#dark knights of steel....... shes crazy

[implusle]

cinematic parallels

[yandere-wishes]

Hi!! Just wanted to say May I request Yandere Capitano with a reader that’s like “omg you love me? No worries girl I love you too🤭” and doesnt mind his yandere tencedies? she is like really chill!

̩̩��❆ Anon I tried to answer your ask as best I could but totally forgot about the reader being chill part and kinda made her a bit crazy. I LOVE it when the reader is also unhinged, There's something so delicious about crazy intercepting crazy.

̩̩͙❆ I wrote something similar here: Ice on Ice

｡ ₊°༺🧊༻°₊ ｡

̩̩͙❆ He's salt in the wound. a delicious itch that slithers beneath the skin and nips tenderly at your veins.  

̩̩͙❆ You try to shy away from his kisses, to fear the metal and frost. But instead, you get lost in his scars, fresh and old, raw and weathered. Your fingers trace his jagged lines, nails picking at the cicatrix pealing away the eschar. He only pulls your hand to his lips laying fervent kisses across the palm.

̩̩͙❆ Capitano runs his lips along your neck, inhaling your scent as you revel in his metallic touch. "You should be scared" he chuckles, "Most damsels fear the knight, fear things that are wartorn." His breath hitches, teeth digging into soft skin leaving kisses and claims. Your only reply is a wanton moan.

̩̩͙❆ Somewhere behind you, a body writhes with a final breath before going limp.

̩̩͙❆ Capitano likes to play the role of the vigilante knight. Fine. You'll play the role of the sweet damsel, the valiant darling. You let him kiss you like he's trying to kill, like he's trying to preserve. Wartorn things are not known to be gentle. You appreciate the fact that at least he tries.

̩̩͙❆ You'll kiss him goodbye at the door while hiding sadak knives behind your back. His lips bruise yours, teeth biting your lips raw marveling at the sweet taste of your crimson essence. He doesn't want to go, doesn't want to spend a moment apart from you. But he must obey his queen, he must follow the frozen path. You wait until his silhouette disappears into the immortal snow before turning away and closing the glacier door.

̩̩͙❆ Knights and spies. Swords and Knives. Killers and killers. All of it just sounds like 'lovers' to your jejune ears. Maybe it's the eternal cold that sets into people's hearts, maybe it's the human nature to kill first and question later. Regardless you've come to learn that your lover has many enemies staggering around Snezhnaya. People who wish to see Capitano's helmet resting by a marble tomb.

̩̩͙❆ You extinguish those who plot against him, those who scheme in shadows against the crown. There are none foolish enough to attack him outright. But they prepare his demise in the dark, a hundred arrows pointed at his back. Posion-laced cocktails served at a mandatory banquet. You've learned to hide amongst the shrouds, to leave nothing behind but fatal wounds that won't stop bleeding. You've learned to protect what's yours...

̩̩͙❆ Oh, sweet darling, protector of the knight.

̩̩͙❆ His returns are becoming all too sweet, you can't remember when you started awaiting him at the door, heart in your hands, dying for a cold kiss from a cold man.

̩̩͙❆ You jump into his arms once he opens the doors, Capitano laughs twirling you as he muses over how much he's missed you. You push up his helmet eagerly devouring his lips as he squeezes your body closer relishing in your sweet scent and the fullness of your fragile body beneath his steel fingers.

̩̩͙❆ "Tell me how you slayed them. Tell me about the gore and the way the sun reflects off your red-marred sword" Capitano spears no details, sweet intimidation tactic to keep you in line. Carnage drips from each word, as you peel away his armor, kissing every new piece of revealed skin. Running your tongue inside his fresh scars. You straddle his lap working nimble fingers under his armor pulling away the iron and letting it clank against the floor.

̩̩͙❆ You push him down roughly onto the bed, enjoying the way he hisses and squirms from his broken bones and wounds pushed open. You love him like this bruised, bones still unmended, scars still gushing out blood. You run your fingers over his biceps as he begins to lay kisses across your neck. Fingers sinking deeper into the plush of your thighs.

̩̩͙❆ You paint scars upon his back as his lips peck and bite your hips and chest. Teeth pulling your flesh as he glides his fingers across your spine, enjoying the view of you writhing and moaning under his icy touch.

̩̩͙❆ "I love you" he whispers, a forbidden prayer. Delineating the shell of your ear with his lips. "I shall burn the world for you, my lady, kill any who try to pry you away from me" You cuddle closer never able to fully repeat his words. 'I love you' you long to say, instead you settle for sinking your teeth into the flesh over his heart, and biting until his blood floods your mouth.

̩̩͙❆ I love you, I love you, I love you...

[overlordmetal]

Art Rewind: DC

Similarly to what I did last time with a few of my Dragon Ball artworks from over the years, I selected some highlights out of some DC fanart I’ve created.

"The Dark Knight"

A sketch work I drew in 2018 to test out an art journal I’d just gotten at the time. While he could have benefitted from longer ears, I still really like how this one has aged.

"Batman"

An artwork based on the iconic still toward the ending of the iconic opening from "Batman: The Animated Series". I drew it as a gift for a friend’s birthday in 2019.

"Batman and Robin"

An art collaboration between @eigs and I, she drew Robin while I drew Batman. Originally only a sketch in 2019, I returned to it earlier this year and digitally colored over it.

"The Kill(ing Joke)"

A couple of Joker artworks I drew, this first in 2020 based upon his comic appearance, and the second in 2021 based upon Jared Leto’a appearance in the music video for Thirty Seconds To Mars’ "The Kill".

The Penguin

Penguin is (usually) my favorite Batman villain, and as a result, I wound up showing him a little appreciation in 2020 with an artwork of his own.

"Man of Steel"

I drew the DCEU iteration of Superman in anticipation of Snyder’s cut of the Justice League film in 2021. I know the trend was black suit Superman at the time, but I hadn’t drawn Superman in so long, I just wanted to get him in his standard colors.

"Doomsday"

An artwork I’d drawn of Doomsday in 2021. Fantastic Superman villain.

"Batgirl"

Drawn in 2021 as my entry in a "what-if?" challenge where I depicted Stephanie Brown in my own redesign continuing as Batgirl while Barbara Gordon remained as the Oracle instead of reclaiming the Batgirl title like she did in the New 52.

"It's Not Easy"

Drawn to celebrate Superman Day in 2022, I aimed to capture both the brilliant hopeful side of his character while simultaneously addressing the alienation and burdens he battles behind closed doors. I’m not too crazy about how this one turned out, largely because I didn’t put enough work into the background but I am proud of the shading and coloring and I still really like the overall concept.

"Superman"

Drawn in 2024 to celebrate Superman Day again. I couldn’t go for anything too complex due to my work schedule but I think I succeeded in a simplistic approach a lot better this time. It’s also probably my best Superman artwork to date.

—

I’d like to thank you if you’ve read this far, I hope you enjoyed and that you’ll have a good rest of your day. If you have thoughts or comments you’d like to share, you’re more than welcome to. These are characters I grew up with and I’d love to draw them more should the opportunity arise.

[jor-elsemissary]

"I'm sorry you went through that, my love. It sounds horrible."

Lionel ending up dreaming about the cabin again. [Lana girl you lucky you didn't see him kill the crazy bitch]

The trigger had been a news broadcast about Reeves Dam being rebuilt for the region. The dream had started out with him drowning in a calm river that quickly turned white water rapid with the breaking of the dam. He had been conscious moments before the destruction and it had been his saving grace. Nearly drowning wouldn’t have been so bad if it hadn’t led him to the banks of a certain cabin in the woods.

The dream quickly turned to a nightmare that left him tossing and turning on Martha Kent’s sofa, his legs becoming entangled in the quilt she had thrown on him and his hands grasping nothing but air. Sounds of pain and fear were whimpered in the dim light of the fireplace and not a soothing touch from Martha could lessen the memory.

He awoke with a start, gasping shallow breaths as if he had been suffocating. Immediately he checked himself and his surroundings, trying to will away the memory of the nightmare but phantom pain stubbornly remained with him.

Someone held out a glass of water to him and he started at the sight of it, nearly knocking it from the offering hand as he scrambled to bury himself further into the sofa. It was set down on an end table and much to his relief, Martha Kent came into his field of view.

“Lionel?” she looked to him with deep concern. She had never seen him so terrified, not even Lincoln Cole had brought out this kind of fear. “It’s alright,” she tells him, a hand gently resting on the one he had torn out of a bear trap. “You’re safe.”

“Martha,” he hoarsely called and his eyes darted to the glass of water, this time with a bit more trust than before. She brings it to him and he gratefully accepts it and drinks it down like it was one of his cognacs.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she offers him a way to unload whatever trauma is burdening him.

He is hesitant to reply as he sits up on the sofa and draws his knees inward to hold. Lionel fearfully looked up at Martha again, staring like a man who is trying to take in every detail of her lest he forget. He tried to think about the good times with her instead of the nightmare. He was embarrassed that his dreams had to be bad of all the nights he chose to stay at Martha’s.

She sat down beside him and placed a gentle hand over one of his that was resting on his knees. He didn’t resist when she scooped it up and laced her fingers through his, her thumb caressing the back of his hand where the scars of the bear trap were still clearly visible.

“Do you remember the first time you took me to a charity?” Martha tries to coax him into talking when he wouldn’t or couldn’t speak about what had happened to himself. “It was for a children’s hospital located in Metropolis,” she tells him, her gaze falling to his hand and she took the opportunity to study it while her thumb caressed over his knuckles and rivulets of scar tissue that followed the tendons underneath. She could only imagine how painful it was for him to tear his hand out of the trap.

“Do you remember introducing me to that blowhard of a millionaire who thought I was just another woman you were sleeping with?” she asked of him and watched as that elicited a response from him. His gaze shifted to her and hardened at the reminder.

“I almost decked him,” he replied and smiled softly when she smiled at him.

“You told me as much after you had insulted him.” Martha leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Defending my honor even back then. My dark knight.”

He closed his eyes and his hands clenched into loose fists, “She tortured me after my first escape attempt.” The hand Martha held opened and closed again, flexing the tendons that still ached after all this time. He could still feel the phantom pain of rusted steel tearing into his flesh as he tried not to make a single sound.

Martha squeezed his hand gently, “She can’t hurt you anymore.”

Lionel shook his head in disagreement, “She still does. In my dreams from time to time.” He opens his eyes again to look upon her. “She didn’t inflict pain, Martha, she… violated me and there was nothing I could do to stop her.”

He wrapped his arms around his legs then and rested his head on his arms. His voice was muffled by his own limbs as he continued to speak, “I was bound to the bedframe, rope biting into my wrists. At first I tried to buck and kick her off of me but she just tied my ankles too. I think she was high on the marijuana she was growing because she had become emboldened after my escape.”

���I’m sorry you went through that,” Martha tells him and he can feel her embrace him from where she sat.

“In all my life, I have never used sex as a weapon to hurt someone,” he tells her, lifting his head to meet her gaze. His eyes were slightly red from the tears that refused to fall. He won’t allow them to. “Maybe to get what I want, but never to hurt them.”

She can tell there was more to that declaration than what Marilynn had done to him. “It isn’t the first time you’ve been hurt like that hasn’t it?” she dared to ask and surprisingly he nodded.

He didn’t elaborate on it, clearly not ready to discuss that chapter in his life with her. She wondered if he ever spoke of it to anyone.

Martha tightened her embrace around him and after a moment she coaxed him into untangling himself and laying back on the couch. She settled in front of him and managed to pull the quilt over them both.

“Martha?” he curiously called to her and she turned slightly to look up at him.

“Sleeping with someone you trust helps keep the nightmares away,” she tells him. Lionel can only smile in response to that. It was something a mother would say to a frightened child and although he was certain she wasn’t viewing him as such, her instinct to help ease his mind was just as strong.

“Thank you,” he tells her and wraps his arms around her. It takes him a minute to finally relax and another few minutes to finally drift off to sleep with her.

He doesn’t recall another nightmare plaguing him that night.

[nastyslug]

anyway just wanna write down why i think there's no way dany is azor ahai your feminist savor hero queen is a man who killed his wife? be so fucking for real

jk no i dont want to argue i just gotta write it all down somewhere

The bloodstone emperor gets his hands on some black stone from space and abandons worship of the gods in favor of this stone, and well of course you'd make a weapon out of the magic rock you found but the weapon needs a blood sacrifice. So he pierces his blade through the chest of the Amethyst Empress, and she lets out a cry so powerful it cracks the moon and outpours dragons that drink the fire of the sun. Her soul is absorbed into the sword, consumed. In an act of kin slaying so upsetting asshai is cursed. He usurps her throne, ending an era of peace. His sword is Lightbringer as it brings light in the dark. He is probably the first dragon rider, the first "dragon" but more importantly, this makes the amethyst empress THE mother of dragons. Who dies in childbirth. "The maiden made of light turns her back on the world" and the long night begins.

He enslaves his people, practices necromancy and cannabalism but as evil and awful as he is I'm sure he had supporters, first hands, children ect, and some of these people would learn the same fire and blood magic and would found valyria, creating the next empire knowing the same blood magic necessay to bind them dragons and how to forge valyrian steel using the blood sacrafice of slaves.

But a power hungry god tyrant isn't just gonna settle, so the bloodstone emperor manifests destinys his way over to westeros/lands of always winter, I believe with interest in the heart of winter/the weirwoods and assumably does some blood magic with them and creates The Others, his living dead army and that's why the trees look like their bleeding and crying.

THis is where we get crazy, the bloodstone emperor then becomes the Night's King, who takes the corpse queen as his bride, "chased and caught and loved her" Interesting order?? Who enslaves the other night's watch through sorcery for 13 years.

Now, perhaps, what if, the last hero is the child of the corpse queen and the night's king. The child of an Ice Queen and a Dragon. And he was snuck away to the first men, in mirror of jon, in mirror of gilly and her baby. What if the name stark was his bastard name and the first men were house dayne, what if the corpse queen was a dayne. or maybe hes only the corpse queens and thats why he survived the cold idk idk

The bloodstone emperor, the Night's King, is killed by the last hero wielding not lightbringer but Dawn, described to be Just Like valyrian steel but white rather than black, it's "alive with light" and forged from a fallen star, wielded only by a knight worthy, named Dawn because it was used at the Battle for the Dawn. And it's present at Jon's birth.

But the bloodstone emperor is basically like a god surely he is no easy kill, but being of the same blood could help but still he's this crazy powerful sorcerer and I don't believe the last hero was that. Maybe the bloodstone emperor did a ritual so he could not be fully killed, or maybe the last hero and children couldn't kill him so they did a ritual, probably with the weirwoods, and knowing he is not "fully" dead people immediately warn of his, and the long night's eventual return.

Regardless of How specifically I believe the bloodstone emperor in death, becomes R'hllor, the lord of light (hey, what happened to the maiden). R'hllor, worshiped in Asshai, whos servants practice blood and fire magic, whos servants are children bought as slaves. Who prophecizes Azor Ahai's return.

and history often rhymes

Rhaenyra usurped and killed by her younger brother, by sunfyre. "Sunfyre, it is said, did not seem at first to take any interest in the offering, until Broome pricked the queen’s breast with his dagger. The smell of blood roused the dragon" "Rhaenyra Targaryen had time to raise her head toward the sky and shriek out one last curse upon her half-brother before Sunfyre’s jaws closed round her" Aegon's weapon Consumed her. And the dragons went extinct.

Aemond takes Alys Rivers, a sorcerer "the witch queen" as a prize of war, who looks surprisingly young for her age and carries the "dragon's bastard." It seems really implied that she charmed aemond.

Daemon challenges Aemond and waits 13 days and they have the battle above the gods eye, Daemon killing Aemond.

The dragon has three heads; The Bloodstone Emperor = Azor Ahai = Night's King = Aegon and Aemond = Euron The Last Hero = brandon the breaker? = Daemon =Jon Snow The Amethyst Empress =Nissa Nissa = Rhaenyra = Daenerys stressing I don't think the dance was literally them reincarnated just symbolically

AND DAENERYS she's not azor ahai she's not the bloodstone emperor SHES NOT A MAN. She's the amethyst empress, she's The Mother of Dragons, whos death caused the long night, and whos life will end it.

and I mean like thats just the start

[lordsofthevideowasteland]

Threw a stripped down version of my forever WIP Video Wasteland RPG system in a blender with my medieval horror skirmish wargame system to create a video wasteland dungeon crawl called TAPE HUNT.

In this game, essentially, urban pirates in the eternal city of 1980s gangsploitation movies raid burned out industrial estates while high on magic drugs to nab interdimensional artifacts to sell to collectors. These artifacts are a lot of the time anomalous 35mm film or VHS tapes.

So i did about a days work on the system and playtested it and this is how it went.

Rolled up 3 hunters.

2 pitfaces (think urban punk gangbanger Knights), and an Abstract Exile (refugees from a more arthouse world). The pit faces are named Raver and Mashley and the Exile is named Lynch. Lynch has the head of an Ibis.

entered the building, explored the first 2 rooms,

Start drawing the map tile by tile, nothing crazy happens. Take a right, am hit with the the first sanity check- i give it to Raver, she fails, so the gang rolls up an anomaly- a silent hill 2 esque stairway into the darkness, dying sirens blaring in the night as they descend. This immediately increases the Threat Level to 2 before we've even entered the first skirmish.

Below they found an abandoned tapehunter camp, where they looted a full auto rifle which was handed to Mashley, one of the pitfaces who was only armed with a battle modded chainsaw and shurikens.

the camp was also haunted, but the haunted debuff was removed by the second pitface, Raver, who had taken the ability "fuck that spooky bullshit, man"

moving on to the next room, the first combat erupted. the tape hunters were surrounded by 3 BIO ZOMBIEs, 1 armed with a Riot Scythe, one with it's own Severed Puking Head, and the third with a gore encrusted MAUL.

The Abstract Exile, Lynch, took the initiative. He ran around the obstacles in the room, and the holes in the floor (randomly generated), and heavily wounded the riot scythe wielding zombie with his Hypertech Distortion Pistol.

The zombie went next, just missing Lynch with a swipe of it's massive black steel weapon.

Next up came Mashley, she darted forward, blasting at the Riot Scythe weilding zombie with her auto-rifle, putting an end to the creep forever.

Unfortunately, she left Raver behind, Who was immediately drenched in a gout of acidic vomit from the head weilding zombie. She, lacking armor, failed her save, and took an affliction- BLEED. With no healing spells or first aid kits to be found, Raver knew she was going to be dead by the middle of round 2.

Lynch attempted his special skill- REWIND, but the turn played out largely the same, wasting his rare ability.

At the start of round 2, another zombie showed up, as was the randomly rolled condition of the skirmish. This one weilded a festering mutated tentacle.

Raver screamed for her allies to just run, as she bled out, rising almost instantly as another BIO ZOMBIE. Since I forgot she was carrying a chainsaw as well as the rifle, her zombie would be unarmed, as bio zombies cant use guns.

The zombies ALL passed their charge rolls, and therefore would be pursuing the survivors into the next room.

The survivors passed their sanity checks- no anomalies ahead.

The terrain for the next room was to be three full cover terrain pieces in favor of the enemy, and one full cover and one half cover for the hunters, with the zombies in hot pursuit.

The encounter rolled up was to be a KILLDROID and it's SQUATGANGER engineer master.

The Killdroid lurched out of cover, scanning the darkness, but to no avail, Mashley and Lynch were pressed against a pillar, out of line of sight

Lynch knew the undead would be on their heels soon enough, so raced forward, ducking into the cover the Killdroid came from, using it's advantage against it. he let rip with his distortion pistol, but missed the horrific machine with both blasts.

The Squatganger fired his autorifle at Lynch, but lynch ducked back behind the cover, taking not even a glancing blow.

Mashley panicked, not sure whether to help her strange bird headed partner in crime, or get the drop on the approaching undead. She opted to go into overwatch, and take fire at the zombies as they emerged. Her auto rifle SHREDDED the puking horror that kiled her friend, but her friends own animated cadaver was upon her in an instant, attempting to grapple her- but failing!

The Killdroid stomped toward lynch, unpacking it's mighty KILLSAW, but the slow lumbering machine was no match for Lynch's agility, and only barely inflicted a flesh wound. He fired again at the droid, his shots going wide as he dodged and weaved.

Unfortunately, while lynch was dodging the Killdroids saw, the Squatganger managed to get a good line of sight, and put a splattery end to the Therianthrope with their autorifle.

Mashley ran, throwing herself into a gap in the westmost pillar, where the Squatganger had just left. The undead slowly approached from one side, and the engineer and their walking weapon turned to face her position.

beyond them, she glimpsed what they must have been guardeing- a vault locked with a password. Surely some good stuff was hidden in there. She almost let herself feel a glimmer of hope.

The slimy sounds of a slithering tentacle were approaching , so she whipped around and blasted the approaching ghoul into jam, but her rifle ran dry in the process.

the Killdroid clanked forward, and the squatganger tried to repeat the trick they had done on Lynch, but couldn't quite get close enough. Shrapnel from the pillar cut into Mashley's arm, and dented her shoulder armor beyond use.

She was out of options. She cast her rifle to the groud, and popped out of cover just long enough to fling a volley of shurikens at the squat ganger. one of the graphene microblades caught the bastard in the throat, and he died choking on his own blood.

She had no time to smile, however, as the burning red eyes of the Killdroid drew closer. It lowered it's Death ray, and from the arm that it had been using to steady it's sights, it SHUNK out a pneumatic KILLBLADE.

It struck- and the blow hit home. Mashley's death was mercilessly quick, but mercifully painless.

... The tape hunt was at it's end.

If i was a gaming group, I would then have rerolled characters again but with 10 bonus points per kill achieved on the previous run for buying gear and skills.

So that's fun!

I think I'm on to something!

[legends-live-in-memories]

First Impressions

AYO its ya girl! let me pretend i didnt fall off the face of the earth for the entirety of july and august as i slide you Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Day 1- Meeting for the First Time 

Maribat Masterlist AO3 @maribat-bdbwm

Word Count: 1.2K words

Summary: 

Marinette could barely contain her excitement.

She was going to meet her father for the first time ever!

BD!Bruce Wayne Day 1- Meeting for the First Time

without further ado:

The plane ride was long and boring. Hours upon hours of listening to the whispered conversations and the poorly concealed snores was enough to drive normal people insane. The seat, though lavish and soft, grew uncomfortable after the first three hours of the fourteen hour flight. She slept, ate and watched two movies but there were still three more hours to go. Marinette’s neck had cramped from being seated for so long but not once did she let her discomfort show. She was a big girl now, all of ten years old, and she would not embarrass her mother and her training while being in first class of the plane. 

“Don’t look so tense, darling,” her mother’s sweet voice called out to her, a warm hand on her shoulder. “The plane will be landing soon and then you can stretch your legs.”

“Yes, maman,” despite her discomfort, she was still excited. It was her first time going to America and she was going to meet her birth father! Her parents have spoken of him a few times but each time left her yearning for more; yearning to know the man that made her, that gave her her eyes and pale complexion. She imagined all the possibilities. Was he kind? Was he secretly funny? He was probably as big as her papa! Her maman liked tall guys, she said it made her feel safe. Marinette wanted to feel safe too. He was a warrior, her maman had said, a hero. Could he fight like her papa? Her papa used his imposing size to his advantage, overpowering all his enemies but never causing a scene. Maman used to tell her stories about her papa, about how he used to be known as The Silent Bear, a strong fighter who worked with a group called the League of Shadows before becoming a member of their village. Was her father from that group too? Maman never told her how she met neither her papa nor her father. 

“Marinette,” her voice called her attention. “We’ve landed, sweetie, let’s go.”

Disembarking was a whirlwind of bustling bodies and luggage. The airport smelled different from the Pudong Airport. Not a foul smell, but it was stuffy with fear and anxiety. It made Marinette’s skin crawl. Her maman’s grip on her arm was anchoring as she was dragged throughout the airport and into an awaiting black car. It was nighttime and Marinette was, despite the long flight, still restless with excitement. She watched as her maman merely nodded at the driver before they were off into the night. 

The city was much different from where she grew up. She knew of only her maman’s village and the elders that lived there. The tall buildings, skyscrapers, her English teacher’s voice said, were infinite as they reached for the sky. Some looked old, lined in brick and gargoyles while others were steel and silver like the shiniest of knives. They complemented each other, like the blade and hilt of an old sword. The traffic was crazy though. Marinette has never seen so many cars going in the same direction except for the journey to the airport in Shanghai. 

On top of one of the older buildings, perched on a gargoyle, Marinette saw a shadow. She couldn’t tell what it was until it opened its wings and jumped, swooping over the city like a bat out of hell. 

“Maman! Did you see that?” She was shaking her maman’s sleeve to get her attention to the figure. “It’s him! It’s him!”

“Yes, darling.” Her maman’s smile was sweet and sent warm feelings all throughout her tiny body. “Just be patient, dear.” 

The car turned off the main road and in another five minutes was pulling up to what Marinette believed was called the Gotham Harbour. There were shipping crates and the distinct smell of salt water and dead fish. Marinette couldn’t control her face and turned her nose up in disgust. Not the worst smelling place she’s been but still not nice. The car crawled around corners until it stopped between two forklifts. Before her stood the same figure she witnessed in the city. 

The Dark Knight.

The Caped Crusader.

Batman.

Her father. 

Her maman and papa had never referred to him by his real name; Marinette didn’t think he had one besides ‘Batman.’ He was always ‘the Bat’ or ‘Batman’ when her parents spoke of him. He cared for his city, he fought for justice and was an honest man. But she wanted, no, needed to know more. Would he win in a fight against her papa? Her maman? Her maman was rather fond of long-ranged weapons but her parents said he was a close-ranged fighter like her papa. The excitement was sweet on Marinette’s tongue. She had so many thoughts and questions to voice, none that she could voice from the seclusion of the car.

“Wait here, Marinette.” Her maman had a look on her face, staring out the windshield, boring into the man waiting for them. She had that look whenever she faced a troublesome problem. She fixed her with a softer look, her eyebrows relaxing but her dark eyes as cold as ever. “And remember your manners.”

It was like ice had been injected into her veins. Marinette put a lid on her excitement. Her mother had let her joviality run free long enough. She was representing her village now. She was not going to embarrass her upbringing. Her fidgeting stopped and she took large breaths to calm her heart and mind. She would not be naive into thinking her father would be as warm and welcoming as her dreams had crafted. But she still hoped. Just a teeny bit. 

“Yes, mother,” was her response. Her mother nodded at that and stepped out of the car without a word.

She couldn’t hear what they were saying and her lip-reading skills were not the best. Her mother barely came up to this man’s shoulders. Her deep red blouse was the only splash of colour against his black silhouette. Marinette looked at the crates that boxed them in and saw more figures hidden in the shadows. Those must be his birds. They were unmoving, and huge. Most of them.

Tapping on the glass of her side of the car brought her attention back to her mother. Her eyebrows were back in their previous scrunch. Taking a deeper breath, Marinette squared her shoulders and stepped out of the car. The chill of the air against her skin reminded her of her earrings, her greatest weapon if things went bad. 

She prayed things didn’t go bad.

With a final look at her mother, she stood as tall as she could and paced to her father. To Batman.

Holy cow, Batman!

This was the moment of truth. She would not embarrass herself or her family name. 

“Hello, father,” she started. She kept her voice low and as even as possible, remembering her manners. Her keen eye caught the hesitation in his breathing, she felt the energy on the harbour shift at her words. She took the silence, that lasted only a second, to fully look at the man before her. He was an impressive figure indeed and her mother liked her men tall, but something stuck out to her. Her curiosity rang out and threw her manners away. Her next words left her before she could fully think them over. 

“I thought you’d be taller.”

[steamworksandshadows]

Extremely Large Pile of Halloween Music Recs, 2020 Update!

(Reorganized a bit, and with a whole bunch more songs.)

Classical

Come Little Children - Erutan (ethereal classical)

Transylvanian Lullaby - Erutan (ethereal classical)

Transylvanian Lullaby - City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra (orchestral classical)

A History of Horror (album) - City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra 

Double Trouble - City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra (classical)

Carnival of the Animals: Aquarium - Camille Saint-Saens (eerie classical)

Danse Macabre - Camille Saint Saens (dark classical ballet)

Uranus, the Magician - Gustav Holst (orchestral classical)

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice - Paul Dukas (orchestral classical)

Night on Bald Mountain - Modest Mussorgsky (orchestral classical about witches)

In the Hall of the Mountain King - Edvard Grieg (classical)

Dies Irae - Mozart (threatening choral/orchestral classical)

Don Giovanni, a cenar teco - Mozart (growly baritone/bass opera - the bit where Don Giovanni gets dragged to hell, both in the supernatural religious sense and in the modern internet slang sense)

Toccata and Fugue in D Minor - Bach (classical pipe organ)

String Quartet No. 8 in C Minor (III) - Shostakovich (classical string quartet)

Dance of the Knights - Sergei Prokofiev (classical)

Flowering Vines - Unwoman (ominous cello waltz)

The Carny of Mr Dark - Deathwatch Beetle Repairman (goth pipe organ)

Castlevania organ medley - Ulla Olsson (pipe organ)

This Is Halloween - Vitamin String Quartet (classical string quartet)

Vitamin String Quartet Performs The Nightmare Before Christmas (album)

The Vampire Masquerade - Peter Gundry (classical)

Waltz of the Bone King - Peter Gundry (classical)

Masquerade Suite: Waltz - Aram Khatchaturian (dark classical waltz)

The Comedians, Op. 26: Waltz - Kabalevsky (uneasy classical waltz)

Grim Grinning Ghosts - Myuu (instrumental piano)

Rock, alternative, rockabilly

Haunted - Ashcan Orchid (folk rock)

The Last Steampunk Waltz - Ghostfire (rock waltz)

Bad Moon Rising - Rasputina (cello metal)

In the Hall of the Mountain King - Apocalyptica (metal cello)

Get Your Kicks on Route 666 - Exdevils (metal)

Shoot The Zombies - Andrew Huang / Songs To Wear Pants To (sing-along folk)

Something Wicked That Way Went - Vernian Process (circus rock)

Dark Carnivale - Frenchy and the Punk (indie rock)

Come Alive (War Of The Roses) - Janelle Monae (rock)

Gallows - Coco Rosie (goth indie/alternative)

My Favorite Things - Youn Sun Nah (creepy vocal)

Annabel Lee - Psyche Corporation (electronic alternative)

The Devil Wears a Suit - Kate Miller-Heidke (alternative)

Toxic - Yael Naim (neo-folk)

Crazy For You - Venus de Vilo (indie rock)

Witchy Woman - The Eagles (classic rock)

Goodnight Moon - Shivaree (alternative)

Bela Lugosi’s Dead - Nouvelle Vague (alternative)

Bloodletting (The Vampire Song) - Concrete Blonde (alternative)

Tombstone - Suzanne Vega (alternative)

Off With Your Head - Mz Ann Thropik (alternative)

Poison Apple - Charlene Kaye (rock)

This Is The Night - Harry Potter soundtrack (rock)

Look Out Young Son - Grand Ole Party (rock)

Painkiller - Birdeatsbaby (rock)

Haunted - Frantic Flintstones (rockabilly)

Freaked Out and Psyched Out - Frantic Flintstones (album)

Zombie Riot - Batmobile (rockabilly)

Alice in psycholand - Nekromantix (rockabilly)

She’s My Witch - The Radiacs (rockabilly)

Werewolf - Southern Culture on the Skids (rockabilly)

Human Fly - The Cramps (rockabilly)

Munster Beat! - Martinibomb and The Coconut Monkeyrocket (‘60s pop remix?)

Circus punk, dark cabaret

Charmed, I’m Sure - Circus Contraption (dark circus cabaret)

We’re All Mad - Circus Contraption (dark circus cabaret)

Pink Elephants on Parade - Circus Contraption (dark cabaret)

The Last Waltz - The Magnificent Seven (dark cabaret waltz)

Tango de la Muerte - The Magnificent Seven (rock tango)

Bloody Bones - Beats Antique (dark circus waltz)

Monster Tango - Mucca Pazza (circus punk marching band)

Rumanian Dance No. 1 - Mucca Pazza (circus punk marching band)

Mr. Spider Goes Home to Spiderland - Mucca Pazza (circus punk marching band)

The Trouble - Birdeatsbaby (dark cabaret)

Theatre Noir - Robyn Cage (dark cabaret) (music video)

Jekyll and Hyde - Theoretics (hip-hop)

Lament for a Toy Factory - Dr. Steel (circus rock)

Bogeyman Boogie - Dr. Steel (circus rock)

Circus Apocalypse - Vermillion Lies (dark cabaret)

When You’re Evil - Voltaire (dark cabaret)

BRAINS! - Voltaire (dark cabaret)

Careless Whisper (cover) - Unwoman (electronic cabaret)

Katrinah Josephina - Universal Hall Pass (a capella)

Buried in Water - Dead Man’s Bones (dark waltz)

Metropolitan Waltz - Orpheum Bell (folk waltz)

The Buccaneers’ Waltz - GurdyBird (electronic folk?)

Black Waltz - Amber Asylum (electronic circus thing)

Creepy Clown Symphony - Myuu (self-explanatory)

Americana, bluegrass, blues, soul, funk

In Hell I’ll Be In Good Company - The Dead South (Americana)

Stranger - The Devil Makes Three (Americana)

First and Last Waltz - Nickel Creek (Americana)

Ghosts of Mississippi - The Steeldrivers (bluegrass)

7 Devils - The Goddamn Gallows (bluegrass, rock)

Old devils - William Elliot Whitmore (bluegrass)

Death Come Creeping - Stefan Grossman (bluegrass)

The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie - Colter Wall (Americana)

Shankill Butchers - Sarah Jarosz (Americana)

Hellhound - Shawn James (acoustic blues)

Voodoo Woman - Koko Taylor (blues)

Your Hoodoo Man - Studebaker John & The Hawks (blues)

Voodoo - The Neville Brothers (New Orleans soul)

Voodoo - Jo Jo Zep & The Falcons (soul, funk)

The Witch Queen of New Orleans - Redbone (funk)

I Put a Spell on You - Screamin’ Jay Hawkins (rock ‘n roll)

Jazz, swing

In the Hall of the Mountain King - Duke Ellington (jazz)

I Put a Spell on You - Nina Simone (slow jazz)

I Put a Spell on You - Morgan James (slow jazz)

Old Devil Moon - Frank Sinatra (jazz)

Black Magic Woman - Janice Hagan and Kenny Vehkavaara (jazz)

I’d Rather Be Burned As A Witch - Eartha Kitt (jazz)

Thriller (1930s Jazz Cover) ft. Wayne Brady - Postmodern Jukebox (swing) (alternate link)

The Devil With The Devil - Larry Clinton Orchestra (swing)

Swingin’ at the Seance - Glenn Miller (big band swing)

Spooks - Louis Armstrong (swing)

The Headless Horseman - Bing Crosby (swing)

Skeleton Jangle - Dan Levinson’s Roof Garden Jass Band (swing)

Resurrection Waltz - Lee Presson and the Nails (big band waltz)

Spooky - Puppini Sisters (Andrews Sisters-style swing)

Headless Horseman - Kay Starr (swing)

Hell (Remastered 2016) - Squirrel Nut Zippers (swing)

Ghost of Stephen Foster - Squirrel Nut Zippers (swing)

Memphis Exorcism (Remastered 2016) - Squirrel Nut Zippers (swing)

Boogie Man - Lee Presson and the Nails (swing)

Rattlin’ Bones - Preservation Hall Jazz Band (New Orleans swing)

Save My Soul - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy (New Orleans swing)

Skeletons in the Closet - Louis Armstrong (swing)

Skeletons in the Closet - The Moon-Rays (swing)

The Mack - Beat Circus (swing - doesn’t seem very Halloween at first, until the tuba player gets murdered in the middle of the song. I swear it makes sense.)

Balrog Boogie - Diablo Swing Orchestra (swing)

Voodoo Mon Amour - Diablo Swing Orchestra (swing)

The House Is Haunted - Casa Loma Orchestra (swing)

Skeleton Jangle - Viva La Rocca (swing)

Two Little Men in a Flying Saucer - Ella Fitzgerald (swing)

Grim Grinning Ghosts - The Dapper Dans (barbershop)

Grim Grinning Ghosts - The Dapper Dans (in person) (barbershop)

Halloween Medley - The Cadaver Dans (barbershop)

Pop

Full Moon Tonight - Silvastone feat. Bellsaint (pop)

Demons - Hayley Kiyoko (pop)

Season of the Witch - Lana del Rey (pop)

A Little Wicked - Valerie Broussard (pop)

Halloween - Aqua (pop)

Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This) - violin/cello/bass cover - Simply Three (electronic pop)

Shoot The Zombies (Pink Fluffy Unicorns Remix) - Andrew Huang (happy pop)

I Put a Spell on You (no movie dialogue) - Winifred Sanderson (pop musical)

Electro-swing

Fear & Delight - The Correspondents (electro-swing)

Midnight - Caravan Palace (electro-swing) (alternate link)

Midnight - Swingrowers (different electro-swing)

Old House - Dirty Honkers (electro-swing)

Devil’s Samba - Sim Gretina (Latin-flavored electro-swing)

Devil’s Got My Soul - Victor and the Bully (rock/electro-swing)

Cuphead: Railroad Wrath (Electro-Swing Remix) - The Musical Ghost (electro-swing)

Cuphead: One Hell of a Time (Electro-Swing Remix) - The Musical Ghost (electro-swing)

Bendy and the Ink Machine: The Devil’s Swing - Fandroid (electro-swing)

Bendy and the Ink Machine: The Devil’s Swing (Glitch-Swing Remix) - The Musical Ghost (glitch-swing)

Undertale: Spider Dance (Glitch-Swing Remix) - The Musical Ghost (glitch-swing)

Undertale: Spider Dance (Sim Gretina Remix) - Sim Gretina (funk/glitch/chiptune)

Luigi’s Mansion (Remix) - Qumu Music (chiptune, electro-swing)

Undertale: Ghost Fight & Dummy (Peggy Suave Swing Remix) - Sim Gretina (electro-swing)

Electronica, EDM

Backstreet Bones: Everycorpse - Sim Gretina (uhhh…spoopy Halloween EDM remix of Backstreet Boys? If you click on nothing else, click on this one. It’s very worth it, I promise.)

Macabre Rotting Girl Feat. Kathy-chan - Sim Gretina (adorable electro)

Sim Gretina feat. Kathy chan: Let The Monsters Free (µThunder Remix) - µThunder (EDM) 

Ghost in the Machine - PrototypeRaptor (complextro)

Spooky Tune - PrototypeRaptor (complextro)

Nullifcation [Underground] (Legend of Zelda remix) - PrototypeRaptor (grimy EDM)

Grim Grinning Ghost (Remix) - The Living Tombstone (EDM)

Undertale: Megalovania (Sim Gretina Remix) - Sim Gretina (EDM)

Undertale: Spooktune (Sim Gretina Remix) - Sim Gretina (EDM)

Spooky Scary Skeletons (Remix) - The Living Tombstone (EDM)

Warren Zevon: Werewolves of London (Daheen Rmx) - Daheen (psytrance)

Interlude: Limbo - Yoshimasu Kamiya (ambient horror)

Bloodstone - Amon Tobin (atmospheric glitch)

Volk - Thom Yorke (ambient horror)

The Horror - RJD2 (instrumental hip-hop)

Crybaby - Drum & Lace (indescribable brooding atmospheric)

The Kid Who Drowned At Summer Camp - Hot Sugar (instrumental hip-hop)

The Darkest Evening of the Year - Emancipator (downtempo)

Halloween Funtime REMIXMONSTRousMASHup - Pretty Lights (EDM)

HALLOWEEN Theme Song (DJ Deville Trap Remix) - DJ Deville (trap)

The Oogie Boogie (Man) - Duke Skellington (glitch-hop)

Stranger Things Theme Song (Michael Jobity & The Foreign Machine Remix) - Michael Jobity, The Foreign Machine (synthwave - my personal favorite remix of this theme)

Stranger Things Theme Song (C418 REMIX) - C418 (synthwave)

Stranger Things (Louis Futon Flip) - Louis Futon (chillstep)

Stranger Things Theme (Slicey Remix) - Slicey (trap)

Stranger Things - Theme Song (Oscar Wylde Trap Remix) - Oscar Wylde (trap)

Ghostbusters (Kill Paris Remix) - Kill Paris (EDM, future funk - by far my favorite remix of the Ghostbusters theme)

The Ghostbusters Theme (Remix) - The Living Tombstone (EDM)

Ghostbusters Remix - Matheo (EDM)

Ghostbusters Remix - Fat Noize (dubstep)

Lady Gaga: Monster (Starfuckers Remix) - Starfuckers (EDM)

Lady Gaga: Monster (Chew Fu Remix) - Chew Fu (electro-house)

Michael Jackson: Thriller (James Egbert Remix) - James Egbert (electro-house)

Michael Jackson - Thriller [The Reflex Halloween Disco Edit] - The Reflex (moody, indescribable IDM(?))

Beetlejuice (Dubstep Mix) - Figure (dubstep)

The Addams Family (Figure Remix) - Figure (dubstep)

Hedwig’s Theme (KE KRA’s Trap Remix) - KE KRA (trap)

Stress - Justice (French electronic…something)

Things I thought were funny

Werewolf Bar Mitzvah - 30 Rock (parody novelty record)

A Hard Days Night of the Living Dead - The Zombeatles (zombie rock)

Schüttel deinen Speck - Peter Fox (witches’ dance video) (the track by itself)

In the Hall of the Mountain King - Portsmouth Sinfonia (experimental orchestra from the ‘70s - google them, you absolutely will not regret it)

Gangnam Busters - FAROFF (Ghostbusters/Gangnam Style mashup - annoyingly, it works far better than you think it will)

[cornelianlute]

[ SAVE ] : saving their life in the process, sender grabs receiver's hands to either yank them out of immediate danger, or to pull them to safety. ( falsestalwart / garland )

TAKE MY HAND || not currently accepting

a random excursion outside of the castle gates was not supposed to be this dangerous. though perhaps she should know better. as of late, the monster populations had been swelling to twice their normal size. they grew bolder and more reckless. they hadn't made their way inside the kingdom grounds nor near the kingdom's walls, but she suspected it was inevitable. even so , something most precious to her had flown out of the gentle grasp of her fingers and outside the safety of her home. why would the eldest princess of cornelia, heir to the throne, risk her safety venturing outside in such perilous times? 

the thing she had lost, the treasure she was seeking, was a drawing her younger sister had drawn for her. it was a crude drawing as children's drawings are, but it made her heart swell within her breast and her throat close up. It was just a simple thing - their family - the king, queen, and the two sisters - and there was also garland too. cordelia had said it was her and the people most important to her. (the chancellor had been added as an afterthought in a small cloud in the sky. cordelia had assured her that no, in fact, he was not dead in her picture. she just forgot about him but realized he was important to her all the same.) 

sarah had been admiring it when the wind had kicked up (a storm must be on the horizon as the dark skies seemed to portend) and snatched the picture from her dainty hands. it was one-of-a-kind, unique. she couldn't afford to lose it, and so that was how she found herself outside of the castle with a storm on the horizon and with the monsters that made the cornelian forest their homes on her trail. 

she had found the thing she had been searching for caught in between the branches of some bushes and thanked the gods that it was largely unscathed. a scratch here or there, but otherwise the drawing was unharmed. she did not find herself quite as lucky. the chitter-chatter of a goblin made its way to her ears and as she turned around she saw it was not one , not two , but three goblins and two crazy horses that had found her unawares. 

the flash of the goblin's knife caught the rays of the sun that had pushed its way through the boughs of the trees and the blood ran cold in her veins. she froze where she stood, pressed up against the bushes and shielded herself with her arms as the knives came down upon her porcelain skin. she felt the white , silken fabric on her arms rip and the blade strike her skin. the blood ran down her arms and she saw the horses poise themselves to attack next, bringing their hooves up to strike.

the next thing she saw was his sword fly through the air , stunning the monsters in front of her as the rest of his blade made its way back to its owner. the flash of steel, the clang of silver armor. it was all familiar to her and his towering figure comes into view and she breathes a sigh of relief for it is garland, her sworn knight and protector come to her aid. he must have followed her or noticed she was gone and had come looking for her. the monsters turned their attention from the unprotected princess, their prey, to garland, a formidable opponent. they were no match for the strongest knight in all of cornelia. 

sarah watched as he cut down each enemy effortlessly. once, a goblin had broken through his blind spot and had come for her, its knife drawn again and she drew in a breath. he must have spun around but she didn't know for sure. her gaze was locked firmly on the knife that was trained on the area of her chest where her heart would be. she feels the cold metal of armor against  her hand, the feel of it sharp against her cheek, too, as garland takes her hand in her's to pull her from safety. closing her eyes , the sway of his body moves back and forth as he surely takes out the goblin that had been after her heart and the remainder of the enemies around them.

the forest is quiet afterwards and for a long moment, she stays pressed against his chest. her ornate circlet pressing into her skull as the wind blows through her minty green locks. but all too soon the moment is cut short. the broken, battered bodies of the enemies lay before them. blood was on his armor and must surely be on her as well (and not just her own). garland draws away from her, taking care not to touch her again. inhaling deeply, her heart constricts again, and sadness colours her features - her eyes downcast, her lips turned down into a frown. 

he asks once if she is alright despite her bleeding arm. her sister's drawing clutched against her breast, she responds, "i am, sir." her arm stings and she curses herself for not knowing the basics of white magick to heal the wound.  her eyebrows raise as garland gently holds her arm within his hand, covering it with a piece of cloth. 

wordlessly they return to the castle and later on she would offer her thanks to him. the gift from her sister , a bit crumbled and scratched, lay in a locked chest with the rest of her treasures. the simple cloth he had used to dress her wound would come to rest among them too.

@falsestalwart 

[sweetestlamb]

Rain On Me

A Motel Smut Fic 

Summary: The rumbling of the engine vibrates through her exhausted body, the fatigue from her aimless walk now catching up with her as she clings to the wide span of his torso. The rain leaves his thin cotton shirt plastered to the coiled muscle of his abdomen, those enticing abs she had only seen a glimpse off are tight and compact beneath her weather worn digits. 

Author's note: Sorry that this took a while, life has been a bit busy in the best way. I’m very excited to see so many others joining the fandom and writing fanfiction though, glad to be able to read stories from talented writers! I hope you guys enjoy this one, I had a harder time than usual with this smut, and the pov switches a few times because MY and GT had a lot to say and I just followed their lead. I can never write smut without a tinge of emotions so please excuse the excessive inner thoughts and inner monologues, I initially planned on just starting with the sex but I just love a build up. * Plays Ashanti’s “Rain On Me” 

Thank you for the beautiful header @essantial​ you’re the absolute best! 

The rumbling of the engine vibrates through her exhausted body, the fatigue from her aimless walk now catching up with her as she clings to the wide span of his torso. The rain leaves his thin cotton shirt plastered to the coiled muscle of his abdomen, those enticing abs she had only seen a glimpse off are tight and compact beneath her weather worn digits.

She hasn't the vaguest idea where he intends to bring them but she knows she'll follow him wherever he leads. Her heart had spattered to a stop just like the motorcycle's rumbling engine when she saw him approaching, his face chiseled and undeniably beautiful under the hard cascade of precipitation pouring from the skies. She'd never had a knight in shining armor, never had anyone try to protect her. She was hard, jagged and sharp, lashing out and wounding others before they could get close enough to harm her.

Yet.

There he'd been. Coming to save her even after snapping at her like a viper, acid dripping from the tip of his tongue as he crushed her under his foot like the empty can he'd compared her to. She had been too shocked to respond, to retaliate, to defend herself.

There was also that little voice that had awakened in her mind, advising her to think before she acted, a voice that frustratedly sounded like the very person who she itched to lash out at. The irony of her situation was not lost on her. He was both the one who tormented her and soothed her.

Ergo, she'd let his words slash her skin, hot tears boiling in her eyes as he rejected her once again. She hated herself for how devastated his words had left her, what he declared was no different from the thoughts that plagued her mind already. Was she just an empty can with no feelings? Loud and clattering, merely a hindrance to others who needed to be avoided at all cost? Was her father justified for squeezing the air from her lungs? If she had succumbed to death's inevitable call would she be doing the world a favor?

But, he had come to rescue her, and by extension of his act did that mean she was worth saving? Worth living?

"Get off. We're here." His curt words abruptly drag her back from her rumination, as he begins to slide off the bike, trying to pry her cold fingers from his immense warmth. "Let go." She tightens her hold fearing that if she releases he will abandon her, leaving her cold and alone. With a strong swipe he breaks her tight grip on his soaked shirt and stands up, long legs unfurling from their bent position on the bike.

"Come on."

He walks away before she obeys his direct command, and that's when she realizes where "here" is, a brightly lit motel, fluorescent light blinding in the dark fog left by the rain. After a slight pause, she hops off the bike following him through the glass door into the motel, the heat surrounds her almost immediately, her soaked body shivering underneath his sweater- the knight's armor.

The motel clerk perks up at their entrance, pushing the magazine he'd been reading to the side before welcoming them, "Hello, how can I help you?" His voice is inviting, much like a vendor selling goods on the streets.

Gang-tae flounders at the innocuous question, as she rolls her eyes, he routinely claims she's impulsive and needs to take time to think things through, yet he is the one that sped out on a motorcycle during a storm and now brought them to a motel only to act like a deer in headlights when asked a simple question.

She doesn't save him, watching him raptly along with the motel clerk. Curious about what he'll say next. Seconds pass as they both watch him awaiting an answer before finally, he solemnly turns to her, "Get a room here and wait out the rain. I'll ride home."

His words cut her like the blade of a sharpened knife, his presence was merely temporary, he'd had no plans of remaining with her, she was simply something to save and capriciously toss away before forming any attachment, insignificant. Anger and shame simmer in the pit of her churning stomach.

Poison curls around each syllable in her words, "I didn't ask you to bring me here, I was fine walking in the rain!" She spins around, with the full intention of marching right back into the rain and walking until her body is numb, longing to feel nothing and become the empty can he believes her to be.

His hand on her wrist halts her motion, "Stop being stubborn! You can't go back out there, it's too dangerous! Are you that fearless to travel outside in this weather by yourself? What if something happened to you and I wasn't there to--"

Her eyes widen at his shouted concerns, his grip on her wrist is hard as steel as his eyes pierce into her soul. Who is he to look at her like that and say those words to her? As if he cares about her.

She explodes.

Snatching her wrist from his hand she bulldozes into his space, eyeing with satisfaction as he retreats as she looms closer, one step forward, one step back.

"Why do you care if I'm out in this rain? Who cares if I put on a strip show outside like a crazy woman?" His eyes minutely twitch at the suggestion, something almost possessive flashing for only a second.

She misses it as her rant continues, "Are you angry? Does it bother you? Do you like me? Do you think you can handle it!" She barks each question into his face, until they collide with the machine, lights blaring in their sight, the crash from her hand slamming on its surface deafening in the otherwise silent hall.

It is dead quiet, only the sound of their breaths filling the air.

"Well? Why aren't you answering? I want to know how you're feeling, I can't tell. Maybe it's because I'm a empty can." She states spitefully, watching regret swirl in the dark pools of his eyes, his wet rain curled fringe only distracting her for a split second.

She shows no mercy, mockingly pressing on, "Why are you being so quiet? Are you an empty can too?"

Despite the clear difference in their height, he shrinks under her wrath, cowering under the weight of the carefully placed venomous words.

"I...I..." He stutters out, incomplete sentences dangling in the air, she watches as his eye dart across her face before he looks over her shoulder and suddenly turns a fiery scarlet hue. His cheeks lighting up like a wildfire. He pushes past her arm cornering him in and she spins around to continue her tirade.

Before her eyes land on the motel clerk, shiny foiled contraception hanging from the tips of his fingers, mischievous smirk on his face.

"She'll take a room." He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and slamming down an indiscernible amount of money on the table.

The clerk begins to rattle off information about the quality of his "steamy hot" rooms and all the features available, mirrored rooms, costumes, handcuffs, and even a hot tub. She hears almost none of it, still stuck on his statement, she'll take a room.

The motel clerk passes the room key, glimpsing at them both, eyes pointedly lingering on Gang-tae as if trying to converse with him with just the shifting of his pupils, before mouthing, stay with her.

She doesn't give him a chance to answer, reject her again, he has hurt her enough today to last a lifetime.

The rolling sound of the zipping descending is loud as she pulls it down the length of her body, tugging the jacket swiftly from her body, ignoring the immediate chill that stabs her skin, shivers rushing through her body. Vehemently she throws the sweater at him, watching as he jumps back from the soaked material before his eyes land on her throat. He gasps at the sight.

She knows what he's seeing, can feel her father's hands still curled around her throat bruising the tender skin and marking her a monster. Something to be passionately murdered, snuffed out of existence.

If that was his sole purpose for coming she didn't need his fucking pity.

Snatching the key she storms off, absently listening as the clerk directs her to the location of her room. She strides down the winding maze of the hall, following the signs as they guide her until she sees her room door, 1J. Finally, she approaches the door, key already in hand.

Only to be stilled by a hand on her shoulder, twisting around in shock she's rendered speechless by the face that greets her.

She's never seen this man in her life but his smarmy smile instantly puts her on edge. A gold tooth glints back at her when his mouth curls up in a salacious grin, "What's a pretty little thing like you doing here all on your lonesome? You look like you could use some company." He boldly moves into her space, openly perusing her like goods, her skin crawls under his appraisal, her black undergarments peeking through the soaked white of her dress.

The desire to cover herself is colossal.

"Don't touch me." She shoves him away, snarling at his audacity, homicidal thoughts surging in her mind as she contemplates removing her shoe and bludgeoning him until he's an unrecognizable pulp on the dingy carpeted floor. 

He chuckles at her refusal, "Don't be like that. You should know that girls that look like you only come here for one reason. Don't play hard to get. I have money." He proudly pulls a few crumpled bills from the dark crevice of his pants, his hands encroach closer, intending to slip the money into the top of her dress.

She recoils from his grubby hands, voice raising with indignation and horror, "You think I'm a whore?! And you think you can pay for me with this measly amount of money? Get away from me you loser, use your hand like you have been all your life!" Her voice echoes off the walls and she watches the smirk melt off his face, giving way to pure distinguishable rage.

"You bitch! I'll show you your place!" His hand draws back, open palm flying toward her face. She stands still expecting the fire that will ignite on her cheek.

Only it never comes.

Her eyes which screwed shut in anticipation of the impact, flutter open only to see his broad back covering her completely. His hands are wrapped tightly around the wrist of the man, twitching in his grip as the man sputters out, "Who are you? Let go of me! This is none of your busine--aahh!!" He screams dropping to his knees as the pressure on his wrist increases, pain etched in every wrinkle of his putrid face.

"Okay! Okay! I'm sorry, please let go. You're breaking my wrist, please!" The man pleads on the floor, pulling at Gang-Tae's hold, unable to pry even a finger loose, she watches as he squeezes even tighter, his own white knuckles standing out starkly against the burnt red of the man's wrist.

Then finally he releases him. Tosses his hand away with a short cry, when he speaks his voice is crushed glass, "Get out of here." The man clutches his tender flesh to his chest before scrambling away, too terrified to even look back at them as he runs away.

He turns to her with a penetrating glare, "Why are you standing in the hallway looking like that? Come let's go inside." He motions at her body at his first inquiry, eyes struggling to avoid her tempting figure that can be seen through the almost transparent dress.

She remains still, baffled by his sudden appearance before turning to open the door and watching dazedly as he enters the room, dragging her alongside.

She'd unaware of the internal battle that had raged his brain after her departure, his eyes had followed her longingly as she moved further and further away before disappearing out of his sight. He couldn't deny the fear that raked through his bones, yearning to protect her, he'd tried to leave only to stomp back in to the annoyingly cheerful smile of the motel clerk. Defeated, he'd asked for a second key and followed her down the hallway, only to see red and then black. His reaction had been visceral, immediate and uncontrollable. He'd yearned to beat that bastard to a unrecognizable pulp for daring to touch her.

Thinking of what would have happened had he not been there makes his skin crawl. He can't leave her alone in a place like this with suspicious characters like that lurking around every corner.

Despite his best efforts he couldn't stop the pull that she had on him, his body dragged into her powerful orbit. He watches her beautiful face, expressionless as she gazes at him, none of that fire that's usually directed his way. His eyes soften at the red markings that decorate her otherwise blemish free silken skin. His anger flares again.

"What are you doing here? I thought you left." Never one to stray away from a confrontation, she immediately begins her interrogation. Eyes narrowing into dangerous slits, tracking his every movement for signs of deceit.

At a lost at how to answer, he simply stands there, their eyes locked in a battle that has been fought many times since they crashed into each other's lives.

"I don't need your pity." She bites out, snarling at him.

Her fury ignites his own, "Good. You won't get any from me. I brought you here so I should stay. That's all."

Her eyes scream liar, liar, liar as they pierce into him but she doesn't question him any further. Stomping off to the what must be the bathroom before slamming the door shut. He sighs a short breath of relief before collapsing into the bed.

Without her there to distract him he openly glances around the room, cheeks burning when he notices what exactly he has willingly walked into. The entire ceiling is smooth clear glass, streak free and crystalline shiny. His own embarrassed face stares back at him, his lips opened in a small oh.

Something fuzzy and pink catches his attention in the reflection at the head of the bed, he turns to see what it is before flinching away in surprise. He falls off the bed during his jolt, butt plummeting into the floor.

His brains tumbles before resettling.

Hand cuffs. A pair of hand cuffs are attached to the metal bar of the bed post, one half closed as the other lays open in a fluffy pillow. He's only asked for a basic room, nothing special, his exact words. Yet there is nothing ordinary about this room. He mentally curses the motel clerk, that presumptuous instigator, he'd give him a piece of his mind when they left.

All the blood rushing to his head distracts him from hearing Mun-yeong's return. Steam wafts from the bathroom, completing her dramatic entrance, his heart thumps into his chest violently as he watches her step through the steamy fog.

God damn it.

Her long raven hair spills over a naked shoulder, wavy and damp, clinging to her skin as she approaches the bed. The only thing protecting her dignity is a comically small towel, barely reaching the middle of her thigh, putting miles of bare skin on display, her legs smooth and long, skin gleaming in the dim light.

His tongue is heavy and dry in his mouth as he gapes at her.

He juts his head up at the ceiling only to groan in frustration when her equally enticing reflection greets him. Stammering out, "Yah! Put--put some clothes on. You can't.... can't just leave the bathroom with a towel on!"

She smirks, "Why are you getting so worked up? You saw my clothes they're soaking wet, I couldn't put that back on. This towel was my only option, unless you preferred I came out naked." Her perfectly plucked eyebrow lifts at the provocative suggestion, he adamantly tries to obliterate all images of that very vision that rush to his mind. Other regions of his body similarly taking an interest with this conversation.

He doesn't respond to her obvious teasing remark. Primarily because he is overwhelmed, not used to being this turned on. He can't even deny that reality, not as the heat between his legs begins to perk up in interest, ignored for far too long.

Terrified he glances back at her, finding her enraptured in the ceiling , winking and smiling at her reflection, oblivious to his plight. Gratitude and relief both dance in harmony across his skin, he uses the diversion to quietly scamper to the bathroom. The door closing signaling a much needed reprieve. He lets out a sigh as he presses his head to the door, the wood cool against his hot face. In and out, in and out. He centers himself, tugging the strings of control back into there rightful place. Feeling the desire that bloomed in his loins fissure away until only smoke remains in its destruction.

Seeing her undergarments carelessly strewn across the floor almost undoes all the carefully constructed walls he built but he closes his eyes and hops into the shower, willing himself to think of nothing.

He did the best he could to wring the excess water from his clothes before dejectedly dragging the wet cold material back onto his now shower warm skin.

It's not the best solution but it is unthinkable to exit the bathroom in only a towel, knowing that she would be donning as little as well. If they were both in towels, it would be bad. Catastrophic, even.

He gives himself a pep talk sitting on the towel, praying for control and Mun-yeong's deep slumber that will last the remainder of the night. 

His second wish is not granted as he opens the bathroom door, stopping in his tracks at the inexplicable scene.

Her lips are sealed around something plastic held between her fingers, she blows into the object and it expands in her hands, he notices the phallic shape before realizing that she's blowing the condoms like balloons.

Where did she get condoms?

Why does she have condoms?

Why was she blowing them up like erotic balloon animals??

He sputters out, flailing his arms, "Wha--What are you doing?"

With a final puff of moist air, she pulls her lips away from the condom, tying it off and looking at him nonchalantly, "You were gone for a long while, I got bored." She shrugs, "Plus we won't be needing any condoms tonight."

Disappointment drops like lead his his stomach at her statement, he should be happy, should nod in agreement and be thankful that they are on the same page, she will not be seducing him or tempting him to lose control.

Good.

Great.

Fantastic.

His heart shouts liar liar liar as he tries to convince himself.

"I'm on birth control so we don't need these getting in the way. I want to feel every inch of you, I don't want anything in between us." She calmly detonates a bomb on him, all while undressing him with her eyes and leaving every little to his imagination in her attire. Tossing the condom to the side to land with all the others she has blown up. 

"I told you to stop. Stop saying things like that to me."

"Hypocrite. You're the one who brought me to a motel, you're the one that got jealous in the hallway, you're the one who came out in a storm to rescue me. Your actions scream as loud as my words. You want this too. You want me. Just admit it."'

Admit it.

His head is spinning from her accusation, his behavior has been nothing but confusing to him as well since the moment he raced out on the motorcycle, but hearing her lament everything so concisely forces him to face the truth. He had been the one to seek her out. Impetuously, searching for her as soon as he heard what happened, unable to stop himself from reacting. Why did she have this affect on him? What was it about her that called out to him so strongly? Why couldn't he control himself when she was involved?

All questions he wasn't ready to hear the answers to.

She wasn't wrong, he was a coward.

Wordlessly he sways to the bed, needing something solid to keep him afloat in the ocean of his thoughts.

The red circling her neck grabs his attention again and he whispers, "Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

Different emotions swirl in the haunting eyes and he fears she'll lash out at his question, coldly banishing it as the pity she shouted she didn't want from him.

She never does what he expects.

A humorless grin spreads across her face, "I'm alive. I'm fine. This wasn't the first time and it probably won't be the last. That man hates me and the feeling is mutual. You know what's funny, you're the first person to ask me if I'm okay. All of your little nurse friends just watched as he tried to kill me. Isn't that funny?"

It isn't funny. His hands clench in ire thinking about her gasping for life on the ground as no one came to her aide. Unable to fathom how her own father could be so cruel.

"That shouldn't have happened to you."

She looks at him dispassionately, fight leaving her eyes and her shoulders sagging.

"All monsters must die. Didn't you say that people like me should be avoided? Don't you think he was trying to do the world a favor by killi--"

"Shut up." He slams his hand over her mouth, rolling cross the expanse of the bed until they are a mere inches apart.

"You said you didn't want pity. So stop pitying yourself. What happened was wrong and you didn't deserve that."

Her eyes desperately search his face again, as she looks up at him, finding what they're looking for before he sees the sadness bleed from her eyes leaving room for something better, brighter.

It's only when her eyes shift to his lips that he realized how close they are.

Too close.

Moving his hand off her lips, he starts to lean back, scurrying back to safety. But she moves with him, towel shifting down with her upward movement, precariously close to falling and his eyes grow larger in fear.

Suddenly their positions are swapped and he's gazing up at her hovering over him, dark curtain of her hair tumbling over her shoulder and cocooning him. He aches to run his fingers through the locks.

"I don't want pity. But I do want your desire. You're looking at me like you want to eat me alive. Do it. Give me that."

His body constricts at the demanding request, shaking his head in arbitrary refusal, disregarding the heat and want that swells like a wave at her words.

"No. No... We shouldn't. I can't. Just go to sleep."

She brushes a hand through the wet fringe that frames his forehead, sliding through the wet locks, "You look delectable with your hair like this. I have to admit though, seeing you racing to come save me. I was quite smitten."

Pride unfurls in his chest.

Then she steals his breath.

The kiss isn't sudden or spontaneous, she smiles at him, a gorgeous smile that transforms her face from pretty to breathtaking, before she becomes to lean down, her eyes locked on his lips leaving no need for speculation. Her intentions couldn’t be clearer. 

He has ample time to move, reject her once again and only allow himself to have her in small manageable doses. Being around her is far more addicting than any drug.

He is too weak to follow through. 

The kiss is soft, softer than he expected from someone as unrestrained as her. Her hands are gentle on his face, caressing his cheeks as she presses her insistent lips into his. The kiss is nothing like he expected and thus it is perfect.

Just a kiss. He'll allow only one kiss. That should be enough to sate his hunger for her.

She starts to deepen the kiss, tongue poking at the tight seal of his mouth impatiently, then her fingers trail under his now slightly damp shirt, nails raking at the muscle that lays hidden, his mouth falls open at the new sensation. Wasting no time she licks into his mouth, moaning when she finally gets a taste of him. He suppresses an answering groan, light-headed as she overwhelms his sense, her scent and her taste coiling around him in an impenetrable wall.

He losses himself in the kiss, riding the high of finally tasting that mouth that has tormented him for too long. Letting her tongue swirl in his mouth, sinuously dancing with his own, until his lungs are burning .

When she begins to push his shirt further up his torso, baring his stomach, he jumps away from her touch and ultimately breaking their wet connection. Grabbing her wrists in his own shaking hands, he halts her movement, taking a deep measured breath.

"That's enough. I.... can't."

His control shudders at the sight of her above him, her eyes begin to slide open slowly as she falls back to earth, the passion that pours out from those eyes is enough to knock him off his high horse, her lips are kiss swollen and rosy wet, teasing him, tempting him. Her face is flushed as she pants, minty breath landing on his face with every exhale.

"Aren't you tired?" The tone of her voice is exasperated, at his bewildered expression she continues, "Of lying to yourself? Doesn't it get tiring never getting what you want?"

You're just a kid who wants to be loved.

I know you want to have fun.

She's the only one able to see right through him, reading him like he's an open book with pictures and startling him with her apt analysis, another reason he knows he should stay away from her, she will be his undoing, untimely demise.

"You want this. Tell me otherwise." She demands.

He wills his mouth to open and do what she says, deny his desires and sever this moment, the glint in her eyes informs him that this will be her final request, answer wisely.

He lays frozen, words lost in the jumble of his mind. Moving too fast for him to pluck them out and form a coherent sentence. Then she begins to move away, taking her delicious heat with her and his hand flies out instinctively, grabbing her towel covered waist his brain screaming no.

She stills, narrowed slits glaring down at him. Reading him again. Searching his face before she nods, "Okay. I'll take that control."

Slithering up his body, she catches his lips in another toe curling kiss, harder than before, all tongue and teeth, biting at his lip and demanding entry, he rushes to give it to her, weak at her passionate onslaught. This time he kisses back, wraps his tongue around hers and sucks, drunk on her flavor and ignoring the voice in his head that demands that he stop.

He feels her hands traveling up his chest, brushing on his nipples, before running up his arm and settling on his wrists, she lowers all her weight on him, knocking a shuddering breath from his overexerted lungs. The soft press of clothed breasts on his chest throwing his thoughts off kilter. In a flurry of movement, he feels her tug his wrist with both of her hands, something fuzzy curls around immobilizing him as his eyes snap open.

He pulls and meets resistance.

She draws away from him to watch his reaction, both of their eyes fixated on his wrist. He peers into the ceiling unable to look fully above his head and his pupils dilate as he sees what he already knew, felt on his skin.

Handcuffed.

Just as she promised she'd taken away his control.

A moan escapes his lips. She squirms in response to the sultry sound.

"I found something else when you were gone." She leans to the side of the bed, bending at the waist to retrieve something, rocking into his erection with the motion and he bites his tongue to contain his moan.

With an all knowing grin, she sits up grinding down into his hard length, throwing her head back, long hair whipping over her shoulder, wild and free.

He almost spills from that image, alone.

"Look." She offers what resembles a tiny remote with a cord connected to the bed, light vibrations start to buzz through the surface of the bed as she twists the dial.

The bed trembles and shakes beneath them rocking them along with the waves of vibrations.

"What are you going to do to me?" He whispers, fear and anticipation fighting for domination.

With a shark like grin she replies, "Take you apart and put you back together."

Immediately she sets off on her mission, openly appreciating his body, tongue dragging across her lips as she takes in the alluring vision of him at her mercy. He watches utterly captivated as she runs her hands up her own body, briefly pausing to mold her hands around her breasts, squeezing them and moaning deeply.

His mouth is arid dry, tongue turning to sandpaper at the seductive picture.

Then she tugs at the seal of the towel, loosening its hold, one strong pull is all that is necessary to have it tumbling off her body and cascading to the bed, baring every inch of her body to his ravenous eyes that dart from the soft swell of breasts down to the smooth mound of her naked sex.

Again, she takes herself in hand, pinching at her dark pebbled nipples, groaning at the pain before comforting herself with a gentle swipe of her thumb. His free hand cries out to join her in this endeavor.

"Touch me." Before the words have even settled in the air, she's capturing his free hand and bringing it to her chest, soft, hot, fuck, the only words left in his vocabulary as his hand becomes full of her. After a moment's hesitation, he squeezes the soft flesh in his hands, eyes locked on the tight furl of her nipple. His touch his soft, revered.

In absolute disbelief at the precious gift is he being given.

"Harder." His hand responds to her cry, tightening his hold and viciously tweaking her peak, eyes darkening at the way she rolls along his body, smearing her wetness across the plane of his stomach. He can feel her heady warmth sizzling on his skin, fingers longing to run through the drenched folds and tease her hidden jewel.

"Watch me." He falters at her words, grabbing her waist when she starts to slide off his body, wordlessly begging her to stay. She pushes his hand away smiling at his worry and dismay, laying flat on her back next to him, "Look at me." When he twists his head, wincing at the twinge from the pull of the hard metal on his wrist, he finds her eyes averted to the ceiling, he meets her eyes there.

Entranced as she slowly brings a finger to her mouth, lips wrapping around the digit, she opens her mouth showing him the way her tongue laps and soaks it, before pulling it out with a filthy wet pop. The finger trails down her body, pinching her nipples but their journey continues until they reach her center. He watches her reflection dazed as she uses two fingers to spread her lips open, bringing her feet flat on the bed to give him an optimal view. His heart beat skyrockets pounding in his chest as all the blood rushes to his cock.

With a deep seated moan, she takes two fingers and plunges into her wet center, her puffy lips giving away to the press, widening at the invasion. She shoves in until her fingers disappear into the depth, before dragging them out and fucking back deeply, her voice slices through the white noise sloshing in his brain.

"Gang-tae, I need you."

She fingers herself, in, out, in, out, eyes screwed shut from her pleasure.

He smacks her hand out of the way, control all but decimated, mashed to smithereens,before rubbing across her wet folds her moan setting him on fire before he mimics her movement, showing two fingers into the tight grip of her pussy. His rigid erection jumps at the thought of taking its place, her wet heat wrapping around him.

The vibration of the bed bounces her on his fingers, knocking her back on to his digits every time he withdraws. She bodily rides his hand, "More, more, more." He presses a third finger in, forcing her walls open sighing as the flesh gives under the pressure.

Ramming into her he watches her face twists in pleasure in the mirror, his own lust blown eyes greeting him as he watches her. She grabs her breasts, squeezing them as his fingers plunge into her steadily and powerfully.

Grabbing the reins of his desire he presses a fourth finger into her, his thumb accidentally rubbing across her clit and the most beautiful sight plays out in the mirror. Mun-yeong twists violently on the bed, bucking away from his fingers but he chases her, shoving the fingers back in and purposely massaging at her observing as she falls over the edge, orgasmic screams drawn from her mouth.

Her juices drown his fingers as she quakes apart on the bed, his eyes drink in the sensual sight of her fluttering lips around his soaked fingers.

He slowly drills into her lax hole, lost in her heat before she grabs his wrist. She takes three deep breaths, naked chest rising and laying before she turns towards him, eyes dancing.

"You're a fast learner." He reddens under her open praise. "Your turn."

His turn? She answers his wordless question by crawling into his space, and he's momentarily blinded by her beauty. Her face and body a work of art, all clean lines and soft curves, petite and tight. Her hand tugging at his pants drag him away from his musings.

"What are you doing?"

"Shhhh no more talking unless you're saying my name, asking for more or moaning. I already told you what I'm doing tonight."

Taking you apart and putting you back together.

He shudders at her words and then at her daring fingers, tugging his now unbuttoned and unzipped pants off his hip. The cold air slams into his overheated erection, doing nothing to change its stiffness or ardor.

"Beautiful." Dismissing his blush, she grabs him through the soft stretch of his boxers, stroking teasingly from root to tip. Watching a dark stain form at the tip as she massages the head.

She strokes him through the cloth a few more times, avidly tracking his face, "So handsome." She whispers it under her breath, clearly not intended for his ears and he heats up at the open awe in her voice.

Nothing could prepare him for the pleasure that overwhelms him when she extracts his length from its clothed prison. It stands at attention, thick and veiny in her hand, clear fluid pooling at the red tip and spilling down the sides.

The beds vibrations pushes his erection into her grip and he groans twisting his hips up, desperate for her touch. "I got you." The promise laced in her words cause his eyes to water, he's usually the protector no one has ever supported him, he rapidly blinks the tears away shame faced. 

She misses his emotional riposte, her eyes locked on his erection jutting out and almost too thick for her hand to circumvent fully.

Using both hands she strokes him, using the leaking fluid from gathering on his cock to ease her journey, he pants in response, "Please." His pleads fall from his lips, desperation annihilating any reservations that lingered, he's completely on board now watching her burst apart from his fingers ripping the last tendrils of control from his grasp.

She doesn't leave him wanting, eagerly bending her head to pop the tip of his erection into her mouth, lips curling around the tip and swallowing the liquid pooled there.

His toes curl as she hums at the first taste of him on her tongue, vibrations hitting him from both ends now, the bed and her mouth. His head spins from the new sensations, he has never felt anything like this, scarcely even finding comfort in his own hands. Hard to find moments alone while sharing a space with his brother.

She sucks him in ever deeper, his hand slams on the bed, handcuff forcing his body to pull taut as he tries to prevent himself from thrusting into her mouth. It's a fruitless battle, she slurps and bobs on his cock, dismantling him down to a molecular level. Every atom of his body is screaming her name, he doesn't notice when it falls from his tongue, "Ughhh Mun-yeong!"

His cries emboldens her, she loosens her mouth sinking the rest of the length down his erection until her lips are flush against the root. His eyes slam shut, spots bursting behind his closed eyelids, he thrusts up powerfully his cock slipping down her throat and euphoria batters at his brain.

He's powerless as he bursts apart, release shooting into her waiting mouth, expecting her to pull off he's further deconstructed as she happily hums, swallowing each drop as it explodes in her mouth.

The tight suction of her mouth is too much following his release and he weakly tries to pull free, his cock slides out of her mouth, with a final suck of his tip she lets him fall from her mouth.

"Delicious."

Her voice is raspy and rough, the tone causes his dick to twitch feebly.

He feels fatigue begin to form after his earth shaking orgasm, his first with someone else. His eyes drift close as he falls into a deep slumber. He's vaguely cognizant of a wet material wiping across his skin and a blanket being tugged over his now chilled body.

"Rest for now."

He obeys, sleeping finding him easily.

                               ********************************************    

She watches him sleep, peaceful for once, all the worries missing from his handsome face. Her body tingles in memory of what they've done. His fingers in her most intimate places, his cum thick and hot on her tongue, his salty flavor still lingering on her tongue. His orgasm had surprised her but it was a pleasant surprise, she had greedily taken everything he had to offer, hungry for more. 

His flaccid cock lays innocently on his thigh now, taunting her, it had been anything but innocent plundering her mouth earlier. She's been watching him sleep for a few minutes, a boom of thunder waking her from her slumber and she'd been unable to fall back into the sandman's clutches.

Instead she watched him sleep, taking in every delicious inch of his body, that gorgeous face with a chiseled jaw and wide inviting lips, his hair curled beautifully from the rain, the wide berth of his shoulders and the solid stretch of his chest which tampers into his narrow waist that is all set atop long thick thighs and legs.

His dick twitches and she glances up to see if he's awake, his eyes are moving rapidly beneath his closed lids, in the throes of a dream it appears.

"Must be a good dream." She ponders as his erection swells under her watchful gaze.

He thrusts up, handcuffs clanging at his sudden movement, as he starts to pump into the air. His lips falling open as he moans incoherently before she hears something that causes her to moisten, "Mun-yeong..."

He's dreaming of her. From the movement of his hips, it's apparent what fantasy he is living out, she shifts next to him, prepared to make it a reality.

Glancing up at the mirror, she ponders her next move before looking at him fucking the air and reaching a decision. She crawls over him, legs straddling his thighs her back to his front, her breasts jiggling in her reflection.

She grinds down onto his upward thrust, his tip catching on her moist folds, hands on his chest she presses back harder, letting his cock run through her wetness, moaning as the head rubs against her hidden bead.

She hears the moment he snaps back into reality, his hand immediately grabbing at her waist, she looks up into the mirror smiling at his glossy eyes that burn a hole in her face.

Before he can ask her asinine questions as he's wont to do, she reaches behind herself, firmly gripping his cock and leans her back onto his shoulder, he watches the stretch of her body as she puts herself on display for his pleasure.

With steady hands, she guides him to her opening, he can see everything in the reflection, her folds glistening as she presses the head in, his eyes slam shut at the feeling.

"Open your eyes. I want you to watch."

Her voice leaves no room for argument. He has no desire to.

He watches as his cock slowly disappears into her wet hole inch by inch, all of the air in his body suspended, she widens her stance as the fattest part of his length pulls at her walls before he feels her loosen and sink onto him, fully. He is drowning in the vision of his cock spearing into her tight heat, he might never breathe again.

The tightest vice around his length, borderline painful.

The continuous vibrations from the bed mildly rocks him into her, but after a pause she draws off, only the tip remaining before slamming back down onto him, the dual sensation of simultaneously watching her sink onto him and feeling her overloads his sense.

She rides him languidly, hips gyrating in dizzying circles as she undulates on his length, his arm shoots out to wrap across her flat stomach, pressing her incredibly closer to him, his abs rubbing against her back. Her back curves into his hold as she plants her feet harder into the bed, her hole spread wide as he pistons into her. Vivid obscene images reflected by the mirror, he can't look away.

He blindly finds her breasts, squeezing and groping at them in turns, pulling and pinching at the taut nipples.

"Gang-tae, harder, deeper." She demands, he rams up into her, length drilling into her spread hole, sinking deeper and deeper, slamming into her so hard that the echoes of his hips meeting her ass cheeks bounce off the walls.

"I'm too close.." He warns her, visages of his dream still plaguing his thoughts, he'd been lost in a fantasy, one of many wet dreams featuring the temptress wild in his arms. They'd been brutally fucking in the rain, cold raindrops sizzling off their skin as he pushed her over the handle of the bike and slammed into her over and over again. Her cries lost under the booming thunder that roared in the skies.

Pleasure beyond his knowledge had dragged him from that scintillating dream, only to be met by an equally enticing reality.

He woke up already on the edge, unprepared for her attack.

She begins to grind faster, reaching one hand down into the hidden depths of her center, rubbing at her clit in perfect synchronization with the motion of their fucking.

Grabbing her impossibly tighter he shoves up, pushing his cock as deep as it can go, her cries music to his ears, as he slams in out in out in out. Her walls clench around him, her fingers a flurry of rapid movement on her bead, he never slows down, driving deeper and faster, until wetness gushes out of her and coats him, her body bows tight into his hold. 

For the second time tonight, his brain oozes out of his dick. Hot load exploding into her depth as his eyes finally leave the mirror and screw close as he rides the wave of his second orgasm. Unable to fight it with her walls squeezing him and demanding that he fill them, fill her up with his cum. 

She collapses onto his body, milking the last drops of his release.

With a deep shuddering breath, she pulls off his softening length, rolling to her side of the bed, pushing her hair out of her eyes, resembling a siren luring men to their doom.

"Wow."

He agrees, holy fuck wow.

Their eyes meet again in the mirror.

"You like watching." It's not a question so he doesn't deign it with a reply. They'd both seen first hand just how much he enjoyed watching.

"Aren't you full of surprises." She preens, slipping from the bed, comfortable in her nudity. His eyes follow her every movement, he could look at her forever.

She disappears for a moment after the flush of a toilet, reappearing with another wet towel, carefully cleaning him once more. It feels oddly intimate despite all they've done tonight, the lines between lust and affection blurring.

He attempts to turn onto his side before remembering the constraint on his wrist, he pulls at it before glancing at her.

"Take these off."

She blinks at him, "Oh. I didn't see a key."

He blinks owlishly in return, "What? You put this on before finding a key!" Voice raising an octave at the tail end of his question, disbelief furrowing his brows and dragging his lips into a hard line.

"I had to. You wouldn't have given in otherwise. It's your fault, you're too stubborn." She scoffs folding her arms defiantly, he tries his damnest not to ogle her naked breasts that are pushed up with the motion.

He fails spectacularly.

"I guess I could go to the front desk and ask for a spare key."

He thinks of her white dress, now transparent from the rain and then her standing in that little towel. Those are the only things she could wear to the front desk and the thought of her walking around in either of those options makes his blood boil. Especially remembering that piece of scum who had tried to assault her.

"No."

"Why not?" She stares at him in confusion.

"I said no." He doesn't elaborate, avoiding eye contact.

With a shrug she cuddles into his side, naked body warm against him.

"Okay I'll keep you locked up like my love slave. " He tries to glare at her but he can't muster up the energy, exhausted, shuffling until he finds a comfortable position with his arm locked over his head, it's not an easy feat but eventually he finds a spot.

Their eyes drift close, exertion catching up with them.

Rain pattering away on the window, thunder rumbling in the distance.

He feels movement next to his head and then a soft press against his lip, fleeting and gone as quickly as it came.

His heart stutters at the implications. He tries not to think, fearing the storm that is brewing between them.

Sleeps finds him unarmed, taking him to a land where they can be together. He dreads the morning knowing he'll have to push her away, erect the fortress that surrounds his heart once more.

He doesn't have the time or luxury to have what he wants.

Moonlight streams in through the window, illuminating the key that lies innocuously on the floor, hidden under their discarded clothes. 

[spahhzy]

No title: Chapter 4. Bridge to nowhere.

*Dimension 63 OG*

"Oh boy...Salem was early she really wasn't even supposed to arrive till AFTER the battle..."

.

.

.

"Jaune Arc?" Asked Cinder but all she got was a warm tingly feeling in her grimm arm.

"Yes Jaune Arc, bring him to me THAT is your main priority everything else is secondary" Salem said to her but to which Cinder was a bit confused.

Why did she need that weakling for?

"Master...I am confused why do you want me to prioritize that weakling above the relic...above the winter maiden!" Cinder said to her but all she got was silence.

"He is hardly worth the trouble expending energy for and as sad and pathetic as he is-ack" Cinder couldn't continue her tirade on Jaune as she felt her Grimm hand move and put a hand around her neck.

"What I want should be of no concern to you Cinder; YOU will do what I desire and not to further question me again...do we have an understanding?" Cinder couldn't see it but she could damn well feel her masters murderous gaze even with the Grimm hand suffocating her.

Cinder weakly nodded as she felt her grimm hand release her throat allowing the fall Maiden to gasp for air.

"Good...proceed with your plan...I will join you shortly" Join?

"*cough* join master?" Cinder said feebly and she felt the her grimm hand go warm and tingly again.

"Yes of course...as soon as I am able you'll know of my arrival" and with that the looming presence vanished.

.

.

.

"Like I said Salem was never supposed to return much less talk to Cinder again till after the battle...yet somehow she does"

"So we're still missing... about three more of the team members before we can get back to fixing what's broken and if im not mistaken...a certain gremlin should be plopping through the door soon.."

" anywho uh where was I? Oh right!"

.

.

.

Cinder revealed only the part where she and Neo had managed to find out what Ruby and Co. where doing thanks to the Lamp.

She did not however tell her about the Salem part.

While she was busy talking, Neo was walking up behind Ruby under the disguise of an Mantle civilian with Hush seemingly ready to strike and finally end the silver eyed life.

Or was...

"Ruby!"

Yang had rushed in for her baby sister and took the strike meant for Ruby.

It shattered her aura but worse of all...she fell over the bridge.

.

.

.

"You know the bridge that Ambrosius said NOT to fall over...numpties"

"Sorry sorry...its just...it was hard to keep track of folk when they dissappear into a fucking pocket dimension...or maybe was it hell?"

"No...thats not hell...so was it a pocket dimension?...fuck I'm getting a headache"

.

.

.

"Yang!" Screamed Blake seeing her partner vanish into thin air she tried to jump after her but was held back by Weiss.

Enraged she turned towards Neo who was currently engaged with Ruby.

She ran towards the two throwing Gambol at Neo restraining her arm before coming down with a slash only for Neo to shatter and reappear still fighting Ruby.

Meanwhile Cinder hovered in the air as she threw fire slashes of her sword at Weiss who used her glyphs to block and dodge them.

"Why'd you have to come back!?" Came the voice of Penny who was flying in the air towards Cinder.

"Penny no!" Shouted Weiss as Penny flew rapidly towards Cinder.

"Why didn't you learn you lesson!" She said before punching Cinder sending the fall Maiden flying back.

"Oh Penny...I did" Cinder said as Penny looked back behind her to her friends and mantle citizens in concern which gave an opening as Cinder swiped at her with fire.

The battle continued with both Maidens flying in the air hit after hit on each other with Cinder gaining ground, it wasn't until a black Glyph by Weiss pulled Cinder in distracting her.

Annoyed Cinder used her Grimm arm and spawned in sharp projectiles, Weiss standing at the top near one of the gateways saw that citizens were still coming through she casted a glyph just as Cinder launched the projectiles blocking a few but some went in other directions and a few even through the gateway.

Jaune whom was helping with the evacuation effort in Mantle turned around as screams went out as the spike came through the gate luckily no one was injured though Jaune was concerned. Something was very very wrong.

.

.

.

"Oh indeed something was wrong and not because of Cinder"

.

.

.

Jaune had made sure everyone was safe and not injured, once he was sure no harm came to mantle people, he turned to the gateway and narrowed his eyes.

He turned back to the crowd.

"I'm going in, use the other portal down the line" he pointed to another portal few feet away to which everyone nodded and started running to it.

Turning back, Jaune made his was forward stopping right at the entrance, breathing in and out and steeling his nerves Jaune finally moved right through.

As he was propelled through Jaune felt a sudden headache coming on and before he could blink the entrance to the other side was upon him.

Screaming Jaune went through the other portal expecting to be at the bridge way that lead to vacuo.

So when Jaune made it through the gateway he was surprised to not be standing on golden bridges leading to one big doorway, but it was a room!

Why was he here?...where ever here was!

He felt his head throb again too which he dropped to one knee.

"Woooow! You live here in this castle that's so cool Auntie!" Widening his eyes he turned around to see the boy from his last delusion and that same woman was their as well.

"It is pretty cool isn't it?" The woman chuckled ad she walked around while the young blonde boy just looked around amazed and excited. He stopped at the window before he let out another 'Wooow'.

Jaune stood up from one knee and walked towards the window and all he saw was a vast rocky terrain with purple crystals erected from the ground and the skies were a dark red.

"Hey Auntie...you sure mom and dad won't be mad you took me to this castle?" Asked the little boy to which the woman put a hand on his head and rubbed his hair.

"Will be back before they realize anything little knight...oh...would you like to see something interesting?"

"Oooh would I!" His eyes lit up with excitement and the woman just chucked before pointing a her pale white finger to a black tar like pit outside.

Grimm started to rise out of the tar pit.

"Ooooooh is that how Shadow was created?" At the mention of the word 'Shadow' a little grimm creature, looking almost like an Owl popped out from the boys hoodie and hooted happily at both him and the lady.

"Hmm yes that is his origin but you gave him life little knight" she said as she scratched the owls head gently.

"Coooool!" Before wandering around the room some more.

"Hey Auntie?" The boy said aloud as the pale lady turned around.

"Hmm?"

"Don't you get lonely up here?"

As soon as the boy said that Jaune felt another throb occur as he shit his eyes and opened them back up to reveal...he was no longer in a castle...

"I'm back at this field again...when will the delusion end!" He said to himself looking around but it was all the same as last time, just grass and a faraway mountain range.

"Com- ho-" more unintelligible dribble kept whispering into his ear as his head still kept throbbing.

"I just wanna go back! My friends need me!" He screamed out pacing around in the field while holding his aching head but eventually after futile attempts to find somewhat of an exit combined with the ever going throbbing of his head he stopped and dropped to his knees clutching at the pain he was enduring.

It felt like his skull was splitting in two!

Was he really going to die from a damn headache and in a delusion no less!?

"-ome hom-" and that babbling wasn't helping either!

Everything was going a mile-a-minute....what the hell was goi-

A hand on his shoulder stopped his thoughts suddenly the whispers were gone and the headache went away.

Jaune raised his head and turned around all he saw was a gentle smile and crimson eyes.

"Come home Jaune"

"Jaune!"

Jaune shaking his head only saw his feet tettering on the edge of the bridgeway looking behind him he saw Nora holding his right arm to prevent him from falling forward into the abyss.

"Are you alright Jaune?" Nora asked in concern Jaune just stepped back a little unsure of what the hell was happening, he looked to Nora with a smile.

"I'm fine...it was just the motion-sickness...those crazy doors haha" he said not even so sure of himself.

"Are you sure cause as soon as you passed through you stopped like a rock and then moved forward almost walking off the path" Nora said to which Jaune hugged his teammate.

"I'm fine Nora I promise...what's happened?" Jaune said as he released Nora from the hug and Nora sighed before pointing to the two maidens currently doing battle in the sky.

"Cinder"

" alright...priority one remains the same" Jaune told her as Nora just stared at the two maidens before going off to get the citizens to Vacuo.

Jaune turned his head looking at the fall Maiden and just for a brief moment, he wanted nothing more then to forgo mantle and attack the source fall this...pain and suffering.

Shaking his head he went to get everyone to safety.

.

.

.

"What...comes after well...Cinder managed to knock down both Weiss and Penny, shatter their auras and was going to kill Weiss but Blake managed to intervene"

"The main thing is Ruby, Blake and Neo all fell as in over the bridge fell. Neo bless the little gremlin should have really seen Cinders betrayal coming...I mean come on!"

"'Sigh'...now we get to...that event"

.

.

.

Where did everything go wrong?

Yang, Blake and Ruby had all disappeared off the edge all thanks to Neo and Cinder...and it just Penny and Weiss left...

Dropping down from atop the bridge above Cinder Jaune came down to which Cinder blocked but did not expect to be propelled back by the shield.

She skidded along the platform as Jaune, Penny and Weiss all held out their weapons at her.

"Ahh so there's the knight" Cinder said as Jaune narrowed his eyes at her preparing for whatever attack she was planning until her Grimm arm started flailing about before stopping abruptly, Cinder smiled cruelly.

"She's coming"

Before sending every one backwards from a fire blast and summoning two swords she chucked one at Weiss and one at Jaune before sending a two fire walls splitting Penny up from Weiss and him.

Jaune could only stare in horror as the grimm hand flew through the fire and using its claws...dug itself into penny's chest.

Cinder was trying to steal the maidens power but before she could get any further Weiss came in and continued her attack.

The claws retracted and Penny fell helplessly to the ground bleeding...dying.

"Penny!" Jaune ran in his hands already glowing brilliant gold.

"H-hold on my semblance..."

"No" no? What did she mean by no?

"C-come on theirs no time to be funny" Jaune still had his hands glowing but Penny still didn't use her aura.

"Theirs not enough time...to heal me" Jaune shook his head at her reasoning.

"Weiss is giving us time! Y-you can't let me just let you bleed to death!" He said to her dreading what she was trying to do.

"We can't let her get the staff and the Maiden power..." she reached out her hand weakly and touched Jaunes glowing hand.

"But...their is something you can do" Jaune just looked at his sword.

"I-I don't know where the others are...but like I said Weiss can give us time...theirs no need for-"

"Please let me choose this one thing...trust me" she touched Crocea Mors while smiling weakly.

"Y-y-your asking me to-to " he stammered looking back and forth between his sword and her.

"I'm sorry...I know it's...hard but...please" she begged and Jaune felt tears begin to prick at his eyes.

"B-b-but what about everyone; Ruby, Weiss, Winter everyone...Your father!?" He told her but Penny just shed some tears and shook her head.

"I...I have...no regrets...please we are running out of time" as she said that a scream from Weiss came as Cinder hit her causing Weiss to stumble back.

(Please play World at War 'Vendetta theme')

Jaune held out his sword in front of him the reflection of his eyes staring right back at him. Swallowing the heavy lump in his throat his right hand started shaking as he brought the sword closer to Penny, who was just smiling at him.

"Thank you"

Cinder had gained ground against Weiss and was about to strike down the Schnee before a pained cry rang out.

Jaune with tears in his eyes took the sword out from Penny's chest, his tears fell to the floor along with Penny's blood. Jaune just looked at his sword, one half remained clean showing his teary left blue eye but his right eye was red from...

.

.

.

"I always said...two people died that day Penny and a piece of Jaune died too"

.

.

.

"You!" Screeched Cinder as she summoned her swords, yet Jaune paid no mind as he was so fixated on the puddle of blood pooling around his boots

"My..my god..what have I...what have I done!?" He said to no one but himself.

"Where did it go!?" She questioned in rage as she flew at him but still he said nothing.

"I promised my master I would bring you to her unharmed but unfortunately that won't be that case!" She slashed down her sword downward at him but as she did Jaune just raised his shield still looking at the blood before raising his head towards Cinder.

Cinder looked on in shock as it wasn't a pair of Blue eyes looking at her but one eye, the right eyes,was red.

Red like her masters. Like the grimm. Angry and with malice.

Gritting her teeth she used her grimm arm to bring down the other sword to which Jaune raised Crocea Mors to intercept it...but to Jaunes shock and despair...Cinder's blade cleaved through Crocea Mors.

His right eye flickered back to blue as he just looked at the sword before being knocked down.

"Once more...where did it go?!" She asked before being blasted by energy.

.

.

.

"Penny had managed to transfer the power of the winter maiden to Winter Schnee herself...allowing her to get an edge in defeating ironwood"

.

.

.

A shriek came though as grimm started coming through one of the portals.

on the outside in Mantle, Salem walked towards one of the portals as she used her grimm for eyes to see what was on the other side.

She caught sight of Cinder fighting a women with white hair, which must be the older schnee sibling but that mattered little.

"Where are you my little knight?..." She said before a feeling of joy spread through her as she watched a man with gold hair carry the second youngest of the schnee family.

Now with confirmation that Jaune was their she pressed forward and passed through the gateway...or at least tried to as the portal evaporated in front of her.

"No!"

She looked around as each individual portal kept disappearing.

"No no no no no" The grimm still had sight on Jaune but things were going wrong, her grim were...were falling?

"The pathways are disappearing...but that means..." If Jaune were to fall into the abyss...

She still had sight on him as long as she can reach a portal and get a hold of him all will be okay...all will be fi-

Until the grimm that was finally keeping sight of him finally too fell off and disappeared as well.

"No!" She shouted in despair she couldn't lost him, not Jaune not her s-

Cinder!

She was there!

Priority one bring Jaune Arc to her!

She wouldn't fail her!

Oh she is back! Which means that she must have completed her plan! Which means!

With hope, Salem blasted through to the staff of creation where the last remaining portal was.

.

.

.

"Now I can understand you confusion what is Salem's dedication to Jaune well...you see its a bit complicated...well not really but really does that make alot of sense?"

.

.

.

Winter could only scream in despair as Weiss and Jaune were blown up and tossed into the air, Weiss sailed over the bridge while Jaune slid across the floor his Aura shattering. Winter desperately tried to reach her younger sister who kept falling more and more into the darkness before finally disappearing on a flurry of lights.

Cinder stood triumphantly hold the staff before leaving through the portal that lead to the staff's vault.

Winter floated back up with tears in her eyes, but burned holes in the back of Cinders head as she saw the fall Maiden leave. Swearing vengeance upon her.

"Winter we have to go now!" Said Jaune but Winter kept looking at where Cinder left. Unmoving. Maiden powers still active.

"Winter!" Jaune said as everything started to disappear.

The Maiden powers flared up and Winter flew off towards the door to Vacuo, and Jaune was gonna follow suit...but when Jaune turned to it.. the bridge had already disappeared.

.

.

.

"Now originally Jaune was supposed to follow Winter through the same portal but fail and to dissappear...well that...does happen but..."

.

.

.

Salem had arrived just as Cinder popped through the portal staring at her unimpressed on the outside, but hopeful on the inside. It seemed also that the good general was alive and well...alive enough that is.

But her hope only died as it was just HER that only came through.

"Master I did it...I got the relic...though I could not get the maid-"

"Where's Jaune Arc?" What?

Cinder stepped back for a minute...as her mind processed her question and she paled.

She forgot the main objective...no no her main objective was the staff and Maiden powers.

"Cinder where is Jaune Arc?" Salem asked her voice calm and cold but on the inside Salem was panicking.

"I...I am sorry master by the time I had gotten the staff...the gateways were disappearing" Cinder said to her hoping her master would by her excuse. A blur flew right by her as Salem peered through the portal and gasped at what she saw.

On the other side Jaune needed to do something, the bridge to Vacuo was gone and Winter had all but flown in it but to her credit she did try to get him but he didn't want her to risk it, He'd find a way to Vacuo.

But right now he needed to get out of here, so following around winding paths their was one portal that remained open.

The one Cinder left through.

Shit. If he didn't get captured he would most likely be killed. Dammit it's a lose lose situation all around!

He still kept running finally on the main bridge to that portal.

Just keep running Jaune!

Keep running!

The gateway was insight!

He could jump right through it!

And jump he did as the bridge beneath his feet disappeared leaving Jaune flying in the air towards the gate.

A pale white hand reached out the gate trying desperately to reach out to him, much to Jaune shock , but he too tried to reach out as well.

Salem had reached a hand out of the other side of the portal after seeing Jaune run towards the portal in hopes to catch and pull him back and she was close she had Jaune on her fingertips!

She'd have her little knight back!

Only to her horror as the portal disappeared the shocked face of Jaune Arc was the last thing she saw before he too fell into the darkness and disappeared in a flurry of lights.

Salem looked down at her right hand shakily as Cinder came to her masters aid but was ignored .

Gone.

Her knight.

Her little knight gone just like that...taken from her just like everything else.

The pain came back.

The pain of losing a child.

Had once again returned.

Salem wailed in despair.

.

.

.

" it is wonky but everything is taking its natural course, everything is so far linear as it was supposed to follow"

[artbyalyanna]

The Pearl - Ch. 1 of The Wandering Knight

Summary: A Tower of God Fantasy AU :)

Word Count: 3,180

Warnings: Brief mention of blood

---

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Rachel who chased the stars, and a boy she called Bam who chased after her. She was bright and ambitious, with eager hands that longed to touch the sky. He was ordinary and innocent, wanting nothing more than to be by her side. Their stories begin with her disappearance and his search for the strength to protect his cherished friends.

For Bam, a knight was nothing without his princess.

The gods are quick to show him just how wrong he is.

When he didn’t see her upon waking up, Bam knew something was wrong.

Time felt nonexistent when Rachel wasn’t there with him. Her appearance at the entrance of the cave signaled the start of a new day. Her gentle smile as she read him a story aloud meant another peaceful afternoon was passing by. Her red dress was the last thing he saw when he closed his eyes at night.

Bam was so accustomed to her companionship that Rachel’s absence left him troubled. There was a fervent pit in his stomach, but he kept rubbing his shoulders to stimulate warmth as if he were cold. Regret filled his lungs and he choked out a sob. He agonized over whether or not he could have done something more when he saw her awake in the middle of the night. When he heard her soft voice, he remembered thinking about getting up, but he was deceived by her assurance that everything was alright.

‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ she had said. He tried to recall if this was the first lie Rachel had ever told him. Bam hoped this would be the only one.

The day went by unceremoniously and, even when it was nightfall, he was too restless to sleep. He was disturbed by his ridiculous intrusive thoughts and he was suddenly hyper-aware of every nocturnal animal he could hear in the distance.

The thought of Rachel’s kind eyes crossed his mind and Bam scrambled to his feet. He retrieved an oil lamp, set it aflame, and approached the exit of the cave. Glancing over his shoulder, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should bring their belongings with him. Bam decided against this, knowing that Rachel was more important than a bunch of books, but he left with reluctance. 

Raising the lamp higher and moving forward with a bit more confidence, Bam took his first step outside that cave he had lived in for all his life.

The only problem was that he didn’t know where he was going.

Bam stumbled about through the forest blindly. Everything was starting to look the same and, little by little, he felt like the darkness was swallowing him up. While pausing to catch his breath, he shut his eyes. Rachel leaving him, or worse, the possibility of her being in danger, was something that scared him more than these eerie woods. When his eyes fluttered open, the sight of something glowing in the distance made his heart leap with joy. He rushed towards the light source and realized that it was a campfire. When Bam saw a cloaked figure sitting near the flames, he slowed down and proceeded with caution.

“Do not be afraid.” The stranger spoke, gesturing to the vacant spot beside him. “All visitors are welcome here.”

Bam blinked in disbelief, finding himself intrigued by his mysterious, but sincere impression. He seated himself next to the stranger, his gaze lingering on the hood of his cloak. His instincts told him that he wouldn’t like what was underneath it. 

“I am Headon.”

Bam’s body recoiled with surprise, a hand grasping at his mouth. No...it couldn’t be...he was supposed to be...a folk tale. 

Headon was rumored to be a magical being who seemed to know one’s deepest secrets. It was whispered that he could speak a person’s greatest desires into reality, presenting opportunities to those he deemed worthy of walking a dangerous and difficult path. Some say that he is a trickster god, and others claim that they have seen his cloak slip to reveal ears shaped like a rabbit’s. The one consistency in these stories was that Headon was cryptic and vague, an outsider whose loyalties didn’t belong to anyone but himself. He was a creature shrouded in secrecy, an enigma that no one could understand.

Yet here he was, sitting right in front of him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Bam.”

And he somehow knew his name.

Bam swallowed down the lump in his throat and managed to ask, “How do you know my name?”

Mischief radiated off the creature and it clicked. “Rachel…! Do you-”

A golden staff shot out from within Headon’s cloak, stopping right at Bam’s throat and effectively cutting him off. “You must climb a tower to get your answers.”

Bam’s gaze fixated on the orb sitting atop the staff, swirling with what can only be described as magic. He couldn’t believe his eyes, or his ears for that matter, since they were currently listening to a being that wasn’t supposed to be real.

“Monsters inhabit every floor of the tower. To get to the top, you must become strong enough to find and save this girl you cherish.” Headon advised him.

“How can I do that?” Bam leaned forward, eyes wide with anticipation. 

“Become a knight,” was his simple reply.

Bam’s heart skipped a beat as he paused to imagine himself as one of the chivalrous and noble knights in the fairy tales he read with Rachel. The idea appealed to him greatly.

“I will be able to send you to a place where you can train to become a knight. But in return, you must do something for me.”

“I’ll do anything!”

Headon pointed to a nearby river with his staff, the blue orb shining a light upon something monstrous that lurked in the shadows. “There is a beast called a White Steel Eel that protects a large pearl. If you destroy this pearl, you will surely get what you desire.”

Shock crossed Bam’s expression and Headon watched as his bulging eyes surveyed the colossal creature that prowled in the depths of the water. “If you wish to turn back, now is the time,” he began. “This may be too dangerous-”

Headon was interrupted by the boy rushing past him. The flames stirred, sparks flew and the fire crackled like it was mocking him for his carelessness. 

Bam kicked up dirt while he ran, the oil lamp in his hand. All of a sudden, his vision went dark and the vague outline of a heel was the last thing he saw before a shoe pressed against his face. His lamp tumbled to the ground and Bam fell with it, hands scratching against the dry terrain.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

Bam fumbled for his words as he cast his gaze upwards.

A woman towered over him, her voice loud and commanding. Her raven hair was tied up into a long ponytail about the same length as her tall figure. The torch she held illuminated the metal of her white armor, which had red accents the same color as her shining eyes.

“Lady Yuri, please wait for me,” begged a quieter voice. A man with silver hair and a short stature ran up to the woman and pulled out a glowing orb. 

Bam hurriedly stood up, raising his arm to shield him from the rays of light that surrounded his body. When the light faded away, the orb was hovering in front of him, thrumming with energy.

“You’re lucky that I’m helping you. People would kill for an item like that!” The woman exclaimed, placing her hands on her hips. “It’s crazy to think that someone would even try to fight a monster without a Pocket! How will you call a messenger bird for help? Are you stupid?”

Bam struggled to understand everything that was happening. He inquired, “A Pocket?”

“Our lifeline in this world. It has many functions, and calling for birds to send important messages is one of them.” The small, but patient man explained. “Pockets can also disappear and reappear at will. Look at yours and say, ‘Invisible mode’.”

Doubtful, but curious, Bam stammered out, “I-Invisible mode.”

As soon as he did, the orb vanished, causing Bam to jump in surprise. He was still coming to terms with the fact that he had met with a possible god, and now he was using magic!

“And if you say ‘Visible mode’, the Pocket will-”

“Hold on a second, Evan!” The woman put a hand on her companion’s shoulder and leaned in close to Bam. "I knew it, he must be an Irregular! He’s an outsider who grew up in a place without the laws of our lands. Therefore, he’s easy to manipulate.” She said the last word harshly, casting a glare at the cloaked figure approaching them.

“Now, now, Lady Yuri, I have done no such thing,” Headon claimed. “You may be the Great Dame, the honorable commander of knights, but you would be in a lot of trouble if the emperor knew you were consorting with Irregulars.”

“And the emperor would have your head if he knew the nonsense you’ve been telling people!” Yuri shouted, raising her fist. “You can’t solve everything with magic.”

“I present opportunities for those who will ensure the empire’s prosperity. This boy has honest intentions, I am certain of it.”

“Then why ask him to do the impossible? The eel is covered in impenetrable steel scales. He will…” Yuri trailed off. She stole a glance at Bam and quickly looked away from his innocent, bewildered stare.

“He is an Irregular.”

“But look how weak and tiny he is!” She declared, bending down to poke a gloved finger at his forehead.

Bam gave a shy laugh. He stiffened when her finger moved down to brush against his lips, her eyes examining his face intently. 

“Though...he is a little bit handsome.” Yuri grinned as she drew her hand back. “Can’t he do something easier for you?”

“It’s necessary to determine if he is worthy of a knight’s path.”

“A knight?” Yuri repeated incredulously. “I can-”

“It’s alright,” said Bam with a small smile. “I’m not sure who you are, but I appreciate you trying to help me.”

He walked past the woman and flinched when she asked, “If you don’t even recognize a Knight Commander, how could you possibly survive in this world?”

“I would rather die than give up here.”

Headon spoke, “The boy is stubborn, Lady Yuri. Perhaps you can give him some assistance by lending him the Black March?”

Yuri spun around. The appalled look on her face made Headon chuckle. 

“It won’t even ignite for me! What...What makes you think-”

“The power of that legendary sword depends on its wielder,” was Headon’s response.

Seeing her contemplative expression, Evan cried out, “The Black March belongs in the hands of a Knight Commander! That absolutely cannot change!”

Yuri huffed and grabbed the hilt of the sword, pulling it out of its sheath.

Ignoring Evan’s protests, she walked over and presented the weapon to Bam. He eyed the gleaming rapier with its intricately carved black hilt and lustrous grey blade.

“You can borrow this to kill that monster.” Yuri proclaimed, lifting her chin. “Only because of your cute face.”

“I-I can’t take this.”

Yuri’s stare was piercing, her hand steady as she grasped the sword. “You want to become a knight, don’t you?”

Bam’s jaw dropped, a memory replaying in his head of desolate darkness and a glimpse of light. Her blonde hair peeked out from beneath the rocks and she greeted him with a bright smile.

He had to become a knight, to find and protect his star. All he wanted was to see Rachel again. To do that, he needed all the help he could get.

Bam took the sword. Its hilt was cold and heavy in his hands, but it somehow felt...natural.

Evan gasped and Headon expressed his surprise from Yuri’s decision.

“What? You’re the one who told me to lend him the Black March!” Yuri threw up in her hands out of exasperation.

“I promise to give it back as soon as I break the pearl.”

“You should focus on trying not to die first.”

Bam nodded solemnly and thanked her. He faced the eel and approached the beast.

“Lady Yuri...have you, perhaps, developed a soft spot for that boy?”

She replied to Evan’s comment by punching the back of his head.

“Shut up!”

“Then why?”

“...He wants to be a knight, remember?”

“So?” 

Yuri paused, tapping a finger on her chin. She smirked and said, “I have a feeling that I would want someone like him under my command. And besides, you know I hate being bored.”

Bam noticed more of the eel’s monstrous features when the sun peered out over the horizon. Its massive body slithered through the waters, mouth agape to reveal rows of sharp fangs. He stepped into the freezing river, gritting his teeth as he pushed onwards. The eel gave a deafening screech before launching itself into the air, preparing to dive down and attack Bam. Despite knowing this, Bam continued to stare up at the monster’s jaws, unmoving.

Evan winced and Yuri darted towards Bam, only for Headon’s staff to block her way.

“He will fail if you provide any more assistance.”

“I can’t just watch him die-!” Yuri stopped abruptly, watching helplessly as the boy got eaten by the eel. 

A beat of silence passed. Her eyebrows arched and she snatched Headon’s staff. “Let me go.”

“It is the path he chose.”

“The hell with that!” She pushed aside the staff but got interrupted by Evan grabbing her arm.

“Wait, Lady Yuri! I think he’s doing the right thing!”

Yuri squinted and threw him an impatient glare.

“He can’t escape the White Steel Eel, but he can face it directly by entering its mouth.” Evan elaborated, letting go of her arm once he was sure she wasn’t going to move. “See, look!”

Yuri followed where Evan was pointing and watched Bam’s body collapse to the riverbank. Blood erupted from the eel’s mouth, staining the waters a muddy wine red. Panting, Bam picked himself off the ground. 

“One must overcome his fear of death. It isn’t as easy as it looks, which is why I didn’t tell him.” Evan admitted, feeling a twinge of guilt about not sharing this information with the boy. 

“He entered its mouth and stabbed it,” Yuri remarked, stunned by the courageousness he displayed. “How bold.” There was a hint of pride in her voice as she said this, but it was something that she wouldn’t admit.

“To fear something greater than death and to have something that let him face this fear,” Evan added on, relief coursing through him when he saw Bam raise the rapier over the pearl. “That’s extraordinary.” 

Bam let the sword drop. The tip of the rapier slammed against the pearl, but he was unable to make a dent. His eyes widened and a gasp fell from his lips.

Yuri was quick to shout, “Headon! Why won’t the pearl break?”

“The boy has to figure that out himself.”

Tugging the sword free, Bam tried to break the pearl again. Again. And again.

He shivered, realizing that the surface of the icy water was at his waist. He had to break it. Tears pricked at his eyes and his muscles were heavy. Everything hurt, but he wanted to see her again. His skin was frozen numb and the banging of his blade pounded in his ears. Please break, he begged. He needed to save Rachel.

“Break!” Bam cried desperately, his voice growing hoarse. He made one last, feeble attempt to destroy the pearl. 

It was in vain.

Bam gasped for air and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling chills run down his body. The eel emitted a thunderous roar that caused the ground to shake. Yuri and Evan’s screams sounded so far away.

“...Black March!”

Bam’s eyes shot open. His gaze focused on the sword clutched in his hands.

“Ask it to help you! To lend you its strength!” Evan ordered at the top of his lungs. “Just do it!”

The eel was closing in. Bam took a deep breath and pleaded earnestly, “Please grant me your strength!”

The rapier emitted a brilliant light that temporarily blinded him. Its warmth came as a comfort to Bam, but to the eel, its heat was enough to vaporize its scales and thrust its enormous body several feet away.

Black March appeared in front of him, basked in an ethereal glow. She was a woman with long locks of flowing golden hair, and whose feet hovered above the ground. A red sash was wrapped loosely across her chest and she wore a magenta gown, which flared out around her legs and sleeves.

“Boy,” she spoke. “I see that you have called upon my strength. You wish for the power to conquer an empire?”

“No. I would never need an empire if I could be next to her side.” Bam clasped his hands together and bowed his head. “Please! Grant me your strength, so that I may find and protect Rachel!”

Black March laughed and waved her hand dismissively. “How boring,” she stated, a smile on her cherry red lips as she hovered down to cup her hands over Bam’s cheeks. “But I can’t resist such a cute face. Alright, then. Just this once, I will lend you my strength.”

“...Huh?” Yuri muttered under her breath, a dumbfounded expression on her face. “She wouldn’t grant me her strength whenever I asked...dear god...don’t tell me-”

Black March reached in to hug the boy, lifting her head to give Yuri a mischievous smirk.

Evan mumbled. “Then the rumor was true.”

“H..How dare she!”

A bright light engulfed the pearl at Black March’s feet before it exploded, crumbling into tiny pieces. Headon banged his staff twice against the ground, using a teleportation spell on Bam and Black March.

When Bam opened his eyes, he was freefalling through the sky.

A forest came into view and he was coming closer and closer to it, without any means to stop. He heard a yell in the distance and suddenly, he began to drop down at a gentler speed. Bam floated like a feather through the trees, dodging branches until he reached a clearing. A person was standing there, looking up at him with awe. He dropped his book and stuck his arms out.

Bam was caught in mid-air, his savior’s grip tightening around his waist as his momentum came to a stop. His arms wrapped around the man’s neck in his attempt to steady himself, his fingers brushing against soft, silvery-blue hair. The man pulled his head back, the brim of his floppy hat tilting up to reveal the most dazzling sapphire eyes he’s ever seen.

The young knight wandered alone no more.

[therainroguefanfiction]

❉ 139 Dreams (Kaname Kuran) Questions

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Comedy, Suggestive, Romance, Vampire, Supernatural ☁

Word Count: 1,126 ☁

Pairing: Reader x Kaname ☁

World: Anime, Vampire Knight ☁

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

“Are you sure about this?” Zelda whispered as she glanced nervously at you.

“Don’t be such a scaredy-cat.” You scolded quietly.

You and Zelda, two students of the day class, were currently sneaking around the moon dorms, slyly avoiding the prefects and other students. Your goal was to sneak into the moon dorms in order to ask the pure-blooded Kaname Kuran a few questions. No one had realized that the two of you already knew about the night class and their vampric status. It was pretty obvious though, given the various signs – most any moron could figure it out if they really wanted to.

“How are we supposed to get him alone, anyway? He’s always surrounded by the others.” She questioned, following you as you climbed over the gate. It wasn’t easy, nor was it fun, but it was worth it in your opinion.

“Ah!”

Zelda’s foot slipped and she fell forward into you and over the gate. You face planted the earth below,  a muffled groan leaving your lips when Zelda fell on top of you. She sat on your back, rubbing her behind as she mumbled out an apology.

“Thank you for catching me.” Zelda murmured softly as she stood up. Your eye twitched as you pushed off the ground, wincing slightly at the pain shooting through your face.

“No… No problem… Now, let’s go find Kuran’s room.”

“Eh?” She squeaked out, scurrying after you while flailing her arms wildly. “We’re going in through Kaname’s room? Are you crazy? Do you even realize how much trouble we are going to be in if we get caught?!”

“Will you calm down?” You hissed. There were various thick vines that had grown into the wall under Kuran’s window. Your hand wrapped tight around one them and you gave it a quick tug to make sure it could hold your weight. “Let’s go.”

“But… ” Zelda whined your name, looking unsure as her eyes moved back and forth across the almost pitch black grounds.

“They’re still in the classroom, and Kaname’s room is right up there. If you don’t want to come, then can I count on you to keep watch, at least?”

She nodded, both hands balled into fists in front of her chest “Good luck, and be careful!”

“Who needs luck?” You grinned, beginning your climb. “All it takes is a little skill!”

Zelda’s giggle was the last thing you heard as you forced open the window to Kaname’s bedroom. The room was pitch black except for the moonlight pouring in from behind you. Leaving the window cracked so you could hear Zelda if she called, you crept farther into the room, searching for a lamp or a light switch.

Your fingers brushed against something soft before the light was flicked on. The soft object turned out to be Kaname’s white shirt that hung loosely from his body, the top three buttons were undone to reveal his toned chest. His dark red orbs were guarded and cautious, but still shined with amusement. He had dealt with crazed fans before, but none had been daring enough to break into his bedroom.

“Is there something I can help you with?” He questioned softly, moving to sit in the armchair that sat in front of his desk. “You know it’s against the rules to be out after dark. And you’re also aware that you are not allowed in the moon dorms, I’m sure.”

You scowled, moving to stand in front of him with your hands on your hips. “Actually, I have a few questions for you.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands in his lap.

“Well, I only have one question. But since Zelda was too afraid to join me, I’m asking hers, as well.” You decided to sit down on the plush crimson carpet, eyes locking with his. “I’ll ask hers first, to get them out of the way.”

He nodded, urging you to continue.

“Question 1: Do you sparkle in the sunlight?”

“What?” His eyes narrowed, losing their amused glint. His voice was calm, but you could see the slight worry that danced in his narrowed orbs. He was slowly becoming guarded.

“Relax.” You waved your hand as if to say that you are harmless. “Me and Zelda have known for a long time that the night class are vampires. We haven’t told anyone, nor do we plan to.”

Kaname visibly relaxed, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair. His right hand moved to rest against his jaw, sliding his index finger to lay across his cheek and beside his eye. “No. We do not sparkle. That is simply something that a human made up in order to fit her own personal preference of our race.”

“Che.” You looked to the side, annoyed as you muttered under your breath. “I told her that, but she wouldn’t believe me.” Your gaze moved back to him, your eyes locking with his once more. It sent a shiver down your spine, but you managed to suppress it and press on. “Question 2: Can you eat garlic?”

“Yes.” The amusement had begun to resurface as he fought to urge to smirk at you.

“Question 3: You can smell even the smallest amount of blood, right?”

“That’s correct. The larger the wound, the more we react.”

A smirk appeared on your lips and you leaned forward. “Being the… experienced vampire you are, I’m sure you know about a woman’s monthly friend, yes?”

His eyebrow raised; he had not been expecting that. Just where were you going with this? “Yes.”

“Good.” You nodded your head to steel your resolve. “Then here’s my last question. How can the night class stand to be near the day class girls when they are on their period? I mean, with Aidou and his thirst problem… how does that work?”

Kaname let out a deep chuckle, the corners of his mouth pulling up in an amused smile as he moved to kneel in front of you, his hand grasping your chin firmly. His lips were mere inches from your own, his voice low and husky to compliment the lust that shined within his crimson depths. “You start in one week, correct? Why don’t you drop by then, and find out for yourself.”

“Kana – ” Your shock was cut off when his lips connected with your own. He gently pushed you back to lie on the floor as he hovered over your body. This sent your teenage hormones into a frenzy.

What was it about this damned vampire that could so easily turn your hormones into a Hulk-like rage?

Some questions just don’t have answers, but you were definitely going to stick around to try and find out anyway.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[kohanayaki]

Jaime Lannister x Reader .:Fighting Chance:. Part 1

With his right hand gone, Jaime doesn't believe there's any way for him to regain his skill with the sword; his position in the Kingsguard is as good as finished. Luckily, Tyrion thinks he knows just the person to whip him back into shape- you.

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3 

You sighed softly as you swirled your second glass of wine around in your goblet, glancing around at the company you'd found yourself in. Today was but one of the many parties the royal family had planned in the weeks leading up to King Joffrey's wedding to Lady Margaery. 

At the moment you were sitting at one of the lavishly decorated tables with a group of soldiers. You were much too sober by your standards but having a fun enough time. You idly sipped at your wine and threw the occasional word in the conversation, but events like this were dull to you. Everyone around you seemed to put on such a heavy act it made you sick. You were hoping someone would come along that didn't feel so. . . hollow.

As you felt the space shift beside you, you turned to see an older man approach and sit in the empty chair next to yours- very loud and very drunk.

“Now what's a pretty little thing like you doing with a group of mutts?” he slurred, shooting you a shit-eating grin. 

Your eyes narrowed as the man slung an arm over your shoulders, his alcohol ridden breath fanning over your face and making you cringe.

“Hands off,” you said, your eyes narrowing.

The man only laughed and slid his hand down to your thigh.

“Well aren't you a feisty one? I wonder if you're the same way in the sack. Maybe I should fuck you over this table and find out-”

“Maybe you should move your fingers before you lose them,” you said, your tone deathly calm. Your words made the man recoil in shock which quickly turned into offense. 

“I beg your pardon? I am a knight of the Kingsguard,” he said incredulously. 

You forced your grimace into a sickeningly sweet smile as you turned to face him.

“Well then, with all due respect, Ser, kindly fuck off,” you said as you took another sip of your wine. 

The soldiers around you chuckled in amusement at your crass language. 

“You're going to let this little cunt push you around like that?” one of them goaded.

You didn't even take the time to acknowledge his comment but shot him a nasty glare as you cut away at the venison on your plate. 

“No. Looks like the bitch needs to be put in her place,” the man scowled, reaching for you.

His hand didn't get much farther than the edge of his plate before you grabbed it and twisted hard, pressing the blade of your dinner knife against the flesh of his wrist. 

Several of the soldiers stood immediately and drew their swords.

“Now now, what's going on here?”

You exhaled sharply through your nose as you reluctantly released your grip on the man, turning to face the unmistakable source of the voice: Joffrey Baratheon.

“A simple spat, Your Grace,” you said, putting on a smile, “Think nothing of it.”

“This crazy bitch tried to kill me!” the drunk man exclaimed.

“Well he did grab me,” you retaliated, unable to hold your tongue, “And threatened me with disgusting perverse acts. In response, I suggested he move his hand-”

“And nearly slit my wrist while doing so,” the man glared as he finished. 

“Completely warranted if you ask me,” you said under your breath.

You heard a faint chuckle from the high table and shifted your gaze to the man behind the King. He wore the golden armor and cloak of the Kingsguard, his hair matching the hue of the metal. He was handsome, that was for certain, but he seemed. . . maybe tired wasn't the right word, but maybe it was. The man looked exhausted. The hollows of his cheeks seemed sunken into the chiseled features of his face, a sort of emptiness in his dark green eyes. And yet there he was, in his golden garb before the royal family, his facade just a little less prominent than everyone else's. Something told you there was more to him. 

Meanwhile, the King looked between you and the drunk man with a sadistic glint in his eyes which settled on your form.

“Well then, it appears we have to resolve this issue somehow,” he said, “I thought this party was getting a bit dull, and I was right.”

The smile on his face was enough to send chills up your spine. It was cold and didn't quite reach his eyes, full of malicious intent. 

“You claim she attacked you and yet she claims you tried to defile her,” he said, pointing to the man and then you respectively.

The smirk on Joffrey's face turned into something wicked as he spoke his next words:

“A duel should put this to rest, should it not?”

An excited murmur spread through the crowd, the prospect of barbaric entertainment drawing their attention. Of course the King had no real intentions of settling this dispute. In truth, most women in Westeros were forced to endure far worse than you just had without anyone saying a word. The only reason he intervened at all was for his own sick pleasure.

“Will you choose a champion, Ser?” Joffrey asked the man beside you.

“I have no need” he said smugly, “I can fight my own battles, I'm not a woman.”

Hearty laughs and leers were heard in the crowd as he said that, unsheathing his sword and brandishing it drunkenly. 

“Let's have at it!” he shouted to the sky. 

Joffrey's smirk only widened as he turned to you.

“And you,” he said, clearly pleased with himself, “Since you are so bold and brave to speak out against this man, why don't you fight as your own champion?”

Laughter erupted throughout the crowd of men around you at the King's joke and your gaze darkened.

“Very well.”

The hall seemed to go silent at your words but you trudged onwards.

“I will fight for myself,” you stated confidently. 

Where there had been excitement before, there was now an air of nervousness. The man behind the King stared at you intently in something akin to disbelief but not without intrigue.

“Is she serious? She's just a woman,” you heard someone whisper.

“It was a joke, lass,” one of the soldiers called to you, “No need to get your pretty little dress dirty.”

“Don't be stupid, girl!” another shouted, “You'll get yourself killed!”

You saw the golden-haired man put a hand on the King's shoulder, a stern, warning look on his face.

“Your Grace-”

“Silence!” Joffrey seethed, slapping his hand away and successfully killing the chatter in the room, “If the girl wants her fight so badly, then so be it.” That twisted smile reappeared on his face as he acknowledged you directly, “Although I assume she'll need to arm herself first.”

A few obligated chuckles followed his statement which you quickly silenced.

“That won't be necessary, Your Grace,” you said.

You wordlessly knelt down to reach under the table where you were sitting before, gasps audible as you produced your sword in its scabbard. The head of a serpent was molded onto its hit, the intricate carvings in the thin, silver blade catching the light as you unsheathed it. 

“Valyrian steel?” you heard someone say in disbelief.

“Impossible,” Joffrey muttered, “There's only a handful of them left in Westeros.”

“Well I'm not from around here,” you said, downing the rest of your wine in one gulp and taking a step forward. The crowd parted like the red sea as you stepped into the hall's center.

The man only chuckled, twirling his blade in his hand. 

“You must have a death wish, girlie.” 

“What is your name?” you asked, feeling the familiar weight and balance of your sword in your hand. 

“Grag Brask,” he grinned cockily, “Remember it well, woman.”

“Well then, Ser Grag,” you stepped forward, a dangerous smile playing on your lips, “Are you going to stand around all day or are we going to fight?”

Joffrey seemed to recover from his initial shock, composing himself and raising his hand in the air. 

“Let the duel commence!”

Before the King had even finished his sentence Grag charged at you with a great yell, swinging his sword in a wide and predictable arc. He was a fair bit larger than you, but you knew you had the upper hand when it came to agility. You ducked under his blade with ease, promptly kicking him between his shoulder blades. He grunted in pain as he stumbled forward, one hand darting to the ground to keep himself steady as his own weight worked against him.

You wasted no time with an attack of your own, moving to strike him in the side. He narrowly blocked your attack and grunted as he felt himself be thrown even more off his center of balance. You swiftly went in for another blow, this time coming from above. Grag parried before your blade could come down on top of his head and pushed you away, putting some distance between you two.

You silently relished in his shocked and agitated expression as you twirled your sword around your wrist, looking around at the audience you'd accumulated. If it's a show they wanted, then you'd happily provide. 

Grag let out a growl, sounding much more irritated than his last, as he charged you again. You held your ground until he was less than a meter away before swiftly stepping to the side. However he surprised you by grabbing hold of your sword hand, twisting it in an attempt to disarm you. You delivered a harsh kick to his armored torso but his grip refused to loosen. 

You let out a sharp exhale as you tossed your sword from your right hand to your left, striking him in the side of his armor. Grag's eyes widened in surprise, attempting to block your swing. However he was unused to dueling anyone with a blade in their left hand and found the angle he had to reach awkward. A sharp clang! rang out in the great hall as you delivered another crippling blow to his torso, every strike sending him further and further back. 

Grag made one last feeble attempt at an offensive maneuver, aiming straight for your head. You parried the attack with your left hand easily, your body moving on its own muscle memory. You twisted your blade around his until the momentum pried it from his grasp, his sword skidding across the polished marble floor. 

He didn't have any time to react before you swept his feet from under him. He crumpled into a heap on the floor as you kicked him in the side so he was on his back. You placed your right foot on his windpipe, the point of your blade against his cheek.

“Yield,” you said.

“This isn't over,” he coughed out. 

Your eyes narrowed as you increased the pressure on his neck. He gargled pathetically as you did.

“Oh, I think it is,” you said, “I don't draw blood if it isn't needed, and it seems I didn't have to at all to beat you.” 

Your smirk widened as you leaned in closer to his face.

“Tell me, Ser Grag, have you ever been beaten by an opponent in a dress and corset?” you asked devilishly. 

Joffrey's expression was furious, clearly disappointed that you weren't in pieces on the floor. You shot an innocent smile his way. 

“Won't you call this off, Your Grace?” you asked sweetly, “This has certainly been entertaining but I'd hate to spoil a party with a death, no matter how tempting it may be.”

Joffrey looked like he was going to burst in anger at any moment, but Grag spoke before he could.

“I. . . I yield,” he said bitterly.

He gasped for air as your foot left his throat.

“Lords and ladies, the victor. . .” Joffrey glanced over to you with clear disdain as he trailed off, waiting for you.

“(Y/n), Your Grace,” you said with a smile.

The audience, once out of shock, erupted in applause. Most of them had never seen a woman fight in their lives, and taking down one of the head knights of the Kingsguard was no easy task.

Jaime watched you from the corner of the room as you curtsied playfully, sheathing your blade and brushing imaginary dirt from your dress. You fascinated him already. Your fighting style was unlike anything he'd seen in Westeros. You struck to disarm, not to kill, though there was no doubt in his mind you were capable of the latter. On top of that, you were proficient wielding a blade with your left hand. . .

He found himself glancing over at you again as you gave your gratitude to those who congratulated you. You weren't the traditional Westerosi lady, that was for sure- your words were crass, your temper hot, and yet your features were soft. Your (e/c) eyes seemed to light up as a little girl stared up at you in awe, jumping up and down as she praised your skills. Wisps of (h/c) hair had come undone from your braid in the fight and you gracefully tucked them behind your ear as you scooped up the child in your arms to ask her name.

“She could be useful,” a voice suddenly jolted Jaime from his thoughts as he looked to the side and then down at his brother. 

“When did you get here?” Jaime sighed, “And what do you mean 'useful'?”

“You saw her fight, she's no ordinary lady,” Tyrion said, “And I know you noticed her skill with her left hand. Given your current circumstances, she's an ideal teacher.”

“I don't need a teacher,” Jaime scoffed, “It's not as if my knowledge of the sword was cut off along with my hand.”

“No, but you certainly ought to learn how to connect that head of yours with your hand, because as we stand you can barely write your own name,” Tyrion countered. 

Jaime grumbled to himself, out of witty remarks in that regard.

And that's how he somehow found himself, the very next week, on a wide plateau above the water, waiting for you to arrive.

Tyrion hadn't exactly given him a choice once he confirmed these sessions with you, and the small bit of anxiety creeping up in his chest surprised him. He looked down at his left hand, clenching and unclenching it into a fist. Would he really be able to fight again? What if he completely made a fool of himself in front of you? He'd never even talked to you, your first impression was going to be him barely able to wield a blade.

He exhaled sharply as he took another deep breath in. What if there really was no helping him? He felt his gut twist, feeling conflicted. He felt like the most useless creature in Westeros at the moment, and yet the lingering trace of pride in him didn't want to reach out to anyone for help. He didn't want to be seen as useless as he felt- as everyone else said he was now. 

His head turned towards the docks as he heard footsteps approaching to see you and Tyrion. Instead of the embroidered dress he had seen you in at the party, you wore a simple pair of slacks and a flowy white shirt which you had tied at the waist. Your hair twisted around your head like a crown, the rest braided loosely to the side. Your sword rested against your hip in all its glory, and a burlap bag was slung over your shoulder.

You smiled at Jaime as you came to a stop in front of him and he felt his breath hitch in the back of his throat. Hell if you weren't beautiful. . .

None of this went unnoticed by Tyrion who looked between you two, making a point of clearing his throat before speaking up.

“Jaime, this is Lady (Y/n). Lady (Y/n), this is my brother, Jaime. Hopefully he can learn a thing or two from you.”

Jaime scowled inwardly, turning away slightly from you two.

“You flatter me, My Lord,” you chuckled, “I'm sure I'll have some things to learn from him as well.”

Tyrion nodded to you before turning on his heels and beginning to walk away. 

“Have fun,” he called over his shoulder, “And do try not to kill him, most of our family would like him back alive.” 

You grinned at his remark and turned your attention to Jaime. You had seen him a bit during your duel at the party, but you took a moment to study him more closely. His eyes appeared a brighter green in the afternoon sun, and you could see the faintest splatter of freckles across his tanned skin.

“Something you find interesting?” he asked, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“You're different than I expected,” you replied simply. 

“How so?” he asked, quirking a brow.

“I expected you to be. . . I don't know, taller? More handsome?” you said playfully.

“With two hands?” he chuckled, taking a light jab at himself. 

“Well, truth be told, I didn't know who you were when I saw you at the party,” you admitted, a bit embarrassed, “I only found out when Tyrion approached me afterwards.”

That surprised Jaime for two reasons. One, he hadn't even known that you noticed him at the party, and two, you truly didn't seem to know or care who he was.

“Like I said, I'm not from around here,” you said, going off his expression. 

“And where would that be?” Jaime questioned. 

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Your smirk widened as you stood in front of him.

“Oh, I would,” he grinned up at you, “Among other things, if you're up to sharing.”

Damn that smile. 

You forced yourself to hold your ground as you spoke.

“How about a deal? Each time you land a hit on me I'll tell you something about myself,” you grinned back. 

“You seem pretty confident that I won't be able to hit you,” Jaime said, feigning offense. 

“On the contrary,” you said, sliding your bag off your shoulder and dumping its contents onto the cobblestone. Two training swords tumbled out making Jaime look up at you.

“You're joking, right?” he scoffed, actually taking offense this time, “I haven't used a training weapon since I was nine.”

“Tell me something, Jaime Lannister,” you began, picking up one of the dulled blades, “Have you even attempted to hold a sword since you lost that hand?” 

That shut him up fairly quickly. 

“No,” he said quietly, begrudgingly picking up the weapon. 

“Let's take it slow,” you said, sensing his unease, “Although, I won't be going easy on you.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Jaime replied, sounding a lot more confident than he felt. Simply holding the weight of the sword upright in his left hand put strain on his wrist he hadn't felt since he was a child. It felt heavier than a sword ever had in his right, the center of its balance precariously placed.

“Defend yourself,” you instructed him, lunging at him with surprising speed. 

Jaime's eyes widened as he stumbled to block your attack, biting his lip as his wrist bent at an awkward angle to do so. You wasted no time going in for another offensive maneuver, sliding your foot in front of you and turning to strike him in his blind spot. Jaime grunted as the practice sword made contact with his ribcage and he fought to ignore the painful sensation. 

When he managed to turn to face you, you had already ducked under his arm, swiftly bringing the hilt of your sword between his shoulder blades and making him fall forward. Even as he knelt at the floor you didn't relent, and a sharp clang of metal rang through the air as he brought up his sword horizontally to block your downward attack. You really weren't kidding about going easy on him.

You backed away, letting him come to his feet but not waiting a moment more than that. You circled him like a predatory animal, observing his stance and body language. When his grip on his sword loosened slightly so he could adjust it, you sprang forward and delivered another harsh blow to his side. Jaime grit his teeth and whirled around, striking at you straight on. You avoided the attack with a simple tilt of your head, seamlessly shifting your weight to deliver a roundhouse to his gut.

Jaime reeled back as the air was knocked out of his lungs and he staggered back on the impact.

“I thought I told you to defend first,” you said, “How are you going to get the opportunity to attack if you can't avoid your opponent's?”

“I know that,” Jaime huffed, irritated, “I'm not a child, I'm the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, I know the basics of swordplay you so desperately want to reteach me.”

You lowered your sword and studied him curiously, an unreadable expression on your face.

“So that's what it is,” you sighed, “I know what you're thinking, 'How can this girl possibly be qualified to teach me? I have years of experience on her and I've managed just fine on my own until now. I've never needed any help. I'm a prodigy. If I had my right hand right now I'd be able to beat her with my eyes closed.' Well let me tell you something, Lannister, you don't have your right hand anymore, and it isn't growing back any time soon.”

You charged him again and he struggled to block you once more.

“You know you need help but you're too proud to ask for it,” you stated confidently, “And more than that, you're giving up.”

“I'm not,” he countered breathlessly. He made a half-arsed attempt to take a swing at you which you easily countered.

“It seems you already have,” you said, your eyes narrowing. 

“Why are you even here?” he snapped, “If my brother offered you gold to work with a lost cause then I'll pay you triple and you can just leave already.”

That set you off.

In one swift movement you swiped his feet out from under him, grabbing his sword out of his hand as he tumbled backwards. He cursed under his breath and was about to counter with another evasive, witty retort when he froze as you drew your real sword, pressing the blade to his chest. 

“Your brother did offer me gold,” you said, “and I told him I had no need for it. So listen up-From what I've heard, your skill with the sword was unmatched. If you want to get back to that point it's not going to be easy, and it's not going to be fun either. But if you're going to give up before you've even started, then just walk away. Don't waste your time, and don't waste mine either.”

Jaime was both taken aback and slightly turned on by your demanding tone as you stood over him. He could tell you meant every word you said, and something told him that he could trust you. 

Your expression softened slightly as you sighed and sheathed your blade, staring at the uncertain man in front of you.

“You aren't a lost cause,” you said.

His heart pounded in his ears as he stared up at you, and that's when he realized: You weren't here to laugh at him like so many others had. You weren't here for gold or a shallow round in his bed. You were here to help him become the greatest fighter in Westeros once again. He knew what you said was true, this wasn't going to be easy or fun, but he was willing to work for it. You had lit a fire under his ass. 

He wordlessly reached down for the practice sword and took up a fighting stance, and you knew something had changed in him. 

“Alright then,” you grinned widely, readying your own weapon,

“Let's do this, Jaime Lannister.

[alinaastarkov]

Funniest moments in the books ? Most disturbing moments ? Touching scenes?

Funniest moments:

Alliser Thorne overheard him. "Lord Snow wants to take my place now." He sneered. "I'd have an easier time teaching a wolf to juggle than you will training this aurochs." "I'll take that wager, Ser Alliser," Jon said. "I'd love to see Ghost juggle." - Jon III, AGOT

Tyrion grinned. "Then I shall scour the Seven Kingdoms for dwarfs and ship them all to you, Lord Mormont." As they laughed, he sucked the meat from a crab leg and reached for another. The crabs had arrived from Eastwatch only this morning, packed in a barrel of snow, and they were succulent. Ser Alliser Thorne was the only man at table who did not so much as crack a smile. "Lannister mocks us." "Only you, Ser Alliser," Tyrion said. This time the laughter round the table had a nervous, uncertain quality to it. Thorne's black eyes fixed on Tyrion with loathing. "You have a bold tongue for someone who is less than half a man. Perhaps you and I should visit the yard together." "Why?" asked Tyrion. "The crabs are here." The remark brought more guffaws from the others. Ser Alliser stood up, his mouth a tight line. "Come and make your japes with steel in your hand." Tyrion looked pointedly at his right hand. "Why, I have steel in my hand, Ser Alliser, although it appears to be a crab fork. Shall we duel?" He hopped up on his chair and began poking at Thorne's chest with the tiny fork. Roars of laughter filled the tower room. Bits of crab flew from the Lord Commander's mouth as he began to gasp and choke. Even his raven joined in, cawing loudly from above the window. "Duel! Duel! Duel!"  Ser Alliser Thorne walked from the room so stiffly it looked as though he had a dagger up his butt. Mormont was still gasping for breath. Tyrion pounded him on the back. "To the victor goes the spoils," he called out. "I claim Thorne's share of the crabs." - Tyrion III, AGOT

She never saw how the skinny man got over the wall, but when he did she fell on him with Gendry and Hot Pie. Gendry's sword shattered on the man's helm, tearing it off his head. Underneath he was bald and scared-looking, with missing teeth and a speckly grey beard, but even as she was feeling sorry for him she was killing him, shouting, "Winterfell! Winterfell!" while Hot Pie screamed "Hot Pie!" beside her as he hacked at the man's scrawny neck. - Arya IV, ACOK

Ser Boros Blount harrumphed. "No man threatens His Grace in the presence of the Kingsguard." Tyrion Lannister raised an eyebrow. "I am not threatening the king, ser, I am educating my nephew. Bronn, Timett, the next time Ser Boros opens his mouth, kill him." The dwarf smiled. "Now that was a threat, ser. See the difference?" - Sansa III, ACOK

"I never said that," Jon insisted. Slynt slammed a fist on the table. "I heard you! Ser Alliser had your measure true enough, it seems. You lie through your bastard's teeth. Well, I will not suffer it. I will not! You might have fooled this crippled blacksmith, but not Janos Slynt! Oh, no. Janos Slynt does not swallow lies so easily. Did you think my skull was stuffed with cabbage?" "I don't know what your skull is stuffed with. My lord." - Jon IX, ASOS

Thorne was much the more clever of the two, Jon realized; this had his stink all over it. He was trapped. "I'll go," he said in a clipped, curt voice. "M'lord," Janos Slynt reminded him. "You'll address me—" "I'll go, my lord. But you are making a mistake, my lord. You are sending the wrong man, my lord. Just the sight of me is going to anger Mance. My lord would have a better chance of reaching terms if he sent—" - Jon X, ACOK

These probably aren’t the funniest, just the ones I can think of now. I’m a simple woman and I love sassy Jon. Sue me.

Most disturbing moments:

Just the whole of the Red Wedding chapter from Catelyn’s POV. It’s so sad and disturbing at once cause you can feel her go a bit crazy. From “The Rains of Castemere” playing to... A man in dark armor and a pale pink cloak spotted with blood stepped up to Robb. "Jaime Lannister sends his regards." He thrust his longsword through her son's heart, and twisted. Robb had broken his word, but Catelyn kept hers. She tugged hard on Aegon's hair and sawed at his neck until the blade grated on bone. Blood ran hot over her fingers. His little bells were ringing, ringing, ringing, and the drum went boom doom boom.  Finally someone took the knife away from her. The tears burned like vinegar as they ran down her cheeks. Ten fierce ravens were raking her face with sharp talons and tearing off strips of flesh, leaving deep furrows that ran red with blood. She could taste it on her lips. It hurts so much, she thought. Our children, Ned, all our sweet babes. Rickon, Bran, Arya, Sansa, Robb . . . Robb . . . please, Ned, please, make it stop, make it stop hurting . . . The white tears and the red ones ran together until her face was torn and tattered, the face that Ned had loved. Catelyn Stark raised her hands and watched the blood run down her long fingers, over her wrists, beneath the sleeves of her gown. Slow red worms crawled along her arms and under her clothes. It tickles. That made her laugh until she screamed. "Mad," someone said, "she's lost her wits," and someone else said, "Make an end," and a hand grabbed her scalp just as she'd done with Jinglebell, and she thought, No, don't, don't cut my hair, Ned loves my hair. Then the steel was at her throat, and its bite was red and cold. - Catelyn VII, ASOS

Brienne's chest was burning, and the storm was behind her eyes, blinding her. Bones ground against each other inside of her. Biter's mouth gaped open, impossibly wide. She saw his teeth, yellow and crooked, filed into points. When they closed on the soft meat of her cheek, she hardly felt it. She could feel herself spiralling down into the dark. I cannot die yet, she told herself, there is something I still need to do. Biter's mouth tore free, full of blood and flesh. He spat, grinned, and sank his pointed teeth into her flesh again. This time he chewed and swallowed. He is eating me, she realized, but she had no strength left to fight him any longer. She felt as if she were floating above herself, watching the horror as if it were happening to some other woman, to some stupid girl who thought she was a knight. It will be finished soon, she told herself. Then it will not matter if he eats me. Biter threw back his head and opened his mouth again, howling, and stuck his tongue out at her. It was sharply pointed, dripping blood, longer than any tongue should be. Sliding from his mouth, out and out and out, red and wet and glistening, it made a hideous sight, obscene. His tongue is a foot long, Brienne thought, just before the darkness took her. Why, it looks almost like a sword. - Brienne VII, AFFC

The whole bit with Theon, Ramsay and Jeyne it’s so gross I’m not gonna post quotes. Any of Ramsay’s actions really but that really got to me.

Most touching moment:

Arya's eyes went wide. Dark eyes, like his. "A sword," she said in a small, hushed breath. The scabbard was soft grey leather, supple as sin. Jon drew out the blade slowly, so she could see the deep blue sheen of the steel. "This is no toy," he told her. "Be careful you don't cut yourself. The edges are sharp enough to shave with." "Girls don't shave," Arya said. "Maybe they should. Have you ever seen the septa's legs?" She giggled at him. "It's so skinny." "So are you," Jon told her. "I had Mikken make this special. The bravos use swords like this in Pentos and Myr and the other Free Cities. It won't hack a man's head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you're fast enough." "I can be fast," Arya said."You'll have to work at it every day." He put the sword in her hands, showed her how to hold it, and stepped back. "How does it feel? Do you like the balance?" "I think so," Arya said. "First lesson," Jon said. "Stick them with the pointy end." Arya gave him a whap on the arm with the flat of her blade. The blow stung, but Jon found himself grinning like an idiot. "I know which end to use," Arya said. [...] “King's Landing is a true city, a thousand times the size of Winterfell. Until you find a partner, watch how they fight in the yard. Run, and ride, make yourself strong. And whatever you do …" Arya knew what was coming next. They said it together. "… don't … tell … Sansa!" [...] Jon messed up her hair. "I will miss you, little sister." Suddenly she looked like she was going to cry. "I wish you were coming with us." "Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. Who knows?" He was feeling better now. He was not going to let himself be sad. "I better go. I'll spend my first year on the Wall emptying chamber pots if I keep Uncle Ben waiting any longer." Arya ran to him for a last hug. "Put down the sword first," Jon warned her, laughing. She set it aside almost shyly and showered him with kisses. When he turned back at the door, she was holding it again, trying it for balance. "I almost forgot," he told her. "All the best swords have names." "Like Ice," she said. She looked at the blade in her hand. "Does this have a name? Oh, tell me." "Can't you guess?" Jon teased. "Your very favorite thing." Arya seemed puzzled at first. Then it came to her. She was that quick. They said it together: "Needle!" The memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north. - Jon II, AGOT

The. Most. Touching. Moment. Period. I don’t make the rules.

Thanks for the ask!

[trixcuomo]

Spellblade Sunthraze

After several awkward tries with his character, I finally rolled Sunthraze as a Spellblade (that is actually a Death Knight OOC). I’m pretty durned excited about it. 

Farstrider. Blood Knight. Now, Spellblade. 

Sunthraze held his sword out, raised it at his reflection in the mirror. The heavy, tassled curtains were shuttered. Only a slice of peach sunshine ebbed along the red embroidery, so no hope of anyone’s eyes falling upon this. The Blood Elf man smirked.

At the periphery of Sunthraze’s vision he could see his other hand, in dark blue glove. Faint flecks of silver, then white, hovered near his fist. Sunthraze opened his fingers, flexed them. Claws of frost, so many particles of icy magic, twinned with his fingertips and pointed with curiosity as he did, then with menace. And he could feel the potential of the powerful spell he called, welling up in his body. It forced him to recognize how fragile and mortal he was, how brief. Compared to him, the magic could get so violent and destructive.

Now, Sunthraze brought his hand over the dull metal blade.

“Like dragon’s breath…”

He was amazed that mages, people like Kael’thas Sunstrider, could feel this way in one moment, and then get on with their lives, brush their teeth, eat a sandwich—alright, so not in that order—then go off and play with their dog, or lose a bet on a Hawkstrider race. But any moment after that, it could happen at any time. They’d need to draw on the magic again, to defend body, hearth and country.

Sunthraze felt a mix of joy and something else he couldn’t explain to himself that unnerved him, seeing the frost magic willingly obey every subtle movement of his gloved hand. Perhaps because anything could happen now. And whether he succeeded or failed, most would at the least find out that he tried. It would get blown wide open, that he went so far as to even attempt it. So wild, that he’d dared. Then, he drew an anxious breath and knew the other, more unsettling feeling. Yes, anything could happen to him if he executed this wrong. Dread.

Sunthraze checked again that he was watching himself, his whole form in the mirror while blade and ice spell were at the ready. Then, strike. He slashed up, then struck down again. The freezing spell was still shimmering along the sword, obedient. But yet again, it reminded him of laying a finger over the trigger of a shotgun, the unease that all you needed to do was squeeze but you’d better dare not shoot at the wrong moment. And aim first, you fool, for sun’s sake!

The country boy in him knew that, though there might be an enemy bearing down on him, there was never any need to rush it. Sunthraze met his own steel gaze in the mirror, brought his arm around again with the right speed, the right power, let it loose.

Ice blasted so explosively at the mirror that it shattered, but soon froze tight in place. White frost filled the seams and spread, like a spider’s web with a mind of its own. Branches of ice covered over one another and formed crystals.

“Ha!”

Then he kicked out and came around again, slashing anew. The subtle cold weather around his body rushed into a howling gale and brought forth a slash of snow, marring his own careful spell-work from before with a kind of care-free graffiti.

“Sunthraze!”

He stiffened up. “I know I locked that door.”

Trixany was ontop of him now, her shoulder butting into his head almost. She was much taller. “You’re a Death Knight!”

“What the—no! After all we went through in Outland and with Kael’thas, you think I’d go and do a thing like that?”

“You sure?”

“Oh by the gods and all the magics—you think I wouldn’t remember dying? That I’d get that wrong somehow?”

“But that’s a helluva lot of ice?”

She walked over, her greaves nearly slipped in the ice.

“Wait—you don’t have gloves on. That stuff is seriously cold, Trix.”

Trixany paused before her bare brown hand touched the ice slick covering the mirror on the wall. “Well if this isn’t the power of a Death Knight… how are you doing this?”

Sunthraze looked over the blade in his hand, humming even now with cool, blue magic. “I taught myself to be a Spellblade. You can’t exactly go to the academy to learn all that anymore, can you? And, as a Nexite, picking up other people’s spells, it’s what we do. Right?”

“Not like this. Never like this, Sunthraze. Lady Liadrin will lose her mind that you’ve done this. All on your own? The Convocation of Silvermoon never sanctioned any new Spellblades to be trained. They must have their reasons.”

“It’s because the runestones are damaged, if they survive. And the sanctums haven’t been able to do their jobs since the Scourge came—”

“You are a fool. You’ve always been such an idiot about these kinds of things. Here we are again, you and your big ego. You making another grab for more power. Yeah we were all zealous Blood Knights once, and some bad habits are hard to break--"

"Like you taking down Haris Pilton to get notoriety at any cost? She's not exactly an enemy Fel Reaver, Trix." He rolled his eyes, "Never was."

"That's debatable. But you’re going to fail and fall flat on your face with this one, Sunthraze. If the sanctums can’t channel the ley lines properly and if the Convocation won’t even sanction anyone trying to… harness those powers for themselves? What the fel makes you think you can do it, all on your own?”

“I did find one mentor. A good one. Anyway, none of that stuff matters when I’ve clearly found a way to do it. I just succeeded, you saw!”

“You succeed by practicing in dark rooms with the curtains closed. Afraid for anyone to judge what you’re doing. That also means nobody can assess whether you’ve done it right. And who is this mentor that is completely fine with you training up in this way? You’re both big, foolish fools, then.”

“…Koltira Deathweaver.”

Trixany smacked her forehead.

“What? What!”

“You’re not a Spellblade then, obviously! You’re fresh meat for some weird Death Knight to reap your soul when you’re ripe for the picking. How did you even meet Koltira anyways?”

“…Ghostlands mission. It’s sorta cool, he and I have a ton in common.”

Trixany attempted to get away from Sunthraze, but he kept following her from room to room at the Nexus headquarters, talking ecstatically about his new wonderful bromance with Koltira himself.

“And Koltira says Spellblades could even do this thing where the ice becomes a—”

“For the last time, you are not a Spellblade!” Trixany threw her hands up in the air.

“Then what was that awesome thing I did back there. Huh! Huh?”

Trixany finally gave in and simply ran from her crazy ex.

“… It was literally cool! Haha—do you get it?”