a deep breath and looked behind the tree, looking for whoever it was, wondering what he would do with that stubborn woman. There was no more noise, no spell shining, everything was silent. Which was even more dangerous.

They wouldn't come and just shoot Henry and leave without even fighting. But he was not staying to see.

And if he could bet, he knew it was more dangerous for them to stay there, waiting for them to come back. They had done this once, killed a deer as a threat, so Henry knew there must be a dead animal somewhere nearby.

He would send a patronus to Robards.

'’Apparate to our safe place. I will meet you there.’’ He spoke to her, still in mind.

‘’Do you promise to go?’’

‘’I’m right behind you, Miss.’’

[dikiyvter]

Continuation from [X] w/ @cynicalartisan​:

They have grown comfortable. What a terrible mistake–

At first, they attribute their current state to simply… drinking a bit too much. Perhaps the exhaustion of the day is finally hitting them. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time such a thing has happened.

Still… it is growing worse. Lio rubs at their eyes, getting up and deciding the best thing for them is to go out and get some air. Yes, fresh air always does wonders for their mood and how they physically feel. A deep inhale is taken as they stretch their arms and take deep breaths in an effort to calm down. Perhaps a walk will help more. Yes… That will settle their head and help clear their thoughts.

And it is due to their current state that they fail to realize they are being followed. [...]

       HE HAD GONE OUT FOR A WALK. Something to ease the mind of the worries that often prevailed this time of night; It always seemed that as the sun began to go down so too did Rigatello’s ability to focus. Mind slipped eager from the letters he’d spent the bulk of the day reading and writing; Correspondence to and from Snezhnaya, Agents in Fontaine that claimed to hold intelligence on the location of the younger of two automatons, a letter from Pulcinella that he was far too anxious to open. So much to do, and yet, so little mental energy to complete such tasks. Fresh air was needed. A stretch of legs that ached from sitting all day long-- And as he stepped into the night air and felt the static thrum of his vision on his belt, the twitch of fingers eager to clasp tight around the hilt of an oversized blade, Rigatello decides that perhaps some hunting might be in order. Boar always led to a good run, though the kill was ultimately unsatisfactory. Hilichurls were a bit more FUN but never quite gave the chase he currently longed for. Trails of thought dulling observation as he wanders along, debating what it is he should do, wondering what will satiate that longing desire for VIOLENCE.

       A scream stops him short. Alarmed at the sound as he peers wide eyed at a heavy dark that falls between trees shortly off the path. A... fox, perhaps? No. As human as the things screams could sound, this was nothing like the cry of a fox. Something about it was far too... familiar. Static builds as he clenches his hands into fists, jaw set as he creeps cautious off the trail, towards the bushes, towards the trees. Were it not for the lingering nervousness the familiarity of the scream had given him, Rigatello may very well have continued on. Playing savior when one wore the Fatui emblem in a place such as Mondstadt was often a rather thankless job-- and wasting his time killing petty criminals was often more trouble than it would ever be fun.

       A stick snaps under the metal claw of his boot as he steps into a small clearing between the trees and the bushes, blinking through the light of the moon at what appears to be several figures-- That snap to attention as Rigatello’s presence becomes noticed. Nigh disinterested is the sigh that automaton lets out, well prepared to throw a few men around if it means rescuing some damsel from whatever it is they intend to do, voice spoken firm and clear as he utters “What’s going on...”

       Eyes catch movement; A man that rises off a figure pushed into the dirt, moonlight glinting off a blade, off blood-- And off ink-black horns that contrast sharp against blond locks that Rigatello recalls with clarity having run his fingers through just that morning. Words trail into nothing, eyes widened as he stares at the familiar figure on the ground. A mind blank in it’s processing as shock begins to give way to anger, the familiar clench of his fists at his side and the growing static that raises the hair on the back of his neck. An artificial heart that pulses in his ears so loud he does not hear the words spoken to him by the man closest.

             “This isn’t any of your--”

       CONCERN, even through the pale moonlight, is what Rigatello sees in the eyes of one of the other assailants as his hand shoot out and clamps down in a harsh grip on the mans face. For a moment, all is still. And then the calm before the storm gives way to the violence of anger-fueled predation, electro jumping forth with eagerness to burn at flesh beneath the gloved hand as Rigatello turns, grip tight enough to drag the pathetic creature with by the head, and with EASE does the construct lift him from his feet and though there should be GLEE as he CRUSHES HIS HEAD AGAINST THE TREE HARD ENOUGH TO SPLINTER WOOD AND BONE AND MAKE LIMP THE BODY THAT ONCE DARED HARM HIS DEAREST, all Rigatello feels instead is the beat of rage, the feral impulse, the hands that shoot forth as another assailant lunges for him; Blade meets cloth meets flesh of arm and dings off the metal beneath, fragile circuits cut that Rigatello does not notice in the rush of warmth that greets him when his teeth meet their neck and PULL the muscle clean from the bone and leave in its stead a gaping hole.

       Rigatello spits gore from his mouth as he snarls, vibrant gaze turned now to the one he dimly recognizes as having been atop his love, and in the moment their eyes meet does Rigatello watch in beastly glee that look of FEAR. The cogs of a human mind turning as he languishes for too long between FIGHT and FLIGHT and is forced into the FORMER. The saw bites down against the flesh of his shoulder at the same time his hand comes down against the assailants throat, gripping with a strength unrestrained until finally does he, too, STILL like the others.

       Not all the others.

       The beasts eyes catch the coward on the ground; clutching an arm already injured as he scrambles backwards blindly, further and further as the blood-stained Fatui executioner grows closer and closer. The gloves that he grips the cowards shirt with are now stained rich in blood and static, and with ease does he lift the fool off of the ground and dangle him at eye-level. 

       “Remember this,”  Rigatello speaks through a mouth that feels clumsy, words that fall gracelessly with the rumble of a growl still deep within his throat, “He is mine, and mine alone. Take that message to whoever needs to hear it.”

       He does not watch for the nod of agreement, of acknowledgement, of ANYTHING-- For the adrenaline begins to wear, and exhaustion and pain begin to cut deep. Without care does he drop the fool, turning in exhausted movements towards where his love lies still against the ground. Rigatello’s steps fall heavy as he approaches, stopping only to gather the vision that lays on the ground, rubbing it’s bloodied face against the fabric of his coat as he comes to kneel quietly beside Lio.

       “My love,” a whisper spoken soft through bloodied lips in comparison to all that he has done in the past few moments and gingerly does he ease Lio onto his back-- pressing the cleaned off vision against his chest and then cautiously taking much smaller hands into his own to press against the source of power, and though he longs to kiss his dearests forehead he refrains in want of not staining them further in blood-- least of all that which came from such a vile beast. Even as he reaches to brush hair from Lio’s face must he pause at the sight of bloodied gloves, flexing his fingers for a moment before sighing soft his resignation and moving on in hopes that merely being held will help to provide the comfort he longs to give.

       Arms hook behind their back and beneath their legs, a small warning of “I’m going to pick you up,” spoken before the automaton lifts them as though they weigh nothing-- and to him, they truly do not. The difference in size all the more obvious with them laying in his arms, and it reignites the anger he feels that someone could DARE do them harm-- ( followed quick by the rush of guilt that he had not arrived sooner, something he works to push far away knowing it will do nothing to help what is happening now )

       But it is not something he can spend the time focusing on, not while Lio is still injured. The cathedral is the best place to go, surely, and with that goal in mind does he quickly begin the walk back to Mondstadt-- the city seeming so far away, now, though he knows it is only a minutes walk until they are safely beyond the gates once more. He devotes that energy instead to holding them close, to keeping them safe, eyes peeled for any more threats as he begins the walk back, wincing every time that ( despite his best efforts ) he feels the small vision user in his arms be jostled as he navigates the rather rough path.

       “Lio,” a soft utterance, though he’s not entirely sure his love can hear him, “I’m sorry, please bear with me. We’ll be back in the city soon enough.”

[filthysweetie]

James Bond drabble

Prompt: “Dear Diary...” 

missed a day >.< this one is begging to be a longer story, but i had to cut it so i can finish packing...note that there’s a brief description of torture in this one.

Edit: This now has a sequel here if anyone wants to read it :) 

———

Dear Diary,

Let it be known this is done under duress. Apparently, not being a bloody field agent does not get you out of psych evaluations and ‘recommended’ methods to cope with ��high stress levels’ and ‘worrying tendency to identify job performance as self-worth’. I bet they didn’t make Boothyard do this. You get kidnapped once and then everyone suddenly thinks you’re a delicate flower. 

Hell, Bond got kidnapped (I guess it’s just called captured when they’re agents…which actually is now making me quite offended that when I was taken it was called kidnapping) on 7 of his last 15 missions. I don’t see him writing a damn diary about it! (Although god, imagine that.) Besides, what’s the point of keeping a diary if it’s mandated and also!! Your psychiatrist will be reading it? Maybe I should start writing in code. 01000110 01110101 01100011 01101011 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01000100 01110010 00101110 00100000 01011001 01100101 01101110 00101110 ——— “What is…that?”

Q turned, not the least bit surprised to see James standing there behind him. He had a mission coming up and was obviously ready for his kit. Q did a little ritual over the case, always so sad to see the fine pieces of machinery go when the chance of them returning was so dismal. Instead of focusing on the kit, though…Q followed his eyes to the little journal on his desk. It was covered in stickers (most of them shiny, some of them hello kitty gifted by a little one on the tube who got three on before he or her mother noticed) and attached in the pen holder was a pen with a fuzzy feather top. It was rainbow. 

Can’t blame the man for noticing it, it was a rather stark deviation from the normal color pallet and maturity level of Q’s desk.

“Oh, that old thing?” Q pat the top with a little more force than necessary, “my psych assigned diary. I figure if they choose to treat me like a child I may as well oblige.”

James took a moment before speaking, “And what, pray tell, made them think you need it?”

Q blinked, “Does that mean you’ve done it too?” That was a bit of a surprise. The double-o agents seems to thrive on their disregard of ‘normal’ coping, of medical, and of psych all together.

“Answer the question, Q.” James had the audacity to roll his eyes.

“Now I’m very curious,” Q can’t help it, “what do you write in it? About the girls you like? About more interesting ways to destroy my tech?”

“Mostly survivors guilt.” James says, nonchalant.

Well, that answers that, “Oh…” damn it, now he’s obliged to answer James’ question regardless of if this is an interrogation tactic or not. He gives a half shrug, “Dr. Yen assigned it after the kidnapping.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know, I thought it was all very much over the top as well.” Q fights a sigh, “Now your kit—”

James shakes his head, “No, wait, you were kidnapped?”

Q blinks, ignores the chill that goes down his spine; “I knew they didn’t release that on the official channels but I assumed you’d know none the less.” Q clears his throat, “Now, your kit.”

James quiets then, but there are a lot of questions behind his eyes. Who’s to say if Q focuses on his tech a bit more than he normally would. ——— Dear diary, 

I didn’t realize it had been kept quite so secret. I should have known, we are a spy organization. But I was {Q hesitates over the word, crossing out kidn and captu wishing suddenly that he was using his standard pencil instead of this purple inked mess of a pen} gone for 11 days. I guess I figured they would have told the double-os at least, maybe brought them in to help find me. Not that I needed anyone’s help, of course, I mean I got out of there myself, didn’t need anyone rescuing this damsel.

But the fact that {Ja is scribbled over fully; must remember that this will be read} there were agents I’m the primary handler of that didn’t notice at all. What excuse were they told when I wasn’t on the comms? Would they have just kept been given excuses until the forgot to keep asking?

My cats were fed, at least. Moneypenny thought I would come back, or at least held out enough hope to not sell my apartment and put my cats in a shelter after 11 bloody days. 

R had been searching non-stop—bless her, I think she needs this exercise more than me. Poor girl looked like she hadn’t slept since I’d left; keeping all the missions on track while searching for me. It was her and Riley and Sunil that found me on the security footage after I got out of that place and got me a pickup. It’s not like I was forgotten or anything. {Why do I feel forgotten? Q stares at the line in it’s stark purple ink for a long moment before crossing it out. He doesn’t want to talk about that with himself, let alone Dr. Yen.}

Regardless. R has finished debriefing me on all active missions that I’d missed some portion on, and overall everything is going well. Testing of the new laser pen fell behind during my absence but it’s to be expected. It will give me something to do tomorrow when most of my active agents are in transit. ——— “Q, Sir, we really need you in the pit.” Laila said, standing at the threshold of his office, seeming a bit more frazzled than normal. There are no alarms (auditory or silent) going off around her, so the attitude was a bit perplexing.

Q puts the soldering iron down on it’s stand and takes off the magnification glasses, replacing them with his own, already getting up and heading towards her, “What’s the matter?”

“Sir, one of the agents is being belligerent; requesting to speak only to you before moving forward with his mission.”

That’s a new one; “Alright then, transfer the secure line to my station please, Laila.”

It’s always nice, walking out to the floor, seeing his people working away. Standing at the center of it is like being cocooned within the greatest minds of London. It’s safe. 

“Yes?”

“Q”Jame’s voice is instantly recognizable, “I’ve arrived in Paraguay and will be rendezvousing with the contact at 1430.”

Q waited. Nothing.

“And?”

“That is all.”

Q blinked, glad that James couldn’t see the confusion that must certainly be coving his face, “You called me away from my prototypes to give me a standard mission update that you could have given to any one of my people?”

“Had to make sure you were still around, Q”

“Still—” it clicks, “Oh. Well. Yes, I am very much still around.

“Good.” Is that a smile in his voice or is Q projecting? “I’ll check in again after the rendezvous.”

Q’s throat clicks, dry; “I’ll be here.” ———— Dear Diary, 

When will this little experiment be over? It’s been a half month! I haven’t got much free time at all, and wasting it in this damn book isn’t helping anyone. Least of all me. ————— “I notice you haven’t actually written anything about the kidnapping?” Dr. Yen asks, looking through his entries with a clinical eye.

“I much prefer to call it capture.” Q says in leu of an answer. The sticker covered mess looks silly in her hands, but she seemed to have enjoyed his take on ‘making it his own’ even if he’d been doing the antithesis of that. Granted, some of his minions have added stickers to it too—so next to hello kitty is a ‘back it the fuck up’ sticker in fancy script with an old school desktop monitor showing the phrase, and a sparkly unicorn that Trevor insists is from his kids but Q has his doubts. If he leaves it on his desk unattended, when he comes back there are always new stickers. No one ever opens it, respecting some privacy that doesn’t really need respecting (it’s not like there’s anything of substance in there), but it’s a nice gesture none the less.

Dr. Yen smiles, “Of course,” Q wishes she were a bit more of a dick like Dr. Reynard had been—it was easier to dismiss someone when they were being an ass, “I notice you haven’t written about your capture—or escape for that matter—at all. There are some references to it, but no detail. Do you have any thoughts on why that is?”

Q takes a sip of tea. It is nice that these meetings are uninterrupted tea time—though he could do without the conversation. 

“There’s nothing important to say about it.” Q set the mug down, making sure to be gentle about it, “it’s all done, and I don’t exactly plan to get kidna—captured again.”

Dr. Yen gives an amused smile, “no one really plans to get captured at all.” Then, “Sometimes the act of writing down an experience”—she stopped using ‘traumatizing experience’ a while ago, Q did not have a traumatizing experience, thank you—“can solidify it in our reality. It may be difficult to do that at first, but once it is solidified, we can begin to process it in a healthy way.”

“It’s already written up in the after-action report.”

“Yes, but that was what happened, not how it felt to be going through those things.”

Q rolls his eyes, “do you want me to write a soliloquy on how sad and lonely it was and how I felt abandoned by MI6 and made peace with my death? Or maybe how it transformed me in ineffable ways and I have a new lease on life?”

It was so annoying to lay on that perfect level of sarcasm to have it disregarded so thoroughly, “If that’s how you feel, yes.” God she’s so earnest. 

“Well it wasn’t” Q snapped out. He picked up the mug again and took another sip. Setting it down extra soft, with barely a ‘clink’ on the glass table, “Excuse me, I must be more tired than I thought.”

“Not to worry,” Dr. Yen smiled, “your job is stressful any given day of the week, it’s certainly understandable. Please do give it a thought though as you go through this week. Sometimes putting things to paper allows our minds to ‘get it out of our system’ instead of having it linger in our subconscious.”

“Very well. I will give it some thought.” ———— Dear Diary, 

Lets give it the old college try, shall we?

I admire James Bond. He’s one of our best field agents, though his record for returning his tech is abysmal. He seems to come back from the brink of death more times than a cat and never seems to let it affect him. Always ready for the next mission.

I want to be like that. He’s been through so much, the loss of M, the burning of his home, the burning of so many false starts at a normal life, and he comes back and he may be battered but he’s still whole. Undoubtedly whole. I get kidnapped once and now I can’t even get a good nights sleep unless I’m folded awkwardly on the little couch in my office, and of course that sleep is poorer for other reasons. 

I know I’m capable, I know I can destroy countries and get myself out of most any situation that I find myself in, but I didn’t realize exactly how that situation would affect me. I haven’t lost confidence in my abilities, but maybe loss of confidence in my security? Is it just a waiting game to see when I’ll next be thrown into the back of a van, drugged, and then wake up in a windowless room, IV in my arm strapped to a chair with no fucking idea how much time has passed? When will I next find myself threatened and beaten? The soles of my feet slashed, so dehydrated that I can’t put my head up without feeling dizzy? 

Obviously I can survive it. I have. 

The thought of it happening again…it’s terrifying. And it can happen at any time. And I thought I admired James because he looked like a good lay. Maybe it’s because he seems unbreakable and I worry I’m already broken. ———— Q stared at the pages for a long time. Was he supposed to feel hollow?

He tore them out, crumpled them like a secret and then lit them on fire. This was a spy organization after all, no point in letting that level of weakness get out. ———— Dear Diary, 

Laila got a new corgi puppy. Despite being a cat person, I have to admit it’s quite cute.

[trashboatprince]

I know I have fifty million fics to work on, but this idea came to mind and I just had to write it up. It’s involved in the little series I have for the whole Alice/Susie thing with Alice saving the studio, this is just after they first met. If you wanna read that, there is a fanfic for it through Susie’s POV I wrote up on ao3.

Ships: Alice/Susie

On with the fic!

--

Alice was quiet as she followed after the taller woman, who carried her along with the old rope that was wrapped around her hands and wrists. She pouted a little, trying to undo them, but as the damsel of the series, rope knots were… knot her specialty, haha. Okay, she couldn’t help herself, she was also a comedian, and a great one at that.

Her large eyes looked around the old, wooden halls they passed through, seeing posters for all sorts of Bendy cartoons, majority of them starred her, or included her as part of the cast. Alice had even spotted cutouts of herself, several she knew were promotional material for some big shorts, others were the generic one of her standing on a cloud.

Oooh! There was even a pile of plush toys of her in a corner as they took a sharp turn.

“Where are we going, miss?” Alice asked, finally breaking the silence since she was dropped (rather rudely, if she might add) to the floor from the trap she had stupidly stepped on. The other turned her head to look at the toon, a golden eye staring down at her, swimming in a sea of black.

“We’re going to a very special room of mine, only angels allowed.” Her voice was lovely, much like Alice’s own, but the little angel knew that it wasn’t her own. Sure, yes, it seemed to be overlapped by another, but Alice wasn’t stupid.

Toons knew the people that worked on them, that were behind their creation, it was practically imprinted in their ink.

‘Do you really think I’ll be the perfect voice for her? I don’t feel like I’m worthy of someone so perfect.’

This pretty angel before her had a much different voice, a sweet one that could make birds sing with her if she sang them a song. Not that the voice she had was anything terrible, in fact, it was just as lovely, but sometimes… you can’t beat an original, right?

One last hall and they came to a door, marked in ink. Alice frowned at all the markings, seals of protection, from demonic creatures. It made her swallow loudly, poor Bendy would be hurt if he ever got close to these…

The other angel opened the door and allowed Alice in with a curt nod, a sly smile on those black-painted lips. Alice thanked her as she stepped inside, surprised to see that it was a rather clean room, much different from the many stained and damaged ones around the studio. It was set up like a little home, with whatever material this lady could find, which was a lot of Alice content.

Alice couldn’t hide the smile on her face when she realized this is where the giant plushes of herself had gone from the toy factory. “So, what did you need me for? I mean, aside from adding me to your lovely collection, hehehe.” She winked at her savior-captor, who seemed to be a bit startled by the reaction.

But that lasted a moment, she was quick to recover as she stepped to the door, looking down at Alice when she closed it. “I think you answered your own question there, my dear.” She smirked, locking the door.

This seemed like a dangerous situation, but the toon didn’t seem threatened as she looked at the other angel.

Now that she wasn’t upside down, Alice could actually look at her. This other Alice was tall, her outfit was similar to Alice’s own, though there was much more black involved. Though, Alice really enjoyed the little addition of the bow on the back of the dress.

Her face showed scars on the left side, her eyes were gold but the left was black as well, and there was a slash at her throat. The other’s horns were longer, sharper, and her halo was damaged. She even seemed to have two extra beauty marks, just under that left eye of hers. Oh, she knew those little marks anywhere.

‘Can you give her a beauty mark? Under her eye? I-It doesn’t have to be like mine…!’

Alice couldn’t help but feel a bit of heat come to her face, wow, so it really was her after all. Her first voice actress, and her influencer, Susie.

Golly, what happened to such a lovely lady to have her change so much. Imitation is the highest form of flattery, but Alice would have liked for Susie to be, well, herself. Not that she minds Susie wanting to be more like her, but…

“What happened to you, Susie?”

Alice immediately regretted the innocent question, the glare she was given looked like it could slice her open. Susie stared at her before stepping closer, her heels loudly clicking in such a quiet room.

“What… did you say, little angel?” There was a strain to her voice and Alice shivered, her halo shaking above her head.

“I-I was… I was just asking what happened to you, Su-” The hitch of the other’s breath, the horrible, burning stare, made Alice speak quickly. “Alice! What happened to you, Alice! I mean, your poor halo, it’s all bent outta shape, let me help you…!” She reached up with her bound hands and Susie stepped back, glowering.

“Look,” the taller angel started, “if you want to keep that pretty head of yours on that lovely neck, you’d be wise to never say that name to me or around me. She’s long gone, there is no Susie here, there is just me, Alice Angel.”

Once Alice nodded her head rapidly in understand, Susie relaxed, her smirk returning. “Good, you’re such a smart girl under that halo.” She gave it a small flick, the sound of a bell rang through the room, like something from a cartoon. “As for your questions… a terrible machine and a man did this to me. I was offered something wonderful, and all I got was this. But that’s easy to fix, I just need the right parts. And I’ll have you help me out, my dear.”

Gently, Susie guided Alice to the couch in the room, sitting her down on it. “Will you help make me a beautiful angel again?”

‘Even though she’s fallen, is she still a perfect angel? She is? That’s wonderful!’

“I… suppose so, but I don’t see why I’m needed.” Alice spoke, blinking. “You’re already beautiful as it is.”

Once again, she caught the taller woman off-guard. Alice smiled at the hint of color to the other’s cheeks before she yelped at the hand that pushed her face back as few inches. “Flattery will get you nowhere here, girly.”

“Oh, but I think it did. I mean, I’m already in your private chambers, doll.” Alice grinned before planting a kiss on the palm of Susie’s hand, which was suddenly pulled back. The other’s eyes were wide as she looked between her hand and Alice, who just smiled sweetly at her.

Susie stepped back, stammering a little to herself, before moving back towards the angel, working on untying the rope around her hands. “J-Just stay there. I need to go check on my other traps, don’t get into anything while I’m away, and don’t leave. You can’t escape me; I have eyes everywhere.”

“And they’re currently on me!” Alice giggled and got a look from Susie, making her close her mouth. She was still smiling though, even when Susie stepped away, leaving the room with an axe. Once she was alone, Alice sighed, leaning back against the couch.

She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply through her nose before pausing, sniffing. The couch smells interesting. She sniffed it again, it was… sweet, but there was something else included in it.

The old blanket and pillow at one end told her that this was Susie’s bed here, so of course it smells like her.

It smells so lovely, like honey! Alice remembered in her creation, when she was being ‘brought to life’ on pen and paper, of Susie’s voice. She was talking to the artist who designed her, Henry, giving him ideas. Sure, a lot of them were silly and didn’t really seem like plot heavy things, just more like ideas for Susie to enjoy herself.

But there was one interesting one she remembered, Alice’s personal scent.

‘I’d like to believe she smells like honey and milk.’ Susie mumbled, looking embarrassed as she sat next to Henry Stein, the artist pausing in his inking of one of his headshots for Alice Angel.

‘Honey and milk?’ He asked, clearly amused and curious. ‘Any reason why?’

‘Well… from what I remember from my old Sunday school days, God was from the land of milk and honey, so Heaven, right? And Alice is from there, so wouldn’t she smell like that? Such a sweet, homey, safe scent…’ Susie smiled softly, looking at the drawings.

‘Makes sense. Heh, yeah, she can have that as her perfume or somethin’.’

Honey, that’s what Alice was smell, but there was another scent that had her worried. Ashes, she smelled the scent of burnt ashes mixed with such a sweet aroma.

Such a scent was associated with death.

She remembered the slash across Susie’s throat… oh dear, what happened to her since she was replaced? Whatever it was, it made her an angel that wore a perfume of sweet death.

END

--

Ten points to whoever gets my really obscure reference about honey and ashes.

And yes, Alice was totally flirting cause she is very aware of Susie’s crush, which isn’t to say that she’s not crushing herself. Also, this whole fanfic is self-indulgent, but then again, I’ve noticed a lot of content for this ship is and that’s beautiful.

As for the beauty mark comment, my headcanon for Susie is that she has two under her left eye. And this is pre-canon Malice design, so her face isn’t quite… Ink Demon-damaged as it is, she’s pretty close to being perfect, but he messes everything up for her later on.

Thanks for reading!

[sun-courter]

.:Focus:.

Warning(s): None! Besides some innocently frisky kitties. Post is a bit gif-heavy.

Origin Date: 18 August 2019. Weekly prompt from FC Discord.

X’sehya is trying to be a good adult and continue to hone his aethersight in the wake of his blindness. For once, it’s W’behna that wants to poke about. (Joint RP with @o-we-whohunt​ as W’behna)

————— ♦ • ♦ —————

One would think Sehya would be a lazy bum, especially after his late night work at The Higure Regalia. The last time he'd done any real work for gil had been a few moons ago, long before he lost his eyes in Ul'dah. One would even think more so he'd sleep in based on the whining he did while crawling into bed to his mate when he'd gotten home, still dressed up his finery and with sore feet and playing it up for attention. Which of course he'd gotten. What a wonderful mate W'behna truly was.

This morning however he was up early at sun's rise, no more than a few bells of sleep. The night had had an odd effect on him with the singing and dancing. He realized how much he missed it. How good it felt to move in motion with the song once more, to enjoy the collective joy and revelry that came in an entertained crowd.

He wanted to return to that. His aethersight training was blossoming wonderfully with Mori's teachings but he still had difficulty with fine details, such as reading the liquor bottles at the party last night. He needed to get /better./ And so Sehya was plopped down in the Temple's quiet gardens in a meditation pose as the priest had taught him, just listening to what was about, sensing who was active in this early hour.

 It was a strange thing to wake to Sehya being up so early. W'Behna didn't follow after him since there were paints to prepare for the work day in the studio. Plus he trusted well enough that if the golden Tia wandered off to far, he'd eventually be back and be safe for it as well. Though he'd be lying if there wasn't a niggling of worry at the back of his head.

The paint work had helped him draw his mind away from those things, however. He crushed down materials for pigments, and stretched canvas over frames through the morning. In the afternoon he'd work on teaching W'Ehnri some things around cooking. Then at night he'd set to work on the painting he had planned. These odd domestic pattern was often broken up with random errands from the Priests, or Ritsuka, but it was easy work compared to his old taskmasters.

Though today he disrupted his own routine. Once the first inks were finished, he had no need to prep a canvas for today's work. Thus, W'Behna roamed down the halls. The Tia seeking out the other until he came to the outer walkways.

Even with a garden this bright, it wasn't hard for him to spot the blonde miqo'te. Those ears tilting to favor his direction before Behna slowly began stalking over. The rogue focusing on muting his steps and drawing his presence inward. Especially when he picked up that Sehya was practicing his aethersight.

Crouching low, ears laid back, and tail off the ground, Behna walked heel to toe so slowly the grass itself barely crunched beneath his feet. Right up until he was at the edge of Sehya's personal space.

It was rare to see the dancer so still. Especially to those that didn't know him well. And there were only two that truly did. Sehya was quite capable of being calm and still when the situation called for it. He was a man of masks and wore what was advantageous for the situation. Though he naturally carried a bit of energy to him, he was also quite content to train or do other protective work. When the whim struck him!

Necessity is what drove many of the cat's actions. And this was one he imposed upon himself.

It seemed Behna may be successful on his sneaking. There was the barest flicker of one of those golden ears among the wavy hair but perhaps it was just a tic of the imagination?

    No sound came from Behna. Not even a hum of consideration as he saw that ear flick. A hand reaching out to just slide fingers carefully along nape, following the curve of the cervical ridge.

So light was the touch it might as well been a ghost!

   Nope. Sehya refused to acknowledge the touch that threatened to raise goosebumps over his skin. Both a fear instinct and, well, something else. Why did he have to tie his hair over his shoulder today? Mistakes had been made. His long-furred tail tapped a bit from where it was curled about his leg and feet but he kept to reaching out with those senses Mori had woken him to.

Able to pick out the signatures of the bird nesting not too far away. Someone was walking about on the outer porches of the residential quarters, one of the staff he didn't know terribly well.

Behna's tail swished at the lack of response besides those goose bumps. Though blue eyes widened with interest before narrowing. A blossoming curiosity - and some playfulness - driving the wolf Tia forward. After all, he wanted his mate to be successful so why not push him a little! See how far that focus really went.

Thus, Sehya had his mate crouching low. Those hands planted into the blanket as he inched forward to nip at the spot he had just touched. No grin. Ono, that expression was reserved to those eyes alone for the stoic hunter.

   An internal curse and a twitch of one of those finely shaped brows. Really? /Now/ his usually reserved mate wanted to play in such a manner in public? Well as public as the Temple's gardens were. The clarity of his aethersight fluttered for a moment with his loss of concentration and it took a moment to bring it back into focus again. The auras becoming distinct once more. He could see the early morning milling about. Hokusai was sneaking out to laze about somewhere before he was caught. Ritsuka was departing for one reason or another and from here Sehya could make out he was carrying folders. Ah, likely some boring meeting.

Details that served almost as well as natural sight. Good. Even if his hackles raised at the nip. Not his neck, damn hunter!

 A good hunter always went for the neck though!

Though her certainly sensed the hiccup in his mate's aethersight. Behna was trained for such things after all. His black tail swished, stirring up some of the fallen red maple leaves as he let it sink to the ground and drew his presence out of its more subdued state.

Balancing on the balls of his feet, his hands just simply moved to Sehya's sides. Just a light touch. So featherlight it may even tickle some in its passing.

   There was a hair trigger ready if that became more than a light touch! It was that danger instinct, though of course in a completely different manner. When the two Tias had first started their relationship Sehya had always carried a small paranoia that this talented rogue would one day turn on him without hesitation. There was quite a bounty on the dancer's head with various Ul'dahn organizations to include the Flames.

Now he had zero doubt of the sincerity W'behna had towards him. Who else would stay by a broken man's side after such injuries? Such disfiguring injuries in Sehya's mind. Why would an assassin keep its mark alive through all this? Propose, even? Perhaps a sly flirt like the blond would use such a tactic to let one's guard down but...that didn't feel like that case at all with this wolf Tia.

There was complete trust.

Though not when he was trying to focus!

   Most would likely think the stoic wasn't the sort to play. Though W'Behna often proved it was quite the opposite, especially as he raised his head to murmur a short line to a golden ear. Those fingers remaining where they were for now.

"Perfect." The short compliment given to how well Sehya was focused.

It was true, at one point in his life he was meant to be set against the other. Though it was a time that he was growing tired with his masters, and wanted to rescue his nephew that had been turned into insurance for them. Behna, after all, was quite the capable hunter! Anyone who wanted him in their employ was wise to hold collateral.

Though who would have thought he'd genuinely fall for his prey in the process?

   "Not so easy with your playing about back there," was the murmur. Things slowly coming into better clarity as his brow furrowed, forcing the tendrils of his aether how to mingle and read and learn about the others about him. He'd never seen Suiren with his birth sight before. But now he could tell the flowers here were a soft pale white, the blossoms overhead in the tree were pink.

"Life will not be so calm."

What a short and sweet explanation. Especially as he chased after the words with a kiss along the spot he had nipped at previously. Those black ears laid back and he just eased into sitting there behind Sehya.

Those hands fell to rest just lightly at his hips. Behna picturing those spots easily enough. He rather liked them after all.

"Keep going. I will not be too indecent."

   "You'd better not. We are on holy ground." A bit of tease but there was also a surprising firmness to the miqo'te's tone. He /wanted/ to be of just as much use as he'd been before. To be able to defend himself, defend W'behna and W'ehnri. Playing helpless damsel didn't sit too well with him. And they both had a plethora of enemies. Perhaps one day one would be determined enough to cross the sea.

A calm sigh that turned into a soft intake of his breath to retain his meditation. White flowers, some blue as well. The flowerbeds were tidy. Ah, a tiny bird decoration sticking up from the soil. Sari had been the one to tend to these some time back, hadn't he? A cute charming touch that seemed perfectly in character with the quiet Xaela.

"Hmmn..." Was the hum, but no other words were offered. W'Behna simply curled his tail and settled in there. His body a supportive frame for the blond. After a moment of silence he merely purred out: "Details."

This was peaceful and nice. Even if he was always vigilant as one of the temple's few martial talents, W'Behna allowed himself to relax at moments like this. Especially since his mate had his 'eyes' on things right now. A complete trust put in Sehya's growing abilities with aethersight.

There was no need to focus. He could tell that Toya-san was about in the altar room. That W'Ehnri was up and seeing to his chores. A flick of the ear and he could even hear the light hum of Mashuel far away in the kitchen preparing breakfast since it was his turn for such.

To be able to "throw" one's senses far into the distance was one the hunter had honed at a young age. Granted, none of those memories were fond things. He just didn't dwell on them.

The one thing he could thank his mother for was his plethora of talents that made him skilled at protecting his family.

   "You know I love the details." There was a content warmth when he felt Behna in such moods. They were rare. But there was work to be done. So he'd put his mate to work as well. "The woman walking on the porch, there." He pointed across the garden where one of the walkways went over a small pond where a young Raen woman was passing. "Wearing black...white...some gold." Little did he know these were the temple colors and quite accurate.

W'Behna put his attention that way. The raen woman assessed before giving a nod. "En." He confirmed in a little grunt. A kiss to a shoulder following it in reward. "Good."

   Ears flicked and tail swished a bit in satisfaction of getting it right. Long fingers went to pluck a flower that lay within reach, rolling the stem between his fingerpads. It was almost as clear as actual sight this close. "A lily of white, six petals and pink towards the center." Content, he lifted it to his nose to enjoy the scent.

   "Hmn, yes." Another kiss up along the curve of his neck. "The bridge?"

Blue eyes lifted, directing towards the pond's bridge. The railings of it a bright red, with black accents, and wooden blanks of a warm oak color. A few petals and maple leaves already scattered along it would offer some interference. Not to mention the various colored koi swimming about in the water.

Meanwhile, Behna let his fingers stroke along Sehya's side. A mild distraction, or simply an action the stoic hunter couldn't help.

   His tail swished in the grass as it took some effort not to return all these lovely signs of affection. Indeed he had to learn to keep this focus outside of meditation, hold onto it as much as breathing. The ever-closed eyes looked to where Behna was indicating, picking up on the direction easily enough. The light breeze tossed the faint outlines of the leaves in his vision obscuring the other 'lines.' The back and forth motions of koi in the pond sent ripples over already blurred lines. His brow furrowed. The barest outline was easy, it's what he'd fallen back on as normal.

But DETAILS.

"A long pond, perpendicular to the fence, surrounded by rocks. The bridge lays across it. Red, bright red paint. And looks lovely enough for two to be able to stand comfortably side by side."

"En."

Behna was impressed, and sure enough came another kiss as a reward. This one just along jaw. He was definitely proud of his mate's progress. Mori's teaching was good. Possibly gentler than the methods and conditions he had been schooled under.

Definitely wise he didn't teach it.

"Pretty enough for a small bonding, yes." Behna added then; speaking more at length as was necessary. "Unless you have regained a taste for something more...elaborate."

   "Hm, I don't know." Sehya finally let himself relax if just the bit as he turned his head to return the smooch to wherever he could reach of his mate. "I made quite a haul last night. We could go all out. Get you into a nice suit. Release doves overhead. Silk everywhere."

   Behna accommodated him, if only to give him a kiss upon those lips instead of a cheek. Those hands now folded around to the front of the blonde. Though they were not being bad in anyway at least. Honest!

Instead the hunter was purring. Displaying his current mood with sounds and relaxed feline tells. His tail lazily dragged upon the ground.

"That is much, but if it is what you wish for."

   The dancer couldn't help a small chuckle at the reluctance in those words. Oh he know he could like get Behna all prettied up if he asked! But naw, he wasn't that cruel. With a content smile he gave in to lean against the other miqo'te, just taking in the calm.

The scent of the flowers and soil and Behna's familiar scent he knew so well. The sound of the slight ocean breeze that somehow still found its way up this hill, wind-chimes from the temple tinkling gently about. The warmth of the trusted body behind him. He was starting to be at peace again.

That relaxed posture put Behna at ease. Quite simply the hunter's happiness was tied to his mate and nephew. As long as they were happy, he could be content with anything in the world.

"Hmn..."

One of his hands at least resting back so he could be a proper resting spot for Sehya. Behna's other just lingering where it was. The blue eyes cast their gaze over the gardens. To think he found a peaceful life now. It seemed surreal in some respects, but he was happy with it.

A fact that made the black cat smile without him really noticing at all!

[thelandofthelesser]

Crimson Skulls and Spilled Ink

“You look nervous, Red.”

           Matt Murdock looked up from the menu, across the table at the man sitting across him. “She’s a bit late.”

          Frank Castle leaned back. “She’s always late. She’s got work this week, right?”

          “You’re right,” he said and put the menu down. “This is a bit unusual, that’s all.”

          “Feels right to me.”

          “Kicking people’s heads in feels right to you. I don’t trust your judgement.”

          Frank laughed, picking up his cup. “That’s why I love ya, Matty. That sense of humour you always keep hidden under the red leather and lawyer clothes.”

          Matt paused and smiled. “You love me?”

          “Don’t take it so personally. I love my dog, I love my barber… I got a lot of love to give. Hence,” he spread his arms wide, “the situation we’re in right now.”

          Matt laughed and looked around the restaurant. It was expensive - not that it mattered. He wanted to get this right. He didn’t want to scare her away.

          The waiter stopped by their table. “You two about ready to order?”

          Matt looked at Frank, who nodded. “Might as well get a drink or something.”

          “Okay, uh -” Matt flipped through the menu. “I don’t really know much about wines . . .”

          “I’d recommend the Aldi Rosé. We’re offering a good price for it this week - and it’s a personal favourite.”

          “That sounds great,” Matt said. “One bottle, please.”

          “Do you have any hard stuff?” Frank asked.

          “Oh, don’t mind him -”

          “Reds don’t mix well with me,” he said and grinned. “Usually.”

          He blushed and cleared his throat, realising the waiter was still standing there. “The bottle, and one shot of whiskey, please. Dealer’s choice.”

          “Sure,” the waiter said, and walked off just as their date walked in and sat down on the table next to them.

          “I’m so sorry I’m late,” Karen Page said flusteredly, setting her bag down and pulling up the chair.

          “Oh, don’t worry about it. We weren’t waiting long,” Matt said, shifting his weight in the seat awkwardly. Suddenly this seemed like a bad idea. He could hardly look her in the eye.

          “I’m sure that’s true. Frank, how long were you guys waiting?”

          “About -” he glanced at his watch. “Half an hour, I’d say.”

          “Oh, goddammit. I’m really sorry, you guys. It’s just - work. There was a deadline I got real close to missing because some stories got shuffled around -” she stopped and ran a hand through her hair self-consciously. “But you guys don’t need to hear about that right now.”

          “Nah, it’s alright. I told him it’d be cause of the job,” Frank said airily.

          “Yeah,” Matt said and smiled awkwardly, meeting her eyes. “S’alright.”

          “Well,” she said and looked at the two of them. “I don’t really know what to say anymore.”

          “I was just telling Matt it’s an unusual situation,” Frank said. “I guess we’re all here just to see how you feel about it.”

          “Just - if you’ve changed your mind -” Matt started.

          “No, don’t be silly!” Karen interjected. “I haven’t changed my mind. It’s just, it’s all very new. I haven’t done anything like this before.”

          “Yeah, me neither.”

          “I have,” Frank said.

          They looked at him. “When? With who?” Matt asked.

          “A bunch of guys and girls I used to know. We never really took the whole - the whole relationship thing too strictly, you know? We just . . . dated around.”

          “Interesting,” Karen said. “I never figured you the type.”

          “College is the time for that kind of thing. You swing both ways, Miss Page?”

          Matt kicked him under the table. “Rude!”

          Karen laughed. “It’s alright. I don’t - I don’t really know? College was less of a time for experimentation and more of theater and keeping up with the rest of the class.”

          “Theater?” Matt asked. “I didn’t know you did theater.”

          “Oh sure, the usual stuff, the boring stuff, you know. Shakespeare, mostly. ‘I do love nothing in the world so well as you -’”

          “‘- Is that not strange?’” he finished. “Much Ado About Nothing!”

          “You did Shakespeare too?”

          “Oh, well - It was a tough time reading the lines in Braille, but I made it work.”

          Frank chuckled.

          “What?” Matt asked, raising an eyebrow.

          “Nothing,” he replied. “Just - you guys are cute together.”

          The wine arrived, the waiter pouring glasses for the Karen and Matt, and giving Frank a shot of whiskey.

          Frank downed the shot almost immediately. “You know - I’m suddenly not feeling this restaurant anymore.”

          “You wanna do something else?” Matt asked.

          “Just itching for excitement, is all.”

          “I don’t think beating up criminals makes for a good first date,” Karen said and laughed.

          “Well, you’re only saying that because you’re not bored.”

          “You’re bored?”

          “I think there are . . . better places for a first date.”

          “Such as?” Matt asked.

  “Am I holding it right?” Matt asked, holding the gun up, pointing it forwards. He couldn’t quite tell if he was aiming directly at the mark.

          “Pretty well,” Frank said, adjusting his aim. “I imagine you’ve handled guns before.”

          “A few times. Didn’t go well.”

          “Karen, you sure you don’t wanna have a go?” Frank asked. She was leaning against the wall of the shooting gallery. This time of night, no one else had ventured inside, leaving them the only ones in the room. Frank knew the owner, so they’d even gotten in for free.

          She shrugged. “I’m not really eager to handle guns again, just yet. I’d love to see you both try, though.”

          “Try? My man doesn’t try,” Frank said and clapped Matt on the back, who nearly fell over the counter. “Show her what you’ve got, Red.”

          “Alright . . .” Matt said, biting his lip and aiming the gun. He focused on his hearing, tried to hone in on that one slip of paper that was swinging slightly in mid-air, tried to separate that sound from everything else in the room, and then emptied the gun magazine into it.

          BANG.

          BANG.

          BANG.

          BANG.

          BANG.

          BANG.

          “Holy hell, Red.”

          Matt turned and looked at them. “What, did I do well? Did I get the target?”

          “You kinda missed all of them,” Karen said, laughing her head off.

          “It was a good attempt - we’ll chalk it up to beginner’s bad luck.” Frank reloaded the gun and got behind him, placing the gun in his hands and holding them together tightly. Matt could feel his chest on his back, his warmth.

          It felt nice.

          “Just hold it steady here - and squeeze tight, alright? Look - there, you can do it.”

          BANG.

          BANG.

          BANG.

          BANG.

          “That was better!” Frank said and let go of him. Matt smiled at him sweetly.

          “I have a good teacher.”

          They turned back to see Karen grinning at them.

          “What?” Frank demanded.

          “Nothing,” she replied, beaming. “You guys are just cute together.”

          Matt laughed and Frank stepped forward. “Alright, har har, Miss Page. Your turn. No excuses.”

          “Okay, okay,” she said and took position.

          BANG.

          BANG.

          “Damn,” she said, squeezing the trigger. “Forgot to reload.”

          “If this were a fight,” Frank said, taking the gun from her, “you’d be dead.”

          “No, I wouldn’t. You’d save me.”

          “Damn straight I would. Regular action hero, that’s what I am, constantly saving the damsel and her, ah, sidekick.”

          “Was that a jab at me?” Matt asked, feigning offense.

          “You take it how you will, Red.”

          Matt grinned and leaned over, his hand reaching around Frank’s back and pulling him closer. “Promise?”

          “Talking about a nightcap, Murdock? In front of Miss Page over here?”

          Matt looked at her. “Nightcap, Karen?”

          She tilted her head and smiled. “Are you making a move on me, Matt?”

          “Well, uh - I’d definitely understand if you think this is too soon.”

          “No. No, this is, um . . .” she pressed a hand against his chest. “This isn’t too soon.”

          Matt turned to Frank. “We should get outta here.”

          “Yeah,” Frank said quickly, and led the three of them out of the gun shop. They took a cab home together and offered to split the bill - but Matt refused and paid it in full.

          They were his guests for the night, after all. What kind of host would he be if he didn’t take care of them?

[artist-x-j-roman-cain]

Joker’s Wild

My name is super-unknown so I will shoot for the dome Aim through the window pane; leave two frames blown I am not Strange. But I will not change tones Proclaim Roman Reigns in any home Entertain through tomes Enter veins then splinter brains Highest on this sinner plane Center plain or inner sane? No. A soul so cold not even So Co Could help warm; dealt thorns Some have sworn tales, yelling “He’s loco!” “Si y yo soy el lobo feroz” Ferocious flows; ojos rojo Toke and choke on top rank dodo Coca blows? Mi es cabron? Oh no! Blow Coca? Por dinero? Best go hoe! Yo soy Joe Schmoe? Asi-asi? Si puto derecho! Direct foes, “vete a la mierda, conos”! Artista X es el Rey de todos los Reyes Sooth-sayer and smooth player Granuja de platas de lengua Ladies spreading legs, begging me to say yes. Weigh less than many but don’t call me mini Not one to waste pennies Immobile blades, not choppin’ on 20’s Mobile stays paid; minutes got plenty No cash in the bank; gas tank close to empty Yet more retail sells in smells than Scentsy My girl is a fine dime that OG’s envy Eyes green, hairs red plus always wet and sticky Ever leaving; burning and hitting like a heathen But she keeps returning Even after pimping her out for earnings Yearning for touch; by lips or finger tips She’ll learn you quick; bi so no bias when she unzips She flips all day but still chills at night Herb Knight in hempen armor Helping get over bored again Charming prints, used to disarm alarms Prince Charmin to soft; armaments’ armed Minced off the first cut; rinsed off like shit stuck to shoes In truth, I like going overboard and harming Like Carmen, no one knows where to find me Moving timely; double check nobody’s behind me Grinding to shine even when it isn’t Vision remastered after seeing how biz went? To guzzle gents jizz for cents Rather stick a muzzle in my mouth Than ever be asked where my fizz went Dissident miscreant because of medicinal Treants Gorgon like stoning; after all spinach is full of nutrients Beautifully bent; fine line between genius and insanity Underhandedly taking the lead; never mistakenly Make me your nemesis; own worst enemy to y’all I am limitless Illogically break chronological fate with paradoxical Genisys Forget Quicksilver; Wells wished in inventing this Luxury Mercury? Have H.G. mad as a hatter for penning this In lieu of Carrol; songs full of apparel Only autos should be tuned Putting hair pulling bitches on alert Better be careful Have them pissing; scared to twist up fisticuffs Baring tools; afraid to get face to face But I’m very cool; only thing up my sleeve is an Ace Thumping with my trump; then use the same spade to bury fools Joker’s wild; and I’ve been told the same Smoker’s smile plus a laugh cold and insane Broken stiles; never hold a flame to gain change Opening Styles all about showing up the Game At the Helm with a death wish like I’m hunting a hearse DRAC is the realm’s realest; still instilling hurts Curt versus legends or virgins; using perverse verses to abuse With no aversion to cursing this rough draft also the final version Shaft tough? Yes, when driven by me Not black enough to say I’m the bad-dest “shut your mouth…”, you see Keep it juicy; not goosing Lucy Truthfully I’m a prick spelt with a capital D Biggest you’ll meet; and above average in meat No need for lies; I know I satisfy Don’t believe me honey then come and see Relieve your cunny, have you cum a sea Endless returns like it’s my company Charge your Chakra; currently cum for free Currency for free milk? Then you can go ahead and get stepping permanently Ash into your urn Every sentence further sentencing eternity Hurting disconcertingly Adverting attacks; not possible when concerning me Genuine article Smashing particles like the Hadron at CERN discerning Emcees Splitting atoms While batting back at’em; scat’em like a cat. Kill every vermin I see Shivering cowards While stylishly delivering streets sermons for fees River of power That is, a strong flow with undertow current; currently Amped up Have them clammed shut; in bomb shelters like the emergency Is national But it’s natural to run urgently when faced by the beast from the murky deep Heard of me? Or been hurt by me? Try me when unworthy and meet A brief defeat By these feet. So take a seat or be beat down vertically Post mortem surgery Quicker to dig six one by ones; bury you very dirtily Curtly asserting Your curtains but far from my encore that’s a certainty Unmercifully Murdering psyches with words alone. Spurring the weak To purr back meek Lying while trying this Lion; King of Zion. Tired of burping these Babies and toddlers Going crazy searching for grown talent; licking talons and fangs thirstily Unnerving these Kids; knowing their lids will get peeled. Villain killing purposely Have curs cursing me Speaking cursively, curbing cohorts. Quit if your nursing teats Hyperbole Not when measured in pen; sink non-thinkers with ink poisoning Vent venom vehemently; little girls and boys playing with alloys Should quit banging noise My thoughts and voice concise Eyes on the prize; ions spliced off and thrown at my enemy’s head Radically rendering your ending; lending the term walking dead Stocking meds by the O-z From North of the O.C. Only importing the best, from Valleys’ in Cali to Co-towns alley’s G-13 and Maui Wowie The Doctor’s in Get re-T.A.R.D.I.S.; needing starting? Got Diesel too if you need to rally Tally the score Weighed straight, bud and not shake with proper tear drops; plus, I don’t dilly dally True wild card; evolved in being involved in anything called sin My balls’ in court never Alcohol in blood no more; instead soar above but feet still on the floor Claws in the ground This is my town. Come down sounding hard and I will leave you scarred With the loss of your crown Scalpel scalping. And if the laws in the Mudd come around? Still won’t be found. Proper noun; capital Artist using absurdly sharp wit for getting capital Known for ripping sharks to bits Sparks will arc; marked by X then know next your neck Will be stretched regardless Of your guards. I'll march right through your gardens. Embrace mayday Because by melee I have been hardened Leave them marveling at my carvings which cause starving Hungry but not eating beef; these freaking vegans are retarded Believe it’s better to give than receive Seas get wetter from here; forever in gear Achieving whatever I can perceive Seize vets ahead of my years; too clever for peers Deceiving none, yet some sectors still don’t bet on me Sieges settled in letters; vendettas never feared Easing at leisure; proceeding on with no etcetera Seasons become bygone; seasoning legions of chickens so long live Cain, King of Weird Erecting a dynasty Weapon selection is free form daggers called forth from the Nether Injecting arsenic Martial arsenal; impartial to arson. Coolly pulling the lever Irreverent to me Intellectual elephant and elegantly eloquent. Resisting transistors Close circuit Verdict shows consequences for the inoffensive; tethered to weather through endeavors On attack like a shredder Chipper sure as this plot runs redder Splendor found in splinters Cheddar made grating big cheeses Donning black and green Stripping clubs; beating pussies together Surrendering before being engulfed in embers Hand over your tender or be berated by Poetry, mixed with soul of the street Wholly complete when competing against the elite Never miss a beat; a capella teller Fellas that think they can swell up; one hell of whale tail Shelling out pain on the jealous Overzealous never. Well prepared with an umbrella Real life, not a telenovela Jotting rotten embellishments; relishing propellers developing yellows Punks pissing themselves when warships need worshipping Blood, sweat and oil mix Until the ill contents become flammable And all the malcontents Bow out; knowing good and well I’ll damn a fool Or a damsel If you think you can lay hands on me; your delusions are fanciful Panty puller Revealing fraudulent broads; inflict wounds that will require some gauze from the gods At odds with society Believe working a desk is a probity And I’m a writer Some consider a prodigy My odyssey cementing my property Foundation laid in Don't play pretend; make fake men Or women Shed their linens. Hollering no apologies; now follow me Make a joke out of any lesser F-5 force like Lesnar. Why so serious? Uncrowned underground jester Bound to pound the pavement With your cranium; straining some with that statement One truth inevitable Julian sliced in way that was absolutely unforgettable Unintelligible Little bulls should quit being foolish before getting whipped cool and made edible Cannibal but not named Hannibal Mechanically distributing electrically compressed waves To enslave your ladies Into behaving like a cowgirl; riding this bull and craving these testicles Undressing tools Cunning tongue; expelling fantasies for sensational pull Lessons blessing illiterate fools Honeys’ dribbling from touch so much they create literal pools In Sin City I rule Will not pity the drooling class; passionately fashioning Jewels Fastening dull blades To this mental lathe to gain edge; allegedly dredging up the typical Satirical lyrics searing spirits Phantom fandoms abandoning idols idling when I crash tidally Spiritually binding Ritual sacrifice; decisively knifing as if practiced on the habitual Basis. Run races never. Pace to slow. Basics way below. Spacing pros with tasteful prose Also slaying joes Embracing complacency only stagnates; changing notes lead to growth Flaying bros even Must stay on toes or fade; daily dough made by not taking a doze I only dose With Mary. Quite contrary to hoes bickering about which nose I’ll be sniffed through Some into inducing rushes via sphincter Keep your stinker away Couldn’t be helped with a bleaching tincture Suffering puncturing For lunch bringing nothing but punch and knuckle sandwiches Damn bitches. My hands twitching, itching to do ditch digging for snitches with no steel brandished Have no advantages Loose leaf my canvases. Not afraid to get scandalous; know y’all cannot handle this Gargantuan tarantulas Manhandled like tea candles as I dismantle men easier than destroying a mandolin Banding in Only amplifies the likelihood of meeting a random end Ranting and rambling Gambling when I'm done that you won't be able to keep ambling Knock you out in your sandals when my spit hits like an Ambien Watch me trample them; sampled but never sampling Entranced with sin Dancing in and out after romance ends Lancing them then off to the stands again Slanted bantering Can offend but also bend inhibitions; renditions of wishful visions and being the one granting them Dammed if dim Stranded in damages; can't get cantering, this Cancer managing Standards that can spin Rabidly rapid; static shock and awe. Addict not dropping off. Elaborate pens Radically pin backstabbing bastards; infinitely outlasting Simultaneously lashing Latching on with a firm grasp. Grabbing and toe tagging then afterward bagging them Meet my jagged friend Egging on until calm is Gone with the Wind On to win That is, magic tactics Exacting backward grins as in upside-down frowns Should I explain that again Batting bad men with a racquet like it’s badminton The raconteur bracket designed for the rhymer in his prime; letterman jacket Personally fitted Custom colors; clique unaffiliated but true Paid dues for these suede shoes Ensue wrath, crossing paths with me. Be phased through. Displace you Vibrate at a rate that frequently frequencies disintegration Blazing you with phazers set to stun Yep son, better run because here I come to erase you Each and every angle will be tangled with Break both ankles Then add in the mad tendency to strangle Take your Angel and go Jangle out the last bit of blood. Lots of love for being painful. But just be thankful Only got your bank; sank like the Titanic. Hitting like an ice cold tank; you're a lukewarm row boat frozen exposing you're shameful Wordsmith, perfectly working an anvil Not a man to steal; but guarantee I can and will Drop your body in a landfill Stop talking, get to walking; gawking awkwardly At the oddity who stands steel Resolute in Will; if looks could kill Mine would; shooting villain’s long as I am still in Adrenaline pumping; dumping loads of shit. Here’s the damn deal Entrepreneur Grade A manure; never has there been a truer Entrees pure Bade losers farewell; after a push down the stairwell Never been surer Any assurances weren’t accounting for me and my allure Got your cure For being average; lock you in a fridge and drop you off a bridge. Got the top rung secure And I haven’t been on tour Demure nature? No. Bigger ego than Troy McClure Stopping simpletons, pop them like pimples Catching them in the temple; listen as the song of a fat minstrel ends Stenciling by pencil Lengthy dismissal brought about by drizzling In a million missiles These difficult insults leave individuals’ pissed; the gist is: their coined phrases aren’t worth a single nickel Series: X Sin-to-Mint Artist: Artist X (Justin Roman Cain)