#my quiet little stabby child
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drowsystarlight · 2 years ago
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Quick and messy sketch but here is my Runner Five :333
Sheet belongs to @crownleys!!
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elronds-meleth-nin · 2 months ago
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A Brush With...Kindness?
This idea came up in a discussion with @bigblissandlove1, so credit to you, my dear friend!! Thank you for being okay with me writing it! ILYSM! Thank you for screaming over both versions of Adar with meeee 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 Also holy shit, this was supposed to be like...2000 words and ended up as almost 12000. 💀
Cross-posted to AO3 here.
~*~
Adar (RoP) x Reader
[A/N: This has smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]
Warnings: Mentions of violence (not discussed in detail), blood, bloodplay, threats, knives, swords, Adar in the winter, both soft!Adar and stabby!Adar, interspecies sex, Uruk/Human sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), angst, much yearning, nudity, I feel like I'm forgetting something but I have no idea what because holy fuck this is almost 12000 words.
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~*~
I knew his face from the moment he and his Uruks flooded into our village. Pillaging and looting where they could, murdering those who fought, the Uruks caused havoc. He strode in with them, looking as serene as the Elf I'd mistaken him for when I was a child.
How lucky I'd been that he'd chosen peace all those years ago. My father was a trader who traveled between Lindon, Eregion, and several villages inhabited by Men. Between the last of those villages and the borders of Eregion, we'd stopped to make camp for the night.
While my father set up our tent and tended to the horse, he asked me to gather some small sticks for the fire. I set off to do so, but in my quest for kindling, I ended up farther away from him than I'd intended with an armload of sticks large enough to make me stagger. Just as I'd begun to turn back, there was a small rustling from behind a bush a few feet away. I turned just in time to see a figure rising to his feet.
Tall, intimidating, covered in dark, aging armor, with scars on his face stood an Ellon. I let out a small, childish sigh of relief. I'd been afraid it might be a bear or an Orc or something fearsome, but it occurred to me that the presence of an Elf must mean that we were close to Eregion.
"You should not wander alone, little one. There are Uruks lurking in this forest," he said, and I noted that he sounded strange. Most Elves had voices that flowed like silvery musical notes, but his was raspy and low, as if he'd screamed for so long that he'd hurt his throat. Maybe he was a soldier, I'd thought. After all, they shout orders all the time.
"I'm not alone," I said lifting my chin as proudly as only a child could. "My father is not far from here."
He did not look convinced, yet still he offered me a smile.
"Perhaps, then, my lady, I could help you with your load?" He asked, and as I'd never been called 'my lady' before, I was not eager to disabuse him of the notion. He relieved me of my bundle of sticks, and together we began to walk back toward the camp my father had set up. After a few moments of comfortable quiet, I posed a question.
"What is an Uruk? I've never heard of one before. The word sounds sort of like 'Orc' if you say it too quickly..." I mused, and a small smile tugged at his lips. Vaguely, I wondered if his scars hurt him, but I did not think it polite to ask. At ten years old, my father had taught me manners enough to know that if a person wanted to talk about something like that, they should be the ones to bring it up.
"An Uruk is the correct name for an Orc," the Ellon said. "The words became...confused long ago. Not many remember their real name."
Oh. Well, that made sense.
"There are two people who know, now," I said smiling up at him, and he looked at me with raised eyebrows.
"That is kind of you, my lady, but you must not use that name around the Elves. They do not take kindly to having their mistakes paraded before them," he said, and that confused me.
"But...you are–"
The crunching steps of heavy boots in the underbrush startled me, but instead of an Uruk appearing from the trees, it was just my father.
"There you are! I told you not to go too far," he said striding up to me and wrapping me in his arms. He placed a kiss atop my head and only then did he turn his gaze upon my companion. Straightening, he glared suspiciously at my new friend. "Who are you? I've never seen Elvish armor quite like that."
His tone was less than kind, and, remembering my manners, I spoke up on my friend's behalf.
"Be nice, papa! He was helping me," I said. My new friend shifted the bundle of sticks to one arm, and placed his hand over his heart, inclining his head in a respectful bow.
"I intended her no harm, sir. There are many perils in this part of the forest and I wished to ensure she would not encounter danger," he explained. "Besides, a bundle this large was certainly more than a lady of her status should have to bear."
He offered me an exaggerated, deferential bow that drew a giggle from my lips. After a mere moment's hesitation, my father invited him to our camp to keep warm, since the woods grew quite cold at night. Looking back, it was obvious that he was incredibly patient with my childish questions as the three of us settled in to pass the night. Our evening meal stretched easily between three mouths, even though our new friend said that he did not wish to diminish our supply of food. We could not simply let him starve.
I woke in the middle of the night to low, whispered voices at the treeline. Carefully, I peeked through the flaps of my tent and saw two shadowed figures around the flickers of a small lamp. One stood tall, and the other hunched over.
With my father still slumbering soundly in his bedroll, I made a decision of which he surely would have disapproved. As quietly as I could, I slipped out, sneaking through the shadows of the trees until I could just make out the face of the taller person in the lamplight.
Our Ellon friend? What was he doing out here? Shifting slightly, I caught sight of the second person and–
I nearly tripped over myself to get back to my tent. He'd been speaking in a strange rasping, mean-sounding language to an Orc - or, an Uruk, as he'd called them.
I wasn't frightened of him, despite what I'd seen. Curiosity still reigned in my mind, but I still did not relish the thought of being caught eavesdropping. The next morning, I rose quite early, only to find that our guest was already gone.
"Don't look so distressed, love," my father called from his seat beside the fire. "He left this for you along with his apologies for leaving before you woke. He said his children needed him."
He held out a small piece of dark metal. It had clearly come from his armor. Carved within it was a set of stars, inlaid with some other tarnished metal.
"He said it was the symbol of the Noldorin Kings. He thought you might appreciate it and that it might serve to remind you of the conversation the two of you had," my father explained, though he looked a bit puzzled. "What conversation did he mean, if I may ask?"
As I looked at the small metal piece, it occurred to me that if he had not told my father, then perhaps there was a reason. My father might react poorly to the word 'Uruk' like our friend said the Elves would, simply because he worked so closely with them.
"He said it was dangerous to walk alone," I said, and though it wasn't a lie, it was not the whole truth, either. I'd never had reason to lie to my father before, and I hoped I would never need to again.
That night after we rode into Eregion and settled into our chambers, by candlelight I found the second symbol. Carved onto the back of the item he'd given me, there was what looked like a three-pronged shape. A tool perhaps? A maker's mark?
I wouldn't see that shape again until many years later when Lord Adar took our village. The armor piece which I'd turned into a necklace years before hung around my neck, almost burning beneath the bodice of my dress even as I averted my eyes from our new lord's.
When the morning came, we were all herded into a line leading to the steps of the tavern from which Adar was currently ruling over us. Those who refused to swear loyalty to him were summarily killed by the Uruks guarding us. When my own turn came, I dropped to my knees as all those before me had done.
Strangely, though, even as I looked up at him, I still couldn't find it within me to be afraid of him. Of death? Naturally, I was frightened, but I could not muster the same feeling regarding the Uruk lord. His eyes met mine, and his lips parted as if he recognized me.
An old man grasped my hair roughly, forcing my head down into a more subservient position.
"Do you swear allegiance to Adar, Lord Father of the Uruks?" He asked, but before I could answer either way, his tight grasp on my hair was suddenly released. "M-My lord?"
"She has already sworn for me," Adar rasped above me, and I tried not to look confused as he urged me to my feet. He reached toward me, and to my astonishment, his fingertips brushed against the pendant that had come loose from beneath the top of my dress. The one he'd given me years ago. The back with the three-pronged carving was visible because the chain had twisted. "She already wears my mark. You will not brand her, is that understood?"
"Yes, my lord," the grumpy old man said, but I could look nowhere save into the same green eyes I'd seen all those years before. I couldn't help but think about how beautiful they were.
"I shall see to the rest tomorrow, Waldreg. See that they're fed and have a place to sleep," Adar ordered. Grasping my elbow, the Lord Father of the Uruks led me away from the crowd. Once we were safely inside one of the ruined buildings, he clasped my upper arms and looked into my eyes. "I thought I told you it was dangerous to wander alone, my lady."
His voice was infinitely gentler than it had been before.
"I'm not alone," I whispered, "not when I have you."
Looking at me with a mixture of disbelief and something far too soft to be on an Uruk Lord's face, he stepped closer and carefully rested his forehead against mine. The scent of smoke and metal, earth and wood oils surrounded me, and I recognized the scent, faint though it had been, from that day in the woods.
He muttered something in the low, guttural language that the Uruks used, and though I had no idea what he'd said, the sound of it sent my heart racing in my chest.
"I thought I'd never see you again," I admitted in a whisper, and he let out a slow, almost sad sigh.
"I had hoped that you would never have need to," Adar murmured in return. When he spoke again, he sounded almost resigned. "If you wish to leave, I can arrange safe passage for you."
I considered the possibility for a moment. My mother and father were living peacefully in Eregion, thanks to the kindness bestowed upon them by Lord Celebrimbor. I could certainly go there, but...was that what I wanted?
"And...if I wanted to stay?"
Pulling his head back just far enough to look into my eyes, Adar seemed as though he both was and was not surprised at my question.
"You would be allowed to do so, of course, but you must understand that this would be a hard life," he stated. "I cannot offer you any luxuries, not like those found in Elven territory. Mordor is new. We have very little. We have not even completed the construction of our own homes yet. Is that truly the life you want? Barely getting by on scraps of food, sleeping in the ruins of an old building?"
"I can bear it," I reassured him, and he seemed to consider my words as his fingertips once again traced the chain of my necklace.
"I will not make you swear your loyalty, my lady, but I would like your word that if at any point you feel as though this life is intolerable or overwhelming, you will tell me," he murmured as his eyes met mine again. "I would not see your light dimmed by such a place as this."
Gently, I laid my hands over his.
"You have my word, my lord," I murmured, and he nodded his head slowly.
"Then, welcome to Mordor, híril vuin."
--
She'd been different since the day they met. Oh, she was likely an average member of her species, but Adar had little personal experience with Humans beyond the occasional interaction. Her openness when she was a child had been endearing, especially since she hadn't thought him frightening or hideous. She'd accepted him as he was without question - even going so far as to protect him from her father's suspicion.
After she'd caught him speaking with Glûg in the middle of the night, ordering his children to leave her and her father be in Black Speech, however, Adar had thought that she'd have told her father what she'd seen...that he would be met with an arrow to the chest upon his return to their camp. Instead, she'd managed to sneak back unnoticed, and he'd taken his leave before she awakened.
Never did he think that one day as a grown woman - a lady - she would be forced to kneel at his feet. Not even with the threat of death looming over her was she afraid of him.
He'd never wanted her fear. When she was a child, he'd savored her curiosity, and now, as an adult, he found that he relished her gentleness and her acceptance. She'd been courteous to all of his children whom she'd encountered, even if such behavior earned scorn from the other Humans in their encampment. She never cowered. She never diminished herself to fit into the dull little boxes that the others of her species so consistently tried to force upon her. She was unique.
And Adar found himself growing ever more intrigued by her.
The winter wind whipped clothing, biting the skin and sinking bone-deep. Like most discomfort, Adar was used to it. He knew every survival method - one did not live for thousands of years without picking up a few helpful practices. His children had followed his example, but it was a bit harder for the Humans among them to find comfort.
Truly, though, the only one he cared about was his lady...his brave, determined lady. He remembered her looking up at him the better part of a year ago when she was forced to the ground before him. Curiosity and recognition was as obvious in her expression as the points on an Elf's ears.
Even after he'd taken their village, she hadn't hated him. She hadn't denied having sworn for him, even though that had been a lie he concocted to keep her safe and unblemished.
Seeing that remnant of his armor hanging from a chain around her neck had inspired more pride and awe in him than he'd felt in an Age. Adar had assumed that even if her father had given it to her, it was so small and insignificant that she wouldn't have bothered to keep track of it. But for her to have turned it into a necklace... The thought still sparked a wave of warmth in the Uruk's heart.
Had their encounter truly been that memorable to her?
As the bitter winter held the camp in its grip, residents and all, Adar walked amongst his children and sworn Human villagers alike, noting those things which were needed most. He turned a corner between rows of tents and half-built houses and paused at the sight of his lady and Glûg discussing the babe in the Uruk's arms. After a few moments, his lady let out a small laugh, and Glûg let out a rasping chuckle before departing with a small bow.
Before he could behave as if he'd been doing anything - anything at all - besides watching them, she turned and Adar's eyes met hers. Approaching without hesitation, she curtsied and greeted him with her customary 'good day, my lord.'
Dropping into his own low bow, Adar offered her his arm.
"Walk with me, if you would, my lady," he murmured, and she looped her arm with his. "How would you characterize the mood amongst your people here?"
They walked a few steps, she considering her answer, and he marveling at how easily they fit together. Having her at his side felt natural, as if that was where she was always meant to be.
"They are under strain, because of the winter temperatures. Perhaps they are a bit more frightened than usual, but nothing too serious," she replied. "They seem to have settled into their new routine along with your children quite well, considering the circumstances."
"And what of your own circumstances? What can I do to ease your burden?" He asked as they reached the door of her shelter.
"I can think of nothing, my lord." Adar did not believe that, but he did not contradict her, choosing instead to accept her invitation inside.
"Allow me, at least," he said as he stepped inside, "to check your supplies. Firewood and the like."
"Of course," she murmured, waving him inside. One of the other ladies who shared her living space had already lit a fire in grate, and as soon as they saw Lord Adar walk inside, they quickly found other places to be.
Pretending to take a cursory view around the room, Adar slyly watched his lady move around, tidying up, even though the messes had clearly been created by the others. That he did not like, but that was a problem for a later date.
"Are you certain there is nothing I can do to improve your situation?" He asked, and she flashed him a smile bright enough to make his heart skip a beat.
"Nothing, whatsoever. I'm quite comfortable here," she said walking to stand with him beside the fire. He took a long, selfish moment to indulge his desire to study her face. When his desire to reach out and touch her grew so strong that he felt he might snap, he drew and released a deep breath.
"Thank you for your indulgence, my lady. I shall leave you in peace."
Adar gave her a small bow before making his way toward the door.
"Oh, wait! Please, my lord," she called, and he turned to face her. She pulled a length of cloth from a bundle, hurrying over to him.
A familiar sense of dread curled in his abdomen. He'd been betrayed before in moments of weakness - seeing her this evening was certainly a weakness. The cloth would make a suitable garrote for a person of her size to use. Steeling himself as she approached, he realized that, though he wouldn't be surprised, her betrayal would hurt more than any other had.
He met her eyes with his as she stood on the tips of her toes to wrap the cloth around his neck...but the constriction he'd been expecting never came. Instead, she tied it carefully, tucking the ends into his armor so they wouldn't flap around in the wind.
Adar's gauntlet-covered fist relaxed as his defensiveness was replaced with confusion. He was certain that he must look as utterly befuddled as he felt, but the little smile that settled upon her lips as she examined her handiwork stole his breath.
"There. That should keep you a little warmer, at least. We cannot have the Lord of Mordor freezing, now can we?" She asked when her fingers finally fell away from the chestplate of his armor. Adar found speech difficult for a long moment. She cared for his comfort?
How was one supposed to tell someone that they'd expected death's shadow only to find kindness instead? How could he possibly explain to someone like her that at the sight of a simple makeshift scarf, he'd coiled himself as tightly as a warrior preparing to be struck without a shield or sword to defend himself? She was so considerate that she would blame herself for unsettling him, he had no doubt.
No, to say nothing would be better. Perhaps...perhaps later.
Lifting her hands gently in his own, he laid soft kisses upon her knuckles. He dared not look away. Not now. This moment was crucial - whether for just him or for them both, he knew not.
"Thank you, dear lady," he breathed, and as his eyes searched hers, he saw what he normally did in her: warmth. However, this time he saw more. There was warmth, yes, but there was also gentleness, protectiveness, and a sort of satisfaction about him not tearing the scarf from his throat - he would never do such a thing. Not when it was from her.
When he finally stepped outside once more, the wind was unable to sink its frozen teeth into his neck. The fabric, worn and discolored with age, was soft, caressing his scarred skin just as he imagined her fingers would if she ever deigned to lower herself and take him as her lover.
Her generosity made him only that much more determined to find some way to make life easier for her. For nearly a week, he was kept too busy to give the matter any serious consideration, but he did have an idea.
While she was occupied, Adar slipped into her shelter. He wished to find a way to repay her for her kindness, thus his goal was to find one of her unfulfilled needs and provide for her. He was already able to ensure that she received enough food and water, and she deserved more than he could ever give her, but he was willing to try.
After a few moments of searching, he noticed the blanket in her little sleeping area. It was thin, full of holes, and practically falling apart. It was the only one he could see.
His heart clenched in his chest. She must be nearly frozen during the night, yet she had still seen fit to give him her scarf? The growing dampness of tears blurred his vision, but he blinked them away. How had she made it through the winter?
At least he could fix this for her.
Picking up the tattered blanket, he strode across the camp to find a replacement. Laying it atop a pile with other bits of cloth that needed to be repurposed, he found a stack of extra blankets. He'd already ensured that all of his children had enough to keep them warm, so one extra would not be missed.
He hastened back to her shelter, closing the door nearly silently behind him, but he quickly realized that he was not alone.
"My lord?" She called from her place beside the cold hearth. She was trying to light a fire with trembling hands. Walking over to her, Adar tucked the blanket beneath his arm and gently coaxed the flint and steel from her cold fingers.
Kneeling briefly, he struck the flint and steel once, twice, and carefully encouraged the flame to grow until a warm glow illuminated the room. When he stood again, he grasped her hands and rubbed them between his palms. He would not be content to leave her until he was certain that she would not freeze in the night.
She looked up at him in wordless wonder, and he knew for certain that his own expression had to be similar.
"Thank you, my lord," she said in barely a whisper, and in reply, he unfolded the blanket he'd brought. Though it was not nearly as soft as someone like her deserved, he knew it would hold the heat much better than her old one. Adar draped it around her shoulders, and, sweet, trusting thing that she was, she made no protest about his proximity, nor did she flinch when the backs of his knuckles caressed her cheek.
She looked from him, to the blanket, and back again. Without warning, she sprang forward, wrapping her arms around his middle, but where he usually expected the bite of a dagger after such an impact, he found only comfort. He realized that she...was embracing him.
He looked down at her, only to find his nose buried in her hair. Her scent! He'd smelled it before, but to have her this close...it was intoxicating. Carefully bracing his hands on her waist, he leaned down a little farther. The tip of his nose brushed against her warm neck, and he could almost smell her pulse racing beneath her skin.
His nose must've been cold, for that small movement was enough to startle her into leaping back. His fëa, dark and fractured as it was, wept at the loss of her, even though she'd only been in contact with him for a moment.
It had been so long since he'd been held like that.
Alarm settled into her expression and she began stammering apologies. Her new blanket slipped from one shoulder, and without a word, Adar stepped toward her and pulled it back into place.
Her voice dropped away as she realized what he was doing. His hands laid lightly upon her shoulders, sliding slowly upward until he was able to cup her cheeks carefully between his scarred fingers. Her eyes, now wide with wonder rather than fear, looked up at him.
"You have done nothing which warrants an apology, my lady," Adar murmured giving her small smile. She was so beautiful, so fragile compared to him. He would risk no injury coming to her. Not even the discomfort of the abating cold; slowly, their breaths became less visible as the fire grew in the hearth. "Why did you not tell me about the state of your blanket?"
"I did not wish to trouble you, my lord," she answered sheepishly. "I had already requested a replacement from the head of the Men in our section, but I was told I'd have to speak with Waldreg. Given my previous encounters with him, I...decided that the cold was preferable."
Disquiet twisted within him. Waldreg was distasteful enough without having caused his lady trouble. He was quite certain he'd tear the little worm of a Man limb from limb with a grin on his lips if he dared harm his lady.
Adar would have to speak with him about that.
"Has he mistreated you?" He tried to keep his tone as steady as possible, but a slight edge still managed to creep in.
"He expressed a few less than polite sentiments, but no more. It is not a crime for him to dislike me, my lord," she said, but her attempt to calm his ire only made him angrier on her behalf. Would she not express her anger even at someone as wretched and cruel as Waldreg?
"In future, come directly to me. You need not be afraid. I would be pleased to assist you, my lady," he promised, and his heart stuttered as she nodded her head.
As soon as he left her shelter, he sought Waldreg. The miserable little rat had much to answer for.
--
As the winter winds began to wane, I found myself increasingly glad of Lord Adar's kindness. Not shivering through the night was a pleasant change. I'd thought that after our conversation he seemed rather tense, but thus far I had seen no results.
However, as I returned from harvesting a small bunch of mushrooms for the soup that night, a vicelike grip clamped around my arm, tugging me off balance and dragging me into the small, dark alleyway between two repurposed buildings.
A hand covered my mouth just as a knifepoint pressed cold and unyielding against my racing pulse.
"You vicious little bitch," a familiar voice snarled against my ear. "What lies did you tell him? How did you make him hate me?"
I whimpered but dared not move for fear of the sharp steel at my throat.
"'You will not treat my children or those pledged to me with disrespect,' he said. He's had me shoveling shit in the kennels for weeks, and word around camp is that he only came to me after speaking with you!" Waldreg sounded furious, and, indeed, I could detect the lingering scent of the wargs' leavings clinging to my attacker and his clothing. The more agitated he grew, the more his hands shook. Pain pricked my skin, and a hot red tear trickled down my throat staining the neckline of my dress. "What'd you do? Lift your skirt for him? Whisper in those ragged little ears of his? Give me one good reason I shouldn't gut you here and feed you to the wargs."
I began struggling in earnest, but his anger kept his grip tight. Still his hand covered my mouth, preventing any attempts at speech. A cruel laugh trickled across my ears, and he dragged his knife downwards until it rested directly above my heart.
"I thought not." I tried to cringe away, but that accomplished nothing save fueling the cruel old bastard's amusement as tears rolled down my cheeks. "Say goodnight!"
Instead of the bite of a blade, however, I was abruptly released. A gurgling sound came from behind me, and when I turned, I saw Lord Adar's gauntlet-covered hand lifting Waldreg off the ground by his throat. The cold glare on the Uruk's face revealed not a single mite of mercy for the Man thrashing in his grasp.
"My lady, go inside. I will join you in a moment," Adar called, and after a single shocked blink, I rushed off to do as he'd ordered. My basket lay in the mud, entirely forgotten amongst the chaos. A small crowd of Uruks had gathered around to witness Waldreg's demise and jeer at him, but I couldn't stay.
As terrible as he was, I didn't want to. Trembling, I closed the door after myself and stumbled toward my sleeping space. Quickly wrapping the blanket Adar had given me around my shoulders, I tried to steady my breathing instead of listening to the commotion outside.
I had no idea how long I'd been sitting there when the crowd fell silent and the door finally opened. Terrified that Waldreg had somehow survived and was coming to seek his revenge, I backed into the corner beside the hearth and tried to stay as small as possible.
I had no weapons with which to fight. Hiding would be my only chance to survive, especially if Adar had not been able to stop him.
--
"My lady?" Adar's voice called gently into the space, though he saw no sign of her. He spotted a small movement from the far side of the hearth. Why was she hiding? Her eyes were wide and fearful, even as he approached.
Suddenly, her assertion about Waldreg expressing 'a few less than polite sentiments, but no more' felt grossly incorrect. If she was this frightened, he must've threatened her.
Adar hoped that she heard him screaming his apologies before his death.
Or...could it be that he'd finally managed to frighten her with his cruelty? That thought sent a bolt of icy dread through him.
Dropping silently to his knees beside her, he unclipped his gauntlet and dropped it beside him. He wouldn't dare touch her while wearing it after it had touched that scum, not without cleaning it first. He offered her his hand, afterwards, and she accepted it without hesitation.
She needed no coaxing to come to him, shuffling over and resting before him on her knees with her blanket still around her shoulders.
"You need not fear, my lady. He will haunt your steps no more," he murmured, and the relieved little sniffle that escaped her had Adar moving closer and gently brushing her tears away with the pads of his thumbs.
His skin was rough, but he was careful. He didn't want to hurt her, or for her to fear him. She had every right to after she'd seen him lifting Waldreg off the ground in the midst of his rage. He certainly would not blame her, but he did not want that. If ever she shrank away from him as she'd tried to do from that contemptible worm earlier, he thought his heart may shatter irreparably.
So, with the most soothing tone he could muster - one he'd not used in over an Age - he placed a gentle kiss upon her brow and spoke.
"You are safe with me, híril vuin. None shall raise a hand to you again." Carefully, he pulled the edge of the blanket away just far enough to see the small trail of dried blood from where she'd been cut. Regret was as foul upon his tongue as bile.
He should have found them sooner. Moving away only long enough to fetch a pitcher of water and a cloth, Adar sat close to her upon his return. He began to wipe her skin clean in slow, careful strokes, murmuring quiet, earnest praise for how brave she'd been and for trusting him to help her.
She rested her cheek upon his shoulder as he set the cloth aside, prompting him instinctively to wrap his arms around her and brace his chin atop her head.
"Thank you, my lord," she breathed, and he was acutely aware of his own heart racing in his chest. Could she hear its rhythm even with the chestplate of his armor in the way?
As he began to tell her that he'd done no more than his duty, the door to her shelter opened, revealing the three other ladies who shared the small space with her. Adar grated at the interruption, despite their low curtsies as soon as they caught sight of him holding his lady in his arms.
"Sleep elsewhere tonight," he ordered them, and once they'd departed, he let out a tense breath. Speaking then to his lady, he softened his tone once more. "Tomorrow, I shall have you moved to chambers befitting one of your station."
She blinked beautifully up at him, dampness clinging to her lashes like dewdrops in the early morn.
"'My station,' my lord?"
A slow smile stretched his lips.
"Indeed. If you are to serve at the right hand of the Lord of Mordor, you cannot be seen huddling in the corner of a ruined shack."
Her eyes went wide, and her lips parted in a near-silent gasp.
"A-At your right hand?"
He nodded his head in confirmation.
"Assuming that such a thought appeals to you, of course," he said, but the smile that lit up her face told him all that he needed to know about her enthusiasm.
--
The next morning, I awoke wrapped in Lord Adar's arms and the blanket he'd given me. I should've felt embarrassment, but I could muster no more than a groggy sense that I was exactly where I was meant to be.
As soon as we managed to peel ourselves from the ground, we gathered my meager possessions, and Adar led me to the tavern. He had ruled from there since day one, but I hadn't been aware until that moment that he'd been living there as well. I supposed that his choice made sense. The upper level was where the owner used to live, having the benefit of a bedroom and a small bathing room complete with a claw-foot tub.
"Unless you object, we shall be sharing the bedroom," he explained as we climbed the creaky wooden staircase. "I'm afraid that there was little more than a musty mattress here to begin with, so I'll have a second bedroll brought up today. If there is anything you require once you have settled in, please do not hesitate to tell me."
"Thank you, my lord," I replied, and as I set myself up on one side of the room directly across from his own sleeping area, one of his children called him away to handle a conflict on the other side of the camp.
Late that night, I walked into the small communal area where Lord Adar sat by the fire, gazing into its depths as if it held the answers to all of his questions. Not wishing to disturb his thoughts, I began to move away, but a quiet call of my name in that deliciously raspy voice of his froze me in place.
"Is everything to your satisfaction, my lady?" He called, and I turned to find his gaze already fixed on me.
"Yes, my lord," I murmured, "thank you for allowing me to stay here."
"The pleasure is mine. Come, warm yourself by the fire," he offered, and I dropped to my knees on the furs beside him. We sat in companionable silence for a while with only the crackling of the fire in the grate reaching our ears. "Something troubles you, does it not?"
I nodded my head and he tilted his own beside me.
"Tell me." Despite his soft tone, the command made me bite my lip.
"I...My lord, given the new position with which you have honored me, I believe it..." I stumbled over the words, eventually taking a deep breath to compose myself. "Would it not be inappropriate for me to continue in this particular role without having sworn my loyalty to you?"
The question came out in a breathless rush, but Adar either did not notice over the hissing of the fire or he was too polite to comment upon it.
"So far as all the others are concerned, you did so before we ever took your village." His eyes skimmed the length of my face as he spoke. "As you will recall, I promised you that I would not force you to do so."
"And you have kept to your word," I began. "I have not felt coerced. I offer my loyalty to you freely."
Adar sat up straighter and drew in a sharp breath.
"You only need do so if you truly wish for us to be bound," he said placing his hand softly atop mine where it rested amongst the furs. His eyes searched mine as if trying to determine whether I was serious.
"I'm certain, my lord," I said, and he, apparently finding what he was looking for, gave a solemn nod of his head.
"Very well. As with your kin, Black Speech is not a language known to you, thus I will not require your vow in that tongue," he murmured, and I couldn't stop the question that fell from my lips.
"Would it be possible to learn at some point?"
Adar smiled, a mix of pride and surprise playing across his features in the glowing, flickering light of the fire.
"I shall teach you personally, híril vuin," he promised, and his expression became more serious. "Have you ever sworn loyalty to another?"
"No, my lord."
"Do you recall the words being spoken during the oaths of fealty given by your people?"
"Yes, my lord." I bowed my head, intending to show my respect in that manner, but warm, gentle fingers grasped my chin and lifted my head back up. Adar's gaze met my own, and unless the firelight was deceiving me, I saw a soft sort of affection swimming in his eyes as he looked at me.
"Before all else, I wish you to swear that you will never bow to me unless I explicitly give you the order to do so," he rasped as his thumb brushed over my lower lip.
"I swear it, my lord. I will not bow to you unless you give me the order to do so." Having extracted that promise, he seemed satisfied to allow me to continue as I had been. His fingers fell away from my chin only to grasp my own and lay them atop his chest where beneath his heart lay beating. "I hereby swear my allegiance to you, Adar, Lord-Father of the Uruks, founder of the land of Mordor...and protector of mortal children silly enough to wander the forest alone. This I pledge from now until the last breath leaves my body."
Adar listened with something akin to wonder in his eyes, and when I finished, his gaze strayed down to my lips. But...something seemed off.
"Is...something amiss, my lord? I could always use different words, if you prefer...?"
He shook his head quietly.
"There was no fault in your diction."
"Then...what troubles you?" I asked, unconsciously repeating his own words from earlier. He shifted before me, as if he was bothered by what he was about to say. Regretful, perhaps?
"An oath means little on its own," Adar murmured unsheathing a small knife that he'd apparently concealed upon his person. "Only blood can bind."
Whose blood did he mean? Did he want me to use it on myself? Did he wish to use it on me? Or did he want me to use it on us both?
An idea struck me, and I grasped my necklace in the palm of my left hand. Carefully, I set his knife aside, guiding his gauntlet-covered hand over mine. Looking into his eyes, I felt the unyielding metal dig into the soft skin of my hand. Without warning, I squeezed his hand, which in turn forced the sharp, ancient metal deep enough into my skin to draw blood. As comprehension dawned in his eyes, his pupils dilated, and something resembling hunger turned his gaze into a blazing flame boring into me.
His hand released mine long enough for the pendant to fall from my grasp, and when he turned my palm upwards, twin gashes welled with blood. Swallowing heavily, Adar lifted my hand, and as his lips met crimson, his eyes sought mine.
A gasp tumbled from my throat as his tongue lapped slowly at my skin, just barely grazing the inner edges of the two weeping cuts. It stung, of course, but the pain combined with such a ravenous stare from the Uruk lord sent a wave of heat rushing between my legs.
A breathy, wanton whimper escaped me, and in a blink, I found myself on my back atop the furs with my lord straddling my hips. He pressed my bleeding palm against his cheek, and, bracing his free hand on the floor beside my head, Adar placed a line of fiery kisses along the column of my throat from hollow to chin with his blood-drenched lips.
I'd wanted him to look at me like this, to touch me and desire me like this, from the moment we were reunited, and now that he was, it was as though my very soul had been lit aflame. I wanted everything he wished to give me, and then some.
Before his mouth had the chance to claim mine, however, there was a rough knock on the door. Adar pulled back a few inches, and we stared into each other's eyes, panting together as reality sank back in and a second knock sounded.
"I think you ought to retire for the night, my lady," he rasped laying a final kiss upon my palm before getting to his feet. My blood was a dark red streak upon his face, but he seemed not to care. He called for whoever was at the door to wait a moment, taking the time to help me to my feet and bidding me goodnight before seeing to our caller. His lips were still the deep red shade of the life flowing through my mortal veins.
I hurried up the stairs to our shared sleeping space before I could see who'd interrupted us. With a quick glance into the cracked fragment of a mirror stowed in the corner of the room, I saw a sloppy, red trail where Adar's lips had been.
I didn't bother to clean it off before I crawled into my bedroll, choosing instead to slip my fingers beneath my smallclothes as I recalled the feeling of him doing as he wished with me. With a broken, muffled whine of his name against my blanket, I found completion, but a part of me wondered how much more satisfying it would have been had his fingers been in place of mine.
--
The next fortnight felt as though it was a specialized form of torture. Adar seemed to be called away by a never-ending series of problems that required solutions. Often his day began earlier than I awoke and ended long after I'd retired to bed. Ensuring I'd completed every task he'd left for me was the least I could do considering how busy his own position kept him.
Occasionally, we did still manage to sneak a meal or a short conversation with one another, but we had yet to discuss what had happened the night I pledged myself to him. Almost every night, the memory of the hunger in his eyes drove me to desperation, haunting my dreams and forcing me to muffle my cries as I tended to my own burning desire.
One of the few times he returned before I fell asleep, I'd just whimpered his name into my pillow. As he ascended the staircase, I heard his footsteps, and I tried to muffle my shame as it was too late to stop entirely. The fear of discovery lanced through me as I heard him approach the door. I tried to steady my breathing, and hoped that in the low lighting, he would not notice how disheveled I looked.
Either I was successful, or he was in a sadistic mood, because he sidled over to his own bedroll and began stripping down. I'd seen him without the armor before, but when he shucked off his upper garments, the sight of his scarred, toned torso was enough to make me bite my tongue to stifle a gasp.
The outline of his masculinity in his trousers as he laid his clothing in a neat pile sent a fresh wave of wetness soaking my inner thighs. Oh, how was I meant to sleep after seeing...that?
Adar laid down, and just when I thought he'd fallen asleep, his voice broke through the silence.
"Sweet dreams, my lady." I could hear the teasing smile in his voice.
Oh. My cheeks burned at the realization that he'd likely heard me.
"...Good night, my lord," I murmured, hating how shaky I sounded.
--
Spring changed very few things in Mordor, save the temperatures, yet with each passing day, Adar's lady seemed to smile just a little wider.
He wanted to give her more reasons to do so, however. It was not enough that they had been living in close quarters since that night in her shelter. It was not enough that he'd made her smile and laugh before. Adar needed to do it again.
But more than that, he needed to hear those things which it was not at all civilized to consider. It was not enough that he had tasted her blood and her skin and her racing pulse. He'd heard her make beautiful, pleasure-filled sounds when she thought he was out of earshot or asleep. But it was never enough. He needed to hear her moan his name, to see her arch her back beneath him in the throes of ecstasy. He needed her.
Teasing her had been as much a torture for him as it likely was for her. Adar had become addicted to pain in one form or another over the millennia, and the mental strain of denying himself the pleasure of her touch was not unfamiliar, but it was forcing him to a breaking point, nonetheless. He knew that he would likely snap as he had when she'd sworn him her loyalty. That rush had been like a dam releasing an unstoppable flood, his hunger turning him into a ravenous beast.
She hadn't minded, as he thought she might. She'd enjoyed it. The sight of her lying beneath him panting as her blood practically dripped from his lips made him achingly hard each time he dwelled upon the memory for too long.
Still, she deserved better. Better than him, better than a moment of animalistic need. He found himself wondering about how best to give her all of himself.
Adar supposed that was how he'd ended up in the doorway of the small bathing room. The claw-footed tub was filled with steaming water as he'd ordered, and relaxing within it was his lady. She'd deserved a moment of peace after having completed every single task he'd given her with such dedication. It was a small reward, hardly as much as she deserved, but at the moment, it was all he could give.
He tried not to allow his gaze to drop beneath the water's surface, but his restraint was weak after the last two weeks of self-imposed denial. Truly, he intended merely to check that she was well, but the temptation of seeing her soft skin dripping with hot water was too great. The Lord of Mordor lingered in the doorway just long enough to feel his lower garments grow tight, and for her eyes to meet his as his lust clawed at his restraint.
As a moth drawn to a flame, he found himself walking slowly into the room, summoned by her curious gaze. The hot water reached her collarbones, and Adar felt the urge rising within him to claim her.
He knelt beside the tub, his face mere inches from her own, and removed his armor, gauntlet and all. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and dipped a washcloth into the hot water. The back of his hand brushed against the swell of her breast, and they both let out quiet gasps.
Still, Adar refused to look down into the depths of the sage blossom oil scented water. Wringing the washcloth out until it was just wet enough for him to clean his face, he began to do so, only for his lady to take it from his hands. With her breasts pressed up against the side of the tub, her soft, gentle fingers held his head in place as she carefully wiped away the grime.
Without a word, he turned his head and kissed her palm where twin scars were already forming. Adar would've preferred that she spill his own blood - that was what he'd originally intended - but since she'd chosen that pain, the least he could do was show the proper amount of reverence for her actions.
"Is there anything you need, Adar?" Her voice was shaky and breathless as it so often was when he caught her off-guard.
"No. This night is for you. Relax as long as you wish," he murmured, but as he stood to leave her in peace, he noted that she tried valiantly to hide her disappointment. Without turning back - if he did, he might do something impulsive - he called over his shoulder, "Patience, my lady, and you shall have all that you desire."
His hardness did not abate until long after they'd settled into their bedrolls and her breathing had evened out in the serenity of sleep.
Adar could not wait much longer. Her sweetness was as a siren's call to him.
Thus, his plan began to form. Once the spring was fully upon them, he approached her as he often did for conversation.
"My lady, I wonder if you might spare me a moment of your time?" He asked, and she smiled joyfully up at him - truly, that should not have made his heart stutter the way it did.
"Of course, my lord. You may have as much of my time as you desire," she replied, and oh, she had no idea what she was offering!
"Do you enjoy riding horses?"
She tilted her head curiously, but the way her smile widened had him mentally congratulating himself for selecting this particular tactic.
"I do, though, it has been quite some time since I've had the opportunity."
"Come," he urged offering her his hand. She didn't hesitate to take it. The feeling of her touch would be seared into his mind for as long as he lived. Drawing her close, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "I intend to steal you away."
Her lips parted in surprise, and just as he was about to apologize for his forthrightness, she squeezed his fingers in hers.
"I could not hope to be stolen by any more worthy." His breath hitched in his chest, and he tamped down the temptation to skip his plan entirely and take her atop his own sleeping furs. No. He'd been alive since before the waking of the world. He could wait a little longer.
"Then, maybe I should play the part...?" Adar suggested with a mischievous smirk. Before she could ask what he meant, he lifted her by the waist, tossed her over his shoulder - an action which tugged a surprised shriek from her lips - and carried her to his horse that way.
"My lord!"
"My lady!" He called back in answer as he felt her gentle, mortal hands lay across the back of his armor. Surely she knew he would never drop her?
Soon, he placed her atop his mount, and she giggled breathlessly at the situation. Her mussed hair and bright eyes lit a spark within his heart, and lower, not that he would admit it to any, save her. Swinging up easily, he settled in behind her, grasping the horse's reins in one hand and bracing the other over the softness of her diaphragm. As close as they were, he was in the perfect position to whisper in her ear.
"Fear not, my lady," he breathed, "you shan't fall."
One of her hands covered his, and he urged their horse forward. For nearly two hours they rode, crossing from ashen, desolate terrain into the gentle rolling grasses of the land beyond Mordor's fiery shadow.
The rhythmic roll of her hips against his became almost hypnotic. The Lord of Mordor he might be, but his restraint was still utterly devastated by her. They dismounted when they reached a meadow peppered with small saplings.
Tying their horse's reins to a sturdy one, Adar offered his lady his hand. The sun was just beginning to glow a gentle orange. It would set soon, and he greatly desired to see his lady bathed in starlight.
"It is no secret that I favor you, my lady," Adar began as they wandered leisurely amongst the blooming flowers, and that was the closest he'd ever come to an admission...to a confession of that nature. "Even the Uruks farthest from the center of our camp know that I...that you are under my protection."
"Indeed. I would say that is true," she agreed, clearly not certain at what point he was driving with his rambling. "I am honored beyond words to have your favor and protection, my lord–"
"Adar. Here - anywhere away from prying eyes and unwelcome ears - you may call me Adar," he corrected gently, and her fingers squeezed his in gratitude. "I brought you here today, because I wish to ask for your counsel."
"You shall always have it, Adar," she assured, "though, I am not certain what advice I could provide that would be wiser than your own. I have very little experience with war and strategy."
He stopped walking and turned to face her - a mistake, because she was almost ethereally encompassed by the warmth of the sunset. He swallowed heavily to recover his voice.
"It is not war about which I require your thoughts," he began, bringing her hand to his ruined lips. "I have lived in shadow for so long, yet recently I have found myself prey to a feeling which I have not experienced in many Ages."
She tilted her head curiously.
"What might that be?"
Adar reached gently toward her with his free hand, cupping her cheek.
"Love," he rasped, looking into her eyes, hoping she would catch the meaning within his words. Admitting that a horrid creature like him had fallen head over heels for a beautiful being like her was tantamount to sacrilege. Yet...in several instances, he believed that he'd seen his own affection reflected in her eyes. Indeed, the moans he'd heard from her would seem to indicate that she desired him.
But it was too much to hope that she could love him. He was certain she desired him, but...love? Could a Human woman truly love an Uruk when the rest of her kind looked down on them in scorn and disgust? Had he been a fool to bring her here?
She stepped closer to him, looking up into his eyes–
Her expression stole his breath. He had not hung the stars in the sky, nor had he wrought treasures like the Silmarils. He had not created even a single thing of beauty. All he'd done was try to give his children a home.
And yet...she looked at him as though he was more worthy of praise than the most virtuous of kings, the most honorable of knights, and the most devoted of husbands. Could it be possible?
Could she...?
"I am afraid that I have little experience with love, Adar, but I will help if I can." As afraid as he might be of losing her, he must speak now or lose her forever.
"In your opinion, who is worthy of love?" He asked, and she let out a small huff of laughter, as if the question was a foolish one. "Have I said something amusing?"
"A bit," she admitted, but she was quick to place her free hand over his heart, "but not in the way you might think. Everyone is worthy of love, even - and, perhaps, most especially - the Lord-Father of the Uruks."
Was he truly so transparent that she could see his fears so easily? Or had she managed to worm her way so far into his heart without his knowledge that it was already a bosom companion to her own?
"...And you have it." His eyes snapped back up to hers - when had he looked away? His hunger and adoration for her rose up in a great wave, consuming him from the inside as he wove his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and drew her into a passionate kiss.
He'd dreamed of having her pressed up against him, of drinking her pleasure from her lips.
She moaned into Adar's mouth, and he was struck by the realization that she was so much better than any phantom images that his imagination could conjure. He dragged his lips and teeth to the corner of her jaw, and spoke in a hoarse, rasping whisper.
"I need you as I need air, meleth-nin." He grasped her waist as her arms drew him ever closer. "You steal my breath, yet without you I cannot breathe. Have mercy...Have mercy upon your most devoted servant..."
As the orange sky bled pink, his lips trailed down her neck, savoring those places which had driven him to the edge of madness when he sampled her before the fire. His name escaped her lips on the back of a desperate whine.
"What do you need? Tell me," Adar breathed, and she tilted her head to offer him more of her neck.
"Take me, touch me, please! I'll be good, so good, only for you," she begged, and the sound went straight to the stiffening length between his legs. He would love nothing more than to have her beg for him all night, but this time she would have no need to. Tonight, the beginning of their time as one, he would fulfill her every desire with a minimum of teasing. He'd done too much of that of late.
Her fingers dove into his hair, and a moan poured from his throat, rumbling against her pretty skin.
"Is that what you want? Do you wish to be a good girl for me?" She released a varied stream of yeses and pleas for him to do as he wished with her, and he acceded to her request with a kiss, quelling any doubt she may have had that he would do this for her. He would do anything for her, even unto the destruction of Middle Earth. "Do you wish to be mine?"
"Yes!" Her answer was akin to a desperate sob, and he wasted no time, immediately indulging her.
Tugging his cloak from his armor, Adar spread it over the grass. He would not have her dress covered in stains, nor grass blades stuck to her skin. The cloth created a sharp contrast - an onyx patch amidst a sea of pinks, purples, reds, and yellows - the dark to the meadow's light, just as she was the light to his darkness. She completed him, enthralled him, drove him mad, and tonight he would show her just how much.
She went for the ties fastening her dress, but he caught her hands in his and took over. She was a gift more precious than anything which the Valar could bestow upon their servants, and he would unwrap her accordingly.
As the laces binding the back of her dress fell away one at a time, Adar explored his lover's mouth with all the tenderness and gentleness that his cruel, twisted body could muster. He hadn't even realized that her tricky little fingers had begun to fiddle with his armor until his breastplate fell away.
In a flurry of discarded garments, they were each revealed to the other in all their beauty and all their flaws. Their shared vulnerability stilled their hands for an anxious moment, but only for a moment.
Adar's breath hitched in his chest when the soft lips he'd tasted mere seconds before connected with the scarred flesh over his heart. He'd expected pity, fear, regret - not reverence. Instead, as she looked up at him, he saw nothing but sincerity in her expression.
"You are gorgeous," she said, as though she could not tell that he had but one part of his body which was untouched by scars.
...As though she meant it. He realized with a sharp intake of breath that she did. She grasped his hands and they sank onto his cloak together, she on her back and he kneeling between her legs. His interest jutted toward her, but he could not find it within himself to be ashamed, not when he was with her. Not when a piece of his armor hung on a chain around her neck, resting comfortably above her breast.
"There is no beauty finer in this world than yours."
Spread nude before him over his cloak, Adar's lady looked up at him with an adoration he had not believed possible. Not when directed at an Uruk such as he. His lips met hers once more, but this time, he forced himself to be much more controlled. He wanted her, yes, but he also wanted her to know that she had his love.
Kissing his way steadily down her body, the Lord-Father of the Uruks had no doubt that he must look as hungry for her as he felt. Practically feral with pent-up desire, he needed her writhing on his tongue. His hands trembled with the effort it took to slow his movements, to take his time.
Abruptly, as his eyes met hers from between her legs, he realized that she very much had the capacity to destroy him. With a single declaration of hatred or a look of disgust, she could easily take his stone heart and pulverize it into powder.
How easily could she shred beyond repair what little remained of his soul!
Not even Morgoth had been able to do that. This mortal woman, this sweet, brave lady had no idea of the power that she possessed. The smart thing to do - the strategically wise path - would have been to kill her then and there while she lay vulnerable and trusting before him, begging for one more touch, one more kiss, one more moan, one more scrap of his attention.
Instead, he picked up his discarded gauntlet and slid her much smaller hand inside it. The clasps were quick work, and though she looked confused at first, once he lifted her thighs over his shoulders and guided her hand to his hair, understanding dawned in her eyes. She understood. He wanted her to feel powerful. She was his equal and she deserved to know it.
Even with sharp, unyielding metal covering her fingertips, they scraped so gently over his scalp as he lost himself in the flood between her thighs. She moaned and whimpered, squirming in his hold, but through it all, she never once hurt him.
Adar knew that she wouldn't. Even as she cried out his name for all the world to hear, drenching his tongue and chin, her grip in his hair was careful. Her thighs tensed in his grasp, squeezing his head in an intoxicating vice. Groaning and snarling against her sensitive folds, he couldn't bring himself to pull away until she was shaking in the midst of over-sensitivity.
"Adar, please," she breathed as he moved up her body. Hunger raged and burned in his eyes - he could deny himself no longer. Grasping her wrists, he pinned them easily above her head as he claimed her lips. His tongue delved into the softness of her mouth, taking with it the lingering taste of her.
Her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him close enough for his tip to catch on her entrance. With synchronized groans, he pressed inside of her, joining their bodies together as one.
Profane language not meant for the ears of such a creature as her spilled from his throat in a guttural stream of Black Speech. Dipping his head, Adar moaned against her breast and surged forward, drawing a sinful mewl from deep within her throat.
"You have me. You take me so well," he praised in a raspy whisper, nibbling at her earlobe as he thrust into her slowly. Gradually, she stripped him of his sense and control, tugging from within him a steady flow of praise and filth in Elvish and Black Speech - promises to treasure her for the rest of his days, to protect her, and to draw from her so many screams each night that all of Mordor would be unable to deny his claim over her.
When she managed to roll her hips beneath him to meet his thrusts, begging him to use her, to ruin her, what could he do but grant his lady's wish?
In a quick movement, he'd repositioned them both so that she was astride his hips. Pulling her arms behind her back and tugging slightly so that her chest was pushed toward him, Adar looked into her eyes.
"If you wish your lord to use you, then move those hips," he ordered. Leaning in, he brushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear and whispered a bit more gently to her. "Ride me, meleth. Show me that I have you."
She obeyed him instantly, finding a steady rhythm which, aided by his fingers toying with her clit, would have her tipping over the edge in mere moments. Indeed, her hips soon stuttered, and he gripped the back of her neck, forcing her eyes to meet his.
"Do not look away. Look at the pleasure I can give you," he commanded, and as she nodded frantically, beginning to fall apart, he felt his heart stutter in his chest. "Yes, look upon the Uruk who loves you."
At that, she sobbed and collided firmly with her orgasm. She fluttered around his length, calling his name in lovelorn whimpers and gasps.
Who needed Valinor when she was its very embodiment?
He released her wrists, and she threw her arms around his neck, claiming his lips with her own. His hands slid down her back, landing squarely on her hips. Holding her steady, Adar thrust up into her, making her yelp in surprise. He needed very little now; he was close.
"Where do you wish me?" Adar breathed against her lips, and he could feel the heat burning her cheeks.
"Inside," she answered hiding her face against his neck, and he moaned against her shoulder. Her name tore from him in an almost pained whine as he spilled within her. He clutched her to him so tightly that he'd undoubtedly left bruises in his wake, but he would kiss them all in apology when they'd caught their breath.
Neither seemed eager to release the other, so in their embrace they remained exploring one another with gentle fingers and loving lips until long after the moon had risen and stars had winked their way into the sky. When he dared to lean back far enough to look into her eyes, Adar was met with love bathed in glittering starlight.
He wondered if he'd hurt her, but the smile stretching her lips said otherwise. The armor piece that she'd made into a necklace still rested upon the smooth expanse of her chest - a perfect accompaniment to his gauntlet upon her arm.
The ride back to camp seemed too short by far, but their bedrolls - which would soon be joined into one - called out to them so sweetly. Adar was used to the bows and deference he received from his children, but he knew in his heart that his decision had been right when upon their return he heard the Uruks repeating a particular phrase as they passed.
His lover had heard part of it before, but now there were a few more words to it.
"What is that they keep saying?" She whispered the question to him, and he couldn't keep himself from smiling proudly. "It sounds familiar, but different."
"'Tis Black Speech. They are saying 'make way for the Lord and Lady of Mordor,'" he answered kissing her temple as they approached their home.
~*~*~
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tanglepelt · 1 year ago
Text
Dc x dp idea 93
Ra forces Talia to sacrifice her son to the ghost king. With his obvious re-awakening he most solidify the deal. It’s how he was gifted the Lazarus water in the first place.
Newley crowned 15 year old Danny did not want this child. Like at all. He’s already dealing with parents who want to tear him apart. That reveal didn’t go well at all.
Danny couldn’t take care of himself let alone a stabby 6 year old. The only good thing is he snatched the kid before he was killed by his scary mom and stinky grandfather.
By ancient law. This child belonged to him. Not only that, the child was bound to obey him. Found that part out on accident. He was tired of the murder attempts and promptly told him to knock that off be quiet and sit down. He’s ashamed to admit it took him at least two hours to realize Damian couldn’t talk or stand up.
Yea.
He’s taken to internal dialogue after that little hiccup. He later learned sign language had no effect. Apparently it had to be verbal. It’s not his say to order anyone around. He doesn’t care what the crown means. They were fine without pariah they’ll be fine without him.
At least while he’s still half alive. Despite what the council says he doesn���t need a legal guardian. He’s perfectly fine homeless.
So here he was with 9 year old child and on the run from the government, his parents, and the royal council.
Now when a man in a trench coat tries to expel the ecto-ghost to free the “boy” and the child. Well. He asked for help.
This leads to a dna test. Danny ignored how he had been told Batman by Damian it was of no help. Danny hadn’t even meant to ask, knowing Damian would be forced to answer. His mother must of lied to the poor thing.
With a shocking result, the father was Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne can reclaim his son, but Danny can’t simply hand him over. Something of equal or greater value has to be exchanged.
Obviously Bruce Wayne is happy to make a deal.
Danny just goes. Well either i need a legal guardian as the ghosts are on my butt about it and my parents want me dead. Or. A government organization taken down for trying to eradicate his species.
He gets both.
Damian and Danny refuse to tell anyone why Damian was sacrificed to him.
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driftingvoid-155 · 9 months ago
Note
HI!! Idk if you ever answered that, but I wanted to ask. What are your hcs/ideas of Henrys and Michaels relations :)? Mainly around fnaf 3-ffps
I really love these two and your AU idea got my interest peaked
Hi!!! Okay I’m not sure if you meant Henry & Mike in general or in the AU so I’ll just ramble through some of each :)
Bad ending AU (ie the one where William got stabby and everything went to shit):
I love the thought that like Henry that just sort of showed up to William’s restaurant and set up the band, Mike does the same to Henry on the fnaf 6 location. He knew the story of how Henry just sort of appeared and didn’t know how to go about reintroducing himself to a man he hadn’t seen in years so he just sort of showed up one day with trash and the gang after seeing the job application in the paper and at first, Henry was hella confused as to what this person was doing in his restaurant, especially with this pile of trash on the stage, but then it clicked and tho Mike didn’t look much like he did in his youth, being purple and all decomposing now, Henry did put two and two together and it led to a pretty heartfelt reunion. And Mike and Henry working on making the rockstars just like they once had all those years ago doing maintenance on the main crew.
Just in general:
In my personal hc of the timeline, I think it’s shortly after William disappears that mike and Henry stop talking. They both have suspicions about what William did and bc of that, can’t stand to face the other. Henry bc how can he face a child whose father he’s pretty sure killed his daughter and other kids and Mike for the same reason. How can he face a man whose daughter his father killed? (And who’s also scared who will only look at him and see his father reflected back in him. He did kill his brother after all)
Years go by and it’s around fnaf 3 era when they’re both closing in on William. Mike is the one who finds him in frights but it’s Henry that actually has a plan set up to recapture & Putnam end to him once and for all. Mike is still feeling a little burnt (both figuratively and literally) after frights when he sees the ad in the paper for a manager position for a new and upcoming fazbear restaurant. He applies bc he’s suspicious of the position but it’s not until he has the job he realizes who the mastermind behind it all is. He stays quiet for the most part. Keeps his head down & does his job and it’s easy to avoid Henry for the most part since the man isn’t around much. However, about a day or two before the ‘party’ they do bump into each other one night after closing and end up having a heart to heart discussion about it all and while mike doesn’t outright say he’s done with life, Henry is able to pick up on it.
That’s my wholesome general plotline idea. Of course I also love morally gray Henry who thought that Mike, bc of the remnant in him, had to burn like the rest and that was the reason he took away ‘the way out’. He just went ahead and assumed Mike wanted to die as that’s what’s he would want if he was in that position.
Anyways, I love rambling about fnaf tho so if you were looking for something more about any of these or I misunderstood, feel free to send more asks!
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spahhzy · 2 years ago
Text
This Calling~
.
"The Guiseppe family is stepping over to our lines, encroaching with their drugs trying to potentially steal our customers and effectively our buisness." Neo rolled her eyes bored, wishing and praying to be somewhere else rather than here, as Roman continued to talk with the rest of Valean crime family.
Neo sighed before she pulled out her scroll and began typing.
"Miss both of you"
She wrote before sending the text. she didn't have to wait long for a response.
"Me and Lil Trinity miss you too ❤️" Was all that it said before another messaged popped up this with an attachment, Neo opened it, and her heart melted.
There was a blond man with blue eyes sitting comfortably on a recliner next to a fireplace with a small child no older than eight sitting snuggly on her fathers stomach.
"I love you both so much," responded Neo as she just wished to just leave this boring meeting and go back home to her family.
Alas, she couldn't just leave Roman. He was her family, too but sometimes she wonders...
"What if?"
"Which is why if these gents aren't dealt with quickly, they could strong arm more and more sections of our city," Roman said before sitting down finally next to his partner.
"So what do you suggest we do, Roman?" Junior asked as all eyes once again remained focused on him.
"Send a message," He said to them as he pulled out a picture of some man in a business suit smoking a cigar.
"Anthony Guiseppe, one of the high-ranking men in the Guissepe family - we have his whereabouts..." Neo once more tuned out all this businesses dribble as she received another text.
"Trinity's piano recital is coming up... I know you are busy with the family, but anyway , could you take a day with us? Maybe we can see that new Super Mario movie she's been wanting to go see?" Sent her husband.
"I'll make it happen, I wouldn't miss it for the world," Neo said, to which she smiled as her husband sent her an 'I love you'.
"And that's where my partner and most skilled assassin comes in," Neo sat down her scroll, going into business mode.
"She will be the one to take out Anthony. They don't know who she is other than that she is my assassin, she goes in, stabby stabby, pops out boom! this will send a message to the rest of their family," Roman concluded as Neo smirked, bringing up Hush to her lap as she nodded, ready to accept the job.
"Fine, if we're all in agreement, I think this little meeting of ours has come to an end, friends, family, thank you," Roman told them all before looking at Neo.
"You seemed awfully quiet today" Neo just made a so/so gesture to which Roman chuckled.
"How's your knight and my little niece?" Neo smiled before she showed him the picture her husband sent her.
Roman just smiled before gagging a little.
"So sweet, I might just vomit," a playful jab was sent his way before he immediately went back to professional mode.
"So you understand what your goal is?" He asked her, and she nodded, making a few stabby gestures with hush before making a slit throat motion.
"These boys are highly guarded but nothing you can't handle. Their family haven't been around long, but they have been moving swift and hard, " Roman said, to which she nodded, understanding that no failure could happen here, a message needed to be sent and she would deliver.
"Good, now go get some rest, okay?" Neo looked off to the side a minute before pulling out her scroll and typing to Roman before showing him her scroll.
"You want time off?" Neo nodded to which Roman shrugged.
"That's fine. After you take care of this job, I have a few people who can fill your role for the time being, I take it family? " Roman teased, and Neo blushed before nodding and typing on her scroll and showing it to Roman.
"Trinity's piano recital?" Roman said, and Neo nodded as Roman smiled, seeing his partner fully embracing being a mother.
" After you finish this mission, take the time off, and enjoy yourself, Neo," Roman told her warmly as he pulled out a cigar.
"I might also show up to Trinitys performance as well," he said, to which Neo nodded, happy at the thought of Trinity getting to performance for them all.
"Let's get through this family first and put them in their place, okay?" He raised a gloved fist and bumped it with Neo's.
-
"So how's things handling on the west end of Vale Anthony?" asked a finally dressed man as he put down a fork before wiping his face of some of the food.
"So far, we've been able to get a good couple of blocks to buy from us in business while also lending our 'support' to others," Anthony said as he drank from a small champagne bottle.
"The only issue we are having with is Tulkson Book stores. He is deeply rooted with the Torchwick family" He said to which the other gentleman shrugged his shoulders.
"Keep pressure on him. Your brother Arturo wants the west side under his control before the month ends, " said the man, as Anthony nodded.
"Me and the boys will pay him a visit this weekend. See if we can't change his mind, " he said with a chuckle as his goons began to chuckle as well.
"Just get it done. This is a big power play on our part, Anthony, and the faster we can secure parts of Vale, the better," said the man as he picked up his fork as Anthony waved at the man's concerns.
"It will be done, Garland, just tell my brother we will have West end in our grasp shortly," Anthomy said arrogantly.
"The Torchwick family has been running Vale for far too long, and it's time something new takes over," Anthony said to Garland as he raised a glass.
"To the Guiseppe family"
Garland raised his glass.
"To the Guiseppe family"
Garland and Anthony tap their glasses together before both drinking down the wine.
Suddenly, a cold shudder went through Garland as he shivered.
"Anthony, do you have a window opened or something?
Anthony didn't say anything as he was still holding the glass as if he were drinking.
"Anthony -" he was cut off as the stem of the wine glass suddenly broke from the main cup Garland looked in horror as he saw Anthony's eyes wide in shock and no sooner after, Anthony's head fell from his body and onto the floor.
Chaos erupted in the dining room table as all body guards present scrambled to secure the area.
Garland could only look around as two men went to pick up the now dead Anthony he felt another cold chill as he looked down to see a card written in fine ink, with the insignia of the Torchwick family.
"Message delivered"
-
It was a few weeks after the assassination, and already, things were swinging into the favor of the Torchwick family. So far, no progress was made from the Giuseppe family in trying to take sections of vale from them, and it appeared as though they weren't going to retaliate any time soon.
"Well, boys, it seems as though our message has been received, I think it's time we go ahead and reclaim our streets. What do you think?" Roman's gang cheered as Neo just nodded.
"We'll go out their and work the Torchwick magic." With vigor, the henchmen left the warehouse as Roman chuckled as Neo went to his side.
"Good job Neo!" Roman said as his partner took a bow before looking up to him with pleading eyes.
"Heh, you're good to g-" Nothing more was said as Neo shattered like glass, leaving Roman to smile, happy for Neo.
-
All was quiet in the Arc-Vanille has house hold as Jaune just yawned as he looked down at the sleeping daughter of his. They had just finished watching a movie and eating some ice cream, and they both slept soundly on the couch.
Gently getting up so as not to wake up, Trinity Jaune took a blanket and covered up his daughter before giving her a soft kiss on her head as he took the ice cream bowls and began to clean up a little.
It took him not more than ten minutes before all the dishes were done as he made his way back to the couch, his daughter still sleeping peacefully.
Carefully, he reached under and picked her up gently before walking out the living room and making it to her room.
He laid her down quietly on to her bed before covering her up once more with a blanket, the contentness never leaving her face.
Placing one more kiss on her forehead.
"Mommy and Daddy love you so much, our little Maestra," He told her quietly as he rose up from the bedside and walked to the bedroom door, looking lovingly at his daughter one more time before shutting off the lights and closing the door.
Jaune made his way to him and Neo's bedroom, stripping himself of his shirt and pants, leaving on a tank top and some shorts, Jaune picked up his scroll and sent a text to his wife.
"Our little girl is in bed. Her recital will be this Friday. She is super excited to see you! I love you and miss you, see you soon, " He texted her, and before sending it and giving a happy sigh as he sat at the edge of the bed looking at all the photo's on the wall of him and Neo, first dates, second dates, meeting parents and so much more.
"I really am so lucky," he said to no one in particular as he remembered their first encounter, which just so happened to be as random as can be when he was doing his job as an errand boy for Tulkson to help pay for his time at Beacon.
He accidently bumped into her, causing her to spill her ice cream.
Good lord, he thought he was going to die as soon as she flipped him through a table, and while most would be scared...he couldn't help but fall in love.
Shaking his head of the memories, Jaune just got under the covers as soon he reached for the desk light and shut it off, leaving only the moon beautiful glow to fill the room.
It was well into the night, and Jaune was sleeping. Suddenly, the bed shifted slightly as suddenly Jaune felt a light weight on his chest, opening his eyes slightly, blue eyes stared into pinkish red as a smile graced his face before encircling his arms around the small of their back as they brought them close into a hug.
"Welcome home," he whispered as Neo snuggled deep into his chest and gave a content sigh.
"Yes" she thought.
She was home.
.
"Mommy!!" Came a cry as Trinity awoke too her mother looking down on her with a smile on her face.
Trinity jumped out of her bed and into her mother's awaiting arms as Jaune smiled, leaning on the doorway as he watched the heart warming sight.
Neo turned to him and gave him a look before extending her arm out to him, inviting him to which he happily accepted and embraced his wife and daughter in this serene and peaceful moment.
Neo wished it would last forever.
"Momma, are you gonna come to my piano recital?" Trinity asked, squeezing out of the hug as Neo looked down and gave a nod as Jaune chuckled and moved out of the embrace to head down stairs and start cooking as Neo kneeled down to her daughter as she then reached into her bag and pulled out..
"SUPER MARIO TICKETS!" Trinity shouted with glee as her mother nodded enthusiastically as she was knocked down into a hug by Trinity who kept saying 'Thank you, I love you' over and over again.
'I love you too,' Neo thought as she giggled silently at her daughter's happiness.
"Girls, breakfast!" Called Jaune from downstairs, to which Trinity enthustically got off her mom and grabbed her by the hand.
"Come on, momma, daddy is taking us to the beach today, pre-recital beach day!" She said with a smile, and Neo playfully rolled her eyes but got off the floor and followed right behind her daughter into the kitchen where everyone ate as they listened to Trinity talk about how she is so excited for today and tomorrow.
"Did I hear Pre-recital Beach Day?" Came the voice of Roman Torchwick as he stepped in through the door.
"UNCLE TORCHWICK!" Like a ball of energy Trinity sprang out of her seat and pounced on her uncle who let out a over dramatic 'ooph' before smiling and giving his niece a big hug.
"Annnnnd, how's my little pickpocketer doing?" He asked and Trinity smiled before holding Roman's wallet in her hands with a smile.
"Gooooood" She said, to which Roman laughed before setting her down and then rubbed his chin pondering.
" Oh no, how will I ever enjoy the movie I'm going to if I don't have money for popcorn!" He said, flashing the movie tickets Neo bought her as Trinity just giggled before both exchanged the others items.
Then Roman made contact with his two favorite people.
"Ahhh, if it isn't my most favorite do-gooder!" Roman said as he grabbed the boy by the head and messed with his hair.
"I'm your only favorite do-gooder Roman," Jaune said as he escaped his hold, a smile on his face as he was happy to see his God father, in a sense.
"And how have you been, young lady?" He asked, pointing to Neo, who was busy stuffing her face with pancakes. She looked over, pointing to herself as she then gave two thumbs up.
"A little class Neo please" He joked, and all he got was a finger.
"Aht aht no rude gestures in this sacred home" Roman joked to which everyone else chuckled.
"Uncle uncle are you coming to the beach with us!?" Trinity asked her blue eyes lighting up with joy.
"Oh, you bet I am...I could use a little tan, and besides, I also want to see you perform my little Maestra!" He told her, and she had stars in her eyes as she was excited to be able to perform her piano recital in front of her uncle, dad, and mom!
"I'm gonna go upstairs and practice right now!" She ran past them, and Jaune called out."Don't forget to get packed up, sweetie!" To which "I won't" was the response.
"So, how's Grimm hunting been going?" Roman asked as he sat down as Jaune served him a plate before sitting down himself, to which Neo laced her fingers with his.
"It's been alright, don't take a lot of missions, just some high tier ones that require my attention," He tells Roman who nods.
"How high class we talking?" And Jaune shrugged.
"Enough for Atlas to request me at times" Now that caught Roman's interest.
"Atlas huh, old Jimmy wants your help?" Jaune chuckled before he shook his head.
"Ain't nothing special, you know I'm mostly only valuable cause of my semblance and aura." he felt a sharp pinch, and Neo glared at him.
"Yeah, kid, you're valuable without the aura... you've had a pretty impactful meaning on our lives!" He said to which Neo nodded rapidly, squeezing Jaune's hand.
"Ahaha, you're just saying that cause I was able to bust you out of situations," He joked
"Yeah, well, I'm sorry for nine months. You turned my dear partner into a watermelon! " Neo just blushed before puncing Roman in the arm.
"Ow! It was a compliment!" He said as he rubbed his arm and earned him yet another middle finger from Neo.
"Jaune, control your little gremlin!" Roman complained as Neo kept poking him in the arm, and Jaune just laughed.
"I think I'll keep my dear lady happy."
Suddenly, Trinity came down the stairs with a bag.
"I'm ready!" She said to everyone as Roman side stepped Neo and moved over to Trinity.
"And with that, Pre-Recital Beach Day is a- go! Come on, love birds!" He said as he grabbed hold of Trinity and put her on his shoulders while grabbing stuff.
Trinity just squealed with joy as Roman walked out the door.
Neo and Jaune just looked at each other, and both shook their heads before going to get their stuff for the beach trip ahead.
.
They arrived at a private beach that was owned by a friend of the Torchwick family. The sand had no litter, and the water was as clear as can be, but what was most important was-
"Mom! Dad! Look, it's a lighthouse!" She pointed at the tall structure in front of them.
"That's right, sweetie, this is me and your mom's favorite place. Did you know that?" Jaune asked he bent down and pointed up to the top.
"We used to go there and watch all the boats at night find their way across the sea" He told her as she looked up in awe.
"Remember what I told you, Trinity about lighthouses?" And Trinity nodded her head rapidly as Neo looked on in curiosity and amusement.
"No matter what storm may come, there will always be a light on the shore," She and Jaune both said as Jaune just looked at Neo, to which the mute blushed.
"Okay, you two love sick puppies. Me and the princess here are going to be building super sand-castles. Try to keep things PG will you" This caused Jaune and Neo both to blush super red as Trinity just got confused and ran to grab sunscreen, thinking they were both getting sunburn.
As they all ran out onto the sandy beach, far off in the distance, a black car drove away.
.
After lots of sandcastles and fun in the waves, day eventually began to descend over the horizon.
Roman had a fire pit started and was currently making food for his niece.
"Uncle Roman. I had a good time!" She said to which Roman nodded and smiled before handing her a burger cooked from the fires.
"Well, I'm glad you had a good time. I, on the other hand, am cooked, although this seashell necklace you made me will have the ladies swooning all over me. " he said as Trinity laughed before tilting her head and looking around.
"Oh, where's momma and dad?" To which Roman just nodded behind him at the lighthouse.
"Should we go get them for food?" Trinity asked, to which Roman shook his head .
"Nah, let them be in their own little world for right now kiddo, hey how about I tell you story?" And just like that, Trinity was bouncing I'm her seat she always loved Uncle Roman's stories!
.
Up in the lighthouse, sitting on the top of the cat walk, Neo looked off into the distance as Jaune came out, rearranging his shirt and pants before sitting down right next to his wife, who leaned into him and enjoyed his warmth.
"I love you, Trivia. No matter where your work takes, you, me, and Trinity will always be here waiting for you, " Jaune said to her, to which Neo looked at Jaune with tears threatening to leave her eyes.
"No tears now, we never cry when we are here, not at our little lighthouse," he told her, and Neo nodded as she dried off her eyes before she looked off to the side as Jaune tilted his head.
"What's wrong?" Neo just looked like she was pondering something before she took out her scroll and began typing soo brining it gently to Jaune's view.
"I've been thinking...of leaving," It said, and Jaune looked at her confused.
"Leaving where? Home?" Neo shook her head before typing again in her scroll.
"Work. That life" Jaune's eyes widened at her statement.
"Neo...are you...are you sure?" He asked her while some part of him was over the moon he knew she liked the thrill, freedom, and such it came with living like that.
"I don't know every time. It keeps getting harder and harder to be away from you and our Trinity." She wrote to him as Jaune nodded.
"Where would we go?" To which Neo shrugged.
"Anywhere, as long as you and her are there with me," She told him, to which Jaune just broke out in a big smile before pulling her into a big hug to which Neo gracefully accepted.
"Their was always one other reason why I'd like to come here with you, but mother nature never permit it!" Jaune said as he pointed to the clear sky, and Neo's eyes followed his finger, to which her pink and brown eyes widened.
Stars upon stars far as the eye can see.
Neo had never seen such a beautiful sight.
Jaune wrapped an arm around her shoulders as Neo went back to leaning into him as she marveled at the beauty of the night sky.
.
"And that is how your Uncle Torchwick defeated evil Ironwoods Atlas mechs!" He said out loud, only to hear nothing as Trinity was sound asleep in the chair.
"Hehe, good night, Trinity," he said as Neo and Jaune both came back down from the lighthouse as Roman looked at them with a grin.
"Well, did you two have fun?" He teased as both Neo and Jaune just blushed but smiled.
"Come on, you two, let's pack it up for the night, I'll get a limo squared away and get us home" Roman said as he began to snuff out the last embers of the bonfire.
.
Once everything was packed and the spot was clean, Neo lifted the sleeping Trinity onto her shoulder as both Roman and Jaune brought all the things to the limo's trunk and packed it in before all getting into the limo.
The ride back to the house was quiet and peaceful as Jaune and Neo just cuddled with a Trinity stuck in between, still sleeping as Roman played on his scroll.
"Neo?" said Roman from behind his scroll, Neo lifted her head from Jaune's shoulder and looked at her partner.
"You ever think about...?" Roman trailed off, making Neo tilt her head not understanding.
"You ever think about... walking away?" Neo's eyes widened at what Roman was now saying.
She pulled out her scroll and typed gently.
"I do" was all she wrote and Roman just nodded.
"Hmm, maybe after we reinforce our rule, maybe just maybe..." Nothing more needed to be said as Roman was pounced on by Neo, who had tears in her eyes. He could feel her lips move against his stomach, saying 'Thank You' over and over again. He brought a hand to her shoulders, smiling he embraced his daughter in all but blood.
.
It was recital time, and Trinity was NERVOUS.
she only ever performed for small groups, two to three max!
Oh what if she messes up!
Wrong key?
She falls up the stairs?
The notes blow away!?
"Trinity, relax." Came the voice of her father, who saw that his daughter was panicking.
"But dad, what if I mess up!" She said to him with tears in her eyes as Jaune bent down and put a hand on her shoulder.
"If you mess you, you keep playing...things happen, and there's no reason to ever be afraid of failure. It is your ultimate teacher, " He told her before embracing her.
"Me,mom, and Uncle Torchwick will be in the front row, cheering you on all the way," He told her, which made her feel better.
"We love you, Trinity, do your best and have fun," Jaune said before giving her a big hug before taking her to her piano teacher and making his way back to the audience finding both Roman and Neo in disguises.
"How's our little maestra?" Asked Roman as Jaune chuckled.
"She was like me on my first year of Beacon, scared and nervous," he told him as Roman laughed.
"Yeah, no combat skills or nothing... just a boy with a dream, " Roman joked as Jaune punched Roman in the arm lightly to which Neo chuckled.
The lights began to dim as the spotlight was focused on a big piano.
"And now introducing Trinity Vanille Arc" a round of applause as all three of them stood up, clapping and cheering her on.
"I will be playing 'Memory' composed by Andrew Webber," She spoke as she sat down on her seat and looked at the keys and the sheet music before looking into the front row seat seeing her family their made her all calm as she took a deep breath before exhaling and with great poise, strength and skill, Trinity played her best.
.
By the time it was nearing its end, Neo was in tears as the music flowed on.
Squeezing Jaunes' hand, she smiled and leaned into his shoulder as she watched her daughter effortlessly strike away at each key with precision.
Roman could only stare on in amazement at his little niece as she played her heart out.
He was so captivated that he almost missed his scroll going off, but lucky he caught it in time. Looking up, he saw it was from one of his top henchmen.
"What?" he whispered harshly into the scroll.
"I am at my nieces' Piano recital!" He said in anger trying to focus on the music.
"Someone's been tailing you, boss, we were able to catch him, but he ain't talking, I'd figure you'd come down here." Roman tsk'd hating to have to leave this performance, but if he was being tailed, then that means someone was putting a hit out on him, and he would be damned if he put his family jeopardy.
"I'll be right their, have him checked, make sure he ain't bugged," Roman said as he hung up and sighed, causing Neo to look over at him with a tilt in his head.
"Oh no, you stay here... I got a call back. Someone's been following me, " which made Neo look at him alarmed.
"No-no stay, we got him, imma get some answers and see what we know" As he pulled out a Mario hat and frowned.
"I really wanted to see it ah well buisness beckons," and with that, he waved at Neo, who also waved back as finally the music came to an end.
A rousing round of applause filled the auditorium as Trinity stood from her seat and faced the crowd before giving a bow.
Jaune and Neo had never been more proud of their daughter.
.
It took Torchwick thirty minutes to get back from downtown Vale Opera's house to a warehouse in the west end of Vale as he finally made it to where one of his goons was keeping watch.
"Has he said anything?" Roman asked, tapping his cane to the ground.
"No, all we know is he's one of the Guiseppe's boys." Roman sighed of all the nights to try and pull a hit.
He moved past the guard and into the room, where the man layer tied up beaten and bruised.
"Well, it seems my men were certainly doing a number on you, huh?" Roman said, walking in as his men backed up.
"Trying to scout me out, hmm?" He said as he grabbed the hair of the man head and made him look at him.
"Tell me what I wanna know pains stops, simple as that," he said as the guy said nothing. He just looked at Roman with disgust.
"Ah, tough guy, huh, I'm sure we can fix that right away," He said before smashing his cane over the man's knees hard.
The man groaned in pain but still refused to talk.
"It's only gonna get worse for you, Guiseppe boys, you shouldn't have"
Smash.
"Rolled!"
Smash.
"Unto my"
Smash.
"City!"
More cries of pain came as Roman took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie before taking his cane and tapping it as fire dust started sparking.
"I hope you can handle the heat, Guiseppe," Roman said sinisterly as he brought the glowing hot cane straight to the man's face.
Almost instantly the man began panicking.
"I'll talk. I'll talk. It was a bomb!"
Roman stopped mere inches away from the as he pulled his cane back and brought an ear to him.
"What was that you said?" he toyed with his prisoner.
"I-i-it was a bomb," the man repeated, trying to fight through the pain.
"Tsk tsk tsk, do you Gisuppe boys have no shame, are car bomb? Really, how tacky!" Roman chided as he put back on his Suite jacket.
"That boys is how you get information, check all our vehicles for bombs, and make sure nothing has been tampered with," Roman said to one of his enforcers who nodded as they ran out the room.
"All this fuss over tacky car bomb," Roman grumbled as he looked over to the man who was shaking his head.
"It...it's not" Roman stopped what he was doing and used the cane to lift his prisoners head.
"Gonna have to speak a little louder lamb chop. I still got this beautiful piana sound stuck in my head, " Roman said as the man spat out some blood before looking at Roman.
"It's not...a car bomb"
Roman's cane dropped.
.
"How did I do momma, daddy!? Asked Trinity as she came from backstage and greeted her parents, who just smiled and gave her big hugs.
"You were so great Trinity, me and your mother loved every minute of it." Neo nodded, pulling out a recording of Piano playing.
Trinity smiled, happy that her parents where their to listen to her play.
"But where did Uncle Roman go?" She asked, looking around, and Neo typed into her scroll and showed it too her.
"He had to go sweetie it was for business, but he said you were amazing, and he wants you to play for him at his mansion next time you visit." She read, and Trinity was soon giddy at the idea of playing Piano at her Uncles mansion!
" But before we get to that...it movie time!" Jaine said as he pulled out a Mario hat for each of them, Trinity grabbed it with lighting speed and squealed with joy as Neo just looked down at the hat and back to Jaune who was already wearing the hat and mustache.
Neo just stares at Jaune, and Jaune just stares back.
Neo, let's out a sigh as she puts the hat on her head.
"Wahoo!" Jaune and Trinity shouted, laughing at Neo's embarrassed face before all three of them walked to the Valean Cinema hand in hand.
.
"What do you mean it's not a car bomb!?" Roman said as he put his hands around the man's neck.
"We... we have...have been," he tried getting out, but Roman just kept squeezing harder.
"Boss, we can't get any information if he is dead," one of his henchmen said as Roman realized his mistake and took pressure off the man's neck.
"Talk. Now. What bomb." Was all Roman said deathly serious as the man just gasped at air.
"We-we have been tailing you a week after the assassination... from then till the beach. " Roman put a hand to his head as he gripped his cane tightly he had slipped up, and now his foolishness was costing him.
"So where is the bomb? And what time is it supposed to go off, Tell me now, and I'll be merciful and let you walk out of this alive " Roman demanded to which the man looked at Roman and back at the floor before back to Roman.
"Valean Cinema- 9:30pm"
He spoke the words, but everything was slow motioned for Roman.
"Valean Ciema-930pm"
Images of Neo, Jaune, and Trinity flashed through his eyes as suddenly he scrambled out of the warehouse but not before looking at the clock in horror.
It read 9:28pm.
He turned his gaze to his henchmen.
"He is not to leave here, and if he does kill him!" Roman said as he called his limo back around and immediately ran into the vehicle as soon as it pulled up.
"Where to sir?" His driver asked and all Roman could do was scream.
"Valean Cinema NOW!" Tires screeched, and Roman limo sped off.
"Come on, pick up, pick up." " he tried calling Neo, but she wasn't answering.
"Shit!" He cursed as he began texting her.
"BOMB AT VALEAN CINEAMA STAY AWAY!" he sent the text, and he just hoped and prayed he warned them before it was too late.
.
Neo, Trinity, and Jaune had finally made it to the movie theater just in time with five minutes to spare.
"Come on guys, let's take pictures before we go in," said Jaune, to which his daughter nodded rapidly and pulled Neo he just had a grin on her face.
"Okay, guys, all three of us first," said Jaune as he asked a random bystander to take a group photo using Jaune's scroll
9:28pm
"Now one of you and your mother, Okay Trinity," Jaune said, and Trinity nodded as she wS than lifted up into her mother's embrace to which Jaune moved back to get a nice picture.
snap!
9:29pm
"Okay, Neo, now use your scroll and take a photo of us," he said as he lifted his daughter in the air, getting a giggle from Trinity, which wS music to her ears.
Pulling out her scroll, she switched to camera mode and aimed it just right and was about to press the capture button when all of a sudden she saw in big bold letters.
"BOMB, VALEAN CINEAMA STAY AWAY!" Neo's eyes widened shock at the text from Roman
9:30pm
It was as if everything had happened in slow motion for her as suddenly an explosion went off outside the doors of the cinema.
Neo could only look in horror as her two most precious things in this world continued posing for the camera as if nothing was wrong and as fast as she wished she could be she was no match as flames engulfed the forms of both Jaune and Trinity and the explosion rocked sent Neo flying back.
~
"There are some things in life that you can't walk away from no matter how hard you try.~
(Continue?)
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veritasumbra · 2 years ago
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the shadowsinger had been aching to be useful in any way he could and he’d been thrilled at the idea of slaying anything dangerous, really. he’d unsheathed truth-teller and burst the door open with his foot (for the dramatics.) ❛ No one harms my king and li—❜ He’d began, his voice heavy with threats, before he interrupted himself at the sight of Cardan struggling, not with an enemy but—— with his own child. all dreams of grand heroism vanish. he sheathes his dagger back at his thigh and forces himself not to appear disappointed. and fails. he swears cardan has never been this happy to see him, though. it’s…unsettling. and he knows at the sound of desperation in the king’s voice that he needs help.
az isn’t particularly comfortable around loud noises —he heard and felt things more intensely than most people ever since he was a child, which is why he’d been grateful when the high lord of the night court had torn him from the frontline at the tender age of sixteen and assigned him to ward his daughter at the palace. his days as full-time bodyguard were over, though. because he’d been exiled for deserting his position and going on a personal quest to kill the cruel prince and save his friend mor (who was also the cousin of his royal charge) from this forced marriage. but this was ancient history. not really.  it had happened less than a year ago, although most of it felt like a fever dream. 
a lot had happened since then. for starters, he didn’t want to murder cardan greenbriar anymore (not literally) who turned out to be a half-decent person. the latter had become king of elfhame as well after a very angry (and stabby) human’s intervention at the coronation ceremony. oh! and mor and him had become parents because, apparently, they liked to gamble with the fact that fae children were rare occurrences and that they’d ate enough bricks for a lifetime. joke’s on them ; fate was a bitch and bricks were talking and laughing at their expense (yes, we mean you, Bob!). 
he’s hesitant to even remain in the room. his face is unreadable as he debates whether to stay or not. but his shadows—— his shadows are antsy by his sides. the reflection of his inner turmoil. those last words, though, do not fail to tie him to the room. mor would be disappointed, if she learned he deserted the princess and the king in a clear time of distress. azriel couldn’t disappoint his queen, who was off on a diplomatic mission to the Undersea.
 ❛ Have you tried…feeding her? ❜ he suggests. It's probably obvious and stupid but, he thinks, maybe cardan’s (panic-stricken) brain didn’t think that far. he shifts uncomfortably before forcing a step towards the crib, repressing a few winces as the wailing attacks his poor sensitive ears. his shadows are restless around him. he’s very tempted to slap them over the baby’s mouth and call it a day, but decides against it. instead, he lets the shadows slither inside the crib. they gather and form a hand, then a finger made of shadows who comes to boop the princess’ little nose. maybe it’s far-fetched but mor often did this, with her actual finger, to snap him out of his thoughts when he was on the brink of a panic attack. it never failed to bring him back, to ground him. the entire room falls quiet. the infant’s breath catching from the surprise, brown eyes with rings of gold widening, tiny fingers reaching out to grab the hand of shadows and a clear attempt to put it in her mouth. it slips from her grasp as he calls the shadows back to him, thinking that cannot be sanitary. cassiopeia’s bottom lip begins quivering, silver lining her eyes. and az knows he’s screwed. forever stuck to entertain the heiress until she finds a better distraction.
The room is a mess. The infant is crying in her crib, head tilted back and her whip-like tail ― a smaller, miniature version of his own ― lashing around the air and thrice hitting him in the face; the sprites trapped within the jars across the walls that provide further light into the dim room, agitated by the child's cries, are now pressed against their glass prison and crying too ― it's an ugly, screeching sound that echoes within the shell of the King's pointed ear and makes his eardrums bleed. And truthfully, Cardan is one, brief second away from dropping to the floor, hugging his legs close to his chest like when he was significantly smaller, and crying as well. Parenting is hard, he concludes. And parenting is something a freshly turned seventeen-year-old shouldn't be doing but here he is ― doing just that. Or at least, trying and failing spectacularly.
❛ Azriel ! ❜ Cardan exclaims, his voice pitched high enough to be heard all over the crying sounds of Cassiopeia. As though she understands his tactic, she pouts and wails harder, her little arms flailing around her like she's attempting to make a snow angel in the air. Panic is etched all over the sharp features of the teenager's face as he stands from his sculptured chair and approaches the shadow singer ― and now a permanent member of his Court of Shadows. ❛ It is the utmost of emergencies ! My own child despises me so much she won't stop crying. You must help me ! ❜ Then a pause. ❛ Or Morrigan will have both of our heads because I'm turning you in as well. ❜
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thiotchi · 2 years ago
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omg I just thought of smth regarding one of your aus and I kinda can’t stop laughing (just a little) so I wanted to share it with you
It’s about the demon Zoro au where Zoro gets pregnant with Laws child right
Basically imagine Mihawks reaction to all of that. First he has an injured Zoro at his doorstep, who then begs him to train him. Then they train for two months until Mihawk realises smth is up and well.. basically realises Zoro might be (def is) pregnant. So he‘s going to be a grandparent. Cue internal freaking out.
Then the girl is born and she looks so much like the mix between his student (his son) and that new Warlord, Law. To keep an eye on the father of his grandchild he goes to the warlord meetings and glares at him from the other side of the room bc he isn’t going to tell him about anything
He keeps Zoro updated tho, even though Zoro says he doesn’t want the updates he relaxes when he hears that Law isn’t dead
Just emo family with new born child yk idk why I found the idea of Mihawk being so protective funny but I did so I had to share 😭
Aha, you're not far off!
I've talked about this in the zolaw discord a bit but haven't shared it en masse because it hasn't come up (either via question or in the actual fic) so I can compile it here now that it's been asked--
Mihawk is definitely the first one to realize that Zoro is pregnant - suddenly grateful that he's banned alcohol for the younger swordsman when they started the training. He's been around pregnant women before so he knows the sign.
He doesn't even try to question how Zoro is pregnant because for all intents and purposes, he looks like your average male human - already showing enough promise to surpass Mihawk that he can't deny it, but still human and male - but everyone has their secrets. He's not going to be the one to force Zoro to spill the proverbial beans.
It isn't hard to suspect who the other parent is though, especially when a certain pregnant swordsman keeps stealing his newspapers as he's reading them - one pirate's wanted posters in particular. But he has no way to verify because Zoro stoutly refuses to say. Whatever, it's not his problem.
Except then the baby is born and she looks so much like him that Mihawk has to take a moment or many, many moments just to process it. It even has him questioning if he's actually Roronoa Zoro's father, spending a night with multiple open bottles of wine while trying to do the mental math of some 20-odd years ago.
Some months later, Mihawk is required to attend a mandatory Warlord meeting which is fine because his short trips from the island are the only semblance of calm and quiet he gets nowadays. The baby doesn't cry much - thank god- but Zoro and Perona are both loud enough to make up for it.
Only this time, he has to meet him. The current bain of Mihawk's entire existence. The newest addition to the ranks of Warlords and the entire reason he now has a baby to take care of on top of a goth ghost princess and irritable stabby stabby swordsman.
Cue Mihawk sitting at the far end of the table, menacing aurora as he glares down Law. If he makes a couple of small, subtle jibes, then no he didn't.
Some of my favorite include:
"Oh? You're a captain of your own crew? I didn't get the impression that you were responsible enough for that..."
"A doctor? I don't trust your medical practices if you can't even use the barest of protection..."
"A bounty that high?" unsubtly looks Law up and down. "I'll believe it when I see it."
(Law doesn't know why Dracule Mihawk seems to hate him so much out of the gate and there's not much he can do with Doflamingo right there so he just glares back, trying his best to ignore the comments.)
When he gets back to Kuraigana, he doesn't say anything to Zoro. After all, if the younger swordsman had refused to tell him himself, then there was surely a reason why (it has nothing to do with being his own form of payback; even going so far to hide the newspaper when it finally arrives with the announcement).
He definitely doesn't look six month old Akko down while Zoro is out training. "I don't understand what he saw in him." He gives her a firm look, far too serious for a baby. "You better take after Roronoa." -loud screams heard from outside- "...or better yet, don't take after either of them."
Mihawk is still very much the unwilling father of two goth disasters and grandfather to an (he'll reluctantly admit if pressed-) adorable baby girl but even he can admit that he might miss them - only a little - when its time for them to leave.
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the-chicken-or-the-banana · 4 years ago
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I always wondered how the foxes would react to finding out that it was andrew that "hit on" neil first (specially Kevin, since he was just standing right there while that happened)
(now, i don't think they would willing just talk about it but if one of them slip up...)
Btw: i absolutely adored the goodbye kisses series
AHHH sorry for being so MIA lately but i'm absolutely loving this! also i'm realizing that i'm very bad at actually getting to the point so enjoy a shit ton of irrelevant exposition :)
read it on ao3 here
— ··· —
Kevin didn't understand why they had to come to the zoo. It was smelly, there were kids screaming everywhere, and he'd nearly been stepped on three times in the past 10 minutes. He much rather preferred exy to this.
Team bonding sucked.
He trudged along beside Aaron as Dan, Matt, and Nicky actually tried socializing with the new Foxes. Normally, Kevin would jump at the chance to talk about exy with these recruits, but also, normally he didn't feel like he'd just just rolled through a flaming dumpster filled with screeching, pooping monkeys.
Kevin let out a sigh as they passed some sort of mildly interesting snake exhibit. He nudged Aaron, who was on his phone with a red face, which meant he was either texting lovey-dovey things to Katelyn or blasting an idiot in his Ochem class. You never really knew with him.
"Aaron."
Aaron just scowled at him. Kevin sighed again. Conversing was always so much more exhausting than he anticipated.
"Snakes."
"What."
"Do you want to... see the snakes?"
Aaron blinked in confusion. "Okay?"
Kevin led them to the snakes.
There, they shoved past some families and made it to the front of the glass enclosure.
"Well?" Aaron asked. "Now what do we do?"
Valid question, Kevin thought. He hadn't really considered what they were doing. He just wanted to see snakes.
He told Aaron as much, who rolled his eyes aggressively and went back to his phone.
Kevin felt a tap on his shoulder and twisted around, coming face-to-face (well, more like chest-to-face) with some sort of tour or information guide.
"Hi!" she smiled all too brightly. Kevin wanted to cover his eyes. "How are you enjoying the exhibition?"
"Um," Kevin gulped eloquently, then remembered his media training. "Oh yeah, it's great!"
"Awesome," she beamed. "You know, there's a snake feeding session in about 5 minutes if you and your son are interested."
Kevin's face contorted in confusion. He whirled around, assuming some tiny, lost child was latched near him, but when he turned back, the lady — Sandy — had her gaze intensely focused on the only other small person near him: Aaron.
Oh dear.
Aaron seemed to come to the same conclusion as Kevin did because his eyes widened comically and he hissed "I. am. not. his. son."
Sandy blinked owlishly. "Little brother then?"
Aaron threw his hands up. "I am 21! Leave me alone." He then proceeded to stomp out of the enclosure, dragging Kevin along and leaving a very flummoxed old lady behind them.
"I can't believe it," Aaron kept muttering. "Your son. Your son! I hate life."
Kevin was a bit miffed that he hadn't actually been able to see the snakes, but he figured Aaron's plight was slightly more significant than that.
After a few moments of silent walking (Kevin) and angry grumbing (Aaron), Kevin realized he couldn't see any of the Foxes anymore. He glanced around, instinctively searching for Andrew.
"Hey, do you know where Andrew and Neil went?" Kevin asked.
Aaron scoffed. "They're probably making out somewhere."
"Who's making out?"
Aaron and Kevin both gave unholy screeches as they turned around to find Nicky standing between them, a wide, innocent grin on his face.
"What the fuck," Aaron complained. "Don't do that again, you bitch."
Nicky waved him off. "Shut up. Who's making out? Might be able to close some bets."
Kevin rolled his eyes. "We just can't find Andrew and Neil anywhere. Aaron seems to believe they're off deflowering a zoo Port-A-Potty or something."
"Well then, we wouldn't want to interrupt them, right?" Nicky winked. "Anyways, we're all going to the butterfly exhibit right now so y'all have to join us. I'm not taking no for an answer."
It seemed that they had no choice, so after sharing a resigned glance, Kevin and Aaron trudged behind an overly enthusiastic Nicky while he babbled on about some parrots that he saw. It really didn't seem as interesting as Nicky was making it out to be, but Kevin didn't want to say anything lest he was expected to participate in the conversation too.
They finally reached the butterfly exhibit where the other Foxes were waiting for them. They entered as a mass of loud, mildy buff, smelly athletes and got more than a few glares from the parents of young children who moved out of the way.
But in all this movement, the path cleared and Kevin found... Andrew and Neil? He was about to turn to Aaron and tell him that they evidently not making out, until he noticed how still Andrew was standing and the glee on Neil's face.
Nicky's gaze caught onto them a second later, because he squealed and grabbed Kevin's arm, jabbing his finger at the sight.
"Oh my God," he whispered. "Is that a butterfly on Andrew's nose? That is adorable."
Kevin squinted, and yes, that's exactly what it appeared to be. Nicky's outburst had caught Allison's attention, and she began marching over to Neil and Andrew, the rest of the Foxes in tow.
Kevin could already tell this was going to be a mess.
When they finally reached Andrew, Aaron was the first to speak. "What the fuck?" he asked flatly. Andrew glared at him. Slowly, as to not move the butterfly, he raised his hand to gently flip off his brother.
Nicky immediately started cooing. "Aww, don't worry Andrew! I think you look adorable."
Andrew began slipping out a knife.
On Allison's left, Kevin saw Dan practically shaking with laughter as she pulled out her camera and snapped a picture.
Neil opened his mouth, probably to tell off Dan but Nicky rushed in to talk to him.
"Soooo," he waggled his eyebrows. "I didn't know you could see the future, Neil."
Neil stared at him blankly and turned back to Andrew as he pulled out a map, but Nicky rallied on.
"Like, you must have been able to predict that one day Andrew was going to be this adorable. That's why you asked him out, right?"
"What?" Neil asked distractedly. "I never asked him out."
Kevin blinked in surprise. After a moment's consideration, he realized that considering how utterly oblivious Neil could be, it really was no shocker that Andrew had to ask him out first.
"Wait wait wait," Matt shook his head. "So Andrew asked you out?"
Neil waved them off as he continued squinting at the map he was holding. "Yes yes, just go ask Kevin, he was there."
All eyes turned to Kevin. Kevin was very lost.
"What the fuck," Aaron repeated. "I'm so confused."
"Me too," Kevin muttered. "Me too."
— ··· —
After their long day at the zoo was over, the Foxes finally began the trudge back up to their respective dorms. The younger Foxes dozed off immediately, but the older Foxes gathered in the girls' room to drop off the bags they had borrowed for the trip.
In all the commotion, no one really noticed Andrew and Neil leaving together. But right before they slipped out the door, Renee caught sight of them.
"Good night, you two!" she called. Neil turned around and gave her a tired wave, his body slumped on Andrew.
"Wait!" Nicky scrambled off the sofa. "Before I forget: Neil, how did Andrew ask you out?"
Neil blinked sleepily. "Well," he slurred. "He asked if he could blow me."
The room went silent.
Andrew heaved a sigh and dragged Neil out the door, leaving seven wide-eyed, very much awake athletes in their wake. Slowly, everyone turned to Kevin.
"You!" Allison weakly jabbed a finger in his direction. "You knew about this!"
Too late, Kevin realized what Neil's statement meant. Andrew had asked out Neil in front of Kevin. By offering sex. Nothing could have possibly ruined Kevin's night as much as this information had.
He met the Foxes' eyes slowly. Even Renee looked a bit surprised at Neil's admission, but she was clearly biting back a smile. "Trust me," Kevin groaned. "If I had known this had happened, I would have won myself so many bets."
"Damn," Nicky sighed. "I wish Erik and I had such an iconic story. Who knew the quiet, stabby cousin was such a horny gay bastard?"
"I," Aaron announced hotly. "have never wanted to forget a conversation more than this one."
"But Aaron. Andrew asked to blow him."
"Nicky, I swear— "
"OH MY GOD. They're probably having sex right now! Kevin, could you— "
Aaron put his head in his hands. "Please shut up now."
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darthstitch · 4 years ago
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How to Deal When Your Spooky Homicidal Nuclear Trashfire Disaster of a Supreme Commander Sith Lord Adopts A Child
(Inspired by @jackdaw-kraai 's Excellent Engineer Luke Skywalker 'verse)
1.  There's about a dozen of the vod'e who have been fans of Scrap Hunting from the very beginning.  Look, the kid was funny, poked fun at the same things they laughed at, albeit on the downlow, as it were, and the half of them that weren't really mechanically-inclined still found Luke Lars entertaining.  Actually, Force help them, they did end up learning SOMETHING.
2.  The 501st are also responsible for bestowing nicknames on Engineer Luke's veritable army of mouse droids.  The little guys are now fondly considered as "pets" and apparently have distinct personalities all their own.  The most infamous mouse droid is the one nicknamed "Stabby" who apparently has made it its mission to follow Darth Vader around.  Surprisingly, His Lordship doesn't mind the company and has been heard to ask the droid to relay messages to its young maker.
3.  The pilots on Lord Vader's shuttle knew what was up the moment their Lord had come back with the wide-eyed farmboy from that backwater sandpit.  Mental images of a giant black asthmatic Corellian duck fussing over their one duckling were NOT healthy things to think about in the presence of a spooky armored mind-reading space wizard so the pilots carefully thought about other things.   Like tooka kits.  Yes.  Tooka kits with sandy fur and big blue eyes.  Totally safe things to think about!
4.  Look, Trooper MTV-15387 a.k.a. Molotov wasn't sure why his Special Brand of Corellian Moonshine Hooch was suddenly the hottest commodity on board.  One of his brothers finally told him it had something to do with that engineer kid from the Outer Rim and Lord Vader.  Molotov doesn't get it, really.  But hey, business is booming and if General Veers himself actually ordered a case of his Specials, then it was all good, right?
Molotov was a bit surprised to get a "thank you" note from Alderaani Senator Bail Organa himself, congratulating him on the "excellence of your vintage."  Apparently, General Veers was generous with the treats.  
5.  Death Squadron would like it known that THEY were the first to officially adopt Head Engineer Luke Lars because of the amazing work he'd put into making sure their ships were less flying coffins and more of the badass war machines of the glorious Empire that they were supposed to be.
6.  The 501st would like to object to that.  The Goran was theirs and they were definitely keeping him, especially after the wild success of the SUTA project.  
7.  Captain Piett does not want to get into the midst of this argument.  He's fairly sure that Lord Vader has officially adopted young Luke Lars.  Piett already has all the necessary Navy forms ready for filing whenever His Lordship gives the word.   He's also gotten the same forms ready for Veers, once young Zevulon gets on board ship.
8.  Captain Piett carefully does not think about overprotective Correllian ducks and their ducklings in the presence of his mind-reading Supreme Commander either.  Even if young Luke does an incredibly good impression of a happy sunshiny duckling.  
9. Piett is just happy that Lord Vader is now mostly calm and contented enough that the ongoing betting pool of "Who's Going To Get Choked to Death Next" has quieted down.   Mostly.  Okay, so the odds are definitely on Admiral Ozzel for the whole choking business and there were a few good-natured grumbles after news of That Incident at the Imperial Ball spread through the ranks.  "Why'd the kid have to stop His Lordship then?!"  
Piett carefully pretends he hasn't heard that.  
10.  Perhaps the happiest amongst them all was The Lady Herself.  All right, so Star Destroyer A.I.'s weren't supposed to develop such distinctive personalities of their own, but then again, mechanics tended to behave and react strangely around people who happen to be Skywalkers, even if one of them pretends he's forgotten all about it and the other is carefully keeping the name secret.  The Lady had been pleased with this little one's clever hands and quick mind, the way that he had carefully sorted through all that needed to be fixed and repaired, the marks and traces left behind by careless hands and the battles the Lady had fought.  The Lady was very pleased that Her Shadow had finally found the little one.  Her Shadow had existed in pain and grief for far too long.  
She had always known that there was still good in him.
- end -
A/N:  Yes, I really went there.  I regret nothing, I tell you.  NOTHING.  The Lady Ex has Opinions, okay?
Stabby the amazing Space Roomba is a Tumblr Legend. I had to pay my own tribute to him.
This is the result of me trying to tide myself over until the next installment in the Guides 'verse! :P
Read it all here:
https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902145
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beautifulterriblequeen · 4 years ago
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Isn’t Runaan still technically bound to kill Ezran? That might be enough for an, albeit temporary, reason for Callum and him to be on opposite sides.
As long as that binding is on, sure, he technically is. And that may come back around and become relevant, maybe even in a sudden and dangerous way.
See, Runaan figured he’d be dead by now. He did choose to let Ezran go, but he did so with the full expectation that he wouldn’t live to see the sunrise, so he could perish with his honor intact and no one the wiser for his soft and very quiet sidestep of his duty to kill the Prince of Katolis when he had the chance.
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Maybe, either in the dungeon or in the coin, he rethought that soft decision. Maybe he thought that giving Rayla two good hands would give her a better shot at getting the egg back to Xadia, while removing the shortest and slowest member of her little squad and thus speeding their journey at the same time. Maybe he wondered if Rayla really could be hard enough to do whatever it takes--by carrying the egg to Xadia with a grieving and furious Callum at her side, after Runaan slew Ezran right in front of them.
Some fine angst there, yesno? But I’m not really feeling it. We’ve got several bits of lore orbiting Runaan which indicate he’s very quietly influenced to be softer by those he trusts, and that includes Rayla. Yes, their trust was definitely damaged when she lied to him, but he sees her as a child, not as an enemy. She’s still family, and he’s trying to protect her, in the end. Else he really would’ve killed her and taken the egg from her.
He may not agree with her mission, or her choice of companions, but when it came down to choosing whether to kill her or let her embark on that journey, Runaan chose life. It’s a messy complicated issue for everyone involved, and I bet he’s not okay with much of what Rayla has chosen. But she would stand between him and Ezran again, and they both know it. If Runaan ever did feel the urge to salvage his honor and take Ezran, he would have to contend with the permanent rift that would cause between him and Rayla.
And that’s probably a place where he’d draw the line and say No. Not because of Ezran, or his own honor, but because of Rayla.
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If Ezran is present when Runaan is freed from his coin, and Runaan perceives that he’s there, there could be some tense moments, and those won’t be good. Runaan’s metaphorically in hell right now, and that’s going to have a negative impact on his outlook. If he’s feeling stabby when he is freed, he may try to share his pain without really thinking his actions through. He bound himself to take Ezran’s life, and then he didn’t, so he could have a weak and dangerous moment and try to rectify that decision, purely on instinct, and out of habit, as a veteran assassin with a lifetime of kills under his belt.
But the show wouldn’t be the same without Ezran, so any such impulse wouldn’t achieve completion. If Runaan gave into his darker instincts, someone would save Ezran, or stop Runaan, or both. I can see pretty much everyone stepping between Runaan and his target then, including Rayla and Callum of course, but I think the best person to make Runaan stand down would be Ethari. I just hope he doesn’t stab him before he realizes who he is.
oh did I spill some extra angst there, my bad
If more time passes than just that initial release window, I think the state of Runaan’s arm is going to be more of a pressing matter than the state of his honor. Callum wouldn’t need to defend his brother against an assassin who can’t stand up because he’s losing one quarter of his limbs to a binding ribbon. In fact, since we’re being angsty, Callum may appreciate that ribbon’s presence. Why fight an assassin when you can just sit back and wait for karma to take his arm for you?
How delightfully pragmatic.
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angsty-aliens · 5 years ago
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Truck Stop Knives And Other Accessories of Childhood (2/3)
Thank you a million times to @jocarthage @foramomentonly and @haloud for the beta and brainstorming. 
Here is part 2 of what I’ve been calling my “feral stabby baby” fic. Alien tech manifests an inner child for Michael. And that inner child has a knife. You can find part one on Ao3. (CW: discussions of child abuse)
***
Alex’s cabin was a solid half hour out of city limits. Close enough to not be too much of a hassle, but far enough away to not have neighbors. It’d been a while since Michael had been alone with Alex and he tried not to let that nervousness show as he parked.
Things were good. He and Maria broke up amicably. Michael was good at pushing people away. It was a carefully cultivated skill set and eventually even though he tried to be good, it wasn’t fair to Maria. He was a mess and she deserved someone better than him. And throughout all of it, Michael and Alex tried to maintain an alliance if not a friendship. Michael didn’t have friends. He didn’t know how to be one. Closest he had was Liz, and he figured she tolerated him because he was adjacent to Max.
The kid was giving him suspicious looks the longer they lingered in the dark outside the cabin. The lights were on. Alex was clearly home. They just had to knock.
Finally the kid rolled his eyes and kicked the door.
“Hey! You could have knocked!”
Mikey raised an eyebrow, “YOU could have knocked.”
Michael’s retort was cut short by the door opening. Alex. No matter what, seeing Alex made the knot between his shoulders ease. Even when they crashed into each other and pushed on each other’s bruises, Alex still felt like home.
Alex may have been texted the sit-rep for this little alien misadventure, but it was one thing to read his ex-boyfriend had manifested an eleven year old version of himself, and another to see it. To his credit, he only gawked for a second before gesturing them inside.
“So….”
“Uh, yeah. Alex this is me as an eleven year old. Inner Child, this is Alex.”
The kid gave him a look of disgust, “Don’t call me that.”
“Liz was calling him Mikey.” Michael said.
Alex held out a hand to shake, “Michael Guerin, I’m Alex Manes. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
It took an elbow from Michael, but Mikey accepted the hand and gave his best adult impression as he shook it. “So, what happened to your leg?”
Michael’s jaw dropped, “you can’t just ask someone what happened to their leg! What’s wrong with you?!”
“What? He stands weird.”
Alex coughed, “it’s fine. Kids are curious.” He pulled up the hem of his pants to expose the metal prosthetic, “I’m in the Air Force and I lost my leg in combat.”
The kid crouched down to take a closer look and ordered, “I want to see where it connects. Show me how it stays on.”
Michael mumbled an apology, grabbed the back of the kid’s hoodie and marched him into the kitchen.
“You’re not being curious, you’re being an asshole. Stop it.”
The kid exploded in sudden anger and hissed, “YOU brought me to the house of someone in the military! Do you WANT us to be cut open?”
“He knows about aliens. He’s a good guy. No one’s getting vivisected. He’s on our side.”
The little boy threw his hands up in revulsion, “Does EVERYONE in this shitty little town know about aliens?”
“Max resurrected Liz. Apparently once you bring someone back from the dead, the secret gets out. But the people who know are Team Extraterrestrial. No one’s gonna blab to the government. We… trust them.”
Mikey sneered, “Do you?”
“Okay, Max and Isobel trust them. I trust Alex. We can trust Alex.”
“I can’t believe I grew up to be a dipshit.”
“I can’t believe I was such a little prick!”
Alex knocked at the door frame to get their attention, “you guys aren’t exactly being subtle… or quiet. Instead of yelling at each other, do you want dinner? It’s almost 7pm. I can order pizza, or I’ve got some frozen dinners we can microwave.”
The Guerins stood in the kitchen still glaring at each other.
Michael’s jaw clenched, but he broke the silent warfare, “we ate at 4 but we could probably eat again. I can also cook if you want.”
Alex opened an empty cabinet, “If by cook you mean heat up a can of soup, sure. But there’s not really anything else to cook here. I haven’t stocked up on groceries in awhile. I’ve got some microwave oatmeal packets for breakfast so no one’s going to starve to death, but we’re not gonna get a Leave It To Beaver dinner out of this kitchen.”
The kid gave a calculated look between the two men before asking, “are you fucking each other? Are we gay?”
Michael sucked in air through his teeth before stalking angrily away from the kid who was swaying on his feet in anticipation. “Alex, I’m sorry. I don’t know why he’s being like this. I shouldn’t have brought him and bothered you. We can go back to the airstream.”
Alex explained gently, “He’s poking the bear. He wants to see what’ll happen. You STILL do this so it’s not surprising you do it as a kid too.”
Michael turned back to the kid with a considering gaze, “do you want to see if I’ll hit you or if Alex will?”
Kid shrugged, “It’s Saturday. Doesn’t really matter which of you does it.”
Michael exhaled suddenly like he’d been punched in the stomach, “It’s Saturday. I can’t believe I forgot about this.”
Alex looked between the two Guerins. Michael scrubbed his face angrily. The little boy held himself completely still. Alex waited for an explanation. Michael leaned against a countertop and carefully looked at a spot on the wall. Looking anywhere but at Alex or Mikey.
It took him a minute to speak. This was hard.
“On Saturdays the religious freaks would line us all up and paddle the crap out of us. Didn’t matter how good we were. On Saturday you were getting your licks. They said it was to cover all the sins we did during the week that they didn’t catch. Because they’d whack you if they thought you were doing something wrong. But on Saturdays no matter what, no matter how good you tried to be, you were getting it. They said it was…”
The boy calmly stated, “Taking your medicine.”
“Yeah that’s right. Taking your medicine.” His jaw twitched, “Like they had to beat all the bad stuff out so on church Sunday we could be good again. We could absorb the lessons. And the man in charge of the home said children listen better on sore bottoms.” Michaels’ face twisted up, “That fucker.”
Mikey looked uneasy. Michael took a steadying breath and forced himself to remain calm, “We don’t do that here. No one’s gonna hit you here. I might yell. But no one will hit you no matter what a little shit you are. I’ll explode anyone who tries with my brain.”
The kid stared at them both, silently making calculations before nodding once. “I want pizza.”
Alex made mental plans to find out the names of these fundamentalists and completely ruin them online.
***
The call for pizza had been made, and Alex awkwardly watched the two Michaels sit on the floor methodically taking his toaster apart. He tried to insist it wasn’t broken, but Michael just made meaningful eye contact and repeated, “let us fix it.”
So now the toaster was in pieces, scattered across the hardwood floor. Alex had to admit this was the calmest he’d seen the boy. Having a task seemed good for him. And two Michaels were actually getting along, passing a phillips head screwdriver back and forth. If he had to buy a new toaster, it’d be worth it for this momentary peace.
The pizza wouldn’t arrive for a while yet, the downside of living in the boonies. His cabin did have a washing machine though, and unless Isobel made good time, she probably wouldn’t have new clothes for the kid until tomorrow.
Alex cleared his throat to get their attention, “I have a load of laundry I was going to start, and I can stick you stuff in there too Mikey. That way you have clean clothing for tomorrow. If you want you can take a shower and I can try to find you pajamas. Dinner should be here by the time you get out.”
The boy protested, “but the toaster…”
Michael began to pick up the mess, “the toaster will still be here. This isn’t a time sensitive project. No one will be in trouble if it doesn’t get fixed tonight. Clean clothes probably isn’t a bad idea. I’ve got a couple shirts that could use a wash too.”
He pulled the kid to his feet, and steered him towards the bathroom. “Alex has good water pressure and the tank is huge. Hot water for days!”
With the two house guests preoccupied, Alex started to gather clothing to wash. It was just an excuse and Michael knew it, but maybe it’d make the boy feel less awkward if he thought everyone had laundry to do. He heard the shower start and Michael exited the bathroom with an armful of clothing. The challenge was going to be finding the boy something to wear while his clothing was being cleaned. A tshirt would hang like a dress on him and preserve his modesty, but Alex doubted he had any sleep shorts with a drawstring tight enough to stay up on a child.
The two men began to load the washing machine. Michael added a couple shirts from his backpack. Alex didn’t know if they actually needed to be washed or if Michael was just trying to keep the kid from feeling weird.
“You okay?” Alex asked.
Michael dug through the kids pockets quickly and removed four quarters, a shiny rock, and a plastic bag with two pancakes inside. Deeming the clothing now safe, he crammed it in the washing machine. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“Because you’re suddenly the guardian of a very angry eleven year old version of yourself who manifested from alien technology we don’t understand yet?���
Michael laughed, “yeah when you put it that way… today is a lot. Thanks for letting us crash here. We would have killed each other in my airstream. At least you’ve got a couch the kid can sleep on. I’ll take the floor.”
“What? No, you’re not sleeping on the floor.” Alex’s forehead furrowed, “You can… look my bed is big enough. We’re adults.”
“I don’t want this to be weird for you.”
“Then don’t make it weird.”
And with that statement Alex walked back to his bedroom to find the boy something to wear. When Michael followed him, he handed him an oversized air force shirt, and a towel.
Michael sheepishly handed the shirt back, “Maybe something that doesn’t have a military logo on it? Kid isn’t a huge fan of Uncle Sam.”
Another rummage through his drawers, and Alex a plain black shirt. It wasn’t quite as big as the Air Force shirt, but it was still an oversized shirt Alex used to sleep in. It should be long enough for the boy.
Michael gratefully took the items and knocked on the bathroom door in warning before leaving the towel and shirt inside.
Sure enough by the time the pizza arrived, Mikey was done with his shower and standing in the living room shifting from foot to foot. Alex knew he was eleven, but he looked smaller engulfed in his shirt. It made his heart feel tight to see Michael Guerin’s face on a child wearing his clothing. Like he’d crush anyone who ever hurt this kid.
The boy attacked the pizza, and Alex spotted a thin red mark on his thigh, peeking out from the edge of the shirt. Alex was familiar with marks like that, but his marks were always wider. Belts tended to linger. Michael Guerin was carefully avoiding his eyes, as he reached around the kid to grab his own slice. When he finally managed to catch his gaze, Michael just shrugged as if to say “shit happens.”
Alex knew that. And he knew better than to mention it to the kid. It was no secret that he and Guerin connected over shared trauma. It just felt like a punch in the gut to see evidence of a beating on a kid. It was surprising Michael wasn’t triggered to hell being confronted with his worse childhood memories in technicolor.
Alex carefully peeled his own piece of pizza off the cardboard so they could all pretend this was perfectly normal.
***
Michael could hear the thump of clothing in the dryer as he made Alex’s couch up for bedtime. He carefully tucked a sheet around the old seat cushions and layered some homemade quilts on top. The overall effect was very homey, if a little ill-matched.
The kid was still wearing Alex’s shirt like a dress and that red mark was impossible to ignore. When Michael buried his head in the closet to look for an extra pillow, Michael casually asked “do you need some neosporin?”
Mikey was still poking at the disassembled toaster, “for what?”
Michael carefully kept his voice calm and disinterested, “The switch marks. Anything bleeding?”
“Nah. Her aim just sucks. Or maybe she did it on purpose. It’s a new placement. She got my back and my legs, not just my butt.” Mikey hesitated, “Did she do it on purpose?”
Michael couldn’t pretend to fluff pillows in a closet forever. He turned around and swallowed hard, “Yeah. She really liked smacking my legs. Aimed for the lower thighs a lot, where it really hurts and where it’s hard to cover. I got in trouble in PE a lot for not wearing my gym shorts.” Michael ran a lot of miles around the track in jeans, but it was worth it to not have those marks visible to Max and Isobel. They didn’t need to know. And he wasn’t willing to risk being moved out of Roswell if a grown up figured things out.
The kid didn’t seem surprised, “How long do we stay with them?”
“Three years. We get moved after our fourteenth birthday. Single family placement instead of a group home. It was better.”
His foster dad kicked the shit out of him, but anything was better than being exorcised. Kid didn’t need to know that. “And when we’re fourteen, we meet Sanders. He’s an old dude who owns a junkyard. He teaches us to fix cars, and lets us crash on his couch sometimes. That’s where I work now. I can fix anything. We can fix anything.”
That felt important, but Michael didn’t want to make it awkward so he peeled back the covers so the kid could tuck himself inside.
“How did you know Alex was missing a leg? He doesn’t stand funny.”
The kid shrugged, “he had a fancy crutch leaning against the fireplace. Those mean there’s something really wrong. I just guessed his leg was messed up. I didn’t know it got blown up.”
Michael sighed, “Can you lay off of bugging him about it? He’s doing us a favor.”
“Yeah.” Mikey thought for a second, and then continued, “I really AM curious about the leg though. I wasn’t JUST being an asshole. I really do want to see how it all connects.”
Michael rubbed his forehead, “maybe he’ll show you later, just… can you relax with messing with him? He’s not gonna get mad and hit you. I’ve pissed him off as a grown up, and he never hit me, he’s definitely not gonna touch you.
The kid shrugged noncommittally.
“By the way, we’re bisexual.”
“What?”
Michael repeated, “You asked earlier if we were gay. We’re bisexual.”
“Huh.”
“Don’t act surprised. We had a crush on Taymon Johnson in fifth grade.”
The kid protested, “No we didn’t! He was just cool!”
Michael raised an eyebrow.
“Oh.” The boy looked like he was reassessing every hero he ever had.
“Yeah. Oh. And yes, Alex and I had a thing, but we’re just friends now and it’d be awesome if you’d cut out the ‘are you fucking’ line of questioning.”
The kid smirked, “Aren’t you about to go have a bisexual slumber party with him?”
Michael narrowed his eyes, “Yeah, a totally platonic slumber party. We’re friends now.”
The kid raised an eyebrow.
“Shut up.” Michael rolled his eyes and pulled the quilt up around the boy’s chin. People never tucked in kids like Michael Guerin. Not foster parents anyway. Sometimes if he got to go to a slumber party at a classmate’s house, a well meaning mom would also tuck him in. Once a mom kissed his forehead before she shut off the lights. He didn’t know that was a real thing that happened sometimes. Michael always assumed it was just in movies. He felt stupid when he realized it was real, it just wasn’t for kids like him.
With his stomach twisting up at that memory, Michael dug in his pocket and pulled out the switchblade he took from the kid that afternoon. “I’m giving you this back because I’m trusting you not to stab anyone, and I know you’ll sleep better if you have it. And I know you’re gonna want to go to Foster’s Ranch.” The kid opened his
mouth and Michael cut him off, “I KNOW. But the military bought it, and the last thing we need is an alien hanging out on top secret government property. Plus the hitchhiking didn’t always work out well for us. So let’s just not, okay?”
The kid clutched the knife and begrudgingly nodded.
“Go to sleep. We’ll figure out the rest of this tomorrow.”
***
Michael closed the door to the bedroom behind him. “Kid is in bed. Doubt he’ll sleep much tonight, but at least I’ve got him all tucked in.”
Alex was making puzzled faces at his laptop. “I keep looking at the glyphs on your disk. I don’t recognize most of them and we translated ‘child, memory, temporary’ but there are more glyphs on the back.” He squinted, “This may say ‘permanent.’ Guerin, I don’t know how this disk works. I don’t know what you did.”
Alex scrubbed at his hair, frustrated. With a sharp exhale, he closed the laptop and tucked it away. Michael watched Alex slip into bed and swallowed hard, “I can still sleep on the floor if you want. I’m used to it.”
“We can share. It’s fine.”
Michael tried one more time, “I could go sleep in your creepy murder bunker. That’s an extra bedroom.”
Alex raised an eyebrow, “Do you WANT to sleep in the creepy murder bunker?”
“No. It’s a creepy murder bunker.”
“Okay, so stop being weird about this and come to bed. I promise I won’t cuddle you in your sleep.”
Michael muttered under his breath, “I wish.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots. He unbuckled his belt and reached for the button of his jeans when he suddenly stopped. The words burst out of him, “I should have figured out the stupid Saturday thing earlier. I was in that group home for three years.” Michael turned to face Alex, “I didn’t stop getting weird about Saturdays until senior year when I lived in the truck.”
Alex watched him from his side of the bed, face still pressed against his pillow. “My dad played mind games like that too. He liked creating obstacle courses for me and my brothers. Last one to finish got his ass kicked by my dad. I’m two years younger than Flint. Unless one of my brothers was incapacitated, I was always the one who lost. Every time they had us run a course in basic training, it was like I could see my dad waiting at the finish line with his thumbs stuck in his belt.”
Alex paused, “maybe it’s good. Having Mikey here. Maybe it’s time to work through some of this stuff.”
“You sound like Isobel.” Michael shucked his pants off, and pulled his shirt over his head in one practiced move. His clothing sat in a rejected pile on the floor and he slid under the covers, Alex’s knees almost touching his thigh.
“Is she wrong? Neither one of us talk about it. We just pretend everything is fine.”
Michael turned on his side to face Alex with a huff, “Everything IS fine!”
“If everything was fine, we would have kept dating after high school and we’d probably have a dog by now. Instead I became a runner, and you like to self-destruct.”
They were silent a minute. Michael admitted, “I didn’t self-destruct after high school because of you. There were other things. You were one of the only good things in my life.”
“I know.” Alex touched Michael’s hand, rubbing a thumb across his knuckles. “You were a good thing in my life too.”
Michael closed his eyes so he wouldn’t see how his next statement landed, “you still are. You still are a good thing.”
Alex pushed his head forward so their foreheads touched on the pillows. “You are my good thing too.”
Michael exhaled, “What are we doing?”
“What do you want to do?”
“I want you to stop answering a question with another question.”
Alex tilted his face and lightly pressed his lips to Michael’s. “Is this okay?”
Michael answered by cupping Alex’s cheek and pulling him in for a deeper kiss. It had been too long since someone touched him this way. Too long since Alex touched him this way. They were hungry for each other. Knees knocked together awkwardly under the covers as they tried to press their chests flush to each other, wanting as much skin touching as possible. Finally feeling like they could both breathe.
Michael wormed his arm underneath Alex so he could pull him closer. He keened as Alex threaded a hand through his curls and tugged just slightly. Michael’s hand drifted down Alex’s cheek, stroking his shoulder, then disappearing beneath the covers. His fingers stroked down Alex’s stomach, and dipped just under the waistband of his boxer briefs.
Alex pulled back with a gasp, “wait.”
The hand retreated immediately.
“No I want to. I want to. It’s just…” Alex panted against Michael’s lips, “I don’t want to screw this up. We’re really really good at the sex parts, and not so great at the communication parts. So maybe we should…”
“Focus on communication?” Michael asked.
Alex kissed him lightly, “Yeah. Yeah, I don’t want to pause but… I don’t want to fall into old patterns. I want to build something new with you. Something stronger. Plus there’s an eleven year old sleeping on the couch twenty feet away.”
Michael returned his hand to Alex’s cheek. “Is this okay? Hands above the waist at all times?”
Alex smiled with his lips still pressed to Michaels, “Yeah. That’s good. Let’s do that for awhile.”
Michael could feel Alex’s heartbeat thump against his chest. He could feel the swell of Alex’s belly with each inhale, his skin sliding against his own as they breathed in unison. He sent a trinkle of power to turn off the lights, and tugged Alex tight against him. Michael’s nose nuzzled down into the dip of his shoulder, rubbing his face into the curve and breathing deeply. His whole world smelled like Alex, and it felt right. He could feel Alex sigh against his hair, and his hand massaging the back of his neck, occasionally venturing up to play in his curls. And Michael let himself close his eyes and drift off to sleep.
***
Michael woke up suddenly. There was a new connection in his head that he hadn’t noticed. The places where he could sometimes sense Max and Isobel were muted after decades of practice. That connection had atrophied and he never tried to repair it. But now there was a sudden feeling of distress that could only be coming from Mikey.
He slipped from the bed, pulled on a shirt to go with his boxer briefs, and with bare feet, padded his way to the living room. The kid was sitting up, hugging himself with fists twisted around the loose material of his nightshirt, and breathing shakily.
Michael crouched next to the couch, “Bad dream?”
The kid didn’t even look at him. He just shrugged and tried to calm his breathing.
“Can I touch you? Or no?”
Mikey took a second, then nodded. Michael sat behind him and rubbed his hands down the kid’s trembling arms, like he was trying to warm him up. Michael remembered nightmares like this. Where he woke up not sure what feelings were real and what feelings were memories. Phantom pains lingering from his nightmares, that could only be soothed away by proving it was just a dream. His body was safe. He was okay.
The kid took a deep breath, then another. His hands unlocked from his sides and he leaned his back against Michael’s side. Michael let his arm rest heavily against the boy’s chest, like a seat belt grounding him to this world.
“Better?”
Mikey nodded and let his head thunk back against Michael’s shoulder. During the day he’d never allow this comfort, but in the dark, after a nightmare, he needed it even though he’d never admit it. Facing away from his older self, he had the courage to admit, “Nightmare. They were hurting me. … And they had Max and Isobel.”
“Those are the worst. I hate the dreams where I’m being hurt, but if Max and Isobel are there too…” Michael exhaled sharply, “Do you want to call them? So you know they’re safe? They won’t care if we wake them up.”
Michael would never call his siblings over a bad dream, but he knew in his bones they’d never mind a phone call from the kid. It felt okay to offer this to the kid.
“I don’t even LIKE Max or Isobel.”
“Yeah, I don’t always like them either. But they’re still mine. They’re still family. And the idea of someone hurting them makes me want to set the world on fire.”
They sat on the couch in silence. Mikey would never ask for a hug, and Michael wouldn’t volunteer one. But with the boy leaning against him, and his arm slung around him, it felt like a hug. They both felt settled. Like their bodies weren’t being flung into a nebulous nightmare void where everything bad could and would happen. They both felt real. They were on Alex’s couch, in Alex’s living room, in Alex’s cabin. They were safe.
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ranawaytothedas · 5 years ago
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A Rose for the Sparrow
Because your girl loves to wait till the actual 11th hour to do things, here is the first prompt from @scharoux prompt list that you can find here. This is unbetaed so if I missed words or things I am sorry... I just wanted to get this out!
I never really know how to do pure fluff, so it’s a wee bit angsty but I swear there is fluff in here someplace. 
The previous few days had been tough on Maeve. Being away from Jena for the first time was really getting to her. The mission was only meant to be two days, a short one just to see if Maeve was ready to get back to business but they had run into a fair bit of trouble from bandits on their way down into the Hinterlands. It was the fifth day and they would finish their return to Skyhold in the morning being back by no later than supper time Alistair had noted to her several times. Yet, it did nothing to calm the guilt and anxiety she was feeling over leaving her very young child for the first time. 
Alistair has spent much of the trip trying to keep Maeve calm as they ran into each delay. He had done a far better job of it than Sera. As sincere as her friend’s attempts were, saying, “She is too little to remember, don’t you worry we could be gone a month and the worst that would happen is she wouldn’t remember ya.” Which only serves to send Maeve running into her and Alistair’s tent trying to hide choked and muffled sobs. If Sera hand not been so upset herself that she had Maeve so upset by saying the wrong thing, Alistair would have played into her. Instead, he stood up from the log that was being used a makeshift bench and walked away. Without saying a word.
He could hear Maeve crying in the tent. His heart sank hearing her sobs and he paused turning away from the tent his hand going to his brow. There was nothing he could do to stop this, she had every right to be hurt and upset. They all, even Cullen, had convinced her she was ready when it had become blatantly obvious that she was not. Debating for several moments, Alistair looked back at the tent several times before turning around and walking into the lightly wooded forest on the edge of their camp. He wanted to scream, not at Maeve but at himself. He had sworn that he was not going to let everyone, himself included, push Maeve to her breaking point again. It was a foolish promise that he knew he would never be able to keep but this one time he could have put his foot down. 
A low groan of frustration slipped from his lips as he leaned back against an old and haggard tree. “Andraste’s tits, this could not have gone worse,” Alistair mumbled to himself. Even if things had gone to play, Maeve most likely would have still been withdrawn and quick to anger. “She was not ready…” He mumbled as hand rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes closed. The lone voice against Maeve going on this mission had oddly enough been Morrigan. Though the sister still were at odds much of the time, the one matter that seemed to unite them after all these years was Jena. 
He would never speak the words out loud and certainly never tell Morrigan, but she had been right in saying Maeve was not ready. There was no going back and changing things. While apparently, some manner of time travel is possible, Redcliffe had proved that. He did not think it was wise to risk the fate of the world to right this wrong. Though, for a brief moment, he did ponder who he would ask for such a favor. “Raven, she likes that level of unnerving magic the most.” His mind wandered for a moment before falling upon startling conclusion that if any number of those who counted themselves Maeve’s family. Cullen, Morrigan, Raven, even Zevran learned he had walked away while she was sobbing the would have his head. 
He shook his head and took a deep breath before opening his eyes. The first thing they fell upon was s small rose bush. The flowers were a pale pink, so pale in low moonlight they almost looked white. His lips curled into a small smirk. Walking over he pulled out a dagger from his belt and cut a single stem and bloom from the bush. “That’s what I was doing..” Alistair concluded with a sigh, “Getting something to make the Sparrow smile…” 
The walk back to the camp was short and Maeve’s cries had quieted but were still the first sound that Alistair heard upon entering the camp. The others had all gone to their tents. He slipped into the tent to find Maeve culled up, on the bedroll, blanket covering her face as she sobbed softly. 
The smile faded from his lips as he set the rose down at the end of the bedroll before crawling in next to her wrapping his arms around her. “I know you miss Jena, I miss her too..” His tone was soothing, even and calm even as her sobs grew for a moment. “She is in the safest place possible,” Alistar reassured, and Jena really was. Skyhold was becoming quite the fortress and everyone there adored that baby. Most would likely give their lives to save hers, most of her father.  “Do you know how many people are fussing over her right now? I bet she has not left Cullen’s sight this whole time, you know how much he loves his little girl. He controls the entirety of the Inquisition’s forces” A low sigh escaped his lips as he hand reached over and peeled the blanket away from Maeve’s face. “That little girl has armies, some of the most powerful mages and skilled templars protecting her. I know it’s not her being safe that has you so upset.” Maeve looked up at him with her golden eyes. She chewed on her bottom lip and shook her head. “Well talk to me, Sparrow, please. I can not try to help you if you do not tell me what about this…” 
“I am a horrible mother, I left her…” Maeve choked out her hand covering her mouth as she looked away. 
Alistair’s eyes grew wide and he sat up, “No, you are not Maeve. Maker’s breath, you are out trying to save the world and you left Jena with her father and his army… your army” He reached out and took Maeve’s hands trying to pull her up. “Please, Sparrow… sit up and listen to me.” He was not planning on being so forceful on the subject but when she called herself a horrible Mother he had to put an end to that thought. Right then, right there. Maeve reluctantly sat up but wouldn’t look at Alistair so he took her face in his hands. “My Love, you have done everything possible to protect that little girl from the second you realized you were pregnant.” Alistair’s thumb brushed away her tears as they rolled down her cheeks. “You nearly died giving birth and still, still you tried to take care of her by yourself. Not letting Cullen or I, or anyone else for that matter, take care of her. You dote upon Jena, Maeve. We all know how much you love her and want to keep her safe.” 
Maeve sniffled and looked up at Alistair. “I miss her so much,” Was all Maeve managed to choke out.
Alistair let out a heavy sigh and nodded his head. She wasn’t his child, that was obvious the moment she was born but he still loved Jena like his own. He missed her as well but he knew it was not the same. “I know, I know…” He mumbled softly as he pulled her into a tight hug, Maeve’s chin resting on shoulder. “How about we leave at the first light of dawn tomorrow? We can slip through woods, stay off the roads like we used to with Ella? We will make a better time and get you back to Jena before you know it.” Alistair concluded. It wasn’t a plan that Cassandra would be pleased with but he would deal with her when they got back to Skyhold. 
Maeve leaned back and looked at Alistair wide-eyed, the tears had stopped. “Really?” 
“Really,” Alistair replied simply. “I promise you, you will see your baby before midday.” Alistair smiled and for a moment, he could see Maeve’s lips twitch upwards almost into a tentative smile. It made him feel so much better than he had only a few moments before. Sensing the shift in mood, he reached on hand behind and him and picked up the rose, narrowly avoiding it’s thorns. “I saw this and thought of you..” He said with a cheesy smirk as he show Maeve the rose. 
A low chuckle escaped her lips at his line. “Really? A rose, Alistair? How does that remind you of me?” She asked skeptical at first but taking the rose from his hands and bringing to her nose.
Alistair shrugged. “It’s a little fragile at times, does not fare well in cold weather, is beautiful and sweet… and just a little bit stabby.” As Maeve lowed the rose down Alistair leaned forward and cupped her cheeks. “Just like you…” He muttered as he leaned in and placed a tender kiss on her lips. His thumb brushed against her cheek as she let the kiss linger longer than he had expected. The rose still in her hand she draped her arms over his shoulders as she leaned back.
A faint smile played on her lips. “Fair point..” She started in a soft whisper before her eyes focused on his. “Thank you,” 
“Anything for my Sparrow..” 
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askbittyerror · 4 years ago
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Wedding RP part 7
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "I can manage that." Bells leads the way to the wall, pressing against a slight indentation... a door slips open, though they pause, glance at Flare again, and seem to tug sonething only half glimpsed. The door opens more, to accommodate for his size, and they lead the three through.
The stairwell on the other side is a plain, very solid stone with wide steps, as Bells readies to close the door once theyre through, before leading them upward, and away from the party. @Askbittyerror
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 They follow, Umbra continuing to tug. The trio seem to have relaxed some, although Flare is still on alert and Mo's smile has at least faded to gentle bliss.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 Once the door is closed again, they head up, away from the crowds. The stairwell is large, though Flare probably shouldn't... hop, or anything. "You're almost bigger than Kudzu," they muse, as they continue up, "but, lamia. So most of his length is tail." The wedding party grows further distant... "it's not much further, promise."
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "It's fine." Umbra pants, struggling to wiggle his way up and squeaking when Mo hoists him, cradling the smaller man carefully in his arms and smiling like he just got a highfive from god.(edited)
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 They give Mo a grateful look, not that they suppose it will matter to him, then press the door they've arrived at open. ...it's a water garden, with beautiful mosaics half hidden on the far walls, overgrowth of plants and pretty things all but overflowing the room, as pools of water tumble musically into each other all little falls. Much of the furthest part of the room is 'open' to the 'sky,' though in this case the sky is a deep utter blackness, filled with distant shifting lights that gleam and burn like stars, and a river of fragmented white light that travels across it's distance. ...it's, actually fully enclosed, with strong magic shields. But it's pretty. "...is this okay? I've got other rooms, but, Flare will have to size down to seven feet for most of them."
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "Pretty." Mo notes, sitting in the grass and nuzzling his confused nootdoot. Flare stands behind, watching them.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "..." they take a moment, seeing thet look better, before looking back at Flare. "-oh yeah. you're the reason I came to talk in the first place, huh?"
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Flare continues to watch.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 Quiet, then a sigh, as they find a spot by one of the pools of water to sit. "I wanted to thank you for the wedding present. But mostly, wanted to apologize for my daughter attempting to tackle you across the whole room like that. There was already a lot of tension in the air, and I know that didn't help." ...they gaze at the flowing water, offering quietly, "she's very protective of her da. even if she doesn't remember it, having been so young, he once dusted under her hands as she reached out to try holding onto him. Crumbling under her touch." "-even if we got him back, there's a part of her that's terrified of losing him again."(edited)
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "she's a soul of bravery with the magic of two very powerful guardians within her, as well as the heart of a warrior... and the self preservation instincts of a very young, very traumatized child."(edited)
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Flare doesn't move. “Um,” Umbra pushes Mo away from where the Dream nuzzles against his cheek, wiggling out of his lap. “Dad is, uh, he’s- there’s not much in there, right now.” All expression fades from Mo at his absence and he just sits, hands in his lap, weedle tucked under one arm, staring straight ahead.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 A nod, and they look back at the water. "Guess I'll say it later, then." "...Stars, I wish my mates and their mates would stop doing that stuff to each other. I guess I should be grateful I wasn't the one to have to break it up this time, at least."
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "Is..." Umbra looks away, biting his lip. "What- what happened?"
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 they blink, looking back at him. "...what happened when? with my mates attempting to murder each other on multiple occasions, or with-" "..." [6:27 PM] "Right."
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "...with Dad." He looks at his hands, tentacles twitching to wrap his wings around him. "What set him off?"
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "..." they look at Flare, then Umbra. "-that, would be what I was talking about. Um. Well, Erebus at one time attempted to flat out murder Greylu... and well?" A grimace, rubbing the back of their neck, "Greylu tends to get stabby around Dragon. Who your father is, uh-" "...Not that they haven't managed the traumatize the hell out if him more than once in return. Turned full dragon in his throneroom and chased after him with fire in their breath talking about what he'd taste like..." "But. First I'm guessing Dragon brought up the stabbiness, considering the reaction from Huitzi and Flare, then Greylu reacted all growly, then my daughter started snarling and aura flaring and setting off all her siblings to do the same... and, then Huitzi tried to restrain him, and-" "Well. I'm guessing all of that, mostly."(edited)
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Umbra winces and nods. "...yeah. Okay. Thank you."
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "..." they look back at the water. "-the only one of my lovers that hasn't severely maimed the others is Sci." "But we're all a bit of a volatile group. I got a nasty bit of burn from Dragon on my arm, when we first became 'introduced,' that I only lost when I... lost the arm." They lift their hand, which looks mostly fine, other than a large dark scar on the back of it, considering at ruefully. "dragonfire lingers. but that was... before. that whole body's gone now."(edited) [6:43 PM] "..." "Are you okay? You brought him back, right?"(edited)
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Umbra stares at the ground for a moment too long. He shrugs.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "..." "..." "Was bad, huh?" [6:46 PM] "..." They gaze 'skyward.' Not pressing further.
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Umbra nods and shifts. On his side, hidden under his left wing, a dark, purply splotch stains his shirt. It looks to be spreading. He winces.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 They look back as he shifts... ...and stop. "...are you bleeding?"
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Umbra doesn't say anything. He looks a touch too pale. Mo looks up, his brows furrowing.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "..." They offer a hand, and simply, "heals? I don't mind... and there's not many places where my magic is stronger."
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "Please." He whispers. Mo looks up at Flare and starts to growl. Umbra spins around to glare at him, "No, stop-" Then he sways and crumples to the ground.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 Their breath catches, and they quickly move to scoop him, gently, into their arms, healing magic already flowing from their touch- at the same time, they look up at Mo, evenly. "don't." they caution, not order, but warning, "it'll only stress him more. the two of you can talk about it after I've healed him."(edited)
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Mo looks at them and approaches. "He can't really heal." He kneels, a foot away. "I can't either."(edited)
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "no?" They frown, drawing their hand back, and shifting him a little to look at the wound. "void take it, I even healed the tall red lunk there when he was dripping gold all over the sidewalk..."(edited) [7:13 PM] "...or wait, do you mean he doesn't have healing magic?"
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Against Umbra’s side, in the center of the dark bruise covering the entire left half of his body, is a long, deep gash, its edges jagged and torn. The Nightmare looks to have haphazardly stitched it shut, then tore it back open when he escaped Mo’s lap. “Both, mostly second but still some first.” Mo looks at them. “Our magic is broken. Nothing works likes it should.”(edited)
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...huh." they inspect it carefully, not touching, then tilt their head, thinking. "-don't suppose you two count as undead? that definitely takes its own sort of healing, healing food can't do anything but replace lost magic for me."
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Mo stares down at his brother. He squeezes his plush. Something starts rising from his back and Mo shuts his eyes, hissing something under his breath. Whatever it is melds back into him with a quivering grumble. “…I don’t know.”
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...ease." they breathe softly, lifting their gaze to Mo. "I'll do all I can for him. but what I need you to do is remain calm. if you lose control, I won't be able to do anything for him." this said, they reach out, and pluck something glistening from midair, a slender, gleaming thread no more than wisp or thought... or magic. "now, wish me luck. but keep in mind for future reference... if this works? this is magic I can very literally only use here, in the entire omniverse. this whole tower? Is an extension of my magic... breathe, slow breaths." "I'm not starting until you're sure you can hold control. Because i can't be interrupted once i start."(edited)
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Mo nods sharply, breathing deep, his plush cuddled tight to his chest. “H- I’ll be calm.”
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 a nod, their gaze gentle, before turning back to Umbra. "...so. let's see what's been done to your magic-" they murmur softly. from the touch of their free hand, faint lines of light appear to trace the path of his own damaged magic, the paths and courses that wind through him, looking specifically for the lines that had been severed by the damage left by the wound. A tracing outline to show the way, no more...(edited) [8:01 PM] ...but hopefully this part was something that could still work...(edited)
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 The magic crossing him is faint, hard to detect, vanishing almost entirely around the wound and anywhere the bruises touch. It spirals from there to where his soul should be, up in a line to what looks like a branch- then stops. Mo’s breath hitches and he shudders, holding his Weedle closer. Flare twitches.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...I see." Softly. They led the lines fade, save near the wound itself, and using the glimmering bit of thread to stitch healing, with slow care, to cross the damaged area, one fragmented line to another. a single stitch of faint, gleaming, concentrated healing magic- -a single stitch, no more, as they wait to see if this will help. not willing to go further until they know.
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 It… actually seems to be. The repaired magic shines just a little bit brighter.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...okay then." one stitch at a time, working on stopping the blood loss first. after four more stitches they stop, and wait again, watching.
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 The wound is sealing shut. Mo looks up. He… may be about to cry.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 they don't see these tears, too focused on the next stitch, and the next. slowly, one by one, until the place where the damage had cut, is now fully spanned by the gently gleaming magic threads. ...and the last stitch is done. they loosen their grip on the greater magic of the tower, relaxing slightly.(edited) [8:38 PM] the threads vanish from their hand... but the repairs remain.
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 The gash is sealed. Umbra breathes a little easier. Mo is definitely crying. Just softly, and into his plush.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 they wipe the hair back from their brow- and pause, seeing Mo crying. "are you okay?"
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Mo's shoulders shake. He doesn't speak.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "..." they're not sure how to help, so they just lift adjust Umbra back into a more comfortable position in their lap, and wait for either him or Flare to 'wake.'
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 “S-sorry.” Mo mutters, wiping at his eyes. “It’s just- um.” He exhales, smiling weakly. “Is he okay?”
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "you don't have to be sorry," they deny, "it's okay. and yes, I think so." they brush Umbra's hair back just enough to get a look at his face. "...I've healed a lot of different beings. the first time is always the hardest- enough practice and, it gets easier." [9:15 PM] "...but, this was a bit different." They admit softly, after a moment more.
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Umbra looks calm. Soft. Like a child. “Did you-” Mo whimpers. “…see, what was wrong?”
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...um. sort of. it's hard to put to words- mostly I just saw the damage. essentially, magic as I've learned it has these lines... leylines. Threads. Both worlds, and people, have them." "Umbra's... looked like they'd been severed, repeatedly. And never quite reattached right. And, left damaged, and so thin in places they almost weren't there." "...do you know why?"
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 “He, um, Nouveau, I mean.” Mo shifts, plush tucked under his chin. “He- he severed us, somehow, I think. We’re supposed to be connected, at least I’m pretty sure we are.” He laughs weakly. “I… guess separating us, was what did us in.”
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "..." they consider him, then look at Umbra. "My husband was separated from his brother too. Rather, forcefully. Dragon was able to repair the damage, but-" "-i, don't know if it was done the same way. the person who severed my husband from my brother in law knew what he was doing. it was a clean break, as much as that kind of thing can be. "it, looks like Nouveau just... uh. used trial and error. a lot."
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Mo rubs his chest, wincing. “Yeah…” “I don’t… think we can be reattached…” He looks at his brother, something like envy in his eyes. “I’m pretty sure Flare has that handled...”
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...admittedly I'm not sure what you mean about Flare, but I'm not sure I want to ask, either." They're not sure when they started stroking Umbra's hair, and watching him in soft worry, but oh well. more quietly, they add, "and... I'm sorry, that was done to you."
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Mo grumbles and glares up at Flare staring off into the distance, then is immediately by Umbra’s side as he starts to wake.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 Their hand may yank back like it was burned, not realizing they'd essentially been petting him as he rested, and looking embarrassed. "... hey." they greet softly.
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 A tentacle grabs their hand and plaps it back on his head. “What happened?” Umbra looks up, groggy and confused.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "..." they continue petting. "your uh, stitches came open. you passed out. but, you have me permission to heal you first? so I did." simplified, sure, but pretty much accurate. "how do you feel? any soreness?"
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Umbra blinks, registers, sits up, spins around, and grabs their hands, eyes frantic, arms shaking from the exertion. “Please don’t be upset with Dad.” He begs, Mo shutting his eyes and looking like he’s somewhere between homicidal and sucking on a lemon.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "..." they blink, looking surprised by this- then squeezes his hands gently. "I'm not upset with him, Umbra. If I got upset with him, I'd have to start a list of people to be upset with, for getting caught up in an LV driven frenzy. I'm a little annoyed he lost his cool in the first place, but-" "but being told his datemate had been attacked, and all the other stuff that followed-" "I can't say I'm really surprised, either."
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 “Okay…” Umbra exhales, letting them go. “Okay.” He squeaks as his tentacles swing him back around, plop him back on Bells lap and put their hand back on his head. “Wh- you- stop that!” He slaps at his tentacles, trying to push himself back up and then just giving up when they drag Mo down too, doing happy victory wiggles as Mo immediately makes happy noises and snuggles him.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 a soft snort, smiling, as they resume stroking his hair. "your tenntacles have a mind of their own." they reflect, a near silent purr rumbling in their chest. "you didn't answer my question though... are you still sore? Mo did say you don't generally heal easily."
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Umbra huffs and glares at his traitorous appendages. “I’m-” He shifts, grunting, Mo nuzzling him and making a concerned noise. “…fine. How did you even heal me?”(edited)
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...sort of... sewed the lines of your magic back together, where they'd been severed across your wound. used threads of healing magic, boosted by my tower." "This place is, pretty much woven into every part of me. I pulled it back together when the timeline shattered. just, sort of did the same for you, on a smaller scale."
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "...can you teach me how to do that?" Umbra asks.
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "I can try? my ability to do stuff like that only extends as far as here. this place is my legacy, it echoes to my magic-" "Its uh, my inheritance. from my sire." something about the way they say 'sire' sounds similar to the way someone might say 'fucking abuse piece of shit,' only less bluntly. "...I'm willing to try though. your power level might be enough on your own, without the added boost."(edited)
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "My uh, my magic level is like just, notnexistant." Umbra winces, squeaking at Mo's insistent neck nuzzles. "I can use my tentacles and that's about it." He glares at his wibblers, one giving Bells sympathetic headpats of it's own accord. "And they dont even listen half the time!"
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 a faint smile at the tentacle, before turning their attention back to Umbra, and considering him. "-i imagine your power level is probably just fine. your 'threads' are just so shredded that you cant access it." "...like a generator, with faulty connectors leading to the stuff that needs powering.:
Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "If you say so?" Umbra shrugs. "...why is my magic broken? I thought it just... was that way?" Mo drops his weedle on Umbra's face and emphatically shakes his head at Bells. Umbra sputters and picks up the plush. "Where did you even get this?" "It appeared in my room." Mo nuzzles him, smiling at the resulting squeak. "Its soft. I like it."
with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...i dont know your life well enough to say." Theyll let Mo decide whether to tell, at least gor now. Its not their place. "I just saw the damage done to the threads your magic should follow." "...theyre, very much not... as intact as they should be." September 28, 2020
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 Umbra frowns thoughtfully. Maybe he wasn’t as weak as he thought after all… And is then abruptly brought out of his musings by Mo licking his cheek. “Ooookay!” Umbra shrieks, shoving him away and rolling into a kneeling position. “That is enough! What is even with you today?! You’re not normally-” His tentacles wiggle in displeasure and he slaps at them, Mo looking at him with big sad eyes, confused and a little hurt. Umbra grits his teeth, starting to growl, and sighs, his hands in his lap. “Just- whatever, I don’t care.” He lets his tentacles drag him back into place and pull Mo to his side. “Just keep your fucking tongue in your mouth.”
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 The look they give Mo is puzzled. Not wanting to delve into Nouveau abuse they understand, but if this a distraction for just, not learning that isn't powerless... "..." "I can show you, if you like."
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 Mo has returned to ecstatic nuzzling. "Please?" Umbra looks up.
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "...okay. but dont get worried, okay? this will seem a bit strange, but it wont hurt. And i'll stop if you ask me."
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 "Okay." Umbra nods.
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 Bells reaches out to lay ahand against his arm... and as before, they draw on the magic in themself and in the tower, and begin outlining the threads of his magic, letting him see himself the places theyre... broken. "...these threads are meant to allow your magic to move properly through your body.." they explain, "but-" [12:22 AM] "...um. they cant, really."
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 "Oh." Umbra frowns, looking over himself. He points at his chest. "...is that my soul? I've... never actually seen it."
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "..." they consider the place he's pointing.
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 “Yup.” Mo says, tucked under Umbra’s chin, breath tickling his neck. “Ours look pretty similar. They’re nothing interesting. You aren’t missing much.” “If you say so…” Umbra stares down at his chest, shivering.
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 Bells looking at Mo, and again, considers Umbra's... soul?(edited) [12:33 AM] "..." Thats not right. Yeah. [12:33 AM] Bells draws their hand back,  letting the sight of the threads vanish. [12:34 AM] "..." Two trees of the same rootstock, like theirs downstairs... or in this case, two branches of the same tree. [12:36 AM] ...severed at their joining.
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 The outline of his soul is the expected apple, but it’s… withered almost, and much, much smaller than it should be. “…what are you doing.” “Dad!” Umbra sits up, smiling. “You’re back!” “Yes.” Flare nods, eyes on Bells. “What is happening?”
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "...he was injured. I healed him. He woke after, and wanted to know how i did it." "...i showed him why healing is hard for him, and told him how i did it." They figure they should probably keep this simple.
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 "...I can heal him." A golden tentacle extends and taps him and Umbra gasps sharply, any remaining injuries repairing in a instant. Mo holds his Nightmare as he coughs and wheezes, trying to get his breath back. Flare stares at him. "...get off my child."(edited)
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "...he carried Umbra here." they point out, quietly. "like I said. he was injured- and, stairs can be rough to traverse with a tail." they didn't openly challenge his right to be protective, but that seemed like a point worth offering, just the same.
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 “Get. Off.” Flare snarls, ignoring Bells completely. “Fuck. You.” Mo growls right back, hugging his Nightmare tighter. “Would you two please stop-” Umbra freezes, paling as a tentacle reaches up and slaps Flare right in the face.
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "...for fuck's sake." Bells whispers, closing their hand around Umbra's. they will teleport all three of them out of there if they need to. not sure to where, but-
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 Flare blinks. He grabs the tentacle. “Please keep yourself under control.” He says evenly. “R-right.” Umbra pulls the angrily wiggling tentacle back, holding onto it tightly. “…sorry.”
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 A soft exhale, and they loosen their grip, at least. "...I can't imagine controlling any part of his magic comes easily," are they talking to Flare? maybe, "magically speaking, his wiring is fried."
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 "It is?" Flare frowns, kneeling by his child, pausing to shoot a look at Mo and being answered by a glare in turn.
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "-that's what I was saying before, yeah." okay. relaxing. tenatively. "You know how leylines work in world's, I'm guessing? Veins and mapworks of magic, So on?"
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 "Yes."
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "...well, people have them too. and Umbra's... are faded, broken, and tangled... basically all of them."
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 "...how did that happen?" Flare quietly asks.
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "..." "..." "I can outline the lines again, with his permission. I, don't feel right offering more than that right now."
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 "Do it." Flare says, Umbra nodding and Mo looking like he's considering biting the bit of Flare's arm near his face.
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 They try to catch Mo's eye, but a moment later just nod, resting their hand against Umbra's arm again. The broken mapwork of threads begin outlining his own, all the way to his soul, and... to the bit, rather like what looks to them like a forked branch, broken at the joint. though of course they could be wrong...
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 Flare frowns. Another line to Umbra’s soul lights up, a second branch in a vivid red-gold, wound around the first and trailing off beyond his body, briefly illuminating. Flare smiles and relaxes, Umbra looks confused, and Mo is seconds from whipping out his borrowed knife and stabbing Flare right in his stupid face when a tentacle grabs him and slams his face into Umbra’s neck, completely plastering him against his Nightmare’s side. Mo immediately slumps, making a soft happy noise, Umbra squeaks and Flare scowls.
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "...that. is my guess." they answer, very quietly. [2:10 PM] "-or rather, the broken bit." [2:10 PM] They are looking at Flare a bit strangely, admittedly.
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 “Something happened when he was young, maybe thirteen.” Flare says, growling lowly, glaring at Mo. “He had been unwell for several weeks when he suddenly collapsed, screaming. I cared for him the best I could, but he was still unconscious for several months.” “I don’t remember that…” Umbra mutters, Mo whimpering and nuzzling him. “You were a child.” Flare says softly. “It was traumatic.”
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "...Flare." their voice was very quiet, meeting Flare's eyelights evenly. "Mo. Didn't do anything. Keep in mind... he was a child too." "May i... speak to you?"(edited)
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 "Certainly." Flare says.
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 Bells gets to their feet, and moves away from Umbra, intending to have a moment privately with Flare.
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 Flare follows with only a passing warning glare back at Mo and a scowl when Mo simply continues nuzzling Umbra.
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 Once theyre... sufficiently out of earshot, Bells sits on the edge of one of the stone walls that shapes the pools of water, looking up at Flare. "...you know what that severed line was, correct?"
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 He kneels. "No."
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "...there tends to be a bond, between guardians. generally, a fate bond of one kind or another. it's an intimate connection, allows one to always find the other, always feel the other, and forms a connection... soul deep. sometimes, if one dies, both will die." "Its, never supposed to be broken." "...it looks like someone hacked clumsily at the link between your son and Mo, with a dull knife, until it finally gave way from Mo's end." "-whatever your son suffered, indirectly? Mo suffered, extremely directly. Its not his fault. And very likely, his magic is every bit as fucked, if not more."(edited)
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 “I suppose that is why I have never seen Mo use magic as his own self…” Flare muses. “And why Umbra is always so sickly.”
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "...and likely why Mo is drawn so very strongly to Umbra." they agree, quietly. "that bond, is never meant to be broken. and while Umbra himself pushes Mo away? His tentacles grab, and hold him close, given the chance." [3:52 PM] "That. Speaks of something."
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 “…I see.” Flare looks away, troubled.
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "..." "I was able to repair a few of the threads, by the wound. it's how I was able to heal it. But I have no way to know if the repairs will last."
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 Flare nods.
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "..." there's not much more they can add to that. so- "I'd also like to talk to you about what happened downstairs. If you think you can without getting upset."
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 "I can."
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "...I know you're aware that Greylu has attacked Dragon. they've also attacked him. literally chased him around his throne room in full dragon form, fire licking at their teeth. they, tend to antagonize each other." a... less than pleased note to this. "one stabs, the other bites off a tentacle- "More recently, they've been trying to make peace. Mostly for Hood's sake, I think. So that's... somewhat settled." "Im... sorry you were pulled into it."
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 "If he does it again," Flare says softly. "I will feed him his arms."
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "...they'll grow back. they always do." they sound, tired.(edited)
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 "Noted."
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "..." "My daughter is very protective of him." They're not, quite looking at him now. "She's had him crumble to dust under her hands, while she tried to hold on. She was too young to remember it clearly? But it left an impression." "...especially... when her own bondmate had been left dust as well. she has both back now... but part of her soul remembers. try not to hold her protectiveness against her."
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 "Okay."
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "..." they're not sure what to say now.
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 Flare is just staring off into the distance. He grunts and rubs his chest.
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "..." now they're watching him. "-g for your thoughts?"(edited)
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 "...I think I may have bonded to Umbra."
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "..." a soft sound, not easy to read. "yeah. I know." They admit quietly, "so does Mo. you two were the only ones who didn't." "It. Has to hurt, so much. Him knowing that his bondmate is not only taken from him... but tied to another."
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 Flare nods. “…you said the bondmates die without each other. I assume I inadvertently saved Umbra.” He looks at them. “But what about Mo?”
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 "...I said sometimes they do." They correct quietly, "generally even then, it's if one dies." "..." "My husband, was separated from his bondmate, for almost half a year. Dragon isn't the only enemy he's made... but Dragon was the one to repair the damage. That's, also part of what's helped make peace." "...if Mo does have another bondmate, it's not something I'd be able to tell just by looking at him. but then, I have no idea what that phantasmal creature was, that rose out of him before."(edited)
Askbittyerror09/28/2020 Flare gazes at Mo, still cuddled up to his son, for a long moment. He stands and walks over, yanking the pair apart and dangling the Dream in the air by the throat. “Dad!” Umbra exclaims from the ground, trying to push himself up and whimpering when a golden wing thumps onto his chest, pinning him down. Mo thrashes and tries to kick his chest, wheezing as Flare’s grip tightens. The once-Paladin holds his hand over Mo’s chest, grips, and yanks- and what comes out… really isn’t a soul. A quivering mass of blue, red and cyan pulsate wildly, cut through with spasming black striations and glitches. It’s bigger Mo’s entire chest and the colors spiral around a withered golden apple, its surface faintly shimmering with an oily rainbow sheen. “What is-” Flare brushes his fingers against the mass and for a moment, time freezes- Then reality shudders and Flare is blasted back, skidding on the grass and letting out a pained grunt. The not-soul spreads across Mo’s body, covering him completely, and rises until it’s bigger than Flare, hunched back brushing the ceiling, hundreds of disjointed limbs tearing deep gouges into the dirt, thousands of hollow eyes glaring daggers, dozens of mouths slathering tar-like sludge that boils and bursts into knotted blue thread when it hits the ground.(edited)
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 When Flare steps back to the others, they start to ask what hes doing- -when they see what he's doing they get to their feet. "Hey! Flare, just because you can-" aaand then there's that. "...holy fuck." they whisper, staring. "..." "..." "FLARE! JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVE THE ABILITY TO DO SOMETHING DOESNT MEAN YOU SHOULD JUST GO AHEAD AND DO IT!!!" Maybe forgive the yelling, the lich is in full panic mode, and doing very badly at hiding it. Their children are here-!!!(edited)
with-bells-upon09/28/2020 What do do? Open the ceiling and shove them out? fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck- Instead Bells grabs their phone, and sends out a mass text. 'GET THE KIDS OUT OF HERE!'
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goatkingwc · 4 years ago
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HIDE & SEEK THE SEWING SAINTS Episode 3 of GKWC
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GOAT KING WRITERS CLUB, The loosest storytelling Podcast in all the land, were we don’t let Grammar get in the way of a good yarn.
HIDE & SEEK By Nathan Hull
Contrary to popular belief the fun and games began when i lost my eye. Both eyes to be exact, i'm still not sure how it happened. I was sitting at home bored attempting to do my taxes, when out of nowhere darkness took over... at the exact same time i heard two dull slaps as my peepers hit the floor and rolled off to who knew where.
At first i was shocked and slightly worried, life could possibly become a touch hard without vision. I panicked, flailing around my kitchen smashing and crashing into anything in my proximity before i tripped on a rogue jam jar and hit the ground hard. I was down for some time, contemplating my options when it struck me, this was the greatest thing to ever happen.
In my youth i was a champion hide and seek player, i spent those years traveling from town to town, seeking out hidden children to rapturous applause, from those communities slack jawed populations. Life had been great. That is until i turned 14 and all of a sudden i was forced into retirement. A large man child with unkept strands of facial hair and increasingly bad body odor was NOT who parents wantedwanted hunting there children out of hidey holes, no matter how much of a genius i was at the fine art of hide and seek. It had been a cruel blow i never recovered from. I spent my teenage years home schooled with no friends and little connection with the real world. My parents never forgave me for becoming a teenager, and ruining all of our lucrative sports wear contracts, and their for cutting off our family's main source of income. As i grew i stayed introverted i was ashamed when people brought up my past. They would hide under tables in pubs and restaurants, laughing at me sadly pointing them out to there friends. I had no purpose no real reason to exist i was just floating through life aimlessly. But now... now I had a reason to exist, the greatest game of hide and seek ever, a blind depressed Thirty five year old vs his missing eyes. It was an epic match, it went on for days. I ran into walls, i crawled along the floor, i rolled and flipped and fell and sniffed and listened employing every visionless technique i new during the search.
Eventually almost defeated from dehydration and hunger i swiped out and like two delicious dust covered balls of bubble gum my eyes where back in my hands.I slowly put them back in there respective sockets i took in all i could see, i smiled life was beautiful. I took a drink, ate a ham sandwich and had a well deserved rest. Then i took a spoon popped each eye out and threw them in opposing directions, it was game on again.....a life worth living again. 
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THE SEWING SAINTS By Sean Conway
It was a calendar anomaly that Susan had never experienced. Two of the biggest holidays in Susan’s diary converging on a Friday and Saturday night, to form a magical weekend of debauchery.
National Sewing Machine Day was crossing paths with National Bourbon Day. A pair of holiday’s that mean very little to the regular Tom Dick and Harry, But for Susan who is a member of the local sewing group this was a very big deal. Despite their wholesome name, the Sewing Saints are notorious amongst the sewing fraternity for two reasons, first for agreeing to sew the patches for the most diabolical bikie gang in the country The Diablos and second for when Abby McMillion stabbed a rival Sewing group member and received a 4 year sentence in the state penitentiary and garnering the nickname Stabby Abby.
Every year the rival sewing groups would meet up for their annual get together and this year it was the Sewing Saints turn to organise the shin dig. This party took 12 months of planning, and the event was to be held at the Diablos club house, with music by DJ WhizDik and would have so much alcohol, cocaine and prostitutes, it would put the local police Christmas party to shame.
The party was going off without a hitch, the ladies were drinking, dancing, and sneaking off to any free room with their younger male counterparts, even Stabby Abby was cutting lines for the lady she stabbed 4 years earlier.
After an hour of decadence, the bikie prospect Shit Sticks ran through the door to warn the women of the impending danger that was approaching but before he could he was shot dead by a Mexican cartel member. As the cartel member walked triumphantly through the clubhouse, he was somewhat surprised by the lack of bikie members and the overwhelming number of old ladies, but before he could wrap his head around this conundrum he collapsed to the ground with a broken bottle in his throat and Stabby Abby standing over his lifeless corpse.
A drug war between The Diablos and the Mexican cartels had been brewing for years and the Sewing Saints were in the eye of the storm.
Susan lead the charge alongside Stabby Abby, arming every woman and prostitute and demanded they hold the line. With cocaine running through their veins these once old geriatrics fired round after round into the wave of cartel foot shoulders charging the bikie club house.
These old Dames fired on the cartels, but it was no use, for every member they shot 2 more would appear. They fired so furiously that if they continued, they would run out of ammunition before the end of the next Whizdik song Susan knew that there was only one way to win this battle, and that was to plant a bomb in the path of the charging cartel. As she collected the explosives needed for the suicide mission, she was stopped at the exit by Stabby Abby who starred into her eyes with blood lust and said “you’re not going without me” before doing a bump of coke off her clenched fist and running into the wilderness.
The clubhouse was eerily quiet, the music had stopped, the ammunition had run out and the only thing you could hear is the gurning of the old timers jaws.
KABOOM I giant orange light illuminated the midnight darkness followed by the sound of blood and guts raining down on the clubhouse that caused an air of excitement amongst the people in the room. The excitement had quickly turned to mourning as they realised their survival had cost the Sewing Saints their two greatest assets, the room collectively dropped their heads in despair for the lose of Susan and Stabby Abby
“What are all you sluts mopping around for” a blood soaked Stabby Abby screamed walking arm in arm with Susan to the thunderous roar of coke filled seniors.
Susan sat at the bar feeling content, sipping her first Bourbon on National Bourbon Day watching on as the old biddies danced and snorted lines. She smiled because she knew, The Sewing Saints had put on the best damn National Sewing Machine Day party ever.
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a-bear-at-hogwarts · 5 years ago
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Coner
No. 1
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Home alone again.
Wasn’t like it was anything new these days. Ever since... ever since he’d died, Ma’d been out in the woods every night of the week. Like clockwork, she grabbed her coat and headed out the door soon as the sun started to set.
All that’d happened, Dahlia didn’t blame her. The call rang loud and clear in her ears n’all. Ma was probably scared she’d lose it and wake up another family member short, and that fear’d be enough to drive anyone away. 
Still; routine was all well and good, but she’d readily admit it could get pretty boring at times. Same smells, same sounds, same little domestic motions as she made herself something she’d be able to eat now, then chill some for Ma later. It was pasta that evening. Pasta a lot of evenings, actually - it was a good food for it, since you could add whatever to it, reheat it the next day, mix and match sauces and all that. Slowly, she took a deep breath full of steam, closing her eyes and giving herself a few moments just to feel, before giving the boiling pot one last stir and replacing the lid to keep in the heat. It’d need doing for another ten minutes maybe, before the pasta was done. They felt rough against her fingers, a new sort of wholegrain recipe that she’d decided to try for a smidge of variety. Didn’t really matter if it turned out good, Mam’d told her that enough times Dahlia actually believed she was being truthful. Food was food, long as it was edible. 
Nothing about these evenings alone ever seemed to change, not in any way that mattered. 
Not like that particular assertation made her any less likely to jump out of her damn skin as she heard a distinctive click. 
Was. Was that a window?
For seconds that stretched out into an eternity, she scarcely breathed for fear of drowning out any subsequent noise. Had she imagined it? Time alone could feed an overactive imagination, it wasn’t like there was anyone else around to have made such a noise, they lived in the middle of nowhere-
Then she heard the cautiously slow creaking of a window being pulled open, chased by padding footsteps.
Someone was in the house. Someone who didn’t want to be heard.
Had she been any other child Dahlia might have screamed, or ran for the door. But she wasn’t any other child, and so her first instinct was to turn off the hob and draw a knife silently from where it had been holstered in the kitchen block. Long, unwieldy - but should she need to defend herself, it’d get the job done. Just about, most likely.  Despite the reassuring weight of a blade in her hands, Dahlia’s heart was in her throat as she moved in silence to stand beside the doorframe, pulse thundering in her ears even as the footsteps of this intruder grew closer, closer, closer still. People didn’t just turn up in the middle of the woods - someone had known to come here. Are they a death eater? An enemy? An attacker? It took all of two minutes for her thoughts to spiral out of control, her grip on the weapon growing tighter and tighter until her hands trembled from cramping and adrenaline - she remained stock still. Unmoving. Even as the footsteps grew more confident, the intruder apparently deciding there was nobody in the house. 
Even as the sounds grew so close that there could be no doubt they were right outside the room she had secluded herself inside.
Even, tenser than a full-drawn bow, as the handle to the door she stood next to was turned.
It was almost a relief when he (because far as she could tell they were, after all, a he) actually walked through - because now, now she could act. Before the intruder had time to so much as cry out in shock she was upon them, lashing out with a harsh strike to the knees which brought them down. It was a matter of seconds before her weapon was at their throat, after that. Pressing her knee into the small of his back to discourage any attempts to get back up, Dahlia watched with cold eyes and hammering chest as the figure whipped their hands up in the universal symbol for surrender. 
“Hey, woah, woah! I’m sorry, don’t stab!”
Didn’t sound too old. Probably still in his teens, though now she could get a proper look at him there was no way he was anything but Sítheach; he dwarfed her in sheer size. It was a good thing she’d acted when she had, because if things had gone to a straight fight instead Dahlia didn’t like what her odds might have been.  The knife remained edge-to-throat for now. 
“Why are you in my house?”
Straight to the point. No reason to be subtle, not right now. Briefly, she felt him try to move beneath her - a sharp dig of the knee sorted that out fast.
“Ow! Shit, sorry. I thought it was empty I swear, I was just looking for food and supplies!”
“Supplies?”
“Medicals, bandages and the likes.”
Dahlia’s brow furrowed at that, and for just a moment she shifted her gaze from where it’d been boring a hole in the back of his skull to look over the rest of him again. Ah shit. From the number of poorly addressed scrapes and scratches littering the skin she could see, he was telling the truth on that. But as sympathetic as he seemed, the fact remained - he was a stranger, an intruder in her home, and a lot bigger than she. If he were to be released, would she be able to hold her own should he turn on her?
The minutes stretched out again, but he didn’t fight her. Ultimately, that made her decision - slowly, cautiously, she removed the blade from his jugular and shifted backwards, getting back to her feet and allowing him to do the same. The intruder scrambled upwards, imediatly whirling around to face his attacker. Dahlia noted that he froze upon seeing her properly, at the same time as she noticed his nose was bleeding from being whammed into the floor. 
“... wait. Wait, how old are you?”
“Ten.”
There was something familiar about his face, even as it was contorted by shocked disbelief. Probably something to do with the fact he’d just had his ass handed to him by a preteen or some shit like that, nothing she wasn’t used to. Soon as he’d finished picking his jaw up from the floor, he cleared his throat and attempted some sort of smile. The effect was a little ruined by the blood dripping from his nose, and the face she’d yet to relinquish her grip on the knife.
“So uh, that was a bad start. Uhhh....” 
And that was an understatement. Withering more than a little under her scrutiny, the intruder took a few awkward minutes to regather his train of thought before continuing. 
“I’m uh, Coner? Coner Wick? It’s a uh... lovely home you got here. All by... yourself...”
“Ma’s out right now. She’ll be back soon enough.”
Defensive, hm. Maybe she’d been a little too snappish with that.
“Right, right yeah of course! Anyways, uh- thanks for, yknow, not stabbing me and all that. Appreciate it. Like not being stabbed.”
Despite herself, his awkward demenour was proving pretty effective in convincing her that if he intended to hurt her, he’d have done it by now just to save himself the trouble of all this.  A few more awkward moments dragged out, the air between them charged high with mistrust and fear, before;
“Dahlia. Dahlia Goldman.”
It was an olive branch of sorts, nothing too dangerous to reveal but enough to indicate she was no longer feeling stabby. It wasn’t intended, at least, to be anything personal.
Hence the sliver of fear as she saw him blink, then re-examine her. That there? That was usually a sign of recognition.  She readjusted her grip of the blade.
“I’m sorry, did you say Goldman?”
“... yes.”
Dahlia wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting in response - likely some sort of violence, judging from how she’d grown tense, her hand cramping she gripped the handle of her weapon so tight. Whatever it had been, it most certainly wasn’t a quiet cry of wonder.
“I knew you looked familiar! Hell’s gates cub, you’ve grown haven’t you?”
What.
“... I’m sorry?”
Though this Coner person still seemed cautious of her (wise while she was armed) his delight at some apparent discovery seemed to mostly override it as he approached, examining her from this and that angle.
“Oh but of course, you were only tiny last I saw you. It’s no wonder you don’t remember me, not properly.”
He stepped back again, a wide smile plastered across his face, and despite herself Dahlia could feel her grip slack around the handle of her knife - maybe she didn’t recognise him directly, but as he laughed in softest exaltation the expression morphed his features into something hauntingly familiar.
Guess it ran in the family.
“Seems we’re cousins, cub!”
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brett-buckner-the-dirt · 6 years ago
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The Flame made up with enthusiasm, what they lacked in wins.
SO … DAMN … CLOSE.
I could hear the excited gasp from everyone in the stands when the metallic thunk of the aluminum bat sent the ball sailing into the darkness like a giant yellow day glow comet on a reverse course toward destiny. The batter, who looked old and strong enough to be a forklift operator despite supposedly being only 11 years old, strutted around the bases, knowing she’d hit a home run.
Though, in her defense, given that it’s kid-pitch softball, I’ve seen bunts turn into triples, and since she hit this ball like she was Mark McGwire jacked up on Creatin, there was probably no need to rush.
But she didn’t count on Jellybean being.
It was the kind of moment that only parents of little league outfielders can appreciate. Since early March, Jellybean has spent hours during practice and 25 games waiting in the down-and-ready position, but that ball never comes.
Sometimes, I think the coaches even forget she and the other outfielders are even there. They become like lawn furniture as they hit endless grounders and pop flies to the infielders – generally the best players (AKA the Coaches Kids) – while my little princess feels the grass grow beneath her feet. Then they shout something like, “Look alive …” and wonder why the kids have the loafing reaction time of a Walking Dead zombie.
And in truth, the only actual game action the outfielders get comes from backing up the back-up and by the point the play’s pretty much over.
But not on this night, not with this batter.
It was the last game, in what’s been a long and frustrating season for our Flames. We weren’t very good, a reality made all the worse by the fact that we really should have been. We were the last seed in the tournament, down 13-7 to the dreaded, and seriously hated, Peaches. After four days of torrential rain – and three straight days of game cancellations – it was hot and muggy and gross, and everyone from the parents in the stands to the kids swatting mosquitoes in the field just wanted it all to be over.
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Then Andrea the Giant stepped up to the plate and sent a moon shot hurtling toward my child, who, as always, was in the down-and-ready position.  It was like a dream come true. When the ball left the bat, I left my seat. In that frozen moment, I remembered the hours we spent in the back yard, listening to Princess Rap Battles and tossing pop flies. Jellybean had gotten so good.
She held her glove right. She moved her feet. She kept her eye on the ball. She blocked out everything going on around her. One time, she caught 13 flies in a row, and I’m not talking easy ones either. I mean, I reared back like I was throwing a haymaker at God, and she shagged it with a flip of her hair and gleam in her eye (after I got smart enough to buy her sunglasses before she went blind from starting into the sun).
It was all about to pay off. She felt it too, running forward when all her fellow outfielders would have run the other way in terror. Jellybean WANTED the spotlight, the pressure. Sure the game was a blowout, but I could already hear the roar of the crowd and see her teammates running out to give her high-fives and maybe even hoist her on their shoulders and carry her off the field.
It would be a glorious triumph for every kid who’s every been spent more time applying bug spray and sunscreen than actually … ya … know … feeling like a part of the team. From here, Jellybean would be catapult to a position that didn’t require visiting grandparents to say, “now where is she? Oh, way out there.”
Down. Down. Down. The ball came, fire trailing behind as it re-entered Earth’s atmosphere. Other parents stood up for a better look. Bam-Bam shucked off his headphones and ignored the Shrek movie he was watching to see what all the excitement was about.
The entire stadium fell silent as Jellybean extended her glove while still running forward. It was so still, so quiet that I heard the gentle scratch of leather as the ball skipped off the tip of her glove and fell dead to the ground.
Disbelief and disappoint spread through the stands, like the seconds right after the fireworks have ended and the sky is still filled with smoke. It would have been the perfect ending. But instead, the Behemoth in a pink batter’s helmet ran around the bases as Jellybean picked up the ball and hit the relay throw to second.
I wanted to cry, to scream the unfairness to the heavens, but I had to be strong for my little girl, whom I knew would be devastated as the game and season were over.
After the obligatory “good game” handshakes and the “I’m so proud of you … never gave up … fought right up to the end …” speeches from the coaches, I hugged my little ballplayer, ready to offer words of wisdom, experience, encouragement, and, most of all love. She, in turn, looked up to me with those big blue eyes and said:
“Can we get a Frostie?”
So brave. So brave.
‘So Done’
When the game was over, I wasn’t exactly sad. Jellybean was downright elated.
It had been a long, season. The weather had gone from freezing to that kind of sticky hot that seems to fester around ball field. The Flames were the epitome of the “always played hard” but fell short in the win column.
I knew I’d grow to miss it all more than I do now. Jellybean vows she’s “so done” with softball. She promises we’ll keep tossing the ball around from time to time, but I know better. Pretty soon dance recitals will take the place of backyard pop flies, and that makes me sad. Softball was something we could do together. I could toss her grounders, show her how to watch the ball into her glove. It was something we could bond over. I cannot dance … unless the white boy prom sway is an actual dance move.
What I’ll miss most is how softball brought our weird little broken family together. Two or three days a week, we’d get to hang out a couple of hours and just enjoy each other’s company. It was like a family reunion but only with the family members you actually like.
She so little, and cute
Jase tries not to sleep, fails
The Diva, a great mom
Grandma gets some baby time.
All of Jellybean’s scattered grandparents made it to multiple games, but best of all was the visits with The Diva and her brood. Sure, I usually had to drive all the way to Phenix City then back to Midland to pick ‘em up, but were it not for those trips, I’d never have known that 2-year old Bam-Bam knows every word to the Scooby-Doo theme song.
After picking our spots right by the fence so we could sit in the shade and still see Jellybean in the outfield, I’d get Bam-Bam set up with his toys – brought over from my house. There was Han Solo and Chewbacca, a Hulk bobble head, the Xenomorph from Alien and a tiny key chain figure of GhostFace from the Scream movies, which he called, “Stabby” – all carried in a battered old KISS lunchbox along with some almonds.
Bam-Bam has loves KISS
Heeeer’s Stabby
Booty-Head the dinosaur
Once the game started, he’d climb up in my lap and using Jellybean’s iPad, watch episodes of Boss Baby or PJ Mask while trying not to fall asleep.
On the other side, The Lovely Mother of My Children, always dressed in scrubs after rushing to the field from the hospital, would sit by The Diva and just talk. Things haven’t always been great between those two over the last few years, but during those games, things were pretty good, and I’d like to think some of those good vibes carried over after the game.
But with her newest bundle of beautiful still not at the sitting-up phase, The Diva wants all the help and advice she can get, while her momma can’t help but love the baby, even if she still worries about her own child.
There are still problems and there always will be, but for a little while at least they don’t matter much. It’s just nice being together, being happy, and cheering. And even if there’s not another “next year,” at least we had this one.
But maybe … just maybe Jellybean will change her mind. I’d sure like to see her get another chance to catch a pop fly.
  Take me out to the ballgame … one final time SO … DAMN … CLOSE. I could hear the excited gasp from everyone in the stands when the metallic…
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