#nothing will beat blonde but I am excited for this era

[seowoobins]

221229 : 🪐 update

[endlessly-cursed]

A Living Dynasty, Chapter Three: The Great War

A/N: I'm having founder's era brainrot so bear with me, the finished third chapter. Bon appetit!!

Summary: War is brewing, and Henriette and Helga have a plan

OCs featured: Eadric Spinebreaker ( @gaygryffindorgal ) Mathilde Coventry ( @camillejeaneshphm )

OCs mentioned: The Osada siblings ( @hphmmatthewluther )

Word Count: 1.8k

Tagging: @hphmmatthewluther @camillejeaneshphm @gaygryffindorgal @that-scouse-wizard

A year later

War was now almost at the threshold, and I had been learning plenty from kind but fierce Helga. As I dutifully washed the sheep, I observed how many trained for battle. I was certainly no warrior, but I didn’t like having to wait for the men to make peace either.

“Lord Salazar Slytherin!” The herald cried.

I quickly washed myself and, with the tip of her wand, washed off the stench and detritus and I was quickly at Helga’s side, bowing to the tall man. He was a tall man with green eyes and brown hair, with a roguish look, and beside him, three people were standing: two beautiful women and a tall and scary-looking man. The women consisted in a tall and strikingly beautiful redheaded woman, who surveyed everyone with an expressionless look, and the second was a shorter blonde woman, who observed everything in silence. Finally, the man among them had silver hair and one eye patched and the other was as cold.

“…I am not sure, Sal. Many had died already, and I do not wish to endanger my people. Not to mention, many runaway nobles are here and hiding from their enemies. I cannot risk their safety.”

The silver-haired man looked at me and whispered to Salazar. He took a look at me, and my heart started beating fast, not liking such attention. He then spoke “How many of you are convicts or running away from the nobility? Raise your hand.” He commanded.

At least eight more raised their hand and he nodded. He then turned to Helga “Shall we discuss this on your office?”

“Very well. Henriette, dear, come with me.” Helga commanded.

“Eadric,” Salazar commanded “Bruna, Mathilde, stay here and keep an eye on the runaways.”

“Yes, my lord,” they both said, sounding like Siamese cats.

Then, we both followed our leaders into her office. I hadn’t been there much, but I was nevertheless exciting. My father never once allowed me to get into politics, waiting for the perfect suitor to take over as I was relegated into birthing children and keeping the household standing.

Helga sat on the desk as Salazar sat across her and the silver-haired man, Eadric, stood tightly beside Salazar. I did the same, forearms crossed as my hand rested on the other.

“Do tell me why sending my folk into slaughter is a good idea.”

“I can assure you, my dear, that there won’t be slaughter. Godric is not the brightest, but his courage and skills in battle are not to be question. Besides, you and I had fought in the past, as well as Lady Ravenclaw. This war, if fought well, could gain the king’s trust. And your hand, Henriette, used to be the queen’s favourite, correct, girl?” He then looked at me, and I had to brace myself before clearing my throat.

“Indeed, sir, though right now I cannot say. I haven’t seen or heard from her in a year. I would be willing to, if my ladyship wishes so.”

Salazar arched an eyebrow and I noticed how Eadric studied me closely. He wasn’t very talkative, but I felt like he was going through my mind with his only eye nevertheless. I worked up the courage and faced off, despite my skin puckering out of nervousness. After what it felt like an eternity, he chuckled, impressed, and whispered again at Salazar’s ear. He nodded and looked at Helga “If you join my ranks, I promise that nothing should happen to your people, as long as they follow us.”

Helga nodded “I shall give it some thought.”

They stood up and Salazar kissed Helga’s hand and nodded at me. I bowed and nodded at Eadric, who simply followed Salazar out. Outside, I saw how the women broke from an embrace and quickly followed Salazar to his horse.

Days passed as Helga and I discussed our strategy, and agreed to wait for Godric so we’d hear him out first. A week later, Godric blessed us with his presence. He rode with his own entourage, looking rather handsome in the sunlight: his red hair and peaceful blue eyes, alongside his armour, made him like a personification of Apollo. He helped off her horse to a rather beautiful woman, with black hair and striking brown eyes, wearing an armour as well and she kissed his cheek, making him blush bright red.

“That’s Luxia Thorne,” Helga whispered “Godric’s lover. She’s a great dueller, giving him a run for his salt and his second in command. They’re inseparable and seem to love each other dearly. See those siblings?” She nodded towards to equally beautiful pair of siblings: their skin was dark, with equally dark hair and dark eyes, though their regalia was red, as well as Godric’s and Luxia’s. “They are the son and daughter of the Baron Osada, and although he works with Salazar, he’s very supportive of his children being at Godric’s care.” They were certainly a most regal group, looking like storybook heroes to save the day. Unlike Salazar’s unfriendly and cold villains.

Though decades later I’d see for myself that nobody’s pure and nobody’s pure evil, and that historians aren’t often good at deciphering the human experience and limit themselves to tell a simpler story.

Primrose blinked, confused “But wait. How come these academics can be wrong and write simple stories? Isn’t history’s whole point to tell the story as it is?”

Henriette chuckled “Let me ask you something. Do you believe the historians who called me a trickster, a cold and bad wife, a cheater and many more?”

“Of course not!” Primrose cried.

“Or perhaps the ones who says that Iploytta Howard slowly poisoned her husband to take full reins of Winbourne?”

Primrose shook her head “That is non ethical! To make up lies and slander figures just because of what you believe! What happened to the truth?”

Henriette smiled sadly “Most men don’t care about the truth or facts; they care about telling a story for an end. They used my story to be obedient and dutiful wives. With my poor Juliana and Ipolytta they told us to know our places, and with Maria Elisabeth, to leave the politics to the men. Most of these men don’t want to truly tell the story, they want to sell us one. For example, Cleopatra was used as an example of what bad rulers’ women could be. They used Anne Boleyn to explain why we ought not to meddle in politics. Marie Antoinette was made an example of why we should be humble and grateful. And more recently poor Isabella II of Spain, whose story told by men tells us how we ought not to be; to be chaste, obedient and quiet when a man is present. Now, this is a man’s world, therefore our narratives belong to them. When your time comes, no matter what you do, these men will use your story and twist it to subjugate the next generation into a new ideal. Our only hope is that our descendants are as insightful as you and see beyond the slander and lies of these cruel men and vindicate us.”

Primrose looked into the portrait’s eyes, decision in her eyes “When our interview is over, I shall tell your true story and put to an end such slander against you.”

Henriette smiled widely “Let us continue then. Now, I was about to talk about… oh yes! When Godric came to visit us for his own campaign.”

“Helga!” He smiled widely and warmly embraced her “my, you get more lovely by the day.”

“Save such compliments for dear Luxia,” she teased.

Luxia finally spoke “Worry not, I am not easy to get jealous, my lady.”

He finally turned to me and smiled “Ah, you must be the famous Henriette! Famous for having a mind as striking as her beauty. Lord Godric Gryffindor, it is an honour to make your acquaintance.” He kissed my hand and I couldn’t help but flush out of embarrassment. I looked over Lady Thorne, but she didn’t seem to mind. He then greeted one by one all the acolytes of Helga’s, a true example of chivalry.

I murmured to Helga “I can see why Lady Thorne is so taken by him.”

“Godric is nothing but kind and soft behind the legends of his fierce duellist prowess. He is a man, after all!”

We chuckled, agreeing on it. Men, no matter how mythical, were regular men in the end of the day. I wouldn’t relate to this till later in life.

When we got up, it was four of us: Helga, me, Luxia and Godric. We sat again in her chair “I shall ask you the same I asked Salazar: tell me why sending my people into a secure slaughter is a good idea.”

Godric explained “I am aware that it is not looking good in the front lines. War is nearly upon us, and stability is hanging by a rather sensitive thread. But should you join my ranks, I shall protect each of your acolytes as if they were my own and, together, we could convince Lady Ravenclaw.”

As they discussed, I mulled over what they said, then I blurted out, unsure of how to say it “What if the four of you fought together?”

The three of them looked at me curiously “Care to elaborate?” Luxia asked.

“The four of you are one of the most powerful wizards of your age, are you not?” They all nodded “And each of you possesses incredible power, do you not? Well then, instead of splitting, create a wizard union against those treacherous lords as one. I know most of them, and many of your servants have served them. Many are sworn to my father, vassals to my estate, and the queen and I were in good terms when I left.” The plan slowly started creating itself in my head, spiralling “and I shall ride to her summer estate, where she often visits her charities.”

“So it is true that Queen Aelgifu and you are good friends.” Godric gaped.

“I was there when she arrived as a royal bride to King Aethelred. I helped choose the court, read to her, went to church with her and was advised her on marital matters as a neutral third party. She also refused the marriage that had been proposed to me, the one that I ran away from and brought me here. If any of you goes, she will be alarmed, but not if she sees a friendly face. She wouldn’t be hearing out a mere witch: she’d be listening to a friend’s plea for help.”

They all looked at me, impressed by what I said. Looking between one another, and Helga spoke “Very well. You’ll leave in three days’ time. Two of my men shall accompany you.”

“In the meantime, I believe we must visit Sal and Wenna.” Godric concluded.

A week later

I had ridden for a whole week, but at last, I had found the Queen’s Lodge and, confidently approached the guards and declared “I am Lady Henriette of Wessex and demand to see Her Majesty. It is a matter of utmost urgency.”

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

The Hangover (Def Leppard x Reader)

(Happy birthday to my blog!! To celebrate 3 years of the place where I concentrate my insane Leppard obsession, I thought I’d celebrate by posting the FIRST Def Leppard fanfic I EVER wrote ((which I have NEVER posted anywhere before!)) I began writing this exactly 3 years ago today- the day I made this blog ((February 19th, 2018))- and officially finished it about a year later. This is not intended as a romantic/sexual fic, it’s simply just an x reader in which the reader is basically one of the guys. In other words, it’s on crack.)

((I am aware this is kind of cringe-worthy at times... but I still like a lot of things about it. While I revised it very slightly before queuing it,  I was still 16 when I started writing this, okay... gimme a break...))

(Illustration by @paper-sxn​)

Words: 8,684 Prompt: Dublin, 1984. You’re with the Leppards in their early pre-Hysteria era house. You all wake up with hangovers after a boozed-up night at home, and you each try to put the pieces of the previous night back together. Meanwhile, you’re praying that one particular piece won’t fit in anywhere... (partially inspired by the “Blitzgiving” and “The Pineapple Incident” episodes of How I Met Your Mother)

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Gently piercing white light made its way through the windows of the bedroom. It hit your eyelids, and it hit your brain, igniting a brief but killer headache. As your eyes clasped together more, you turned your face into the gloriously soft pillow. For a second you asked yourself why you would have a headache so early in the morning, but then…

You laughed quietly into the bed, recalling without warning some vague happenings from the night before. There wasn’t much you remembered, but you clearly saw the image of the guys flat out drunk at some point (you along with them). There were some blips of you all singing together, Sav hanging from a door frame, you chugging some scotch, Joe chugging some vodka, Steve’s hair being in pigtails, and you think Phil might’ve been giving you a lap dance... or vice versa. It was, all in all, hysterical (at least- that’s what you wanted to think).

 Other than those faint events, unfortunately, the night was gone. Still, you were thrilled that it happened. Crazy times with your boys were always good.

You rubbed your eyes, ready for more sleep to combat the pounding in your head. When you did, they opened a little, and you realized… this wasn't your room you were in. Squinting around, you noticed that you were sleeping in Phil’s room instead of yours.

Oh, it’s not that much of a problem, you mused, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. I’ve woken up to worse in this place.

You let your eyes close again easily, and you found peace as you began to fall under again. That is, until you felt someone move next to you.

When it happened, you became aware of the warmth coming from someone else in the bed. They only shifted in their sleep a little bit before going still again. Your eyes went wide, and you held your breath. You don’t remember getting into bed with someone (in fact, you don’t remember getting into bed at all). Turning your head, you looked to see what sort of stranger was in bed with you currently. Instead of a stranger, scraggly blonde hair over a kind and shy face met your sight, and you were instantly calmed upon realizing that it was just Steve. That was good, that was good, but why were you and Steve sleeping in Phil’s bed? You were sure you didn’t have sex last night- at least, not with Steve. This tiny moment of appeasement and confusion was cut short by the faint sound of guitar chords coming from downstairs. The music echoed to your ears, signaling that it had to be Phil, and that he was playing the opening to Bringin On the Heartbreak. Cautiously taking the covers off you- not wanting to wake Steve- you felt obliged to go to the other guitarist. When you stood up and began walking, you nearly fell forward from the sudden vertigo of your hangover. You had to hold onto the counter of Phil’s dresser for extra support, and that’s when your reflection in his mirror caught your eye. Not only that, but that’s when your outfit also caught your eye. One of the guys’ Union Jack tank tops had been slipped over you somehow, and two hand prints were on either side of your face in dried paint; one was blue, one was green. "What…?“ you whispered, touching your face and feeling the shirt on you. It seemed to fit you alright, which made you wonder whose it really was. You were also in black underwear, and nothing else. While eyeing yourself, you took notice of Steve in the reflection. You now saw a few big red lipstick stains on his face, untouched and unsmudged. It was pretty cute, you had to admit, but another thing that came to your attention was that it wasn’t you who was wearing the lipstick at the moment. So then who kissed Steve all over his face? You treaded carefully down the hallway, putting one foot in front of the other and dragging a hand on the wall for support. The melody of the distant guitar didn’t cease the whole time you trekked through the house to get to Phil. When the chords of the song dragged on to the part where the vocals should have begun, no vocals came. Everything in the house looked remarkably the same (despite everything you remember from last night). There were large, ripped pieces of cardboard in the middle of the hallway;  scattered out as if leaving a trail. Alongside that, there was a piece of paper labeled “pay 2 the orerr of Rick: one fuckin bendee straw” in what may have been Sav’s handwriting on top of the stairs, and blue paint smudged on the railing going downwards (guaranteeing that whoever did that eventually got to your face, too).

Step by step you descended as the scenery of the house teetered around you (a little too reminiscent of Me & My Wine, you would add). When you reached the bottom of the stairs and looked into the living room, sure enough, Phil was there, strumming away.

“But it’s easy come and easy go…” he hummed.

“You’re…” you mumbled, burped a little, and continued, “Awake. How?” He stopped playing and crossed his arms, quietly sassing you, “Ah, she rises again. You regrettin’ anything yet?” You blinked and rubbed your eyes, scratching a little bit of paint off of your face and inquiring in a scratchy, tired tone, “I guess so… but- how? You, how?” Phil took off his guitar and stood up with his hands in his pockets, “Because I barely drank at all last night, and I also sure as hell didn’t shag Steve in someone else’s bed!” “How do you mean- I didn’t- wait- and Steve- what?” you rubbed your head, getting dizzy, causing Phil to guide you to the couch. “I didn’t- I didn’t shag Steve last night,” you insisted. “Mm hmm,” the guitarist hummed disapprovingly, “Alright.” “What the hell are you on about?” Phil smirked evilly and laughed, “He carried you upstairs, we heard the door close, and then some rather happy noises were heard, so we all just assumed-!” “That’s not-” you swallowed and lay your head back on the couch, “-a valid assumption.” “Oh, you poor thing,” came the sarcastic remark, “You really don’t remember, do you?” “Well I figured if I ever fucked any one of you I would- you know- remember it!” you raised your voice at him, then rubbed your temples. “I’m touched, really. But I’ll fill you in a bit,” Phil yanked up his guitar he’d put down, placed himself next to you, and played the into to “Ballroom Blitz”. Then a bit of the night came back to you. “Oh... that’s what started it all, didn’t it?”

~The night before~ Rick began banging out a tune on his drum kit in the house with you, Sav, and Steve sitting close by, them being at the ready with their guitars. “You ready, Steve?” you mimicked the original lyrics. “Uh-huh,” he replied exactly like Steve Priest in the original song. “Savy?” you said next. “Yeah,” Sav bopped his head to the beat. “Rick?” “Okay.” “Alright, fellas,” you called out, “Let’s go!” The two guitarists let their instruments ring out around the house, playing the all-too-familar tune. As soon as they started this, the front door opened, and none other than Phil and Joe walked in. Joe was holding a bag that was weighed down by the mass inside it (a painfully obvious sign that there were a few bottles of booze). Although the two of them weren’t talking, they were physically hushed upon hearing the situation you and the others had created. “Oh life’s been getting so hard, living with the things you do to me…” you sang lowly and quietly along with the music being made, just to make sure the musicians knew their places. You noticed Phil run out of the room in excitement, and into the one where he keeps his guitars. Joe, on the other hand, stayed put and watched the rest of you from afar, fighting a smile. “My dreams are getting so strange, I’d like to tell you everything I see…” You stood up, and Joe began walking towards you when you called out the next line of the song, “Oh- I see a man in the back, as a matter of fact, his eyes are as red as a sun!” Joe chimed in without warning at the next line, putting an arm on your shoulder and pointing at you, “And the girl in the corner, let no one ignore her, ‘cos she thinks she’s the passionate one!” *** “It’s, it’s a ballroom blitz, it's, it's a ballroom blitz,” Phil sang the ending teasingly to you when he put his guitar back. It felt like he was rubbing his energy in your face (since you lacked it). Before Phil could continue, Joe suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Yeah! It’s a ballroom blitz!” he announced, throwing his arms into the air and taking a bow. He sounded a bit tipsy still. Joe was wearing his Union Jack shorts, but no shirt. Instead of a shirt, though, he had the words “PROPERTY OF DEF LEPPARD” sloppily painted across his chest in blue and green paint. Right over his nipples there were also two handprints, almost exactly matching the ones on your face. Joe stumbled in the doorway, falling to his knees and groaning in discomfort, “Ohh... probably should’ve stayed in bed.” Phil sluggishly trekked over to the singer and pulled him partially to his feet, yanking him towards the couch, “Oh yeah? And by ‘bed’, you mean-?” “Definitely not the bathtub.” Joe assured him, but winked at you. “No matter where you slept, it’s still not as bad as where she slept,” Phil pointed at you, “And what she did there.” “Why? What’d you do?” Joe’s tipsiness wore away in his sentence, making him sound genuinely concerned and curious. You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly what Phil was going to say, “Phil, I-” “It’s not what she did, it’s who she did- she shagged Steve in my bed!” the guitarist accused you again while pointing a finger. Immediately Joe exclaimed, “Nice!” and held up a hand to high-five you. “Joe!” you scolded him, surprised that he took this as good news. “Oh-uh, not… nice?” he took away the offer of a high-five and scratched the back of his head awkwardly instead, “Also, is that my shirt?” You took a look down at the Union Jack tank top you were wearing and back at Joe’s torso. Then something clicked in your head. “Ohh…” you continued staring at Joe’s chest, feeling yourself blush as old memories unraveled in your head, “I think... I think I remember something else that happened last night.” *** You were all drunk; it was no lie. After your quick jam session, there was a booze-filled music fest going on in the house. Joe had even put on his Union Jack outfit, pretending he was getting ready for a show. At one particular point of this “festival” you'd all created, records were being played, and you ended up dancing in front of Joe to REO Speedwagon’s “Take It On the Run”. “You’re bringing up your white lines, you’re pullin’ on a bedroom eyes, you say you’re going home, but I won’t say when,” you sang the wrong lyrics as you swayed and drunkingly made flirty faces at Joe on the couch. Sav, meanwhile, was playing with some old craft paint off in the corner. The blue and green substances were all over his hands (but somehow, one color managed to stay on each hand). “Yeah, you dance for him, Y/N!” Rick cheered you on from the kitchen as Steve and Phil sat on the couch. Phil was perfectly sober, and Steve was giggling and laying with his head on Phil’s lap. You, on the other hand, were now moving closer to the singer, almost like you were giving him a lap dance. “You take it on the run, baby,” you sang along, slowly taking Joe’s Union Jack tank top off of him (with no objections from below), “If that’s the way you wanna, baby...” In return to Joe being shirtless, you slowly took off your own shirt (triggering wolf-whistles and cheers from the guys) to replace it with Joe’s tank. “Sav, mark him up!” you ordered the painted bassist in the corner as you tried to dress yourself. He happily made his way over to you and questioned, “What should I mark him with?” A single hazy idea came to you, and you eagerly whispered it into Sav’s ear. He giggled in response, and proceeded to move over to Joe, drawing something on his chest in the paint. To keep Joe from looking at what it was, you went behind the chair and covered his eyes, ordering coyly, “No peeking!” “All done!” Sav announced and retreated back to whatever he was doing in the corner. “Now, wait, Sav!” you sped over to him, lifted his hands up, and double high-fived him, getting the paint on your hands as well. To finish off what Sav had started, you ran back over to Joe on the chair, and slapped your hands on his chest, right over his nipples. Laughter erupted from everyone in the room (including Joe) and you repeated Sav’s words. “All done!” Joe gazed down at the words “PROPERTY OF DEF LEPPARD” on his chest as you continued to dance to the song playing. “You’re mine, now! You take it on the run, baby... if that’s the way you want it, baby...” Joe tried to tell you in a sexy voice, “Am I your baby now?” “If that’s the way you want it baby,” you repeated the words from the song to him, “Now I’m done dancing for you! Somebody dance for me!” Steve began pointing at everyone individually, childishly suggesting, “It should be, eenie, meenie, miney, Phil!” “Why me?” Phil laughed in objection as you took a seat across the room. “Because you’re not wasted,” his terror twin argued, poking him on the nose. The sober guitarist looked over at you with happy anticipation, awaiting a comment, while all you did was wiggle your fingers at him with a goofy grin. After that, you returned the gesture to the man on his lap, giving Steve a sexy wink. *** “Oh my god...” you put your head in your hands shamefully as Phil and Joe giggled at the memory of the previous night, “I can’t believe I did all that...” “That was a treat!” Phil laughed, hugging you from the side and pulling you closer to him in consolation, “It was funny! We never get to see that side of you!” “There’s a certain reason why you don’t...” you moaned with embarrassment, then asked out of guilty curiosity, “How many times did I grab your ass during that lap dance...?" Phil thought for a bit before telling you, “Four. Well- four and a half...” You gave a loud groan of protest as Joe laughed and slumped back into the couch. “Oh, you only did those things because you weren’t thinking!” Phil consoled you, swayed back and forth with you in his arms. Joe chimed in, “Yeah, and see what happens when you don’t think? You do! Most importantly, you do Steve!” “I didn't do Steve!” you shot your head up and yelled at Joe. You received only laughs and snorts from both men in reply. Suddenly, Sav appeared on the staircase and began singing “Squeeze Box” by The Who with a tired yet cheeky smirk, “Mama’s got a squeeze box she wears on her chest, and when Stephen comes home, he never gets no rest-” Joe and Phil joined into his song with, “Cos' she’s playin’ all night, and the music’s alright! Mama’s got a squeeze box, Stephen never sleeps at night!” You just put your head back in your hands, trying not to accept your fate of being teased. You didn’t want to think that you possibly shagged Steve. He always seemed so innocent to you in a way, and you feared that this would kill your friendship. If everything the boys said was true, you would never hear the end of it, and you don’t even know what Steve would think of you from now on. Was it possible that he remembered anything about the night before? “It didn’t happen, it didn’t happen...” you repeated to yourself in a whisper as Phil unwrapped his arms from you. Sav came all the way down the stairs; his body language making him look grumpy with the world, but his tired grin signaling that he was pleased with seeing you. “Oh, it happened, sunshine!” the frizzy-haired bassist laughed, but quickly regretted it and rubbed his head with his still-painted hands, “Ah- yep, it happened. You could probably hear you two up the whole damn street.” As Sav wearily joined you all on the couch, Joe complained, “Sounds like that was a treat; I wish I remembered it!” Phil was caught off guard at the comment. His head turned to Joe in the blink of an eye and gasped, “Wait, you don’t remember hearing them?!” “I wish I could say I do, but there’s nothing there,” Joe stood up after he spoke, and quickly held onto the wall nearby. His hand went over his stomach as he whined, “Oh... fuck, Y/N, why did you make me race you last night?" “'Race me'?” you squinted as you inquired, “Race you with what?” Joe didn’t answer, but slowly took steps into the kitchen, using the wall as his guide. His answer came when you, Sav, and Phil all heard him throw up into the sink. You sighed, resting your hands over your eyes, trying to remember the cause of Joe’s sickness, “Oh no, was that really my idea?” *** “Look what I found!” you trotted into the room tipsily, holding two bottles; one of scotch, one of vodka, “Only half full! Who wants em?” While you weren’t full-on drunk, it was no secret that the title wasn’t that far away. After your little Ballroom Blitz, it was one beer after the next, then it was digging into the fancy liquors that Phil and Joe had just brought home. Your judgment was impaired, no doubt about it, and so was the judgment of all the guys. Joe even changed into his normal live-show-only Union Jack tank top, claiming that he was gonna "put on a show." The only one who was still sane and sober was Phil, who seemed to be staying away from your poison. Upon registering your sacred offer of alcohol, Rick ran forward, chanting, “Me! Me!” You lifted the bottles away from him, commanding, “Uh-uh! I get the scotch.” “Oh, bollocks, then you can keep the vodka,” the young drummer grumbled and turned away from you. Just as Rick rejected your offering, Joe sprung up and eagerly trotted over while shouting happily, “I’ll take it!” “Sold!” you handed the bottle over to him, “Betcha can’t finish before me!” “Betcha I can!” he sneered back before taking the cap off his bottle. There was no official “ready, set, go” for the race; you both just kind of went for it without any saying. While your throat and stomach were already protesting your actions (and you could almost sense that Joe’s were doing the same), you didn’t stop once; neither of you did. You held up your bottle and announced, “Done!” Looking over, you saw Joe was also finished. “I finished first!” “Nuh-uh!” you insisted, “It had to be me! Tell him, guys!” The four others hadn’t been paying attention to you and Joe’s little competition; they were instead focused on a box that Sav had pulled out from a cupboard. From the box they pulled out bottles of paint and various types of used makeup.

Joe scolded them all in a more sober manner, “Oh come on, you lot weren’t even watching!” “Yeah, yeah, it was probably a tie, anyways,” Rick chuckled, pulling out more items from the box. “This box is much more interesting, too," Phil protested, holding up a stick of lipstick as Sav held up two bottles of paint, "This is a box of makeup that I had for me and the lads in Girl! Just look at it all! Think we can have some fun with this?" "Oh, piss off," you threw the empty bottle onto the couch, "We need some music." Joe had slumped down onto a chair, and you stumbled your way over to the shelf with all the records on it, flipping through and eyeing them all as carefully as your body would let you. After only a few seconds of searching, your eyes lit up at a discovery. "Here's a good one!" you exclaimed as you pulled out a copy of Hi Infidelityby REO Speedwagon, "Let's give it a spin!" ***

Joe wandered back into the room and fell onto the empty couch with a grumble. “Sorry, Joe...” you muttered over to him, realizing that you pressured him into more consumption of the booze. “It was probably gonna happen anyway...” he admitted, wiping his hands over his face, “It’s was my stupid choice to go through with it.” “Woah,” Phil pointed out out of nowhere, looking at you with great surprise, “What’s that on your neck?” You felt your heart drop into your stomach. “What!?” you shot up from where you sat (bringing on more dizziness), and rushed over to a mirror. Once your dizziness subsided, and you could finally see your reflection, the pink shape of a hickey on the side of your neck was now clearly conspicuous. You wondered how you hadn't noticed it before. Joe exclaimed with a smug and proud grin, “Is that from Steve!?” You groaned angrily, feeling yourself become more and more defeated. “I can’t believe it,” you gasped, slapping a hand over the mark, “Something did happen between us-!” “Y/N,” Phil pointed out again, “There’s lipstick on your thigh...” Looking down at your legs, you saw that he was right. There was a single red symbol on your right thigh that marked a kiss from the night before. Upon seeing this, what you saw when you woke up popped into your head. “Looks like Steve went to town down there,” Sav smirked at you, only wanting to rub it in more. “Guys,” you softly noted, “That wasn’t Steve... he has lipstick marks all over his face from someone else...” The three men all exchanged confused looks with each other. There was a dead end to the story of the previous night. None of them knew how to solve the mystery of the lipstick. Not even Phil, who was as good as sober 12 hours ago, didn’t have any input. Sav suddenly blurted out, “Wait a minute, I know what happened- I think...” No one said anything, but eagerly leaned forward, ready to hear the tale the bassist had to tell. “You lot remember how we found that box of old makeup last night?” he began, “Well, I walked into the bathroom with you afterwards, Y/N...” *** Rick looked at himself in the mirror in the bathroom, carefully applying the makeup to his lips, and being extra careful to not get it on the blazer he was wearing. The drummer put on his best suit just to see how it would look with the makeup he was putting on. He thought he was doing a good job for the most part; he didn’t look half bad at all! It was far easier than he expected it to be, and wondered if he was good enough to help you with your makeup at times. Thinking of you seemed to have made you appear in the doorway next to him. Both of your hands were still covered in paint. “Sink,” was all you commanded of the drummer. He moved without a word and you began to wash your hands. At the same instant, Sav appeared nearby. He grabbed the doorframe and began to swing from it, leaving conspicuous handprints afterwards. “Aren’t you gonna wash up, too?” Rick crossed his arms to sass him. “Nah, I want the colors, they’re makin’ me feel- colorful...” Sav grinned, walking over to you at the sink, requesting, “C’mere.” You looked up, only to have your face taken in Sav’s paint-covered hands. He softly giggled as you squared your vision in on him with a sneer. “Rude,” you teased, then went back to washing your hands; paint now all over your face. “What’s really rude,” Rick pulled back the shower curtain and taking a step into the tub, “Is you two interrupting my makeup time! Good night!” He sat himself down in the tub and laid himself down as if he was going to sleep.

Before he had the chance to catch some shut-eye, you marched over to the tub and objected, “Rick, if you’re gonna sleep, I want a goodnight kiss first.” Without another word, Rick sat up and planted a kiss on your thigh (since it was closest to him). There was now a bright red imprint of his lips on your leg. “Thank you.” you smiled down at him, “Now goodnight.” “Don’t leave the water on, you hear?” Sav nagged him, pointing a colored finger, “You’ll drown." Rick chuckled with his eyes closed, “I’ll drink myself out. I'm in a drinkin mood, anyways." “Oh yeah? You haven’t got a straw or anything,” the intoxicated bassist continued to argue with him. “Then don’t let me drown! Get one!" “I’ll get you one later. I’ll just-“ Sav burped, and continued, “I’ll write a note or something.” “Sounds good, mate,” Rick slumped further into the tub and pulled the curtain closed, “Now you gonna stay here all night?” “Actually,” you noted out loud to yourself, different alcoholic emotions boiling up inside you, “I wanna go downstairs- I just need to see Steve- like right now...!" You turned on your heels, speeding past Sav and flying back down the stairs. *** “So that explains the paint on my face, and the paper in the hallway, and the lipstick, but what happened after that?” you asked Sav, as you were now slumped on top of Phil’s arm again. “Beats me,” Sav ran his still-painted hands through his hair, “That’s all I’ve got.” “But wait, if you said that Rick fell asleep in the bathtub...” Phil began his sentence, only for you and the other two men to exchange knowing looks with each other. All four of you immediately sprung up and rushed (as much as you could) up the stairs and into the bathroom. Upon getting there, Phil flung back the shower curtain to reveal a partially awake Rick, dressed in a suit, and still wearing the lipstick from the night before. “Mornin’,” he groaned as he stretched, then winced, “Ah, fuck- sleeping in here wasn’t the best idea for me neck.” Sav looked back at the paint on the doorframe and asked the drummer, “So then why did you sleep in here?” “Oh,” Rick looked around the tub, stating as-a-matter-of-factly, “The porcelain keeps the suit from wrinkling. I guess drunk me was very careful last night.” “I’ll say,” Joe complemented, “The lipstick’s still holding up pretty well.” Phil halted the conversation, “Wait, so you were in here when I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night?” Rick chuckled, “Yeah, and let me tell you, for a smaller guy, you’ve got a big bladder.” “Wait,” you slowly turned and pointed at Joe, “I thought you said you slept in the bathtub-?” He gave you a cocky smirk in return, “I told you, ‘definitely not the bathtub’...” Rick sleepily laughed and pointed at you, “Ha- Y/N, you look like Joe!” “Why, just because of the shirt?” you inquired, pointing at Joe’s tank top on you. “And the paint!” Rick corrected you, “I can’t believe you guys didn’t wash it off yet!” In a second, you felt a rush of worry upon realizing that Rick hadn’t said anything about you and Steve yet. It made you suddenly come to the possible conclusion that he may not know about it all. “Wait,” Phil snapped his fingers, “So you do remember some stuff from last night?” “Yeah, a bit, I think. Why?” “Philip Kenneth Collen, don’t you fucking dare....” you growled at him in an almost pleading manner, rubbing your temples and grinding your teeth. “What do you remember?” Phil asked him, not giving any sort of reaction to your begging. Rick thought for a few seconds, clearly as hungover as the rest of you. It didn’t take him long to list off some brief happenings he recalled. “Well, I remember us singing Sweet, there was a lap dance, I remember- uh, being denied a bottle of scotch, there was, uh... there was lipstick... and did I try to ice-skate on pieces of cardboard down the hall...?” “Is that why there’s cardboard all down the hallway?” you motioned towards the door. Rick gave you a big proud smile and a nod in response. “So...” Joe looked around, definitely looking eager, “What’s the last thing you remember before falling asleep?” Rick rested his head back on the tub again, thinking as hard as his hungover mind would let him. You hoped to every god there was that he didn’t say anything about Steve. “Just Phil comin’ in here and having a long piss, that’s all.” came the verdict. “You sure you didn’t hear-“ Phil anxiously began to ask him, but got a hand slapped over his mouth by you. “No!” you yelled on impulse, sending more daggers through your burned-out head. All eyes were now on you, and silence fell. For a few tense seconds, you stared into Phil’s eyes, sending him visual messages of both threats and desperate requests. “...what the hell happened last night?” Rick broke the silence in a tone of utter confusion, knowing that something more serious than what he remembered had taken place. You pulled your hand back from Phil’s face, “Yuck, Phil, come on!” “You licked her hand, didn’t you?” asked Sav. “Yes,” Phil confirmed, and continued without missing a beat, “And I’m glad you asked that, Rick, cos' I know what happened after Y/N and Sav paid you a visit last night.” “Phil, if you love me in any way, shape, or form, you will not tell Rick what happened,” you begged to him as you began to walk out the bathroom door, heading back downstairs to wallow in more of your shameful hangover, “I refuse to believe it happened until there’s hard proof.” “Well what more proof do you want? A positive pregnancy test?” Phil shrugged, but suddenly slapped his own hand over his mouth, realizing what he’d just said. You shot him an angry look. You were too tired to have it out with him, so you stumbled away. Right about now, you were ready to give up and accept the fact that you probably did shag Steve. Phil turned to Rick, gaping, and slowly began to speak again, "Right... so last night, after those two were in here, I think that’s when they came back downstairs..." *** "So why are you tying up my hair again?" a drunk Steve asked Phil, who was happily putting his hair into pigtails. "Because I knew you’d look pretty, and I knew you wouldn't object, either," the other guitarist laughed evilly as he finished tying the second bundle of golden locks together, "There, you're all done now." "Cool... I think," Steve tilted his head, staring at himself in the mirror on the wall as footsteps began pounding their way down the stairs. "I think you look pretty, Steve. Pretty, pretty, pretty," Joe giggled as he was flipped off by the pig-tailed guitarist. As this happened, you trampled the stairs in your descent, calling out, “Steve- Steve! Come here!” More than happy to be ripped away from Phil’s pigtailed plans, he let you run up to him as you belted out, “I’ve got an idea...!” He didn’t say anything, but he did let you whisper something in his ear. The second he heard your idea, his eyes lit up and an evil smirk crossed his face. Steve was always in the mood for causing terror. You pulled back and exchanged the same look of understanding with the guitarist. He stared at you with a sort of appreciation, and without another word, swept you off your feet, carrying you bridal style now. With a quick smooch to your lips, he began carrying you up the stairs as you giggled with some sort of glee. Phil’s jaw dropped, looking at Joe with astonishment in the process. The singer’s face mirrored the exact same expression. “I should’ve bloody known...” Phil gasped in astonishment, “She’s been eyeing him up real funny all night... I can’t fucking believe it!” Sav came down the stairs slowly, his life depending on the railing as he dragged his hand on it. He left a long streak of blue paint as he did so. “What’s gotten into their pants?” “Each other, apparently,” Joe scoffed, taking a sip of a beer he found, “Lord knows how the hell that happened.” *** You were all sitting back on the couches in the living room, all seemingly regretting the night before (you knew you most certainly were). Everyone knew that the end of Phil’s story was the true ending of the night. Now there was really a dead end to the whole tale. “I can’t believe it,” you whispered with sorrowful acceptance, “Me and Steve...? What happened next?” Joe scoffed, “Well that’s kind of a stupid question.” “That’s where it ends, Y/N. I went up to bed afterwards, only to hear-“ Phil cleared his throat to impersonate you and Steve, “‘Oh, Steve! Yes!’ coming from my room! So after an immense helping of disapproval, I slept in Rick’s room.” “No, no, that can’t be it!” you insisted, “Guys, what really happened next?” “Can’t say,” Joe mumbled, holding his head. “Sorry, mate,” Rick apologized. Sav remained silent, but looked apologetic. “That can’t be where it ends...!” you persisted, “Sav? Tell me I’m right!” Sav rolled in his lips, and darted his eyes away from you. You continued to stare at him suspiciously, but no one else thought anything of it. Phil tried to finalize your fate sympathetically, “Give it up, Y/N, at least it’s all over now.” “But it still happened! What am I gonna say to Steve when he wakes up? You know what- no. It didn’t happen, I refuse to believe that it did.” “How much more proof do you want?” Rick shrugged, pointing at Phil and Sav, trying to make you face the terrible truth, “They both heard ya, and Steve even gave you a hickey.” You hung your head, thinking you might just decide to cry out of shame. Yes, you loved Steve, just as you loved anyone else in the band, but you never had (or planned to have) any sort of sexual relationship with them. Even if you ever did, you were afraid it would ruin everything your friendship had stood for. “Sav, what’s wrong, mate?” Joe asked out of the blue. The bassist in question was still avoiding the conversation, staying eerily silent and weaving his hands together. At this point, you noticed that he was also blushing. “That wasn’t Steve.” he stated bluntly, still not looking at you. “What wasn’t Steve?” you asked as you stared at him dead on, your heart now pounding. “That hickey... that wasn’t Steve,” he paused, “That was me.” Immediately you gasped and slapped a hand over the mark on your neck. “What?!” the other three exclaimed. Joe and Rick immediately hissed at the searing pain their outbursts caused. “Sav, what the hell?!” you scolded him, finally happy that you weren’t the only one being called out for their mistakes. “Now before you say anything else,” he finally looked at you and held up a hand, “It was your idea.” Your face fell, softly asking him, “What do you mean?” “Well, after you and Steve-you know- and only Joe and I were downstairs, you actually came back down, too- wipe that smug look off your face, Joe. You’re not entirely innocent here, either.” *** You stumbled down the stairs, giggling to yourself. Your mission was now accomplished, and Steve was asleep upstairs. In a word, you were pleased. In two words, you were still drunk. Records were still being played when you returned to the living room, and Joe currently had his copy of Sheer Heart Attack on the turntable. “She Makes Me (Stormtrooper In Stilettos)”flowed softly from its speakers. “There’s our killer queen!” Joe cooed to you happily. He was now sprawled out on the couch, two empty beer bottles on the floor beside him. Sav wasn’t too far off. The paints on his hands were now dry, and he was reclined in a chair across the room, twiddling a bottle in his hand. They both looked ready for bed, and it made you wonder how they held out for this long. The singer slurred on with an interested smirk, “You two have fun?" Sav spoke up with a scoff-like laugh, “Sure sounded like it!" “Oh, you know it,” you gave them a wink, setting yourself down on the couch next to Joe, “Guess Phil finally ditched, huh?” “Yeah, the wanker went to bed- but you’ve lost your pants!” he gestured to your black underwear, made room for you to lay down with him, and took you in his arms like a teddy bear with a sigh of appeasement. You reached back and playfully poked at Joe’s dimple, “Steve's fault." “Well, that’s no good,” Sav objected, pushing the footrest of the chair in and returning to a sitting position. “What isn’t?” Joe asked him, "Steve gettin' into it with her?" “No, that cuddlin' you're doing- it’s boring. You stay like that, you’ll fall asleep on me!” He was certainly right about this. With you in Joe’s arms and his face nuzzling into your hair like some sort of animal, he was already falling asleep. “What do you want us to do?” you chuckled, thinking that Sav was only jealous of his friend. Joe mumbled happily into your hair, “How 'bout you just do me like Steve, and we’ll be good.” At this point, you noticed the feeling of something pressing lightly against the bottom of your back; a certain weight where Joe’s hips were, and a weight that wasn’t there at first. “Joe,” you whined at him, “You’re fucking gross.” He chuckled, then slowly moved his hips to lightly rub himself against you, a low quiet moan rising in his throat from the temporary pleasure it provided. “Ah- Joe!” you protested again, reaching back and hitting him as best as you could. You wiggled out of his embrace as he burst into giggles like he had just accomplished something. Sav, on the other hand, cringed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re even hornier than when you’re sober!” you grabbed a pillow and whacked Joe with it. “You’re one to talk! You just shagged Steve!” he smirked evilly, "Why not me?" “Ha! The only way I’ll do you is by some miracle, or at least a dare,” you threw yourself onto the other couch, picking up a nearly empty beer bottle and pouring whatever was left into your mouth. Sav’s eyes finally lit up, “That’s what we oughta do- truth or dare!” “Ooh, sounds like terrible fun,” you turned yourself so you were sitting upside-down on the couch, “Sav, truth or dare?” “How come he gets to go first?” asked Joe, “I wanna get down to business!” “Dare,” Sav declared, ignoring the singer’s objections. Immediately, your intoxicated mind thought of a scheme. Despite the plan you and Steve had executed ever so perfectly, you were still a child seeking more terror. You knew Joe wanted you, and it was no secret either, so how exactly would you use Sav to reign terror over him? You wanted something to rub in Joe’s face- something that would leave a mark on him. “I dare you to-" you clumsily pointed to your neck, "Gimme a hickey.” Joe's jaw dropped with offense and jealousy; exactly as you had expected. Sav began to laugh rather loudly at the request, and stood up, now understanding your true intention of making Joe jealous. “C’mere,” he motioned with his hand. More than happy to obey the command, you strutted over to him and paused, waiting for him to make the first move. He took a step so your bodies were practically pressing together, moved your hair out of the way on your neck, and dove right in. You smiled with glee, taking in the feeling of Sav’s mouth and tongue moving over your skin (as well as Joe’s groans of protest coming from a few feet away). As the bassist sucked on your neck without hesitation, it only made you think of one thing: “Wow, there’s definitely gonna be a mark after this.” *** Rick and Phil were staring at Sav with their mouths open in shock. You kept a hand over the mark he left on your neck to prevent everyone from looking any more than they already had. “So, wait, if it was you who gave me this, why didn’t you say anything before when we said it was Steve?” you asked Sav, more suspicious than outraged now. “I- ah, didn’t... wanna say anything...” he looked away, beginning to blush again, “I guess I was too embarrassed." “I think the only person who should be embarrassed is you, Joe,” Rick turned his attention back to the singer, “You fuckin dry humped her!” Joe exclaimed in his own defense, “Yeah, and I don’t even remember it! It’s not my fault- I was drunk and horny!” “See! Just like me and Steve! I don’t remember shagging him, either! So I guess we’re even.” “Even Stephen,” Phil scoffed. You slumped into the couch more, staring blankly ahead and realizing, “So I pretty much got to second base with all of you last night...?” “I think you made it all the way home with Steve,” Rick pointed out. “Thanks, Rick,” you kept your head hung, “I feel like a slut.” “You mean you’re not?” Phil joked, only to be hit in the arm by Sav.

Just then, you all heard the sound of movement upstairs. Your heart stopped and your blood ran cold; Steve was awake now. Everyone's jaws hit the floor, and for a second, you thought they were all afraid of what you were fearing. "He's awake..." Rick announced in a sing-song voice, teasing you. “Oh no...” you gasped quietly, “Oh no, oh no! Oh god, what am I gonna do? What am I gonna say to him?!” “Hate to break it to ya, but this isn’t necessarily our problem!” Joe shrugged in a panic, hearing Steve’s footsteps get closer. “But guys! You’ve gotta help me! You’re his best friends! What should I say to him?!” “Just act like it didn’t happen! Maybe he doesn’t remember-?” Sav proposed. Rick suggested, “Just straight up ask him if he remembers anything!” “Just get out of here!” Phil made a swatting motion towards the other room. “None of those are gonna do me any good! It still happened!” you yelled at them in a whisper, “I have to live that with that fact, even if neither of us have any memory of it to live with!” It was too late for any salvation; Steve was already at the top of the stairs. The band members held their breath, and- without words or warning- all scrambled out of the living room. “No!” you whispered, “Guys- wait!” You caught Rick by the wrist when he stood up. “Rick, c’mon, please don’t leave me here!” you begged. He yanked out of your grip and apologetically condemned you, “Sorry, Y/N, but this is your business.” As the four of them retreated, you tried to bolt after them. As soon as you hit the doorway, however, Phil turned around and pushed you back on the couch nearby as slowly as he could. It was so sudden that you were on your back before you knew it, and they were all gone. “Hey!” you called out after them, “Assholes!” Steve’s voice suddenly came to your ears (rather closely, too), “What’s their problem?” You jumped, “Ah- Steve!” He had a silent step, and made it down the stairs and across the room without making a sound. He also looked just as he did a little while ago when you first woke up; scraggly hair, lipstick stains all over his face, but no visible evidence of a hangover. “Hey, wow,” you forced an awkward chuckle at him, “Nice- uh, nice- lipstick...” Steve slumped down onto a chair and grumbled, “Thanks. Who even did this to me? Doesn’t look like it was you.” “That was, that was Rick- I’m assuming... I don’t remember that happening and I don’t think he does, either. He’s still got the lipstick on, too.” He played off the remark with a tired smile, “Oh, nice... last night really was something, wasn’t it?” Heat rushed to your face, and you tried to look away without being conspicuous. “Ha ha... yeah... really something!” you faked your amusement for him, now wondering if he was implying anything about the previous night. Steve leaned forward and asked, “Do you remember Sav and the paint? That was pretty funny, wasn’t it?” Still blushing, you darted your eyes around the room and nodded in agreement, “Mm hmm, yeah... he was like a toddler or something.” He sunk back into the chair again and closed his eyes, reminiscing about the events of the previous night. For a second you thought you were in the clear, and that maybe he didn’t remember the specific event that Phil and Sav did.

That illusion was shattered when his eyes snapped open, whispering “Wait a minute”, and sitting back up. Immediately, your heart dropped into your stomach.

“How did our plan go?” he questioned quietly, figuring that the others were still somewhere nearby and listening. “P-plan?” you stuttered, partially afraid of what he meant, but partially caught off guard, “What plan?” “You know-” he whispered again, thinking you remembered, “It was your idea. Did they believe it? We were convincing enough?" You darted your eyes down to the floor, confused, but also embarrassed. 'Convincing'? What did that mean? "Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t remember!” he smiled playfully. As you stared at him with fearful confusion in your eyes and redness on your cheeks, his smile was suddenly wiped away. He muttered under his breath as his face fell, "Oh... you don't remember... bloody hell, okay, this is gonna be hard to explain..." "Then explain it, because I'm really fucking confused..." your voice wavered with a sarcastic chuckle. Steve sighed and leaned forward, slowly weaving his hands together. He didn't know where to begin. "This is one of the few things I remember from last night..." he started off, "And there's no way to make this sound... good... in any way, but you came up with the idea of us pretending to shag- like making noises and shit like that- to trick the others into thinking we really did. For some reason I thought it was a great idea, and I'm pretty sure I carried you upstairs, too.” Instantly, a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. It wasn't real; you didn't shag Steve, and he could even tell the guys himself! You blew out a big sigh of relief, and slumped back into the couch, closing your eyes. "Oh, god," you slowly panted, "What a huge relief- I suppose we were really convincing, then." "Why d'you say that?" You laughed tiredly, now feeling rather thankful for your raging hangover, "The guys are all convinced that we fucked last night. Only Phil and Sav seem to remember it, though. They've been hounding me about it all morning. I kept telling them it couldn't be true- and I was right!" "What, would it be so bad if we actually did?" he teased you in a hushed voice. "Well, I've had to live my day so far under the impression it did happen. I was teased, ridiculed, embarrassed, and felt guilty about it. I was afraid it'd ruin our friendship if it was true... I was kinda hoping you didn't remember so we could just forget..." The red in your face returned all over again. Steve, however, didn't seem bothered. "If you really want to, we can keep pretending it happened and steer into the act; give em' what they want." "What? No!" you laughed out loud, standing up, "You're crazy, Clark! I think I better go tell the others the bad news. They'll be disappointed-ha!" You walked across the room to go find the others and disclose unto them the "bad news", giving Steve a pat on the shoulder when you passed him. Once you were gone and out of sight, Steve also blew out a big sigh of relief. "She didn't remember anything," he thought to himself, "That was a close one." While he knew you two didn't go all the way the previous night, he figured if you didn't remember it, then it was for the best you didn't find out. It was nothing serious; just a bit of fooling around, really. Just a bit of drunked-up teasing, and nothing more. The guys had no proof that anything actually happened between you two, and you were about to tell them the partial truth anyway, so why say something to reignite the suspicion? After all, they were all hungover to begin with, so there wasn't much memory of the whole affair, either. "Thank god for these hangovers,"Steve thought, "Thank god. I couldnt've asked for anything more." ~Epilogue~ When you got to the top of the stairs, Steve put you on your feet and spun you around. "You ready?" he whispered, childish excitement in his voice. You nodded with equal excitement, "Take me away, Clark." The two of you began eagerly walking hand-in-hand to whatever room you pleased, but before either of you had the chance to pick one, the bathroom door opened, Rick popped his head out and commanded, "Stop right there!" Both you and Steve froze and looked at him. He still had his lipstick and his suit on, and a kind of serious look overtaking his face. A finger was kept in a pointing position at you, a few large pieces of cardboard were underneath his other arm, and he slowly took steps down the hall to meet you. Neither of you moved, but both of you waited. When Rick got to you, he didn't say a word, but did take Steve's face in his hands (dropping the cardboard in the process), and proceeded to the kiss the man all over his face.

Steve remained silent, and let Rick have his way until he decided to stop. When he did, there were several lipstick stains on various parts of the blonde's face.

"Thanks, mate," Steve muttered sarcastically as Rick kicked some of the cardboard pieces in different directions. He then stepped on two of them, trying to slide down the hall on them as if they were ice skates. When he got back to the bathroom, he went back inside and shut the door again.

Without another word, you turned Steve's face toward you, gave him a peck on the cheek as Rick had done, and kicked open the door behind you (which just so happened to be Phil's bedroom). You both fell back into the room, giggling with makeshift lust in your eyes.

After all, you had to make this authentic, right?

[atxlxs]

Beyond The Veil: Chapter 5

The assessment test was pretty consistent.

Those that had the quirks suited for it at first glance had dominated while the rest all seemed to get variations of the same base score. Some slightly better, some slightly worse. This made it pretty easy for Muska to just, consistently get good scores.

When your quirk, *cough* and other things *cough*, essentially affects anything and everything as long as the energy itself isn’t being used by something else it becomes easy to just enhance everything.

Ball throw? More like sniper propulsion. Long jump? Ha, more like flying to the opposite side. Grip strength? She doesn’t even need to touch it. Just contract the energy surrounding the mechanism. Flexibility? She used to do ballet, like, a century ago but muscle memory counts.

She had some tests she couldn’t do well, like the endurance test. She was here to train her quirk after all. Plus the longer the tests went on the harder it was to continue. If she continued at the level she was doing, she’d have one hell of a headache. It was starting to hurt as well. Every time she tried to go over her limits, using the energy actually hurt so she’d rather avoid that.

By the end of it all, Muska had placed a solid 3rd place. Beating out Robocop and PomPom (Bakugo), looking down the list with curiosity, Muska cringed at Midoriya taking last place. The kid definitely couldn’t regulate the energy belonging to his quirk, which felt really weird whenever Muska looked into it, and had broken his finger on the ball throw. However, what she didn’t expect was the feeling of mirth coming off of Aizawa.

Wait a damn minute.

The fucker wouldn’t.

“It was a logical ruse to make you all perform at your best capabilities.”

The fucker did.

Now, even as the class started shouting once more that evening, Muska was highly focused on the man in front of her. That was a lie. He lied about it being a ruse. The energy had fluctuated just slightly when he said ruse, going from mirth to a hazy feeling. The indescribable experience one goes through when they white lie or bluff.

He was going to expel the person who came in last. Something changed that though. What the fu- Oh. Ooooh.

“...If you won’t take this seriously as the hero in training students you are…”

The bastard was judging our potential and disguised it as an assessment!

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Rat-man hadn’t given Muska a map, either expecting her to ask someone to help or look at the map and guess. She would do neither. Asking for help would warn them beforehand and she might be waved off considering it was a staff meeting. Secondly, she just doesn’t want to.

Instead of her quirk, Muska closed her eyes and felt around the harmony. Surprisingly, the school was ‘clean’ for the most part. A few dark patches here and there but nothing horrendous. That was when she noticed it. A room towards the top of the fourth tower, left side in the back away from the gate, was filled with several aged energies. One of which seemed to be escaping slowly towards something else. That was weird, but definitely where she needed to be.

It took 10 minutes of dedication to get to the tower needed, and 10 more to not stab the principal on sight after she got up the stairs and walked over to a steel door that had a key code. Disregarding the key code box since she definitely didn’t know said code, she decided that knocking in the tune to “Crab Rave” was a good alternative.

The door opened before the first verse was done to a very confused woman in spandex. Giving her a smile, it definitely had an annoyed flair to it since she could be at home and forcing Eras to be cooking right now, Muska slipped past her and into the meeting room. The Rat-man stood on the large table, surrounded by pro hero’s (based on the flashy getups…. Is that a horse gas mask?) and seemed to be in the middle of something. A beat of silence followed as Muska walked over to an empty chair near the front, it looked to be Nedzu’s but the short rat-man didn’t need it, and sat down. Pulling out her phone and starting to scroll through Tiktok. It was an old app but it stayed strong through the years and was still running.

“Uh, whatsa youngin like ya doin here?” Horse gas mask man asked. The heroes all subtly nodded along, too shocked by her nonchalant actions about crashing a very obvious faculty meeting.

Muska’a face twisted into a small frown as she turned her attention up to see the man. Aizawa, who she just now noticed was sitting at the back corner of the table, was just glaring down at Nedzu. Smart move and he was right.

“First of all, don’t call me youngin, I can guarantee I'm older than you. Second of all, ask Remy the rat here for that info.” Muska stated, about to return to her phone before perking up again and continued, “Also rat-man, if you want answered questions they better be done before 5, I have pasta being cooked by a glorified 5 star chef waiting at home.”

Several heroes choked, Aizawa hid a snort into his scarf, at her words. Nedzu, the fiend, just smiled wider.

“Of course!” The chimera chirped.

Yes chirped, maybe he had some bird DNA mixed in?

“I wouldn’t want to keep you too long! Faculty, this is Viridis Muska, Viridis, these are the pro heroes on staff that I trust to keep their mouths shut under oath of an NDA! Your guardian was kind enough to email it over to me this afternoon.”

Muska snorted at that. “Yea sounds like her.” Placing her phone face up on the table next to her, she tapped on the table expectantly as the Rat took his sign to continue.

“The most obvious question should probably be first and I know my dear staff are confused, what did you mean by you being older?”

It was an innocent question, she’ll answer it.

“Why Remy, that's cause unless Humanity has managed to surpass their expected due date of at max 120 years, then I am very much so older.”

The room was filled with confusion. It radiated off them in waves as distress rose at getting such vague answers. Aizawa in the corner sighed and snapped his gaze from the rat to her.

“I’m sure what the rat meant to ask was how old are you exactly and how did you reach that age.” Aizawa stated. Clear and concise.

“Of course, if I remember correctly I should be turning 267 this year,” she said, not pausing even when coffee was spat all over the table from a few of the people around the room, “and I was born a human, however upon entry into the veil and my chosen profession as a witch, I was changed. Reaching the height of my craft has allowed me to unlock certain aspects of my being, immortalizing my body for now. I’m still technically in my ‘teen’ years considering the average witch you’ll meet has passed a thousand years in some capacity.”

Aizawa ran a hand down his face in exasperation and a quiet mumble of “fucking problem ch- witch” escaped. A few other heroes were pale, and the spandex woman looked very intrigued. A twink with blond hair that had the weird energy actually coughed up blood. Muska’s gaze snapped to him at that. The need to heal over writing her focus for a moment before Nedzu cleared his throat for attention again.

Reluctantly she returned her gaze to the rat. If she didn’t know any better she would have thought he was undisturbed. She did, however, know better. The rat was practically vibrating where he stood in excitement.

“Viridis, do you think you could give us a basic rundown of the veil?” Nedzu quizzed, looking more and more like the sadistic researcher he was. Fuck, He's just like the elves.

Muska leaned back and sighed. She expected this and went over it with eras last night. They came up with what could, or couldn’t be talked about for the beginning until they were all deemed trustworthy.

“I can give you a short, very short compared to all the details of the veil, summary but frankly the veil doesn’t want certain info getting into certain hands.” She said, voice cold and steely. She would not be taking a no for this.

“I understand! Anything you can trust us with for now would help the mystery that has been plaguing me for years.” Nedzu said, which caused Muska to cackle a bit.

“I know, the… reps of certain races and collectives have placed bets on when and who would slip and give you the info at some point.” watching with amusement as Nedzu’s whiskers twitched, she sighed and leaned forwards. Pointing a finger at the white board behind her.

Nedzu, who of course understood exactly what that meant, nodded.

Muska stood up and grabbed three markers. One black, one green, and one red. Taking the black marker, she drew a large circle and wrote ‘The Veil’ above it. Uncapping the green marker, Muska spoke up as she marked off sections in the circle with black and labeled them in green.

“In the veil there are set collections and races. I, as a witch, belong to the group called Magia.” Magia was written in a section taking up a 5th of the circle, “It's a collective that represents those who follow magically tied professions, no matter the race you are, since once you become a part of what defines the Magia you are assigned this section. Of course like nations there is also dual representation. However, that's more complicated and this is the short version.”

A quick glance told Muska that everyone in the room was listening with rapt attention. Especially Aizawa and Nedzu, one more concealed than the other.

“Next is the elvish. Yes, elves, and yes, they are very pretentious. The younger ones are more lax and ready for mischief, but the elders tend to be stuck in their ways or research. God the research they do. They’re called the scholars of the abyss. Do you need to know something? Ask an elf. They write and read practically everything there is to write and read.” Another section gets cut off and labeled.

“Then there's the dwarves, oh and I’m listing these in population order as is the sectioning. The more people the bigger the section and so on. I’ll get to influence later. Back to dwarves. They aren’t all blacksmiths as myth leads you to believe but they do make the best weaponry and armor. You can find quite a few in engineering professions. A lot find jobs in mixology and brewing as well.” Another section. So far all are labeled with green.

“Next is the Vampires. These guys are incredibly important in the veil since they were the first members of it. Treated the closest to monsters, they had to run away from society's view earlier than loved races like elves and dwarves. Hell, even witches had some supporters when Halloween started to become a festive rather than a lore holiday. If you want to truly know about the veil? Then ask a vampire. They have every secret tucked away and safe guarded by their Origins.” Muska said, a small mischievous smirk was hidden as they faced the board. The energy shift in Nedzu told her the first time he met Eras would be cathartic considering it's her quirk registry game that led her here.

“Next is a much smaller group called the Fae. They are everything you’ve read and more. Do not engage with them until you’ve gone through Celtic mythology. You’ll become moss like that. I fuckin hate the imps sometimes.”

“In a more general group are the smallest numbers. Collectively known as the ‘inbetween’ these members range from the sirens in the waters to the spirits that haunt the earth and fuel the energy. Demons fall under here too but they rarely visit earth and always do so under contract so they don’t have much of a voice. Dragon descendants too, the last of the actual dragons died thousands of years ago but their blood lines are in half dragons. They have wings on some, horns and scales on others, but all carry the boiling blood of their predecessors.”

Muska took a deep breath after labeling one of the last spaces with green. Capping it, she uncapped the red and wrote a bold ‘FORGOTTEN’ in the smallest space. Turning around she dropped all smiles and pleasantries. Voice harsh and cold as she spoke venom with every word.

“Never, ever, look for those in the forgotten. They do not have representation but they are known and branded. A red circle with a line in the middle along with text that only certain people can read is their symbol and it's burned into their skin. The forgotten are the, essentially, criminals of the veil. The veil is filled with people of dubious legalities to humans but there is a special place to rot for those that cross veil taboos. Whether it’s a necromancer practicing on those that are alive, or a vampire who has gone blood crazy and slipped into the view of humans as food. Elves committing experimentation on live creatures for research or sirens drowning sailors into the ocean out of amusement. These are all examples of forgottens who get branded soon after they are recognized.”

The air seemed stale as Muska ran her glare over the heroes present. Even Nedzu shuddered as the energy in the room seemed to freeze and burn those that took too deep of a breath despite not actually happening.

The heroes nodded once they realized she was looking for a response and her gaze softened but still held a serious edge to it.

“The brands are placed by chosen representatives of the race where the forgotten came from. The representative is chosen by a council meeting between the heads of each race, the heads themselves are chosen by vote or position within the race and the job is carried out within 24 hours of discovery.”

Speaking of the representatives of races,

“Any questions before I head home for my fuckin pasta?”

(She just really wants her pasta)

Tags:

@baguettehead

[dbzebra]

A Son Family Christmas

A/N: Ok so this was originally a secret santa present from years ago, that I recently rediscovered and made some new additions and cleaned up some things. As usual this takes place in the End of Z era, this time 9 years after Majin Buu. And lots of cute family+ship fluff. might need to go to the dentist afterwards lmao

Words: 3721 (i got carried away lol)

Pairings: little bits of Gochi, HanVi, MarTen and K18. 

Mostly a Pan focused fic though! 

enjoy :)

Christmas Eve; Age 783. 

A blizzard howled and whistled from outside, covering the grassy mountain in a sparkling sheet of white snow. 

Mt. Paozu was pitch-dark, except for the lights that came from a small cottage deep in the woods. 

This was the home of Earth’s greatest hero.

The Son family decided to throw a Christmas party for themselves at their little mountain cottage. Goku invited Krillin and his family as well. The former monk was already pretty much family to Goku anyway, only more so when Goku and Krillin’s kids started dating each other the previous year. 

It was the day everyone was looking forward to, but nobody was more excited than Son Pan. 

Pan was three years old now, and could finally understand the concept of the holiday, as well as the magic and excitement behind waking up the next morning to find presents underneath the Christmas tree.

The toddler stared around at her grandparents’ fully decorated house in wide-eyed wonder. Garland wrapped around the railings and banisters; little models of Santa and reindeer on the countertops, a wreath on their front door, and so much more. Chi-Chi always loved going all out, it was her favorite holiday. 

But what really had young Pan’s attention was the big, beautiful Christmas tree sitting in the foyer, filling the house with the strong but familiar scent of the forest.  It dwarfed little Pan by several feet, but she wasn’t scared.  She loved it.  Lush green branches were adorned with ornaments of all shapes and colors. Rainbow lights twinkled in mesmerizing fashion. High above her head, at the very top of the tree, sat a big, shining golden star -- a decoration she got to add herself.

Every year, the Son family had a tradition to go out on Mt. Paozu and cut down the perfect tree. Goku knew the best spots. He always did -- even as far back as before Gohan was born. But nowadays they had to find two trees. One for Goku and Chi-Chi’s house, and the other for Gohan and Videl’s next door. 

Pan sighed. She just wanted it to be bedtime so it could be tomorrow! She wanted presents! Every minute felt like an hour to her. The little girl tiptoed around, looking for any hidden presents but found no luck. She frowned. How was she even sure Santa would really come?! She had to keep her mind off that tree and the eventual presents somehow or she’d go crazy! 

The three-year-old trotted into the kitchen to see what everyone else was up to. 

The adults were all hard at work preparing the feast. Chi-Chi, Videl, 18, and Gohan busied back and forth to create the feast. Krillin and Goku did what they could, but usually ended up making things worse so they were ordered to stay put at the dining room table. If Goku was out in the wilderness, he could cook meat or fish just fine. But using a stove and all those utensils just wasn’t his thing. 

Goku spotted his granddaughter looking around and called her over. “Pssst… Panny…”

The toddler tilted her head curiously to the side and went over to him, smiling as wide as could be. “Hi, Grandpa!” 

Goku flashed one of his signature grins in response. He then put a finger to his mouth, still smiling, signaling the little one to be quiet. Pan covered her mouth to stop from giggling. Secrets were fun!

Pan blinked as Goku momentarily glanced to his wife to see if she was watching. Luckily, she was too preoccupied. When the coast was clear, he reached into his pockets. 

“I got somethin’ for ya.”

Pan’s eyes sparkled with wonder. “What?”

 “Don’t tell Grandma, okay? It’s a secret…” Goku grinned mischievously as he pulled out a small bag of cookies. He had stolen a few when Chi-Chi wasn’t looking; the wait for the food combined with how good everything smelled was too much for him. Krillin just shook his head with a smile.

She happily took them from her grandpa and stuffed them all in her mouth in one bite. With her full cheeks puffed out, she grinned back at her grandpa and Goku returned it.

The toddler hugged Goku and smiled before trotting over the counter where Chi-Chi was cutting food and occasionally stirring something in a pot. Pan tugged on her dress lightly, peering up at her. “Grandma?”

“Yes sweetie?” Chi-Chi cooed, stopping what she was doing to face her darling granddaughter.

“Can I helps you?”

Gohan ruffled his daughter’s hair as he helped make a dish. “Pan, don’t bother Grandma when she’s cooking; we’re all working really hard on this meal for everyone. Why don’t you see what Marron and Uncle Goten are doing?” He felt bad, and spoke calmly to not upset his young daughter, but he knew more than anyone that Goten was better equipped to preoccupy her right now.

Pan pouted. “Fine.”

“Oh hush, Gohan. Everything’s on schedule,” Chi-ChI replied, making her granddaughter smile again. “And of course you can help, Panny. You can help stir for me!”

Pan floated up and gently stirred the hotpot, happily singing ‘la la la’ like she had heard her grandmother do in the past. “How long does this take? All the food is in this big bucket?” As it turned out, this wasn’t nearly as fun as she thought. 

“Should be all done in about thirty minutes.” Chi-Chi said, gently patting her head.

Pan’s mouth went into a small ‘o’ shape, trying to count how long that was on her fingers. It took her a bit to get to thirty “That takes too long. This is boring!” Pan replied.

Goku and Krillin tried not to laugh as she floated back down to the wooden floor. Their wives shot them a quick look and they both turned away, innocently whistling like they didn’t make a sound. Two peas in a pod, those two. 18 and Chi-Chi just giggled to themselves. 

Pan shrugged her shoulders, scurrying back to the living room to see if she could find her uncle. Goten always had the best video games to play! 

“Uncle Goten!! Where are ya!!?” Pan called out to him. 

No answer. Pan frowned. “Is he hidin’ from me?” She noticed the television was still on, and his phone sat on the couch. But no Uncle Goten. But then, she caught something out of the corner of her eye from the other side of the Christmas tree. 

Pan tiptoed around the tree, when she finally saw them right in the middle of a soft, tender kiss. Above their heads was a small mistletoe, hanging over the archway. In that moment nothing else mattered to them except each other.

Until...                     

CLICK

“Great shot, man.” 

The sound of a camera shuttering followed by the voice of Krillin broke the two teens out of their tender embrace. Goten’s jaw dropped, and then he just facepalmed with both hands. Marron followed his line of sight to see his father standing there, camera in hand. She should’ve expected this...

“Dad!! W-What are you doing?!” Marron practically shrieked. The blonde’s whole face went red from ear to ear, shoulders shaking. Steam was practically coming off her face. It was embarrassing enough her parents were so lovey-dovey on a regular basis, but now she got caught in the middle of her most awaited special moment with her Goten of the holiday season! 

“What does it look like? I’m capturing a special Christmas moment of my daughter!”

CLICK

Krillin  got another picture at their flustered reactions. “But that one was just for fun.”

“Your mother will get a kick out of this!” Goku added, sporting a wide grin similar to his oldest friend. 

“Grandpa! What’s that leaf over Uncle Goten’s head? Why were him and Aunt Marron playing kissy-face?” Pan asked eagerly. It looked like something she’d find on the ground before the snow came. She didn’t get why it was so special.

“It’s called a mistletoe, Pan. When two people get caught under it, they have to do that.”

“Misty Toe? That’s a dumb name!!” Pan broke into giggles again. “Uncle Goten is under a big toe!” 

Eighteen came out to the living room, ignoring the two former Turtle School fighters who were still carrying on about their kids. Marron and Goten didn’t find it so funny! 

“Marron, could you help me in here for a moment?”

“Sure!” Marron said, finally shaking off her flustered state and went to the kitchen. Any way to be away from this scenario. 

Shrugging, Goten turned on the PlayStation to kill some time. The familiar start up sound soothed his ears and he sat down to play. He let Pan play on his phone in the meantime.

“Hey Uncle Goten…?” Pan climbed up on the other side of the couch after getting bored rather quickly. 

“What’s up, squirt?”

“Is Santa Claus really comin’ tonight?”

“Definitely.” He grinned at her childlike innocence; it reminded Goten of himself at that age. “You gotta be asleep, though. He won’t come if you’re awake!”

“How does he know?”

Goten patted his niece’s head. “It’s ‘cause he’s magic, Panny.”

“Magic? Is that like how Grandma always knows when Grandpa does something bad?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Goten chuckled. For a three year old, Pan was much more aware of things than she let on. 

Coming back to the living room, Marron plopped down next to Goten, leaning against his arm. Now that she was over the embarrassment of getting caught by her father and Goku, the blonde wanted to make up for lost time. She watched him play for a bit, and then turned to him with a sly smirk. “Bet I can beat you.”

“Yeah you probably can, cause you’re a big cheater.” Goten replied with a cheeky grin, not keeping his eyes off the screen. 

“Hey! I am not a cheater!” Marron huffed, her bright blue eyes narrowing at him. “It’s not my fault you just get so easily distracted!”

“That’s why it’s cheating! You always play dirty by kissing me right when I’m about to win!!” 

“You call it cheating, I call it strategy.” 

Goten normally would never say no to a kiss from his beautiful girlfriend, but she’d always steal the win while he was still reeling from the kiss! It wasn’t fair! One time, Goten tried the same trick on her, but it didn’t quite work the way he intended. It backfired entirely, actually. As she just kissed him back and they both ended up completely  forgetting about the video game soon after that.  

Marron’s frown turned into a sly grin. If that’s how he wanted to play, fine. She knew exactly what buttons to push. “Fine. I just won’t kiss you ever again. How does that sound?”

“N-No, w-wait! I, uh...” Goten gulped. His mouth became dry, the words getting caught in his throat. He really did this time. Was this his worst fear coming true?!

The blonde giggled at his adorable panic-stricken face, satisfied with herself. “That’s what I thought, dummy. But still, lucky for you, I don’t think I could ever give this up~” Marron kissed his cheek again, leaving her boyfriend reeling as she went to the bathroom to freshen up before dinner. 

Goten put his head in his hands and let out an audible sigh of relief. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand girls…”

From across the couch, Pan started giggling. “Uncle Goten did something bad!” She didn’t really get what the big deal about kissy kissy was to begin with, but seeing her uncle all flustered like that had the toddler tickled pink.                                                  

The next twenty minutes rolled by quicker than ever, and finally, it was time to eat. 

The adults all came out carrying multiple trays and large bowls. The plates and silverware had already been set as the ever-growing Son family all took their seats around the table.

“Wait, Dad’s not here yet.” Chi-Chi said, looking worried. “Do you think he got stuck in the blizzard?”

“He’ll be here. I can sense his energy. Besides, he’s the Great Ox King! No way some storm is gonna stop him.” Goku confirmed, easing his wife’s worries. He winked at her and Chi-Chi smiled. 

And like clockwork, a few minutes later the door swung open. The cold wind blew snow onto the floor of the house, when in came a giant, jolly looking man with a grayish beard. He wore a large red coat and carrying lots of presents. “Merry Christmas, everyone!”

Pan gasped, practically standing up in her chair. A large jolly man with a big belly. Red coat. A beard. And carrying presents. That could only mean one thing… 

“Santa!!!?”

But she thought she had to be asleep! 

Chi-Chi hurried to the door to greet the man.  “Dad! You made it!”

“Hi, pumpkin!” Ox King hugged his daughter.  “Am I late? Sorry I missed the cooking, it’s like a blizzard out there! Can’t see a thing.”

Goku grinned. “You’re just on time. ” He went up to his father-in-law who brought the Saiyan into a big bear hug, followed by doing the same with his two grandchildren. 

Pan tilted her head to the side, more than a little confused. “...That’s not Santa?”

“No, honey. It’s your Great Grandpa Ox! You remember him, right?” Videl told her. Pan thought about it for a second, and the name was familiar! Her expression lightened when she remembered. Pan flew over to him and gave him a big hug.

As the adults got Ox King set up, Pan the conversation no mind as she stared at the pile of presents on the floor in awe. She gently tried to shake each box to try to guess what was inside but didn’t have much luck. 

“Mama, Papa, can I open them now??” She asked, barely containing her joy.

Gohan and Videl exchanged a look and sighed. “You can open Grandma and Grandpa’s present after dinner. The rest will have to wait ‘till tomorrow morning.”

“Okay!” Pan replied. That was good enough for her!

                                                                   And so with everyone in attendance, the feast could finally begin. 

In typical Saiyan fashion, the Son boys filled their plates far above regular capacity. Little Pan tried to mimic her grandpa and uncle and put as much food on her plate as her little hands could grab.

Krillin did his impression of Yajirobe for the others, especially Pan who never heard it before. 18 spoke her new job as a school teacher, and Videl’s new case as Satan City’s top detective, with her right hand man Great Saiyaman.

Meanwhile, In record time, Goku finished his plate and went back for more. Goten wasn’t far behind him. 

“More please!” 

“Me too!”

Father and son respectively said.

“I wants more too!” Pan said, and then remembered the thing to say that her parents taught her. “Um, peas!!”

Chi-Chi smiled. “Of course, angel.” And then turned her gaze to her younger son. “Oh, and Goten, you really should behave yourself in front of your future wife. It’s not polite to eat like that!” 

Gohan cracked a grin. “Yeah, Goten. Listen to Mom.”

“Not helping!”

Videl lightly slapped Gohan’s arm. “Oh stop. You’re one to talk, aren’t you? I distinctly remember a time when you were the one getting flustered whenever someone brought up our relationship.”

“Well that’s-”

“No excuses. You were a nervous wreck on our first date, remember? You wore your pants inside out!” Videl playfully poked his shoulder. She turned to Goten and winked. 

At least somebody was on his side….

Chi-Chi suddenly gasped. “Oh, I forgot the wine! Excuse me for a second.” She got up and went into the kitchen. She returned a moment later with a large bottle. She poured a glass for each of the adults, minus Goku and Gohan. Goku didn’t like the taste, but Gohan wanted to try it.  

“Mom, can I have some?” Gohan asked.

“Absolutely not, mister! You know what happened last time. You dressed up as Saiyaman and put a performance on for everyone!  And you have Pan now, you need to be a better influence!” Chi-Chi scolded him, but the smile never left her face.

Gohan hung his head as Goku patted him on the back while Goten snickered.  “I’m sorry. I got carried away last time because everyone was having so much fun.”

“I for one loved it.” Videl gushed. “It reminded me of when we were still teenagers~”

“R-Really?!” Gohan said, blushing. 

“Oh fine, here.” Chi-Chi caved and handed her older son a glass. After a story like that, she couldn’t say no. 

When Goten went to reach for the bottle afterward, Chi-Chi gave a stern look to her younger son that practically screamed ‘don’t even think about it!’ 

Goten frowned, dejected. Every time he tried that, and every time he failed. And now it was Gohan’s turn to snicker.

Chi-Chi couldn’t help but laugh. Even though they were grown, her sons still had that little brotherly competition. 

“Boys will be boys...” Videl said and Chi-Chi nodded in affirmation. Especially her boys. 

Krillin took the bottle next. He put too much in his glass and then downed it. 

“Okay, lisssten up! I haaaave to make an announcement!!” Krillin declared and then burped.

Eighteen sighed. “Here we go…”

Everyone stopped to listen to him, with various degrees of amusement written all over their faces. Goku most of all. He  put down his food to give his best friend his full attention. Oh, he had been waiting for this. 

“Oh no, not again....” Marron said with a fearful expression, preparing for the worst. She was already embarrassed by him once. But twice? She’d rather bury her head in the snow outside. 

“What’s the matter?”

“When my dad drinks, he gets a little too happy and starts blurting out embarrassing things.” 

Krillin cleared his throat and began to speak. “I...I looove my wife!!”

“Huh?!” Eighteen was caught off guard by his confession as if it were the first time hearing it. 

“She’s sooo pretty… And so n-nice… And so cool!” Krillin hiccuped, putting his empty glass on the table. He hiccuped again, his goofy smile only getting larger. “She acts real tough, but… she’s a.. She’s a biiiiig softie! Like a---”

Eighteen covered her husband’s mouth before he could finish, her face turning the same crimson as her daughters did earlier as everyone laughed. “Krillin, s-stop it you idiot! W-We’re in public!”

“S-Stooop what? The party’s just getting started.”

Eighteen handed him a glass of water to get him to sober up before he blurted out something else. It didn’t take much to get Krillin loosened up, but he sobered up quickly as well. 

That big dork, blurting out something so embarrassing like that. She had a reputation to uphold! How was she supposed to freak Trunks and Goten out if they knew her ‘stone cold’ persona was just a big act?! In her own mind though, Eighteen swooned. But she wasn’t about to let anyone know! In public at least. 

Dinner wrapped up soon after. Not a single morsel was left over. 

“Time for presents!!” Pan said and then plopped down on the carpet in front of the tree, 

At the sight of her daughter, Videl’s couldn’t help but feel giddy. She was the same way at Pan’s age, and Pan’s joy was absolutely infectious. 

“This is a special present from me and Grandma.” Goku handed his granddaughter a large box. He wrapped his other arm around Chi-Chi and she rested her head on his shoulder as he kissed the top of her head. Nothing was better than being altogether as a family, watching her granddaughter open a present on Christmas Eve 

Pan ripped off the wrapping to find a plain white box inside. She curiously stared at it, and even shook it to try to hear what was inside. It didn’t sound like a toy, for one. Hearing nothing, she slowly took off the lid. 

Instantly Pan gasped. 

It was a small, red colored martial arts gi with matching belt and wristbands, and small blue fighting boots. 

Pan’s first gi. 

“This is the bestest present ever!” Pan’s entire face lit up like a star. “Can I go try it on?” 

Pan flew upstairs with her new gi, returning a few minutes later wearing it, still beaming. “Look at me, Papa! I look like Grandpa!”

Pan couldn’t be happier which made Gohan and Videl happy. 

“Oh, Pan, look, there’s something else in here.” Gohan pointed to the red object poking up of extra wrapping paper.

Pan then came face to face with a small red pole inside a sheathe, tied with a fresh rope. “What is this?” She stared at the mysterious item, confused. She liked it; it felt familiar. “Is it a baseball  bat?”

“No, sweetie, this is the Power Pole.” 

“Power Pole?”

“It used to be my grandpa’s. He gave it to me when I was little. And I took it all over the world looking for the Dragon Balls. I almost lost it a few times, but it always found it’s way back to me. One way or another. It was only natural to pass it onto you.”

Pan put the Power Pole around her shoulder. With a puff of her cheeks, Pan flexed her muscles. For the first time, Pan felt like a true fighter. 

“You look just like me!” Goku knelt down and held out his open hands. “Give it a shot.” 

Pan looked to her father, who nodded. Smiling, the toddler punched Goku’s open palm. 

“Yup, she's my granddaughter alright.” Goku grinned. “She’s got some serious power behind that punch.”

“Next present!” Pan exclaimed.

“Nope. Sorry, Pan. The rest have to wait till tomorrow, remember?” Gohan said.

“Aww, okay. But I bet those wont top this!” She waved the Power Pole around. It was best they didn't tell her it could grow just yet. 

Throughout the night, the sound of laughter could be heard coming from a small house deep in the woods. It could still be heard echoing in the valley, late into the night. Inside, the room was aglow with the love that is shared between family and friends. 

Pan’s first Christmas Eve was truly a night to remember for them all. And one she would never forget.

[hecohansen31]

Loving You Is A Losing Game

Ivar+Kidnapped Wife! Reader (Vikings! Era)

Chapter 2; Electra

“You can have your rich table and life flowing over the cup. I need one food: I must not violate Elektra.”

“Electra” by Sofocles

(Previous Chapter) (Masterlist)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I don’t know if anybody remembers this series, but I thought about bringing it back to you, since a few of you seemed interested in this and I am honestly VERY very excited about this series!

Sadly... it is slightly... too angsty for me, even more during this quarantine, so I wasn’t able to write it till I was in a mood that was sane enough to write it out, so sorry for the waiting!

As always: if you want to slip any feedback, know that it’ll make my heart beat faster and I’ll absolutely write faster!

Feedback is easy, quick and free, never forget to leave a comment, if you enjoyed this.

Liked What I Wrote? Want To Support Me? Buy Me Ko-Fi!

SUMMARY:  Being kidnapped wasn't the hard part.

Surviving in a kingdom where nobody is your ally might be more problematic.

Even more when a new life is growing in your stomach.

WORDS: 7,3 K

WARNINGS; Unstable Relationship (I think that honestly Reader and Ivar’s relationship is borderline abusive, even more if set up in the modern era, there is no physical violence, but there might be some psychological one so please be careful sweeties), Pregnancy, Talk of Abortion, Mention of Death, Betrayal, Kidnapping Historically Inaccurate, and Not following the series path.

On the days on the boats you’d try to keep your mind active, talking with Astrid, but the night… you were lost to feverish dreams.

Of your labor, accompanied by the death of your husband and child, to the point that you had come to dread night.

Even thought, unless one of your jailers took pity of you and would leave a candle burning out slowly, it’d be forever night in the dark of the heart of the boat you were on.

You had tried to goad your jailers into knowing where you’d be going, but they had been as silent as rocks.

They looked at you with pity and a vicious lust, that made you glad that Gustaf had stopped any man from ‘roughing you up’.

‘… she is the wife of a prince!’ he had commented, sending you a joking look, because drenched in dirty clothes and vomit, you didn’t look very much like royalty ‘… and we’ll treat her as such’.

Had Ivar ever gotten his hands on their wives or children, he wouldn’t have treated them like that, for sure.

You wondered whether he knew about your kidnapping.

Lagertha and your family certainly wouldn’t have left him in the shadow of ignorance.

But did he still care about you?

Maybe he’d have cared about the child in your belly…

A sudden impulse to retch brought you back from your treacherous thoughts, as Astrid called out your name, to check on you.

Although the jailers had simply thought your ‘illness’ to be seasickness, Astrid had caught on pretty quickly what it truly was, as once you were left alone, she had whispered:

‘Are you with child?’ she had asked, looking in your eyes, as you raised your head to lightly nod, and she had thrown her head to the sky of wood ‘… is it his?’.

‘I might be the wife of a traitor, but I certainly am not a cheater’ you had replied pointedly, as Astrid asked for forgiveness, raising her hands as you had lightly pushed your tied arms to hug your knees ‘… I loved him’.

‘… he’ll come for you’ she had spoken as she matched your pose, making you raise your head ‘… he has killed for much less, believe me, he’ll find you’.

You didn’t understand if she was doing this to calm you down or simply because she truly believed your husband was a beast.

“I don’t think he cares anymore” you muttered, as you cradled yourself tighter in your arms.

“I don’t think that he’d risk it for a simple lovers’ spat” she commented, and you couldn’t help but bit your lips, harshly, because although Astrid’s words were gentle and laced with sureness, your thoughts weren’t.

“… it wasn’t a simple lovers’ spat” it had been more like two words clashing through each other.

All the differences that you had had, spit against the other.

“… it just… it used to be quite… easier” you explained, finally uttering your thoughts “… when we were younger, before we were married”.

The ring on your finger was heavy to remind you that.

“You married quite young” commented Astrid, as you nodded “… it isn’t easy, even more when you are blessed with so much power and a stubborn husband”.

You laughed darkly at her comment, as she tried to turn to you with her piercing blue eyes staring at you.

“I just… sometimes I wished we had just kept it on like it was” you explained, confessing something you had never told anyone “… it just felt like we did it more to prove something to others than for ourselves”.

Your entire life had been this way.

Your romance with Ivar had started this way and had continued like that.

Even the child in your womb was a show of that.

To prove to those who didn’t believe it that Ivar was a man, exactly like them.

“Will you keep the baby”.

You had been waiting for that question for quite some time, because it had also tormented your thoughts, but to be uttered out like that it took the breath from your lungs as you choked on your words.

Eventually answering:

“… I don’t know” you confessed.

“Do you want a child?” she questioned you again, as those piercing eyes reminded you of Ivar.

“This might not be the best period to have a child” you tried to push away the question, but Astrid’s eyes focused on you tightly.

“Have you ever wanted children?” she asked “… if we weren’t stuck in a damned ship brought to our demise, would you keep it? The one in your belly”.

Nobody had ever truly asked you that.

You realized that not even Ivar had ever asked you that.

He had simply told you that to have peace, you’d have to give him a child.

He had ordered you to have a child.

And now you had one, but the only positive sensation you had about it had been Ylva’s gentleness in talking with you about it.

“… I…” you choked on your words, unsure of what to say.

Because it hadn’t ever been a question for you.

It had been a fact.

And now that it had happened…

… you weren’t sure of the answer.

“… I don’t know” you spoke “… Ivar always wanted children, it’ll strengthen his hold on the throne and it’ll…”.

“What about you?” Astrid focused the attention on you.

And you couldn’t help but want to vomit, and not because you were feeling nauseous.

Nobody had ever asked your opinion.

“… my mother died because of running around her children. Exhaustion claiming her… ” something had been unlocked in you as you confessed that and Astrid’s gaze softened “… I always… she isn’t something I want to be… I like children, but… I am not sure of wanting them, now”.

Even more in this period.

You didn’t trust Gustaf, in the slightest.

That man reminded you too much of calmer version of your husband.

And your husband did nothing without a second purpose.

“… have you thought about…?” she didn’t have to say it, but you remembered the talk with Ylva, the name of the herb she had told you to take in case you didn’t want the child.

Now it’d have been extremely difficult to obtain it.

“Yes” you spoke softly “… my… healer Ylva has told me to take an herb in case I didn’t want it anymore, but now…”.

“If you don’t want this baby, you don’t have to carry it” she spoke as if it was the most natural thing ever, and you froze in your spot “… I am not saying it solely because it’ll indeed change your life for the worse or for the better, but because if you don’t want it truly… if you aren’t ready for it… it’ll grow unloved”.

She seemed almost to speak from experience and ducked her head away from you, as you looked at her surprised.

“… I can’t… I don’t know how to…”.

“I’ll get you the herb, no matter what” she promised you “… just let me know if you want it or not”.

Something broke inside of you at that thought.

The question of the baby had kept you up till late, but you had never had a deep and stable solution, something that could be more than a fantasy.

But now Astrid had given it to you, her eyes speaking of true sincerity.

She would have helped you if you didn’t want the baby.

She wasn’t lying.

“… I need to think about it”.

“Do it fast” she commented simply, almost as if you hadn’t had just a heart-to-heart conversation “… the herb won’t work after a certain amount of time”.

“I’ll let you know” you promised softly “… I just… need some time to think about this”.

And then you were surprised as you heard the door open, and immediately Astrid pushed herself away from you, meanwhile you tried to look at your fiercest, even with dried vomit on your clothes.

Gustaf walked in, a smirk on his face as he looked at you as if he was holding court.

Everything in him seemed damnably royal and it annoyed you to an extent that you would have gladly hit him if you had had your hands free.

“Good morning, ladies” he called out to you both, only welcomed by a grimace on your faces “… I have news for you, don’t you want to hear them?”.

“Fuck you” commented bitterly Astrid, but Gustaf seemed too happy with himself, to properly care about her comment.

“We have arrived at my home” he promised you softly “… and you ladies will be my welcome guests”.

---

“I don’t fucking care about anything!” screamed Ivar as Lagertha sent him an annoyed look, as one would  with an annoying child who wouldn’t just lower his voice “… it is my wife we are talking about! She was fucking kidnapped because of your ineptitude in being queen”.

“Ivar, you either calm down or you’ll be back in your cell” threatened him the blond woman, meanwhile a few guards came closer.

“I don’t honestly know what he is doing here” commented your brother loudly, on the opposite side of Ivar, closer to Lagertha than him, and with a look of pure hate in his eyes.

Felix hadn’t been his best supporter, but he had never been an obstacle to your relationship as your father and older brother.

But Ivar knew that since he had tried to overtake Lagertha and pushed shame onto his sister, he hadn’t been his biggest supporter.

But he hadn’t expected him to straight up try to cut him off like that.

“… shouldn’t he be in prison?”.

“We called a truce” commented Lagertha.

“No, we didn’t” Ivar replied, shooting her a quick look “… I just value my wife enough to know when I have to shut up and lay down my weapons”.

“Then shut up” replied Lagertha “… I am not allowing my soldiers to get slaughtered to retrieve your wife, because they run into Gustaf’s lands blindly”.

“My wife is in their hands” he spoke harshly, before he shot a quick look to Felix “… you own bloody sister!”.

“I fucking know, you idiot!” replied Felix, getting up, as he towered over Ivar and for a moment, the cripple was truly scared, because Felix’ eyes spoke of pure anger.

One that he knew all too well.

“Calm down!” Tala, his sister-in-law screamed as she also got up, her pregnant belly immediately catching eyes.

She was near the birth date and she shouldn’t have been there, but she had insisted on staying in the council.

And Ivar could understand why.

“Your silly male arguments won’t help (Y/N)” she spoke loudly, to make sure that all attention wasn’t on her “… I do agree that we can’t lose time, because she might be in danger, but I also know that going blindly in there won’t help in the slightest.”

Both Ivar and Felix were taken aback, because Tala was usually shy and gentle, she had been a constant comforting figure, but right now, she wasn’t ready to step down.

And she had told the truth.

They were also losing time arguing amongst themselves.

“… I love (Y/N), as a sister” she spoke, and now her softness broke through her front “… I can’t even fathom the thought that I’ll give birth without her by my side. But I’ll endure it, if I know that she’ll soon be safe in my arms and that we’ll be the same”.

Lagertha gently moved to the trembling pregnant woman, whispering a few comforting words, as Felix did the same, caressing her round belly, meanwhile Tala leaned against him, the man gently adjusting her so that she could sit on him, with her front against his, as she enveloped him in a tight hug.

Ivar couldn’t help but miss you even more dearly as this happened.

He just wished that he could do the same as Felix with you.

He wanted you there with him, because he wanted to apologize for the last words he had said to you.

They burned in his memory.

And he just wished he could bring you as close as Felix was doing with Tala, whispering soft and comforting words.

But he had never been able to do such a thing.

He had solely been able to break your heart.

“… I’ll wait, but…” he commented, breaking apart the beautiful moment “… I am worried for her”.

“We are all worried for her” assured him Lagertha, as she shot a quick look to Felix, who continued in hiding in his wife’s hair “… and Astrid is with her, so believe me I have no intention to let this go”.

“I’ll gut Gustaf” he hissed roughly, after that, because he couldn’t shove his anger onto Lagertha or Felix if he wanted to have some alleys in his mission.

But Gustaf?

That fucktard wouldn’t have lasted a day once he got ahold of him.

“We all agree on that” answered him Lagertha, with a dark smile.

He’d have you soon in his arms.

And he’d have his revenge.

But for now, he’d just listen in to the what the council knew about Gustaf.

He seemed a ghost, who had risen to power during the insecurity of the throne of Kattegat, meanwhile they were in England.

He had started with small raids around fellow Viking villages, and had proclaimed himself king, raising a small but sneaky army.

Lagertha admitted to having undervalued him, thinking he wouldn’t be anything too big and that Kattegat would have held itself against him.

But it hadn’t.

And now you were paying for all her mistakes.

---

A few women had been allowed inside the boat to wash your body from days of dirt and to preserve your modesty from the men’s eyes, as they gently dabbed your body with water soaked tissues that they pressed to your body, then moving you to a bathtub brough inside just for you and Astrid, allowing you a bit of intimate time.

The one it took you to give Astrid your answer.

During the time that you had had before the boat had docked, you had realized one thing.

This child hadn’t been blessed by a good timing.

And as much as you knew that Ivar would have cursed you for your decision, you couldn’t deny that if the gods had blessed your pregnancy, they wouldn’t have allowed Gustaf to take you.

They would have allowed your pregnancy to appear much before.

But in truth they were all pretty lies about the fact that you were scared to end up like your mother.

And not solely a tired woman, relegated to child bearing but one that wouldn’t have loved her children truly.

For all this time you had tried your best to fake that the growing belly on your stomach wasn’t anything more than a dream, a feverish dream.

You had tried not to get too attached to the baby.

You hadn’t considered it truly, except when your belly stiffened for another vomiting session.

You just couldn’t bring this pregnancy to its rightful end.

There were so many reasons why it was cursed.

And in the end as Astrid had said: it was your decision.

‘I can’t keep the baby’ you had whispered in her long hair, free from the braids to be properly washed, as she kept her face impassible ‘… I’ll wait to know your plan to get rid of it’.

Although the words seemed to easy, they hurt your tongue.

Almost as if somebody had decided to rasp coarse paper against it.

And now your tongue bleed, crying for the injustice of the words.

‘Sweet baby’ that was the first time you addressed it in your mind ‘… I can’t have you, right now. It wouldn’t be fair to birth you in chains, meanwhile your father has his own plan to destroy himself’.

There would have been others.

You tried to console yourself with that thought.

But your tricky mind knew that although you might have been blessed with others, they would have never ever been like this one.

And yet, it was the best choice through the worst-dealt cards Destiny had given you.

Astrid didn’t give you any judgement and lightly nodded, the only semblance of an agreement appearing between you two, as she moved to wash your hair.

And you were glad she couldn’t see your tears for the child that you had never wanted and would never have.

You tried to focus on the steps ahead, instead.

Now that you were on land, you’d have both advantages and disadvantages.

It certainly would have been easier to go escape on land, but at the same time you wouldn’t have made it quite far, hadn’t you found a way to secure yourself boat back to Kattegat.

And most importantly you didn’t know where you truly were.

You hadn’t been able to keep up the time in the stomach of the boat, although you were sure that not even a week had passed since you had been kidnapped, so you couldn’t truly understand how far you were from home.

It was almost torture to think about everything that was wrong and difficult in that moment.

Because you saw no way to escape this.

But you had to keep your mind lucid to see anything that might be helpful.

So, for now you played the caught princess, as you let the guards bind your hands together, thinking about the fact that it would have been so easy to knee them in the groin, grab the rope and tighten it around their necks, as your older brothers had taught you.

You just smiled as Gustaf moved to examine you.

“Gotta make sure that you look like the princesses I promised my people” he smirked, as he looked at the dress you were wearing, something that was quite luxurious you had to say, but it just made you feel exposed “… now smile”.

“You might have bond my hands, but you don’t control my mind” replied tightly Astrid, as he moved to examine her, meanwhile the guards’ eyes ranked over her body as you heard tight whispers of ‘whore’ and ‘fucking cunt’.

You kept your mouth shut.

And not simply because you were feeling like retching again.

Gustaf ignored completely Astrid’s comment and simply turned to you, as you ducked your head, playing the submissive lady act.

You were led away and before you knew it you were in the middle of nowhere, as you tried to understand your surroundings, but it was nothing like Kattegat, although the weather was quite much more chilly and you were almost glad when Gunnar gentlemanly enveloped you in his mantle.

But at the same time, it reminded you of your first ‘date’ with Ivar, making you feel guilty for the intimate gesture.

Ivar back at that time had been too nervous for any physical contact, but as he had seen you shivering, he had cursed loudly commenting on your stupidity to wear ‘such a light dress on such a cold night’, but he had wrapped you up in his own furs, finally finding the courage to envelop you in a loose hug.

But then as you moved further on the hidden road, an hidden city revealed underneath you, spurred on by the heavy movements of the soldiers marching with you, enveloping in a tight grip your bodies, as Astrid also looked as surprised as you.

And entire population, half the one of Kattegat, but still impressive, was living in rocks-like house, something that would have almost seemed like a fairytale, hadn’t it been reality happening in front of you.

“… I know that it isn’t as majestic as your own city, but this is my land, ladies, the one that will host you till we get your weight in gold” he presented it to you, as more people came out of their small huts.

“So, we are hosts?” this time it was your voice unable to stop itself from emerging “… why then are my hands bound?”.

“For your safety, my lady” commented Gustaf with a triumphing smile “… wouldn’t want you to run off and be brought back with the hard manners”.

“My husband will have your head if you touch as much as a hair on my head”.

Because even if you and Ivar were on strained terms, he wouldn’t have allowed you to be dishonored.

If not for your honor, certainly for his.

“Then you better behave, lady (Y/N)” commented Gustaf with hungry eyes moving to your body and you tightened the mantle around your body, as you felt like a useless bratty princess.

Gustaf clearly wasn’t scared of Ivar.

He should have been.

But the fact that he wasn’t, made him bold… and dangerous.

“… she is a princess” backed you up, Astrid as her hands went to your “… I wouldn’t forget that”.

“Princes, princesses and subjects… that’s how the world works, isn’t it?” asked Gustaf, something almost fanatical appearing in his eyes “… but that isn’t how it works in my land! I brought here the rejects, the warriors that were left behind…”.

And you immediately noticed that a few of the men around you had missing limbs or didn’t look in the slightest like the typical image of a warrior.

“… the women that nobody wanted” and this time it wasn’t simply the one that didn’t look ‘normally’ beautiful, you knew he meant that one that nobody wanted to marry and the ones that had been too abused by men to want another between their legs “… and the children that nobody wanted”.

His voice seemed to shift onto a softer tone as he said this, almost as if he had personal experience in this.

You took the information and stored it in your mind.

“… so welcome to the land of nobody, my ladies” he proclaimed with a quick look at you both “… this will be your new home from now on”.

----

Ivar had been allowed to go back home on his own, although he knew that Lagertha’s spies trailed after him.

More because they were worried that he might try to do something stupid to get you, than because they were sure he’d try to overthrow Lagertha.

And hadn’t Ivar had that ‘small’ fight with you, he would have certainly thought about that.

But now, he just couldn’t.

You had been right in berating him, after you had searched for a solution that his goddamn pride made him refuse to accept.

And now you were paying the consequences.

He knew that you had to be treated well.

That’s what he would have done with such an emotionally important hostage.

Touching one single hair on the head of such an important hostage would have meant the captor’s death, if they hadn’t the army to back it up.

Their gain would have been more if you were alive.

But you could have been bruised.

Roughed up and… made to service men.

And he would have made them paid dearly for it.

He was trying to bring himself to move away from the hallway of Kattegat, thinking that even if he wouldn’t have slept, he would have probably smelt a bit of your perfume in your mattress, when he saw somebody walking in.

Ylva, your healer and friend.

He was surprised to find her, but she smiled at him sweetly, as she moved further up to him and the guards in the hall let her come closer, although he saw a spy dispatching himself from the others, probably to inform Lagertha of this meeting.

“Ahhh look at the lucky man!” she commented softly, as she came closer to him and he tried his best to smirk softly at the older woman.

She had been the main reason why he had been able to marry you, since she had constantly supported you in your decision to marry the crippled prince, alongside helping him to get through the pain, with brews of herbs and bottle of oils.

“Ylva, what are you doing here? Are you not supposed to be in your hut throwing curses and brewing potions?” he asked trying to appear gingerly happy.

Ylva lived isolated from everyone, so he was sure she hadn’t heard the news of your kidnapping and he reasoned with himself that it was best not to say anything, at least for a bit since.

Ylva had been like a mother to you and he knew that she was also attached to you, like one.

He didn’t want to make her worry.

“… I do that only on special days, you know me, Ivar!” she commented before shooting him a softer look “… and what are you doing out of the cage? I thought that you were locked inside”.

“I escaped” he commented dryly.

“Then (Y/N) convinced you, didn’t she?” she smirked sweetly at him and hearing your name was like a punch in the gut but he tried his best to hide it “… I knew that the child would do the trick…”.

“What child?” asked Ivar confused, although a terrible sensation started brewing in his stomach as Ylva shot him an annoyed look, almost as if she thought that he was playing dumb.

“The one in her stomach, Ivar” she commented immediately and suddenly Ivar couldn’t help but choke on his own breath “… your wife is pregnant, Ivar! But I confide she has told you…”.

You were with child…

… in some foreign island…

“… she hasn’t told me, actually” he obliged himself to speak as Ylva came to support him “… she hasn’t been able to… she… an attack overcame Kattegat, and she was taken…”.

He had berated you for not having given him a child, in your last meeting.

And now you were pregnant.

And away from him.

“Ivar…” breathed Ylva anchoring him back to earth, and away from the horrible thought he had been having about you, broken and your unborn child separated in the womb from you “… I had no idea…”.

“I’ll bring her home” he promised to Ylva, because he knew that no matter what he’d bring you back to Kattegat.

And then he didn’t know if it was the shock or stress, he passed out in Ylva’s arms.

---

You had been led into one of the largest rock-houses, discovering that inside they could be quiet homely, and rich, although the entire design tended to look more like a jumble of various riches that probably came from different raids.

Or so you supposed.

You saw them throwing in a few of the ones they had successfully stolen from Kattegat as you were led to your own private rooms.

More like cells, although they were ample.

You had been locked inside, till you heard a pipping voice chatting brightly with the guard, and soon the door opened under a small key that the girl hid quickly her cleavage, but you noticed the movement, trying to search a way to make her accidentally spit it out.

She was quite a beauty, although she had one missing eye, covered by an elegant bandage on it, bright pink of something that seemed quite exotic.

But her fierce attitude definitely made up for the absence of the eye.

She asked you what she could do to make your staying better, suggesting some herbs if you were still feeling nauseous from the boat.

“I’d like to know your name, firstly” you asked, knowing that to set up an emotional bond with anyone would have been useful, even more with the woman that had the literal key to your freedom.

She seemed taken aback by your request and you were satisfied by that, although she hid her surprise quite well.

“… and my stomach is slowly settling itself on his own, but what I’d like is some information, obviously if you are allowed to talk”.

She nodded, shyly, as she ducked her head away from you, almost as if she was used to hide the missing eye on her face.

Hadn’t she sided with your captors, you would have gladly befriended her.

“Of course, my lady”.

“This place isn’t on any map, is it?” because obviously the gods couldn’t make this more difficult even if they tried.

The girl shook her head.

“… it is an absolute desert spot and if you aren’t brought her, you’ll never know of its existance” she explained with her eye full of admiration, almost as if she thought this was the best that could ever come to her.

But the truth was that much hadn’t changed.

She was still a slave.

Just because they had changed her chains with the silky ones, it didn’t mean she was out of this.

Gustaf wasn’t a freer of people.

He was a man who saw the anger of rejections and used it against others.

Ivar and he would have gotten along well.

“That’s beautiful” still you played the surprised and brattish lady part “… it is absolutely extraordinary that this was all set up with no record from any other kingdom”.

You saw irritation fall on her face, as if she didn’t want any mention of other kingdoms in her own.

Well, sadly for her, you and Astrid would ruin her marvelous plans.

“… we have no other way than to shield ourselves form the kingdoms that have rejected us” her voice spoke of a pain that made your eyes soften “… sadly we haven’t many choices, unlike you”.

You wanted to tell her that your own freedom wasn’t as wondrous as hers.

But you held your tongue and simply smiled sadly.

“Do you know who my husband is?” you asked her softly “I am the wife to prince Ivar The Boneless, and I can assure you that he made many great things, even with…”.

“… he is a prince, my lady” she commented, again that tight look that this time hit straight in the bullseye “… I was nothing but a miller’s daughter, when my master’s wife caught me spying on her at her husband’s order, catching her with a slave. She made him take my eyes and then told me I should have thanked her for having done ‘a clean job’ “.

Pure anger burned in her eye, as you thought about how similar it had been to Ivar’s.

Hadn’t Gustaf been his competitor, they might have understood each other.

But men with rage that burned so brightly would have never been friends.

They would have burned everything around them.

“I am sorry” you mumbled, as you sent her a tight look “… I didn’t mean to bring back bad memories”.

“I just look forward to the future, my lady” she commented softly, as she sent you one last look “… this place isn’t so bad, once you get used to it”.

“I hope not to sound annoying, but I really hope not to get used to it” you whispered, hoping she wouldn’t hear you, and if she had, she gave no signal of it “… and I hope this won’t sound terrible rude from me, but I’d like to relax a bit, sleep even”.

“Oh, of course, my lady” she replied, hiding quite well her offended expression from you, as she ducked away, locking you in.

And you passed the following three hour counting down the minutes to make sure that you could get ahold of the time, as you watched the color of the sky change, although the windows of your chamber had been chained in, to avoid you another easy escape.

After three hours, the girl finally came back, something much more submissive in her glance as she tried to make you talk, finally revealing you her name, Kari.

But you tried to keep everything close to your chest, as if this was some kind of interrogation.

Kari had you swiftly changed in a new dress, this was far more decorated than the one you had been dressed with, although you were grateful for the fur stitched on its shoulders because the coldness of the rocks, no matter the fireplace blazing, seeped also inside the rocks.

You thought it must be the humidity that stuck to your skin like a second skin.

Although the dress was far more covering than the other, you felt naked without your chess pendant, as you fidgeted with your fingers against its original position.

The thought of having lost it making your heart break.

Although your relationship with Ivar was quite strained, it still hurt you to have lost it.

Ivar had been so proud when he had given it to you.

It had meant the world for you.

Alongside what he had told you to accompany it.

It had made you feel for once as truly his match and not simply his wife.

As you were dressed, all jewelry you wore was taken off you and you could totally understand why, although you didn’t wear much.

Anything could be a weapon, in the right hands.

‘You’ll have them back, my lady’ had commented Kari, as she took your wedding ring matched with your golden earrings.

You doubted they would ever come back to you but you tried to simply nod, before Kari informed you that your hands would have been left unbound to let you eat in piece.

‘Please don’t try anything, you’ll simply hurt yourself’ she finished explaining, treating you almost as a child, and you played along, because you were sure that trying to escape right now would have been a death sentence.

But still the tone she used irritated you.

Almost as if you were to be treated like a precious doll.

And you weren’t.

You had never wanted to be one.

But you endured it, doing your best to keep your mouth shut.

You didn’t understand Gustaf’s way of playing with you.

This wasn’t the way you would have treated hostages.

Certainly, it was good that he didn’t want to hurt you, but at the same time…

… it made things just unclear to you.

But you were thankful to be brought out of your room, although it wasn’t as small as a cell, it made you uncomfortable to say the least, and although surrounded by guards you felt comfortable in the hall as you looked around with curiosity scanning each door and person.

You were brought down a flight of stair in a bigger room, lighted up by a lot of candles laying around, because of the tough interior of stone, making everything seem quite wary, almost a war room organized to be a parlor for guests.

As if you were guests and not hostages.

And you realized that it was what Gustav wanted to make you seem like.

Honored guests coming to bless him and his people, as you came to a ragtag table full of good smelling food, something that awakened your hunger and before you knew it your own child gave you their own blessing to eat, easing the nausea.

Astrid appeared on the other side and before you knew it, she came barging to you with more emotion than she had shown for the entire time you had known each other.

But soon you discovered that there was much more behind it.

Her hands pushed something in the back of your dress, over into your fur, sticking it to the pins in it, and she whispered in your head to act natural and you did, smiling at her in the most heartsick way.

Soon the guards put themselves between you, regaining order, as Gustaf walked in.

Both on the boat and outside of it, you hadn’t been able to get a good look on his face.

You had to say that indeed he was quite handsome.

He had long light blonde hair, which had been properly set up in a combed hairstyle, highlighting the harsh plane in his face, although he looked quite smaller than you had thought.

Had you to say something about it, you would have commented that he had been a premature baby.

He still wore extremely fine clothes, probably the finest in the entire room, hiding his figure and keeping the straightest of figures.

He might have been truly a beautiful creation.

Hadn’t his eyes shone with such a wickedness.

“Princess (Y/N)” now he addressed you properly, but you knew it was all for the people looking at you “… princess Astrid, how did you find your rooms?”.

You stopped Astrid’s remark on her lips, mumbling a soft ‘fine’.

“… I am glad to hear that” he replied, as he pushed one hand out to you, as if he expected you to take it, but you simply smirked back and moved to grab on Astrid’s one, who although hid it, seemed definitely surprised “… we shall sit at the table, by my side, as the honor guests they are”.

This time Astrid’s reply came before of your reply.

“Weren’t we prisoners?” she addressed him harshly and you moved to push her back, as something dangerous appeared in Gustaf’s eyes, but disappeared as soon as his eyes settled on you.

“You are my hosts, as long as you behave”.

A veiled threat.

And your head went accidentally to your stomach, already disappearing before you could fully understand what you had done.

“Now sit down and eat with us” ordered you Gustaf and you complied, getting sat, as you dragged Astrid with you, the guards to push the chairs out for you.

You tried to focus on the food, finally able to eat something without the need to retch it completely, finding yourself famished.

It was also easier because it meant that you could avoid conversations and just hear the other speak, although not much was said, soon Gustaf prompted you both to speak.

He started asking you questions, to which you answered with tight mumbles and slight moves of your head.

“You aren’t a woman of many words, princess (Y/N), are you?” teased you Gustaf and you simply moved to raise your head to send him a tight smile.

“I don’t think that pretty words are needed now” you commented back, as you pushed to go back to your food.

“… not even with your husband?” he replied with a devious smile, something that made your anger spike up, as it almost seemed another invasion of intimacy “… because I think that’s the only thing he can do to entertain a woman”.

You choked on your breath as Astrid shot you a warning look

Still, one thing was to insult you.

Another was to insult your husband.

Mostly on such intimate things, nobody truly had the knowledge of.

As Ivar would have defended your honor, you would have defended his.

Always

“I think that is a case in which pretty words aren’t needed” you commented sternly, as you turned to him cleaning your face in a tissue, before you raised from your chair, alerting a guard “… and so is my presence, I’d like to return to my room”.

“It wasn’t meant to offend you, princess” Gustaf’s eyes burned for the humiliation that you had put him through, but his words were pleading “… do stay and enjoy your meal”.

“I have had enough” although your stomach grumbled “… and I am tired. This is my first night on something that doesn’t move, I want to enjoy it fully”.

Kari immediately moved to follow you, meanwhile the guards waited for Gustaf’s orders, which were simply pushed out by his hand waving dismissively, although his eyes stayed on you till you left the room.

Astrid sent you one last look, her eyes sending you her ‘goodnight’.

And soon you were in your bedchamber, surprising Kari as you asked her to bring you some herbs and hot water to help you digest all the food that you had eaten.

‘… I might have exaggerated with it’ you tried your best to sound helpless and naïve.

Kari just nodded her head, leaving you effectively alone, as you grabbed the small pocket Astrid had pinned in your fur, effectively finding it was the herb you needed.

If it was like Ylva had told you, you’d have to put it in hot water and then drink it and it would have…

… it would have…

… changed you.

When Kari came back, your hands were shaking and you had hidden the herb in the ample sleeves of your dress to be able to hide it among the various herbs she brought alongside a cup of boiled water.

She tried suggesting you a few herbs as you moved to push the ones that you had hidden in the sleeves in its plate as she shifted her attention away from you, and then made your choice, proceeding to put it in the water.

Now all you had to was wait.

And then drink the awfully smelling beverage.

Kari seeing your choice brought everything away, trying to fret around you to avoid seeming as if she was wasting time and you waited for her to leave you alone, to move to check on the beverage, telling her to leave you alone so that you could sleep a bit.

‘I am truly looking forward to sleeping on something that doesn’t move’ you commented trying to brighten up the mood, although you had to hide the shivering of your hands.

And as you turned, the beverage was ready, of a dark color that made your face appear on its reflection, as you thought for one last time about whether this would be a good or not decision.

It was the best among some many bad decisions.

And right when you were moving to drink it, the door behind you opened.

And your hand almost accidentally dropped the mug.

You were halfway through telling Kari if she had forgotten you anything, but Gustaf, instead, stood on the threshold and you couldn’t help but assume an immediate defense stance and utter:

“What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to express my apologies to you, more properly” he spoke loudly, as his eyes were kept on the cup and they slowly came back to your face “… check that you weren’t truly mad with me”.

“You kidnapped me! To say that I am mad with you is an understatement” you commented unable to stop the sass from leaving your mouth.

And you hoped it might distract Gustaf.

But his eyes were smarter.

“… this doesn’t have to be bad, if you don’t make it be” he commented, as he moved towards you as you felt your body suddenly freezing in its position, as he got the cup out of your hand, before he smashed it on the floor “… are you with child, princess?”.

You shook your head, but you were already feeling tears flowing down your face.

“Because I know for sure that frigid bitch of Astrid isn’t, but she asked for a contraceptive brew, claiming that my men raped her, meanwhile she was on the boat”.

And before you knew it, Gustaf, in his slender stature, had pushed you onto the bed, pulling on your hair, as you tried to fight back, but it was no avail, since he had quickly immobilized you under him.

The worry for your belly and the life in it that you had wanted to kill making you quit any attempt of rebellion as Gustaf forced you to look at him in the eyes.

“So, don’t fucking lie to me too, little princess” he spoke tightly “… are you with child?”.

“Yes” it was a choked sob and you tried to at least escape with your face from his harsh glare, as if it lessened the truth of your lips.

And then suddenly Gustaf’s body was away from you, his weight not offending you further.

But his eyes still scared you as they set up on your body, almost as if he could already see the pregnancy overcoming your body.

“You are much more precious than I thought, princess”.

---

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[peppermintquartz]

Fight (Pt 3)

Playroom!verse, TyRo

(Pt 1)

(Pt 2)

*

They don’t talk to each other for a whole week. Roman keeps to Seffy’s room and goes to the gym only when he’s certain that Tyler is out; Tyler has a flurry of appearances with Adam Cole regarding the collaboration between Breezey and the Undisputed Era’s world tour.

Their cold war doesn’t keep Roman from watching the entertainment news clips about his boyfriend, though. He watches the live feed of the press conference and has to bite the side of his tongue when Adam Cole throws an arm over Tyler and kisses the blond on the cheek. Everything is pretty bland and straightforward, until someone asks about Ronald.

“Adam,” the reporter says, “is Ronald going to press charges against Tyler’s boyfriend? Your brother’s latest post on Twitter seem to hint at that.”

Adam winces. “Well, honestly, the blow is more to Ronnie’s pride than anything. I mean, we all know how crass and gross he can be. If he does go ahead with his threat, I think he’ll find very little sympathy.”

“Roman’s really sorry about it too,” Tyler says, his pretty eyes crinkling with sincerity.

“Yeah, they’ve sent a huge gift basket to Ronnie in apology,” Adam adds.

Back in their home office, Roman snorts. He’s not sorry at all about punching Cole in his stupid face. The gift basket must have been Tyler’s own idea.

“He was just a little drunk and went overboard defending my honor. He heard Ronnie say something crude about me, and Roman kicked into protective gear.” To Adam, Tyler says, with a flutter of his lashes, “You know how you are about your girlfriend.”

That same reporter doesn’t let up. “Tyler, does your boyfriend Roman have an anger management issue?”

“No! No, of course not. He’s a very sweet man. That altercation was really out of character for him.” To Roman’s expert eye, Tyler’s smile looks a little forced. “Look, we will not be commenting further on this matter, okay? Today is about the Undisputed Era. I’m really excited that Breezey’s gonna be on tour with them. If this collaboration goes well, I’d love to collaborate with many other artistes. It’s refreshing for me and my design team to take on new challenges.”

“This design,” says Adam, showing off the logo on his T-shirt, “is by Tyler himself. It’s my favorite. He gave the band the final say over the five designs for the tour merch, and three of those were from him personally.”

The rest of the press conference goes on to ask the other bandmates questions, and Roman tunes out. He doesn’t like that Tyler lied for him, and he doesn’t understand the need for the lie in the first place.

*

Tyler goes to Samoa Joe’s that evening without Roman in tow, and tells Gable to go home first; Mustafa can drive him back later.

Joe is in the kitchen plating up some deep fried cheese balls when Tyler arrives, and allows the blond to kiss his cheek. “I wasn’t expecting you, brat. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Tyler says, too quickly.

Joe snorts in disbelief. “If nothing’s wrong, Roman would be here too. You guys had a fight?” He wipes his hands and tilts Tyler’s face by the chin, angling it this way and that. “He didn’t hit you, did he?“

“He hit someone,” Tyler admits with some reluctance. “Guess you’ve heard about it.”

The older man studies Tyler for a beat, before ringing the bell for Becky or Paige to get the order out. “I didn’t. Why did he hit someone?”

“The guy was talking shit about me and Roman was drunk so... bad judgment, is all.”

“You don’t sound like you blame him for punching that guy. Nonetheless, you’re here looking for my company instead of being with your man.” Joe ruffles Tyler’s hair, making him squeak in protest, and smiles at him. “What is really bothering you, hm?”

Tyler shifts from foot to foot, before leaning his butt against the stainless steel countertop. “While I’m still pretty, people are gonna want to be... I don’t know, physical in their affections. Hugs, kisses, that sort of shit. And it bugs him, he said so. But it’s my job, Daddy. I am my brand. I am Breezey’s best ambassador. If it means letting people hug me around the waist or kiss me on the cheek, then I gotta let them.” Tyler sighs and his shoulders slump. “It’s gonna be too much for him, isn’t it?”

Becky pops back in with two more orders and Joe gets to cooking. The smell of hot grease and smoke distract Tyler for the moment even as he feels sorry for himself. Roman is going to break up with him over something Tyler can’t - won’t - give up, and it’s so unfair that he wants to cry.

Once the orders are dispatched again, Joe calls out to the bar that the kitchen is closed, to a chorus of protests that he ignores. He takes Tyler by the hand and leads him to the office, and sits with him on the beat-up old sofa.

“You love Roman, and he loves you,” Joe says, quiet and confident. “You can find a middle ground, I know you can. At least sit down with him and talk it over. Treat it like it’s a business transaction if you have to. How much leeway can he give you? What kinds of physical demonstrations can both of you tolerate? What are you willing to compromise to keep this relationship?”

Tyler’s lips wobble. If it comes down to Roman and Breezey, Tyler would walk away from his business, but he doesn’t want to have to choose, and why does Roman have to make it so hard-

The big man brushes his thumb over Tyler’s damp cheek. “Don’t cry, princess. You’re acting like it’s already over.”

“I think- I think it is. I think it is,” Tyler confesses, gulping in air now as he tries to control his tears. “You didn’t hear... You didn’t hear how we were shouting at each other, and I just- I lost my temper completely, I was screaming at him about how he didn’t support me, that he didn’t understand, and he was - he was so mad, a-and he yelled, and I screamed at him, told him he didn’t know anything about Hollywood, and he was- Daddy, he was so mad, he was so mad, I’ve never seen him like that. He hasn’t spoken to me for the whole week, I’ve not even seen him for the whole week, and I don’t know if... I’m afraid that one day, that one day, they’ll tell me that Roman’s moved out, moved away, I don’t dare to go home. I don’t dare. Daddy, what if he’s already gone?”

Joe pulls the shaking Tyler into his arms and soothes him, his voice a low rumble of assurance. The younger man squeezes his eyes shut, biting his lower lip as he fights to regain his composure but loses. He gives in and cries, achingly silent sobs as he clings to Joe.

Eventually, he’s worn out from crying. His throat is sore and his eyes are tender. His sinuses are so blocked at he can’t breathe through his nose.

“You silly little brat,” says Joe fondly. He goes to his desk and fishes out a pack of wet tissues. “Clean your face.”

“That’s - that’s gonna wreak havoc on my complexion,” Tyler says, hiccuping, but wipes his face obediently nonetheless, avoiding his eyes.

Joe throws on a jacket and jingles a set of keys. “I’ll drive you home now. I want to talk to Roman myself.”

*

(to be continued)

[themilky-way]

paris {s.r}

gif credit: sincerelycalum on tumblr

pairing: spencer reid x female! reader

summary: while working on a case in paris, you and spencer realize that there may be more to your friendship than you think. how long until the city of love casts a spell on you? based on this song.

warnings: none i think it’s just fluff  (like everything I write lol)

author’s note:  this long af bc this was supposed to be a series and this would’ve been the second part but the first one i posted didn’t do well lmao. so instead, just enjoy this one shot and maybe i’ll post the first one again if u guys want but idk. also we a lil bold in this fic bc we love confident queens

grabbing your go bag and cell phone from the charging port, you quickly made your way to the jet that was already waiting for departure. the team was ready to make their way to paris, france on a case for a serial killer that migrated from california. it had been difficult for everyone, considering the unsub wasn’t leaving much evidence. 

despite it being for work, you and the team were excited to explore one of the most beautiful cities in the world. if you thought about it, it was kind of like killing two birds with one stone: the opportunity to finally catch a gruesome killer and a vacation. morgan was practically shaking with anticipation as he kept getting up from his seat and bothering garcia every five minutes and then going back. 

“just think about it, baby, all the smokin’ hot people we’re gonna meet. I mean, it’s called the “city of love” for a reason!” derek rambled to penelope as she typed away rapidly on her computer. 

“this isn’t a vacation, sugar, but yes I’m aware of all the potential babes we might encounter. and for that, I prepared another bag,” she giggled as derek started to laugh along with her. he raised his hand to high five her and she lifted hers too, lightly patting it. 

“oh you’re bad bad aren’t you,” he laughed, and they both continued to talk too rapidly for the others to understand. meanwhile, you had grabbed your seat next to emily and right across from you was spencer. you and emily were talking about god knows what, the range going from guessing the types of desserts paris had to perhaps renting a motorcycle for your stay. the banter between the both of you was endless, and you even started watching a french movie to get some pointers on the language. 

between the jokes and wondering remarks, you didn’t really notice that spencer was observing you the whole time. sure, he could play it off as if he were judging both of his coworkers for their lack of knowledge on french culture and linguistics, but he wasn’t really doing that, was he? no, in fact, he was watching you in such depth, the way he’d look at the pages of a book, and taking in every aspect that you had to present. he was, in the most simplest way it can be described as, mesmerized.

the day spencer realized that he looked at you this way shocked him. to be completely honest, it scared the hell out of him. he never pictured you as anything more than a friend, and he always thought you were too relaxed for a job like this. he told himself that he’d leave the matter alone, that their would be no thinking or second-guessing of any kind. but the second he’d lay his eyes on you, it’s like the rules he made up never quite existed. however, the more he looked back on it, there was one question that urged this matter forward: am I gonna find out why?

he shook out of his deep concentration to look up at the voice that was now speaking to him. his eyes focused again and he stared at you confused.

“reid, you okay? you’re spacing out on me, buddy,” you said, head turned slightly from the position you were seated in. you had shifted in your seat to face emily, your left leg bent on the cushion and your right giving you stability on the ground. 

“sorry, I was busy thinking.”

“well, try not to use that big ol’ brain of yours too much yet, we’re gonna need it when we land,” you said, giving him a small wink. he gave you a small smile while a tiny smear of rose-colored blush crept its way onto his cheeks. it was a friendly gesture; everyone on the team did it so you thought, “why the hell not?”

reid opted to read a little bit while on the plane so that he could get in some new interrogating tactics for when they met the unsub. you and emily continued to watch french movies and spot all of the hot actors and actresses you thought would be fake, penny and morgan, well they were on a whole different level of fun. the only ones quiet and doing some work was hotch, jj, and rossi. 

the plane slowly began to descend, butterflies erupting in your stomach from the fall, before the captain announced, “we are now ready to descend and are getting ready for arrival.”

when the captain finished, hotch began, “alright, listen up, team. the location of this case was by chance and we shouldn’t get distracted by anything or anyone. do your job quickly and efficiently as you’ve always had.” he spoke sternly, his shoulders were straight and his face emotionless and heavy with sleep. to any other person, hotch would be a zombie who helped solve murder cases, but to the bau team, he was their leader and they admired him. 

“oh, come on, hotch! if we work extra hard these few days and have enough time by the end of the wee-” you began before getting cut off. 

“yes, we can stay a while and explore the city. the unsub and the evidence altogether looks promising, so hopefully we can wrap it up quick. but don’t stray from your path in the meantime.”

everybody nodded and “yes, sir’d” before standing up and grabbing their luggage from the compartments at the top of their seats. everyone walked out in pairs and headed for the taxi cars that were waiting for them. you took emily, morgan took reid, jj and penelope partnered up, and of of course rossi and hotchner stuck together. at different paces, the team agreed at a nearby hotel closest to the paris police department that had called them. getting your bags in the car, along with the rest of the girls’, you made your way to the hotel to check in and drop your luggage off.

at first glance, it looked like a simple building; a cream color adorning the walls and some very intricate, sophisticated street lamps aligned on the perimeter of the parking entrance. before entering, there was a sort of roundabout you had to pass in order to reach to valet parking, and in the center of the roundabout, was a water fountain. it was simple, yes, but to parisians only. to outsiders, like the bau, it was already quite elegant. the ladies, including you, pitched in a little to pay for the ride and once you got out, there was a young man who offered to take your bags inside. 

“avez-vous besoin d'aide, madame?” the boy said. all of you looked at each other a little confused because even though you thought it might’ve helped, watching french movies for nine hours with emily wasn’t doing it. 

“he’s asking if you need help with these. here,” penny clarified before putting her tiny hello kitty handbag in yours, “let me handle it.”

she walked up to the somewhat tall boy, looked him over once, and said in the thickest french accent there was, “oui je fais mon doux muffin merci beaucoup.” she did a tiny hair flip to her blonde curls and came back to where the rest of you were standing.

“penny, uh, what exactly did you tell that boy?” emily said, stifling down a small giggle.

“nothing, i just said “yes” that I needed help and “thank you very much.”

“no, no, the other part. there must’ve been another part to it. tell us!” jj said, grabbing penelope by the shoulders and shaking them lightly. 

“what other part?”

“the one where you made a boy dressed in victorian era clothing blush like a maniac over some luggage,” you laughed. to this, garcia started to laugh too and then even harder. you and the rest of the girls had puzzled grins on their faces, but the inkling of seeing your friend laugh so hard was reaching your guys’ throats too. 

when she finally caught a breath to speak, she said, “I called him my sweet muffin!” at this, you and the girls broke into heaves of laughter, and couldn’t stop. you and jj had to bend down and place a hand on your stomachs’ to stop them from hurting a little. after a while, there was no words just the intake of small breaths and exhaling them out for control. when the fun comedy was over, you guys followed the boy and his friend inside the hotel lobby. `you took turns registering, and when you were all done, you saw that the rest of the team had beat you to it. they were sitting down in a cushion area near the front desk and were waiting for you guys. 

“okay, now that the rooms are ready, you all can pick a partner to dorm with. it doesn’t really matter, but just choose wisely. I know some people get too crazy when they’re together,” hotch announced, flashing a look at you and garcia before handing out keys. you and emily teamed up per usual, and the rest pairing up in the same order they had been in before. once everyone was ready, you started to make your way up to your rooms while making small chatter with the rest of the gang. emily inserted the key into the lock of the door, and as soon she opened the door, your eyes’ were met with the most delicate and luxurious room you both have ever encountered. 

on either side of the room were two king sized beds with victorian style bed sheets; the design on them were floral, the pastel shades of the roses tracing the outline of the bed beautifully. the ends of the sheets were long, but shabby, which added a nice, elegant, and almost romantic feel to it. 

in the middle of the two beds was a small isle that allowed one person to walk on it at a time. at the end of it, was the entrance to the balcony, which gave view to the famed Eiffel Tower. the small cities, parks, and lakes, that made up the ground portion of the tower were now completely lit up, giving way to an entire new feeling for you. you set your bags on the bed, pushing the cushion down with your hand to feel the softness of it, and made way to the balcony.

“i’ll be right out here, em, if you need me,” you said, waiting for the small “yup” that came from her before proceeding. as soon as your leg crossed the small threshold to the other side, the fresh, cool breeze of the night flooded your senses. you smiled and took in the emotion it gave you, fully crossing over to stand against the railing now. you took in the sights first. the trees that shaped the parks swiveled against the current of the wind, couples of all ages walking hand in hand, admiring how the moon and the stars matched so well to their love. the lights of the tower gleaming brightly and almost seemingly looking at you, as if they asked you, “don’t you realize, (y/n)? don’t you pay attention?” 

paris, and everything it was offering you at that moment, put you through a trance. one where you began to actually speak to the lights, the very same ones that millions of others had fallen in love under. “realize what? I do pay attention, i always have, but what is it I need to notice?”

you kept staring and looking around, if the lights actually were talking to you and this wasn’t a dream, and that you weren’t crazy. you looked around the balcony and walked on it to spy a tiny clue your instincts informed you about. soon enough, you noticed that the balcony was shared by the room next door. you placed your right hand on the rail to kneel down a bit and see if you could figure out who the room belonged to.  

“maybe it’s penny, oh god please be penny. i’m not in the mood to see rossi in scooby-doo underpants...” you whispered fairly. just when you saw a dainty silhouette about to exit the restroom, you turned around to your end of the balcony. 

“(y/n)? are you spying on- (y/n), we’ve been here one hour! our hot, paris boyfriends can wait until we catch the unsub,” emily, whose head was the only part of her body on the outside of the balcony, whispered. “come on, get changed into some comfy clothes. we can take a look at the victimology together.”

standing up, you made one quick glance at the room and the figure was already gone and so was the light. thanks for that, eiffel tower lights, you thought. you crossed to you room again and took a shower before arranging your clothes according to the days of your stay. you put your pajamas on and climbed onto one side of emily’s bed to wait for her to come out of the restroom, since you guys took turns brushing your teeth. 

after about a half and hour of rearranging victimology statements and connecting photos from the crime scene, the both of you were ready to go to sleep. emily turned off her lights and you took one last glance at the view before doing the same. 

and then you heard footsteps on your balcony. 

----------

“you guys think I can woo a french girl tonight?”

“honey, with those shoes? not a chance,” garcia pointed out. morgan made a pout at her response and then acted as if he was offended. the team laughed and then raised their glass in unison and took a sip. the case, overall, went well. you guys managed to catch the unsub in an isolated tunnel and brought him over to the parisian authorities. you and jj had taken the only victim left alive to the station to make one final statement to the news. the rest of bodies were given proper burial and the families were finally given closure. 

because the team had performed beyond excellent, and there were still a few days left before your departure, the team opted on celebrating on a night out. currently, you and your friends were seated around a small circular table inside a local bar, chatting away at whatever came to mind. 

you chose to only drink mineral water, mostly because you knew that you were technically still at work and you didn’t want to risk being drunk in case of an emergency. reid, in a similar manner, chose a glass of soda to toast with. but while doing so, he found himself looking at you in the same way he did on the plane. he hadn’t been able to take in your features that night, but as everyone was so deeply distracted, he began to notice everything. 

he looked over your outfit for tonight, a red, plaid mini skirt with a black turtleneck. the shirt itself was fitted to your body and allowed your angles and curves to be accentuated perfectly. the skirt permitted your legs to be highlighted in a decent, and elegant manner. your hair was loose tonight, and with every breeze that made its way through the bar windows, it caused small strands to caress your face lightly and some to stick to your lip gloss. the heels, oh god, the heels. it drove him crazy; the delicate way in which they clicked when you walked on the concrete, how they would sometimes cause you discomfort and force you to stop and fix it,  how your gentle hand had grasp his shoulder for balance or else you’d fall. 

everything about you tonight was immaculate. no matter how hard he forced himself to look away from you, to stop thinking of you in any other way than a coworker, and to just drink his soda which was becoming less carbonated with every passing second, he just couldn’t. and it was scaring the hell out of him. 

you on the other hand, were still trying to decipher what the tower lights had asked you. what was there to realize? you were here, in paris, the city where millions of people fall in love, to fight a serial killer. the chances of you finding love, especially on a balcony where you had spied on a stranger, were slim. 

by the time you finished your thought process, you noticed that hotch was looking at you with a puzzled expression. 

“everything alright, (y/n)?” he softly asked you. 

“yes, sir, just thinking. is it okay if I head back to my hotel?”

“yes, of course, you might even catch reid on the way there. he left a couple of minutes ago.”

“thank you, sir. good night,” you spoke and got up from your chair, adjusting your skirt as you did so. huh, he left? weird, you thought. you left a tip for the waiter and bid farewell to the rest of your companions before grabbing your coat and clutch and exiting the bar. 

it was rather close to your hotel, so within a few minutes you had reached your dorm and set your things down. sitting down on the edge of the bed, you bent over slightly to unlatch your heels and slip them off your feet. you set them aside and you laid on your back for a few minutes. the only light in your room was the bathroom’s as you didn’t like strong lights shining during the night, so these dimmed ones would do. 

you closed your eyes for a little while and just let the sounds of the city flow through you. you had one opportunity to experience paris, and you weren’t gonna take it for granted. for a while, only your small inhales and exhales of breath were audible, the aura of the room peaceful. 

it wasn’t until you heard footsteps, the very same ones from that other night, on your balcony. your eyes flew open and you pushed your body upward to look back at your window. this is my shot, my chance, you thought. could it be a super old man who was here on vacation? yes. could it rossi, who might’ve gotten the dorm next to yours? maybe. were the possibilities of who the hell was on your balcony in a parisian hotel endless? again, yes. 

but you had to see for yourself, figure out what exactly the universe, paris, was telling you. so you got up from your bed and creeped quietly to the window and slid it up. you crossed the threshold, and even though your light was limited, you were able to make out a tall, thin figure. you inched a little closer, hands crossed over your chest to appear somewhat like a normal human. you wouldn’t have figured it out until he spoke. 

“(y/n)?”

his voice sent shivers down every inch of your body, and no, it wasn’t the cold air of the city, it was him. it was spencer. it caught you by surprise, the feeling his voice gave you, but you tried to play it off. he never made you feel this way, why now? 

“(y/n)? you okay?” he spoke again. this time you lightly shook your head and walked closer to where he was standing so you could lean on the railing now. his body followed yours, and now you were able to make out the perpexled look on his eyes. 

“hi, yeah, I’m good. just didn’t expect to find you here, that’s all,” you spoke quietly, unsure of yourself. he noticed, obviously he noticed, it’s spencer. 

“yeah, same here. I heard footsteps the other night here but I had just taken a shower so I didn’t come out until later.” you glanced up at him when you realized that he was the figure that was in the restroom you’d seen. the one you had spied on and probably would’ve seen naked if emily hadn’t interrupted. a tiny blush made its way onto your cheeks, and you were quite thankful the dark covered the rosy color a little. 

but spencer wasn’t dumb, much less stupid, and if he noticed every little detail about you tonight, he saw how you became around him. and god, he sure did like it. “oh, well that’s good, i guess,” was all you could mutter. so you turned your body now to face the tower, elbows on the railing and hands folded together. he saw the shift in stance and he followed, so now you were both side by side and looking at a view that somehow resembled your emotions for one another. 

“hey spence?”

“yeah?”

“have you ever fallen in love?”

his voice hitched a little and he felt his throat tighten. he let out a small cough to mask the impact of your question, but he found the strength in his voice to retort.

“what makes you ask?”

“no, no reason, i was just curious, ya know. being in paris and all,” you answered. you began to feel intrusive for asking such a personal question, but it had seemed easy for you to do so because of your friendship. you were looking at him as you replied, but then looked back towards the view again. the both of you stood in silence for a couple minutes, your guilt seeping in more at this point. 

“only once. it didn’t end well for the both of us,” he broke the silence. you turned your head to look at him, and you were about to open your mouth to say something when he spoke again. 

“but it happened a long time ago. i don’t think about her anymore.”

you straightened up a little and you continued to face him, prying a little deeper than you should be. “so who do you think about now?”

he glanced at you, his face quickly returning back to the nature displayed in front of him and then looked back to you. a small grin began tugging at his lips, as if he meant to ask, “is this your way of playing with me?”

you gazed up at him and took this sudden swerve of confidence to glance at his lips, and then back up to him, your own smile forming. 

“she’s standing on a balcony with me in paris.” 

[collecting-stories]

Enchanted - Crutchie Morris

A/N: canon-era newsies fic. Based on AKB’s Crutchie cause he’s too cute. 

///

There was no denying that Crutchie, with his strawberry-blond hair and effervescent smile, was a sight to behold. The last bit of light illuminating a room through a window and warming anyone who stood in its path. Perhaps a little blinding at first glance but nevertheless beautiful and welcomed amidst the gloom of everyday life in New York. A vast and overpowering city, it was want to make you miss the farm you’d worked on before this but Crutchie made it a little more bearable, even if you only saw him briefly as you grabbed the paper and groceries for your employers.  

“I really am starting to get used to the market,” you mentioned, bright and early as you skimmed the front page of the paper you were sure to purchase.  

“I can’t believe theys don’t have ‘em up north.” Crutchie replied, sparing a smile for a lady that was passing. She slowed and he waved a paper in her direction, seeming to reel her in with it the way one might reel in a fish.  

“I’m sure they do but there’s no need for them where I lived, didn’t make a lick of sense to be selling eggs to people who can already buy eggs. Not even milk delivery came ‘round.” You confided as you finally pulled a nickel from your coin purse.  

“That’s too much,” Crutchie insisted, as he always did.  

In truth it did cut into your income to pay him a full nickel or dime instead of the penny it cost for the paper but you weren’t bother led by it. The family you were in service to now boarded you in their home and you had no one to send your income to so it was solely yours.  

“It’s a tip,” you insisted right back, “your smile is like the sun on a winter day Crutchie.”  

Crutchie flushed a red so deep it looked threatened to match the beets in your basket. It dusted his ears and his freckles disappeared completely.  

“Yous got a way wit words.”  

“I’ll see you tomorrow Crutchie.” You promised,  tucking the paper under your arm and heading in the direction of your house.  

You looked nice enough, plain of dress but he didn’t think anything of it. You had never said you were in service to the household where you lived only that you lived on Poplar street and Crutchie knew it to be richer folk. Not the Katherine Pulitzers of the world, surely, but richer than Davey’s family by leaps and bounds. All you had told him was that you had moved here from up north. You regaled him with tales of the white winters and the beautiful summers in the farming community. The woods and the vast amounts of green pastures everywhere. It sounded like a fairytale, a place too good to be true, like Jack’s Santa Fe. Why should anyone trade such an ideal for the overcrowded streets of New York? He was want to ask but it knew it wasn’t his place. He didn’t know you like that.  

Crutchie has met you the first time you’d gone to the market, walking home frustrated and completely lost, you’d flagged the newsie and asked directions. He’d been hooked ever since. Jack told him that he gave too much of himself to others and that he ought to be careful.  

“Tread lightly.” Were his exact words.  

But Crutchie couldn’t be bothered listening. He was sitting up late at night scrubbing stains out of his vest that had been there since it was sewn. There was no convincing him to go about things slowly.  

“Extra! Extra! Gold found in New York!” Crutchie shouted, waving his arm as he held the paper up. Down the street he could hear Racetrack shouting about a baby born with two heads. Impossible but Racetrack was just sure enough of himself to convince a person it might be true.  

“Least gold makes sense, all those folks moving to the gold towns out west.” Crutchie had joked earlier that morning as he split a stale bagel with his housemate.  

“Theys ain’t stupid, New York ain’t got nothing but rats and garbage.”

“But theys supposed ta believe a baby wit two heads?”  

“I can’t argue wit the people Crutch. They like crazy stories.” Racetrack replied, stuffing the rest of the bagel in his mouth and swallowing it down with water.  

“Just don’t go spreading ya stories on my corner. I’ll have ta soak ya.” Crutchie teased, pretending to whack his friend with his crutch.  

Race was far enough away that he wasn’t pulling any business from Crutchie but he could still hear the over-sensationalised story being advertised to the folks of New York. Both boys would age of the lodge, and of newsie work, soon and they’d been talking about splitting rent with Finch and Mush somewhere near by. There were more than a couple tenement buildings around and Finch had already gotten a second job running machines at a factory near the Hudson. But before Crutchie threw in the towel on being a newsie he wanted to see where his chances sat with you. If he wasn’t hawking papers every morning you’d have no reason to see him, unless you wanted to.  

That was the thing that Jack was warning caution with. Asking you out, confessing his feelings, it was all nice in theory but you had better prospects than a homeless newsie, especially one depended on a crutch.  

“Crutchie!”  

He sold off another paper and pocketed the penny before spinning himself to see you walking his way, waving as you got closer. You waved the way people waved ships out of the harbour, excited and joyful.  

“Here for the pape?” He asked, already pulling one out.  

“I am, I heard a story about a baby born with two heads but I suspect he was lying.” You announced, “what’s yours say?”  

“I’s got gold in New York,” Crutchie offered, handing over the paper that did indeed speak of gold-fever outside the city.  

“Golds tricky business. If it’s there it’s good but if it’s not...” you trailed off, your usual smile faltering just a bit as you took the paper from him.  

“Ya ever seen any?”  

“No, can’t say I have.” You perused the paper as usual, reading through the front page as Crutchie continued to sell.  

“Before ya head off,” Crutchie began to say, drawing your attention away from the paper. “I’s wondered if I could escort ya home sometime?”

“I would love that,” you couldn’t help the smile that spread on your face. You’d been stopping to chat up Crutchie for a while now because you liked the newsboy. He was cute and charming and funny and while you were sure he flirted with everyone you liked when he smiled at you and flirted with you. “You could uh, walk me back today?” You offered.  

You had been in the city long enough that you knew both the longest and the quickest route to get home. You took Crutchie the long way back, walking slowly as you did. All the rules about flirting you had learned from the kids at your last service. The shy looks, the accidental brush of a hand or a trip over air only to hold his hand, a sweet smile and laugh at everything he said. You disregarded all of those rules though, instead taking Crutchie’s free arm and walking with him along the street.  

“Do ya like the city so far?” Crutchie asked.  

“It’s nice...it’s always busy. I do like that this house has less kids, and less land.” You replied, “walking to get some eggs at market is a lot easier than wrestling with a bunch of chickens every morning. Or milking a cow!”  

“Oh,” Crutchie said, “I thought yous lived on Poplar.” He was surprised to hear you say that you were in service. But more than that he felt a little more hopeful.  

“I do, but I live in the servants’ rooms, off the kitchen.” You explained, “it’s a pretty nice job, all things considered.”

“I’m sure it beats being a newsie.” He replied.  

“For me certainly, I’d be a lousy newsie...no one would ever buy a pape from me.”  

“I would.”

“You’re too sweet to me Crutchie.”

“I mean it, nothing sells a paper faster than a beautiful face.” He replied, blush staining his cheeks.  

“That’s why you sell so many,” you teased, leaning over quickly and kissing his cheek. You pulled away just as fast, watching the smile that took over his face.  

The two of you walked the rest of the way back in silence, stealing quick glances at each other. When you arrived at your employer’s house on Poplar you led him to the side entrance, in the alley. The kitchen door was open and a few of the other workers were inside, pretending not to look at the two of you but glancing over curiously.  

“Thanks for escorting me home Crutchie, I really enjoyed walking with you.”  

“Maybe I could walk you tomorrow too?” He offered, holding your hand.  

“I would really like that.” You said, kissing his cheek once more, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“See you tomorrow.”  

Crutchie took the quick way home, heading straight for Racetrack’s corner to tell his friend that he owed him a dime. Racetrack had bet Crutchie that she would be too upper-class for him but two kisses and the promise to walk together tomorrow told Crutchie otherwise. He had won, more than just the dime he was already planning on using to buy you a bouquet of flowers for tomorrow.  

-

More newsies. 

[maikatc]

Black Sun Tale | Her Lullaby

i said i’d post it today without a time, so here it is! you actually get to meet some of my favorite super-side-characters in this haha–

remember this is a first draft with only minor edits, but enjoy! comments are reception are always appreciated.

-

Oliver was off at school, leaving Ayu to his own wits at the house. Though, the assignment for finishing a section of the textbook deemed itself… ill-tasting for Ayu’s attention. 

He doodled instead, most definitely, cursing his own drawings in the meantime. Thoughts of the events days prior already passed by his mind as almost nothing out of the ordinary. To be fair, however, Eilwen’s tests did pop up from time to time. 

Despite the scenes he drew, those crosses and his own blood seeped an abnormality into himself while tapping his fresher skin. It ticked him. The thoughts of his relations to Akeldama poisoning him beckoned as another one of his mistakes. But I should’ve expected that, shouldn’t I? 

Then there was Eilwen herself: follower in Akeldama’s society being punished by such simple items. The idea of her hands holding still from the burning cross stuck to him, leading him to wonder his own curiosities. Is everyone else the same, he asked. Certainly, they must have had pain tolerances similar to Eilwen’s words. 

But, then again, he always had somebody to ask. 

“Vittorino?” 

“What is it, now,” he asked. His form appeared out by his and Oliver’s bed, sitting with an irked face. 

“You… know Eilwen right?”

He scoffed, “Yeah, I’m taking you to see her later today.”

“I am?”

“It was a last-minute call,” he replied. “But why are you asking about her?” 

Ayu adjusted himself before answering the question. “I just want to know what you know about her.”

The question brought Vittorino to a side-eye of thought, but he shrugged nonetheless. “There’s not much I know about her, or any first eras other than Alice –but everyone knows about her really–. All she really does is hate on Akeldama and stick herself inside her own room, but most of ‘em keep to themselves like us too.”

He fidgeted. “That’s it?”

“Yeah.” He then asked, “What, did she do something weird?” 

“I guess she did…” He brought an explanation to the table. “I guess she was wondering about what’s happened to my body after dealing with Akeldama, which that was weird but… She tested me with a cross and her hands looked like they were burning…”

Vittorino’s calm face dropped just the slightest. 

“She said it happens to everyone because of contracts, but she didn’t even bat an eye at it. I figure she’s just strong about it. She seems strong. But I just want to know how it is with other members in the society since– since it burned me immediately yet she took it like a champ.” 

“Wait it burned you?” He nodded. “Huh, I didn’t expect that… I figured Oliver would but–. Anyways, you really wanna know about that stuff, don’t you?” Within a whim, Vittorino brought himself down to Ayu’s sitting level. 

“It’s just been stuck in my mind for a while.”  

“And that’s a bad thing to get stuck behind.” Digging through, he buried his hands into his pocket, viewing downwards whilst doing so. Soon, steam appeared out of the pocket as he paused, only to bring himself at a sigh when he brought it out. 

There laid a wooden cross against his skin, burning up in a red yet he too held no response. “It’s a simple thing: it burns whatever is associated with a demon like Akeldama.”

“He’s a demon?” 

“Probably,” he answered, “We figured once Alice told us some stuff.”

“So, he’s that bad…”

“Well, people take him for granted,” Vittorino commented. “Anyhow, this stuff is painful, yeah, but it’s just that some of us are used to the feeling by now.” 

Ayu asked, “Why?”

“Because…” Vittorino shook his head, storing the cross back in his pocket and standing back up. “Because some of us like holding it sometimes… to think about things.”

“… Vittorino–”

The tallest chuckled to himself, turning back to Ayu with a cheeky smile. “I think I’m one of the only second eras who even do it, but it’s just because it’s funny. Like, we aren’t even allowed to hold it, how idiotic is that? It just shows how ridiculous all that stuff is.”

The lie radiated to Ayu’s discomfort, a good one for sure considering his character, but a detection in lies were somewhat of a tendency. “Vittorino, are you sure this isn’t about…”

He pushed the idea aside, “No, they were all idiotic. That’s why I left the whole place.” His foot tapped impatiently. “Do you want to go to Eilwen’s early or something?” 

Ayu blinked at him, then back at the textbook. “… I mean, if it gets me out of language arts.” 

Opening a door already, Vittorino rolled his eyes. “He really wants you learning all that?” 

He followed him over to the forest entrance. “It’ll be important for when I’m older, and I really need to catch up anyways.” 

“Yeah, like learning phonetics can help you fight stuff or whatever.”

“Ollie said that shouldn’t be my priority anymore–”

“That’s what Oliver said,” he argued, “but not what you decided.”

He ventured himself into the darker woods that steeped itself by its depths of a hillside. The conversation obligated Ayu to follow. 

“I’ve been watching both of you ever since you guys had to be relevant in my life, and all you do is care about and follow others. But what about yourself?” The steps he trudged formed a beat to themselves, as if of a slow march. “Oliver’s was easy to notice since him caring causes him to start dying, and he stopped following people a while ago, but you’re less noticeable. For everyone, you’re less noticeable, since you aren’t dying from it. However, you keep caring and giving yourself away for other people. You’ll kill yourself eventually from just doing that.”  

The speech brought fear to Ayu’s throat, as he gulped at those last words. 

“’Everyone is manipulated by everything, but it’s in everyone’s power to take their own control.’” he glared down at Ayu. “That’s what I’ve been taught, and by now I think you should learn it for once.”

“… You were taught that by Akeldama, weren’t you?” 

He answered, “Obviously. Like I said, he’s taken for granted with some things he says.” 

Ayu had to argue then. “Vittorino, he’s a terrible person.” 

“So, what if he’s a bad person? For me, he made me the great and living person I am today and got rid of so many lost causes from making more chaos.” 

The excused seemed invalid with many counterarguments. “He caused the deaths of a bunch of lives because he felt like it.” 

“And that’s where it is: he does what he feels. He has nothing holding him back and we can’t even imagine all the events he’s had in his life. He doesn’t follow anyone and that’s what makes him great!” 

His excitement over the conversation peaked the slightest with his voice and giddy hands, to Ayu’s dismay. 

“Oliver’s right, you’re a weird fuck.” 

“If those guys are the ones that are free from all those rules,” he chuckled. 

As they walked, Ayu tripped on a root again. “Why are we even walking here? Didn’t you want to drop me off at Eilwen’s?” 

He shrugged. “I just like walking here, and I don’t actually have access to her room. She locked me out of it.”

“I…” Somehow, Ayu yelled in anger, “Vittorino! –”

*** 

Eilwen was found in the wild an hour later conversing with Alice. Though she hesitantly brought him back to the black-box. 

As they sat together in their separate chairs, Ayu questioned her silence. “Why did you bring me here now?” 

At the question, she bit her thin lip, her eyes piercing at him with an unknown feeling. Then sighed, “I asked Alice about your body’s behavior, and why you even have such odd relations with Akeldama… And I’m afraid I’ve now been tasked to prepare you for that answer yourself.”

Ayu blinked. “What do you mean?” 

“I cannot explain any details. I’m sorry. However, you are not here for that; you’re here to learn of other matters.” Standing up, she grabbed her candle to light up others from behind her back, illuminating a distinct chart connected to her watch by a string. “That being the current members of the society today.” 

Admittedly, Ayu groaned in the inside. “Can’t you take me on flashbacks again for this?” 

She shook her head. “No, that’s rather unnecessary. I’ll only be explaining each briefly.” A face mirroring a sigh planted on herself. “Then you’ll meet some yourself.”

The last section peaked his interest at an instant, as his eyes beamed at attention once said. “You mean I have to meet them?” 

“As annoying as it is yes. However, considering your importance, they won’t harm you now especially after the Margaret incident.”  She shook her head, adjusting her hat while setting up her watch. “Now then, let’s begin with the second eras.” 

*

After many psychopaths and silly characters in such a presentation, the watch clicked onto the final member. In his seat, Ayu sat intrigued but rather tired, with his arm barely lifting his head up. All the faces he only met on the board deemed themselves a weighing amount to handle by sight from their demeanors and smiles or frowns. 

At least some members seemed human. 

“Finally, we have the accursed, Bluebell.”

Ayu tilted his head. “Accursed?”

The picture brightened up with a woman in the forefront. Her body still like a portrait, she hung against a wreath of giant flowers delicately with her gown and hair flowing. Her hair welcomed itself like long roots of strawberry blonde that breezed down up until her waist. The gown glowed in a gentle white, small patterns of flowers speckled across its edges and rims, and sleeves cuffed under her wrists leaving an airy puff to her arms. But within it all, crowned with flowers colored vibrant and beautiful upon her freckled skin, she smiled, wide and calm. 

The beauty and serene nature of her image calmed Ayu as that of a young, mystical mother. However, previous members already brought him to a distrust. Plus, ‘accursed’ was finally explainable with her appearance. 

“Don’t trust her.” Eilwen explained, “While Bluebell is objectively the most gorgeous of the first eras, she is most definitely the least liked.”

“And why her specifically?”

“She’s just a sinister addle pate,” she grumbled. “She has not talked much of her origins but she either lied to many or she held multiple jobs as a caretaker, nursemaid, and florist whilst as a young mother. The happenings to what happened to her child are unknown, though she joined Akeldama without them.”

The image, in Ayu’s mind, continued to stare down into his soul somehow. While doing so, Eilwen explained her abilities and methods of extermination.

The concepts blended with Ayu rather poorly along with all the other new faces. “I get she hunts down kids but aren’t I safe?”

She replied, “It’s difficult to consider… and to explain. She likes to fool around with everybody in general. Although, I’m not sure if you’d even be affected by her.”

Through some thinking, Ayu shrugged. “I’ll be fine; Oliver’s singing is probably better anyways.”

Eilwen’s expression downed itself, proceeding to blow out the candles near the board and summoning a door. “I’m sure you will.” The door opened up her hands, which signaled Ayu to jumped out of his chair. “Follow me, please.”

And so, he stepped on out along her side, yet through the door was not the average forest of Fowls. Glass-ridden, a topless hallway was formed, large and wide in its endless interior. On each side of its walls placed multiple doors all of which caked against each other in their designs, along with small silver plaques beside them all. 

“Woah…” Ayu breathed out into a smile. “This is cool!” 

“This is where you have access to the houses and fields of every member in history.” The coat that blanketed her shuffled whilst she returned back to the door behind them. “Many will be empty, I warn you. And I won’t be accompanying you due to all their annoyances.”

As the door closed, he asked her. “Wait- Wait! How am I supposed to get back here? Or back to you?” 

“Elementary, now that you’re here, just think of this hall and the door will appear. Don’t hassle over it.” Then the door finally faced him flat, its carvings of bells and old clocks mocking him. 

The situation brought Ayu to a grumble, not so much any fear in his bones more so irritation of mentors. Perhaps the day was a bad mood, we will never know. Though after a huff and sigh, Ayu trudged forward to the first door in sight.

The new entrance glossed itself in comparison to all the other wood-like structures, shining along carvings of fancy men. 

One of Ayu’s eyes lifted up at the design, its properness making itself more of an oddity. And already his guesses as to who it was appeared in his mind. He took a breath, motivating himself to enter in, and with his sight closed, he opened the door. 

Barging in, Ayu stopped himself before his speed kicked in. Opening his blind view, he was met with velvets and greens, as well as stairs to his questioning. Stepping over, he greeted himself to what seemed to be a rich brat’s lair. 

Yep, it’s him. 

At the edge of the floor, a table sat furnished in cards and coins, as well two party members sitting on each side. 

“… I draw three.”

“What do you mean you draw three? I had just went all in.” 

“Well, you always cheat so you’ll be disqualified in two seconds once King comes back.” 

“But don’t we always cheat?” 

“Yeah, but the two of us can’t manipulate the card order.” 

“Then that’s just too bad to be you.” 

The two conversed at the singular turn. Their bickering brought Ayu to a slight familiarity. Soon, he spoke out, “You’re… Eden and Cosmina, right?” 

They turned at him instantly, the girl holding a card by her two fingers without hesitation. The appearances began to clear up for Ayu, however their clothing and accessories contradicted that of past sights. The man, Eden, seemed to have lengthy brunette hair tied to the back, edges still rolling off from the knot and blocking up some of his face, though a piercing still appeared by the edge of his lip. His top comfortably laying against his torso and thighs as a well-knit turtleneck, yet the sleeves ripped themselves off. Then Cosmina’s hair changed to that of a slim cut down to her chin, with her uniform only consisting of a tank-top, shorts, and thin coat. 

Eden questioned, “Are you the kid Alice mentioned earlier?” 

“I thought he’d look more off-putting,” Cosmina commented. “Not that I’ll complain. Were you expecting King?” 

Hesitantly, Ayu nodded. 

She stared down into his soul. “Timid, I see. Well, there’s not much to be weary of here. We won’t bite, if that’s what you’re thinking. And King’ll be here soon, he’s only getting essentials.” 

Ayu’s words stumbled within themselves, ultimately bring nothing of a reply. 

“You’re calling booze an essential?” 

“What else are we supposed to do waiting here? Might as well get a little tipsy.”

“I…”

“Jesus fucking Christ you couldn’t believe the number of parents at the liquor store today!” The door behind them all slammed closed. Ayu and the others whipped their heads to find the last member of the party. His figure lean and confidant with his boxes hung around his arms; his tailcoat flowed as he paced up the stairs. In Ayu’s eyes, the man’s eyepatch glistened in its dark cloth, his short haircut to match. “Oh, it’s the kid.” 

“It’s Ayu…”

“King, perfect timing, he just got here.” Cosmina walked on over to the new figure. They greeted each other by King’s kiss on her cheek whilst he placed the boxes down for her to grab. He kissed down Eden’s cheek as well, to Ayu’s slight confusion. “He’s a little shy, so we’ll save the drinks for later in case you two do something stupid.” 

“Oh, who are you kidding? We all go stupid with bourbon,” King laughed as he tidied the small mess on Eden’s shirt. 

Ayu scurried in his spot. “You’re King?”

“In the flesh, hopefully.” 

The answer forced Ayu to gesture at the whole room. “Aren’t you supposed to be the fancy one?” 

He muttered, “Damn, I really do wanna drink. Mina, get the OJ.” 

“On it.” 

“Anyways,” the focus laid back on Ayu. “I suppose that’s how I’m seen in the society.” 

“Yeah,” Ayu eventually brought himself to a seat. “You’re the fancy-ass ruler with the throne…” he then pointed at the other two. “And you guys were the servants?” 

Eden cackled. “Oh god, that takes me back.” 

The king chuckled a little with him. “Yeah, I guess that’s how it was.” 

“You all had old fancy clothes and stuff… what happened?” 

“That shit was hot, that’s what,” Eden answered. 

The girl returned with cups of orange juice by a hand and placed it on the table for the others to grab. “There were too many layers back then, I’ll admit.” 

“Thank you very much,” King snatched a cup. However, he offered to Ayu, “You want some? It isn’t spiked,” as he eyed the alcohol in the corner. 

That in itself raised Ayu’s hands against it. “I prefer apple juice…” 

“Huh, we haven’t had apple juice in a while. I’ll get that later.” 

Ayu still grabbed the cup from him, taking a sip to a surprise of the nice taste. And no pulp. “– Still why’re you guys like this now?”

King handed himself his own cup while answering. “Well, I will admit that back then, we did act like snobs.”

“It was you who was the snob,” Cosmina retorted. 

“And it was you all who went along with it,” he added. “But what am I joking, almost everyone in the first era has some kind of act going on, especially if we’re talking about back then.” 

Ayu questioned with his cup, “What are you talking about?” 

“Everyone here exaggerated themselves back then, whether it be by fashion or action. We were just the types who did both,” King explained. “And while we did like the roleplay and the clothes, being immortal for four hundred years made that a little boring.” 

“Oh yeah,” the idea of immortality seemed so normal for Ayu by then. “How is even being immortal.” 

“Oh, my god, it’s terrible!” Eden raised an arm. 

Cosmina said, “Remember you’re supposed to live a life for less than one hundred years and imagine doing the same thing four times.” 

“What she said,” King sipped. “We followed the trend of the society for a while which was ‘stay in your rooms to do whatever bullshit for eternity’. But we realized that, in itself, was bullshit.”

The swearing still threw Ayu off. 

“Usually people would off themselves after being tired of immortality, but we knew that was a stupid idea considering our society deals. So, instead of killing ourselves or moping like the rest of the ‘woe is me’ first eras–”

“And the even more ridiculous seconds.”

“– them too,” King continued. “We just decided to go and have a life outside of killing.” 

“By… drinking and living off of orange juice?” 

Eden drank his own cup of orange juice when he spoke, “Nah, the bourbon’s only for when we’re stuck here.” 

“… You’re gonna throw that out later, right?” 

“No, why would we,” Cosmina asked. 

And Ayu replied, “Because my dad always told me and my sister to throw that stuff out for Mom so…” 

“Psh,” Eden chuckled, “Then that’s just a bad parent.”

“They were pretty nice,” he defended. 

“I’m sure your parents managed to fix that up, or at least will do soon,” King pushed aside to Ayu’s own bitterness. “But, no we aren’t alcoholics. We go travel and find whatever’s fun in the new world.” 

“What?”

“We visit all different kinds of places in the world and do whatever festival or party’s going on there. Because, why stick here for a hundred more years when you can do whatever you want?”

“Whatever’s fun or whatever sounds funny enough,” Eden added, pointing at his own piercing with brows together. 

“It looks lovely on you, dear.” 

The compliments gave Ayu another topic to look upon. “… And all you three are?” 

“A couple.” Cosmina stayed in the background during all of the answers. “Is there anything of it?”

“No, not really,” Ayu looked down at his cup. “I just, don’t know anything about that stuff and I’ve never seen three people before so I was wondering why.”

“Fuck monogamy, that’s why,” King replied. 

“I drink to that.” With the raise of a cup, Eden drank more of the juice. 

“…?”

“We do as we feel, and we all like each other’s company. That’s all the necessary explaining,” yet even Cosmina casually sipped the orange juice. “You’re only a child but once you really understand, good for you.”

“Wait… do people like each other just because they like their company?” 

King interjected, “Well, there’s more to it but…– hold on we aren’t here to give romance advice!” 

“I wasn’t asking for any! I was just curious!” 

“What, are you having a school crush or something,” Eden raised a brow at him. 

“What?” Ayu scoffed at the idea, blushing in the midst, “No!”

“Alright then. That’s that.” He finally set his empty cup down after playing with it. “Are you going to ask us anything else or are you done with your orange juice?”

“I…” He set down the cup. “I think I’m done.” 

***

The other doors Ayu entered were abandoned by their owners long ago, as Eilwen told. Some brought worn down activities for Ayu to venture into, though others laid barren. Those barren lands packed themselves up, from the owner ready to leave as he learned. The ghosted lands still hung around with bright colors, but the dim atmosphere brought him to leave early to every single one. 

King’s trio seemed like the biggest treat of the day, alongside their flavorful beverage, but he tried to ignore that. Their modernist attitudes stuck to him, as well as their farewells to his visit. 

“If you end up joining us, come over here because everyone else sucks!”

Not the kindest gesture, he admitted, but the message still stood. He questioned the message, Am I joining the society soon? Is that what Eilwen’s worried about? 

The idea pleased itself easily, considering his associates and history. Besides, with everybody’s growing concerns to his own apparent growing importance, the aspect of him joining them seemed of a satisfying end to finish his mess, in some way of the matter. Perhaps he would receive more power than he could ever imagine or be granted his wish to undo everything in his life. That concept pleased himself the most. 

However, the price still stood ahead of him. That price of taking another’s life for his own lingered in the concept. And to that, he availed from the chances quickly enough, his heart too strong to break by himself.

There ahead of him, was yet another door to enter. This time, the wooden décor carved itself into flowers and leaves growing into one another in intricate detail. The petals fell and the stems kissed the grass carved below. In such detail in design, Ayu gulped knowing who it may be. And yet again, he brought his arm to open up the door. 

Stepping into new grounds, the soles of his old sneakers brushed up against long grass. It tickled his knees as his first views of the land were made. Despite the nature field, her land posed itself as disproportional. Flowers grew wild and of various shapes and sizes which many were larger than likely possible of a normal plant. They all swayed rhythmically to nothing, dancing to their own hearts content at the silence, but also the humming of another person in the garden. 

He faced doubt in the eye, and ventured more inside, ignoring his own inner-warnings. Quickly after drowning of the leaves in front of his path, he discovered the source of the hummer. Her long, angelical hair swayed down like a river, covering her face alongside her crown of wild flowers. She mumbled a tune as she watered a bustle of flowers, but the identity was clear nonetheless. 

Bluebell, his eyes darted down the nearest bush and hid in its rustling leaves. Even with his mouth of courage to Eilwen, her own words left a mark of warning once seeing her in person. He managed to not flinch, to itch a muscle, or to form a single peep of gripe. After moments in time, and some flashing of black and white, Ayu sighed. Soon, he rung his arms to start crawling away and making it out of the door–

“And who might you be?” As soon as he stepped towards the outside, the lady grabbed him by the hood. She yanked him back to his startled fear. 

“Fuck–” He pulled the hood in front to resist choking, and struggled with his own feet to muster up. “Let me go!” 

With his light weight, she lifted him up with ease, her copper eyes squinting at his appearance. Yet eventually, she smiled. “No, no, come with me,” she pulled him, “You look tired; you can sleep here if you need rest.”

“Let me out,” he yelled, but to no avail. 

“Oh, don’t be fussy, Ayu,” she giggled, “This will make Akeldama fuming. Just listen to me.” 

While the pleasure of Akeldama’s misfortune would have convinced Ayu another day, the risk of her ability still lied as a great possibility for him. “No– Stop! –” However, he was too late to make a hit. 

“My dear, in sickness, sadness, and red, can sleep from a song with sigh…”

Her voice echoed and rang into his ears, slowly softening every inch of this tension and mind merely from those lines.

“Your life, your soul, your ending night will rejoice with us in light.”

The lullaby wrapped him around, stopping his struggles and whines and instead relaxing and numbing the pain. 

“Despite these somber eyes, I can see, there is time to close them away…” 

Such a clear, siren-like voice called to him. It chilled the bones that wanted end so recently and brought along a warmth that coddled him endlessly. Soothing him, his own eyes began to calm into a slumber. 

“In hope, my love, without life in sight, your days will say–”

“BLUEBELL!” Alice screamed at her, interrupting her beautiful song. From the erupt end, Ayu snapped back awake with the lingering melody as he turned to the distressed woman ahead of them. She ran and snatched him away from the siren, to his dismay. 

“Oh, Alice, you ruined his fun,” she said. 

The head of the society glared at her. “You impudent–” yet she turned back to the young boy with closing lids, “Are you alright?” 

Ayu remained silent, processing the event that just unfolded. 

Another slowly walked into the scene, somehow shying away with her scarf. 

“Eilwen, I told you to keep watch on him,” she stomped towards the mentor. 

“I–” she stammered. “I thought he would be alright considering he’s of–”

“He hasn’t developed at all yet! He’s only a mere child at this stage!” Alice shrieked in her stop. “God, didn’t you think of how Akeldama could be upset by this? – Ugh, that’s beyond the point now. At least I managed to catch him before Akeldama arrived… How are you feeling Z– Ayu?” 

The argument rather unsettled Ayu’s mood. The lullaby from before seemed as something to return to once more already… In all honesty, the song was not as horrifying as he imagined. “… I’m doing fine.”

“Be honest.” 

More so, it lifted him up the slightest. “No, I really mean it,” he told her. “Kind of, uh, refreshed actually.” He forced a smile upon the odd feeling. That sense of wanting more began to kick in. 

Alice nipped her lip and turned to Eilwen. “Do you believe it’d be alright to bring him back home? It doesn’t seem all that bad…” The head turned again to the wonderful lady. “We’ll only need to console you later,” she spat at her, who only continued to water her plants once more. 

She scoffed, “You never tell us anything, Alice. How would I know of the consequences?” 

“Well, your fun may have caused you your own death grave.” 

Instead of anything else, Bluebell shrugged with a giggle, “Do you really think that matters anymore, Cecily?”

Alice huffed, patting Ayu towards the exit. “Let’s go; you need the rest.” 

***

The apartment entrance shut as Alice led the way. Ayu scurried behind her, unsure of her silent aggression. 

Oliver sat by the couch, legs crisscrossed and Ayu’s textbook on his lap. He poked a pencil by his hand, jotting down on whatever pages Ayu bothered to commit to the day prior. Corrections most likely covered the pages considering previous marks on his answers. 

He turned around at them, his pale eyes peering at Alice. “Oh, hi… Alice, why are you here?” 

Originally, Ayu would have pondered as to why Oliver never asked why he was gone; however, that failed to bring him down that day. Alice instead pushed him gently more towards the inside as she explained. “Ayu simply ran into a… mishap, while in Eilwen’s care. But don’t worry, she and I will take care of it.” 

He dropped the book down onto the couch, standing up. “Alice, what happened?” 

“It’s nothing for you to worry about. The most Ayu will experience is some improper thinking and a state of intemperance.”

“But I can’t ask why?” 

“No,” she stated, her voice reaching a new low. “You aren’t to be involved with anymore things that can harm you.”

“So, he’s been hurt.” Oliver’s brows furrowed together at Alice, as he walked down to Ayu’s side. “Are you okay?” 

He told him, “Yeah… I’m great, Ollie.” A smiled crept up the slightest in his dazed fate. 

His face raised into that of confusion. Only for him to sigh, “Just go, Alice. You aren’t going to help me with this.”

She nodded in silence, and exited through the doorway and magic. 

In the unknown, Oliver hummed and stared up until he faced Ayu again. “Okay, Ayu, what happened?” 

Unsure of how to reply, the serious tone gawking him, he only answered back, “Nothing really… But, something really nice happened if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

“… What?” 

He figured Oliver would like his story. “I met this lady, who sang a nice song and I got to hear it… Too bad Alice stopped it though. Oliver, you should have heard it, she sounded amazing.” His mind bubbled at the thoughts of it. “I think I’ll go try and visit her again. You should come with me.” 

“Oh.” His face softened the slightest. “Okay…?”

In the comforts of his thoughts, Ayu held up Oliver’s hand and gripped it in his smile. “Trust me, the song makes you forget about everything.” 

At those very words, Oliver’s mouth sided downwards. “Sure,” his words slurred as he reached back in a smile. 

Ayu let go of the hand, bringing himself to an arm stretch. “Well anyways, I’m gonna take a nap.” Drifting off, he told his final words to Oliver, “I’ll talk more about it later.”

In the room, instead of sleeping, Ayu actually giggled at himself and his own formulating thoughts. Not even sure himself as of why, he laid there, smiling and basking himself in the growing euphoria inside of him. However, his sense remained ever so prevalent, and his ways of listening peered from outside the room. 

“You have a clue, don’t you, Vittorino?” 

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’ve only heard of Bluebell, but I know kids are her main targets… He must’ve been affected by her ability.”

“… What does she do?” 

He quickly jabbered, “It’s a more subdued but strong version of my ability. She sings people to sleep to kill them. But if she doesn’t finish her song…”

“Ah,” Oliver said once connecting the dots. “And it’s going to get worse, I assume?” 

“Most likely.”

He sighed from the outside. “Goddamn it…”

But Ayu listened to it all, and all he could reply from it was to shrug. Oh well. 

-

Ten Dollars | Bread and Water | Red Eye | Crimson Capture | November 1st | A Mother | A Demon | A Child | The Wolf | Bloody Fingers | A Monochrome World | The Pocketwatch | I’ll Have My Day | Two Weeks | Monsters | Sleepover | First Meal | Dearest 

[medeafive]

Blood and Stone -05

Masterpost

"I know it sounds weird," she remarks. "But it almost seemed like he felt bad about it."

Fury sits there, watching her with one eye, not moving, not reacting. "It's weird because that's just what vampires do, bite others," she explains. "But still. And not in a suave acting way, kinda clumsy actually. He seemed really uncomfortable."

"Okay." Fury takes out a cigarette. "But most of all, we have more time, right?"

She nods. "I don't know how long, though. Or what to do with that time."

"There's only two options." He leans back. "Either you get him to our side or you kill him. That easy. And it's going to be your call."

"Our side?" she questions. "He's still a vampire. What's he supposed to do on our side?"

"Lie about us to Schmidt so we can continue undisturbed," Fury suggests. "Help us take out the Castle. You know what, Schmidt is probably going to come after us one way or the other, so we could really use that. We're still probably all going to die but might be worth it, if we can get enough of them."

"That's crazy," she points out as someone knocks on the door.

"Living in a world with these creatures is crazy," Fury returns. "Yes?"

"Hi everyone," Tony remarks, ripping the door open. "Just letting you know Brucey and I have a tentative theory that might potentially maybe work. That's all. Thought you'd want to know."

"Theory about what?" Natasha questions.

"About how to turn a vampire back into a human," Tony replies self-evidently. "Don't you know that? Oh, right, you never attend dinner."

"And how do you test your wobbly good-for-nothing theory?" Fury probes.

"Oh yeah, we need vampire blood," Tony adds. "That would be great. Uncontaminated by silver, otherwise it's worthless."

"How are we supposed to get you clean vampire blood?" Natasha asks back. "Really. Am I supposed to ask him for a blood donation?"

"You'll figure something out, Romanoff," Tony replies confidently and pulls the door. "Okay, that's it. Bye."

The door slams shut. Fury rolls his eye. "I swear to God, if he weren't so brilliant…"

  "Your black cloak- we really should give him a name," Tony says. "Steve. Let's call him Steve."

"Steve?!" Pepper repeats in horror. "Why Steve? Let's call him Mister Rosenkranz, like my horrible biology teacher. No offence, Bruce."

"Dracula," Clint suggests sourly.

"I see you're all taking this very seriously," Natasha remarks.

"Nosferatu," Sam adds. "Or Varney."

"Wilson, that sounds utterly ridiculous," Tony remarks. "Even worse than Steve."

"You don't know Varney the Vampire?" Sam questions. "Man, you're really lacking in Victorian era gothic horror stories."

"He didn't give you a name?" Bruce asks.

Natasha snorts, filling her bowl with soup again. "I don't think he knows his name."

"Come on," Sam remarks. "Don't make me feel bad for him."

"The Winter Soldier," Pepper suggests. "Because he looks like he froze to death. And because Natasha believes he was actually an American POW."

A moment of silence. "Pep, my dear cupcake," Tony says. "You always have the best ideas."

Pepper snorts. "It's easy to do better than Steve ."

"But he's out of town, right?" Clint asks. "As far as we know."

"Didn't say when exactly he was going, but yeah, around now," Natasha confirms. "Made me promise to stay safe, too. Sound familiar?"

"Oh my God!" Tony exclaims. "Nope. I don't wanna hear that gross weird super creepy monster flirting."

"Look, she's of no use to him when she's dead," Sam argues. "Or to anyone, for that matter. I think you're reading too much into that."

"Right before that, he admitted he's at fault for everything going to shit," Natasha adds. "Just something to keep in mind."

"We shouldn't forget about Schmidt," Fury reminds her. "But yes."

  She goes on two more patrols with Pepper where nothing happens, really. They don't cross the river again. Not to placate anyone, just because they don't feel like experiencing that again. Doesn't do much good either. The castle guards kill undesired vampire fledglings in their territory, too.

The new recruit arrives some day. Natasha misses her at first. Pepper takes her out to familiarize herself with the city. Natasha is kinda disappointed she missed them, but there will be another opportunity. Learning the city takes a few weeks.

When she hears their chittering, returning just before the sun goes down, she realizes she has been just sitting there waiting for them. As if she has nothing better to do. But she has nothing better to do. She jumps up to appear busy somehow, something in the kitchen, open a cupboard- "Oh, there she is," Pepper's friendly voice says. "Natasha Romanoff. She's a tracker as well."

A blonde woman emerges, pretty but quite unremarkable. Natasha turns as if surprised. "Oh, hey. I'm Sharon. So you're the one from Russia."

Natasha extends a hand awkwardly. "And you're from Munich."

"Britain, actually, family-wise," Sharon specifies. "But they needed a tracker in Munich, so I spent some time there. And now I'm needed here, it seems."

It occurs to her that this might be her replacement, should the thing with the black cloak go wrong. Does Fury actually trust her? "I think we can use anyone," Pepper replies. "As I told you, the Castle alone is at least 30 plus some hunting parties. And the black cloak."

"Oh, right." Sharon leans on the kitchen counter, watching Natasha rummage awkwardly through the cutlery drawer. "Fury told me. So you really talked to him."

Natasha snorts loudly. "Guy's an asshole."

"Huh," Sharon remarks. "That sounds remarkably human."

Oh great, that one too. "Monsters can be assholes, too. Don't discriminate."

Sharon laughs. "Okay, okay. Well, it's very intriguing anyway. I guess we could learn a lot from that."

"Or we could all die," Natasha suggests sourly, inwardly beating herself up because she can't just have a nice normal conversation.

"We're going to work it out," Pepper says. "Anyway, I guess we should check whether you have everything in your room."

"Yeah, good idea," Sharon agrees, pushing up. "See you, Natasha. Nice to meet you."

  She waits in an abandoned club where from 1990 on, they played rock music until the vampires came. The posters are still on the wall, though the red leather is ripped and torn. It's windowless for the most part, but the vampire still finds her.

She has brought a beer, just because. "Do I really smell that strongly?"

He shrugs, sitting down across from her. "I'm used to looking for you. Anything special about this place, for you?"

"I wasn't even in this city before the virus," she reminds him. "No. But it seems you don't want to talk to me when other people are around, so I figured here was safe."

"I don't want them shooting at me," he replies.

"No, I told them," she explains. "They're not excited but I don't think they'd try to kill you upfront."

He scoffs. "Yeah, sure. And they totally believe you, right?"

She bares her teeth, forcing him to do the same. "Can you blame them? So, you got more time?"

"Yeah," he confirms, looking around with interest. "Two moons. But he doesn't want to wait more than that."

That's actually a lot. "Did it hurt asking?"

"No," he replies. "You just have to agree in the next two months."

"No intention of doing that," she replies.

"No, it's really only two months," he repeats. "Then it's you or your friends again. You're not getting out of that."

She bares her teeth again. "You won't kill my friends."

"Yes, I will," he returns.

"No, you won't," she returns. "I won't agree and you won't kill them. That's just how it is."

He leans back, studying her. "Did that hurt?" she asks.

"No," he replies. "I guess- I don't know."

"So you lied to him that I was maybe still going to decide," she remarks. "And now you're thinking about disobeying his direct order, and none of that does anything to you."

"It's not comfortable," he admits. "But… yeah, I guess. I can't say I really believed… man, you are stubborn."

"Ain't seen nothing yet," she comments. "Beer?"

"No, thanks," he replies. "Alcohol tastes weird to me."

"But you do drink," she points out. "Only blood? What about food?"

"Is this an interrogation?" he asks. "Drinking yes, though only blood and water, but no eating."

"So the output of your body is only liquid, not solid," she remarks. "Right?"

He looks amused. "If you wanna know that exactly… yeah, I piss, but I don't take shits. Though I don't see why you care."

"Just curious," she replies. "What about breathing? You do breathe."

"I need air to talk," he explains. "Without talking, I breathe less frequently, maybe two or three times an hour, never really measured. But I still need air."

"So I could drown a vampire," she suggests. "Or smother him."

He snorts. "If you smother him for half an hour, yeah, I guess."

"You know what, let's try that," she replies, pulling out a watch. "You hold your breath, I stop the time."

"But then I can't talk," he reminds her. "You really want us to sit around quietly for a solid twenty to thirty minutes?"

"Yes," she repeats.

He rolls his white eyes. "Fine. Say when."

She looks at the clock. "Okay. Just a little- now."

All scientific curiosity aside, this turns out to be a bad idea as soon as she looks up. He's staring at her. She can look at the watch briefly, she can look around briefly, but mostly, she really can just stare back, and that's awkward as hell.

From close up, he looks a lot more human. She can see the grey in his white eyes that might once have been blue or green. His skin looks less solid white, more shades, she can see veins and blood shining through his cheeks. Somehow, he has more of an expression up close. She clears her throat and checks the watch. Oh, great, that's barely a minute.

She can see that he was handsome once, chiseled jaw, cheekbones, the soft curve of his lips that is now distorted by the fangs. She really wonders who he was. Before. There's a vulnerability there, too, in how his eyes occasionally flit down and away but always return. Her lips open but she has nothing to say. Man. She takes the beer and jugs some.

He's watching her, she's watching him. She checks the watch again. His eyes must have been pretty, too. Maybe he was a real heartthrob, before the war. Before they made him this. She feels anger.

Three minutes. Another sip of beer. She's actually not particularly fond of beer, of the taste. With vodka, you can disinfect pretty solidly, just alcohol, no frill, but beer has none of that. She opens her mouth to tell him but having a one-sided conversation again would only make it more awkward. After she told him her life story last time. So she stares at him again.

She's beginning to like his face. Sometimes, he looks annoying, arrogant, cold but not right now, quite the opposite. Now he looks like a person, with flaws, vulnerabilities, all of that. With personality. She could climb deeper and deeper into that. Her hand comes up to place a fingertip on his cheek, cool, like a stone, but-

His facial expression turns to amused but she's in too deep already, putting another finger on his cheek, really, it feels cold and hard at first but once she keeps it there for a second, his skin grows warmer to her touch, more and more, until she can't tell the difference anymore. She presses her palm to his cheek, cupping it, but that's really too much, so she sorta half draws back. "Just- just wanted to know what it felt like." Which would be more believable if she would take all of her fingers away but she doesn't want to, feels like she has to rip them away, rubs them with the other hand. They don't feel colder than before, and she's hot all over. "Feels- feels cold. But warms to the- to the touch, I guess."

He still looks smug but she can also see the open vulnerability in his eyes now. "Weird," she feels obliged to add, a little more distance between them in every sense, and his eyes startle slightly.

She rubs her hand still, picking up the bottle of beer again. Man. She's hot. "Come on," he says. "I wanna know what your skin feels like, too."

This is so godforsakenly awkward. She startles slightly when his cold fingers touch her hand, then her cheek, but again, they warm up very quickly to her temperature, which is way too high. He looks intrigued, leaning towards her, fingertips trailing over her cheek. "When was the last time you touched a human?" she breathes.

He frowns, fingers still working on her cheek. "Those twelve people I turned, I guess. Your skin is so warm, it feels like I'm welded to it, like I can't remove-"

"Careful," she interrupts, because she remembers he has claws.

He pulls the fingers back briefly but goes right back to work, whole palm cupping her cheek. She sighs involuntarily at the coldness that is gone almost immediately. His body reacts to hers. "Boy," he mutters with his beautiful mouth. "You smell good."

That should ring the alarm bells but it doesn't, she's stuck in his eyes, his hand, his face, even his voice. He strokes her cheek, his fingers feeling softer now, indistinguishable from a human hand. She can stare at him while his pretty eyes watch her cheek. She licks her lips unconsciously. His nostrils flare.

His elbow knocks against the beer bottle and she's too slow, they both startle when it shatters to pieces on the floor, shards of glass and liquid splattering around. It stinks immediately. She stares down, trying to get out of the trance. No glass stuck in her leg. No blood. Good. Her left cheek still burns.

"Oh sorry," his voice says. "Think I cut you."

She touches her cheek, dazed, looks at her fingers. Oh. Blood. Wait. Fuck. Blood. She scrambles for something to cover, tissue, band aid, she can't run around smelling like this- "Don't worry," he says, licking over his claw. "Mhm. You still taste of vampire blood."

She presses a tissue to the scratch on her cheek. It's really just a little bit of blood. A little bit of blood is enough to get you killed, though. "So that doesn't affect you either. The smell of blood."

"No, it does," he replies. "But I'm not hungry. Don't worry, I'm not going to jump you."

"Did you kill someone?" she asks. "Recently?"

"I drank from someone," he explains. "But I didn't kill him. I don't have to suck them dry."

"So you're just running around like a giant mosquito," she remarks.

He snorts. "If you wanna call it that. I should get you home though, not safe running around alone with a cut."

"I need vampire blood," she interrupts, pulling out a vial. "Couldn't get by any over the last weeks."

He looks at the glass vial critically. "You know you shouldn't do that. No one knows what the side effects are."

"You don't tell me what to do," she returns, uncorking the vial. "Come on. Just a little."

He sighs, pressing a sharp claw into one finger, holding it over the vial, dark blood dripping down. "You're really reckless."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," she remarks, checking the tissue. Not bleeding much anymore. "Do I still smell that good?"

"Wasn't talking about your blood," he replies, squeezing the digit so more blood drips down. "You give off other smells, too. Sweat and all that. Right now, I mostly smell the bloody tissue."

"My sweat smells good?" she questions.

"Your smell changes all the time," he explains. "Based on how you feel. It's the skin and the sweat and the blood and- it's complex, I don't really know how to describe it."

"So you can read my thoughts," she states.

He snorts, squeezing the finger again. "Definitely can't read your thoughts. It's really not psychic. You can tell how people feel based on how they look, I can tell based on how they smell. Scared. Most of the time, they're scared. Fear smells pretty strongly."

"That's enough, thanks," she says, corking the vial and putting it away. "So some emotions smell stronger than others?"

"Yeah," he agrees, licking over the cut in his own finger. "Adrenaline smells pretty strongly, too. I guess those are the main ones. Obviously, humans don't tend to experience the full range of emotions in my presence, so maybe that skews it."

She spits into the tissue, rubbing it over the cut again. "Sounds more like hormones or pheromones or whatever. Okay, I think we should go."

"The beer smells pretty strongly, too," he remarks, getting up. "I'll walk you home."

That sounds utterly ridiculous but she'll allow it. Before she has a hunting party on her back. She leaves the beer bottle but makes sure to take the tissue and the vial. They walk through the tunnel-like hall, down the stairs. "Remember when you bled all over Old Town Square?" he asks.

She bares her teeth, forcing him to do the same. "You mean when you almost murdered me?"

"I didn't- Could you stop doing that?" he complains. "That's really uncomfortable."

She bares her teeth again. "Why? Don't like being reminded that you're a monster?"

"Just let me talk," he says, forcing the instinctual reaction down. "Really."

"Okay, fine," she relents. "Yes. Remember very well."

"I think every vampire in this town knows your smell by now," he remarks. "So really, you can just drop that bloody tissue in the trash."

She stops. "Wait. You're telling me every vampire in this town knows how to find me?"

He snorts. "You think I follow you around because I'm bored and your life is oh so interesting?"

"No need to get mean," she returns. "Also, you just slept for 50 years, if I remember correctly, so don't talk to me about boring ."

"Not 50 years on end, but yeah," he replies. "Point taken. What I'm saying is, if you don't want to get hurt, forget about the tissue and instead don't get on the Malá Strana again."

"I don't take advice from you," she reminds him. "Or I would already be a bloodthirsty monster with fangs."

He sighs. "Oh right. Because nothing can be easy with you."

  "That should be enough, right?" she asks, dangling the vial. Bruce takes it with clear surprise.

"Don't tell me you made a blood pact with that monster," Tony remarks, pointing vaguely at her face without looking up. "Yeah, thanks. The centrifuge first, right?"

"Shut up, I just didn't see that branch," she returns. "It's fine. Got home safe."

"I can take a look at it," Bruce offers, filling the blood from the vial into smaller vials. "Just a second."

"No, really, just a scratch," she repeats, crossing her arms. "So? Is it working?"

"What?" Tony asks incredulously. "You want a result right now? Don't make me laugh, Romanoff."

She rolls her eyes, turning impatiently. "Fine. I'll go to bed now."

  She's just gearing up to go out a few days later when she notices Tony unfurling on the sofa like a really lazy cat. "Mhm. Oh hey. So, I should tell you, despite our infinite wisdom, the theory didn't quite pan out. But we still have vampire blood, so we can continue working on that."

She breathes out. "Oh. Okay."

"You didn't really expect everything to go right on the first try ," Tony remarks incredulously. "This is a really complex problem. We're years from coming even close to understanding what the fuck is going on with these monsters."

"No, no, I get that," Natasha replies unconvincingly. "Sure. You're right. I'll just, I'll just head out."

"You're not on shift," Tony points out. "Aren't you, you know, on your period? Pep said… Sure you should go out?"

She breathes out again. "It's going to be fine, Tony. Really." And she flees the tower again.

[rnufharose]

Blood, Sweat, and Tears - Chapter 4

Words: 1.5k

Trigger Warnings: Violence and death.

DISCLAIMER: Nothing in this chapter is meant to start fanwars or point fingers at other artists. I am a multistan and I love many groups.

︻デ═一 ♥

The Magic Shop was teeming with life, the patrons sipping their drinks as the lights danced around the club. Inspired by the neurosurgeon James R. Doty, it is a place that exchanges fear with something positive. It was a paradise in the heart of Seoul's violence, where the citizens could escape and have a good time, and the owners wanted them here, safe and sound where they could smile their worries away.

Their hosts were seven of the kindest men in the city: a band of brothers who embraced the path of Dionysus and the Muses. They wanted nothing to do with the mob wars that plagued the city, offering what they believed to be the best modern take on the 1950s Hollywood.

The walls were lined with gold lights, the neon signs etched in cursive with the dance floor painted a shimmering red. The stage was occupied by backup dancers, an electric guitar sounding along with a bass, drums and scratching vinyl. The seven males came out, wearing himation robes over their suits as they broke into song.

[Taehyung, J-Hope/Suga]

Drink it up

Shot glasses (sippin') Link arms (tippin')

One-shot

Thyrsus (grippin') Grape (eatin')

Drink it up

Vibes (Keep it) D style (rip it)

One-shot

Here (Kill it) let's steal it

The illest!

[RM]

Just get drunk like Dionysus

Drink in one hand, Thyrsus on the other

Art splashing inside this clear crystal cup

Art is alcohol too, if you can drink it, you'll get drunk fool

You dunno you dunno

You dunno what to do with

I'll show you I recommend you something different

From my mic made of ivy and rough wood

There is never a sound that comes out in one breath

[Jungkook, J-Hope]

Until the sun comes up, where the party at?!

Until we fall asleep, where the party at?!

Sing it, sing it again

Drink it, drink it again

We're born again

[Jin, J-Hope]

Drink it up (the pain of creation)

One-shot (the scolding of this era)

Drink it up (Talking with myself)

One-shot (Okay now I'm ready fo sho)

[V, Jimin/J-Hope]

Drink, drink, drink, drink up my glass, ay

Everyone all, fall, fall into this crazy artist

One drink (one shot), two drinks (two shots)

Get drunk on art and say onghaeya

[Jungkook, Jimin/J-Hope]

Drink, drink, drink, drink up my glass, ay

Everyone fall, fall, fall into this crazy artist

One drink (one shot), two drinks (two shots)

Hit the gong and say onghaeya

[Suga/V]

Shot glasses (sippin'), linked arms (tippin')

Thyrsus (grippin'), Grape (eatin')

Vibes (Keep it) D style (rip it)

Here (Kill it) let's steal it

The illest!

The silver-haired female had finished pouring a martini for one of the customers at the counter, flashing a smile toward the boys, specifically the male with blue hair. He harbored a heart-shaped face with big eyes and small lips that would spread into a big, genuine smile. Arabella listened to the patrons cry out with excitement at their powerful vocals and difficult choreography, which they executed effortlessly. She knew that if this city was much cleaner, these boys would have been a famous musical group that would take over the world.

"They're having a lot of fun," another voice spoke, and Bella turned to look at the older woman, whose black hair fell past her shoulders. She had soft features that also appeared striking, and she possessed a fondness in her eyes. She looked at her younger brother, who shared her similar features, but they appeared more distinct under the bright lights. "I knew their clothes would go well for tonight's show," Dawon commented confidently.

"You never disappoint with your creations, Unnie," Bella stated, and she watched the boys end their song, seated on chairs with legs crossed as they posed, smirking and catching their breaths as the patrons gave them a standing ovation.

"Yah," the male with pink hair and soft cheeks took a seat at the counter, and Bella handed him a water bottle. "that felt great."

"You did so well," Dawon hugged her younger brother and he towered over her, squeezing her tightly but not so much that he would hurt her.

"Gomawo, Noona," Hoseok's smile was like sunshine.

"Have you talked to Haneul?" she questioned, and the male with black hair and button nose shook his head.

"We haven't gotten a hold of her," Jungkook frowned. "We've been meaning to visit her and pay our respects to her Halmeoni but..."

"We've been pretty busy with the shop," the tall blonde male with full lips and a sultry gaze—Namjoon—finished. "We still feel terrible that we couldn't go to Icheon..."

The male with blue hair--Taehyung--wrapped an arm around Bella's small shoulders and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose, "We'll give her our condolences, and we'll also help her get settled. She's our baby sister after all, and we can't have her living alone."

"We have to keep her away from the danger too," the male with sleepy eyes—Yoongi—added. "If anything happens to her because of the crimes outside, Halmeoni won't forgive us..."

"We head for Icheon tomorrow morning to pick her up," the tall male with broad shoulders and black hair—Jin—said. "If it's alright with you, Noona, we'd like for her to share a room with you back at the apartment?"

"That's more than alright," Dawon responded graciously. "And with me and Bella with her, she won't always have to be surrounded by men, not that that's a bad thing."

The boys laughed and Bella looked toward the older woman, nodding in agreement, "We can set her up with a job here too."

"Definitely," Namjoon smiled. "If there's one thing Haneul loves, it's performing."

︻デ═一 ♥

Sehun watched the man topple to the group, his face battered and bruised, blood dribbling down one of his nostrils. He towered over the man, eyes full of apathy as Kai continued to kick the man in the ribs.

"Heh," The third male, with his soft face, slicked hair and deep voice, named Chanyeol, smirked as he watched the younger male beat the injured male. "You really thought you could take our imports, huh?"

The man on the ground coughed, blood staining his teeth as he spat, "Y-You know that wasn't my intention...! W-We formed an alliance!"

"An alliance you chose to break!" Kai growled, crushing his foot onto the man's face, listening to him cry painfully. He lifted his chin, eyes narrow with a devious smirk on his lips. "Funny... I had a lot of respect for BIGBANG... wouldn't want to start a war with G-Dragon but..." he trailed off, looking over his shoulder at Chanyeol and Sehun.

Sehun's dark eyes shifted slowly from the man on the ground to Kai. He crouched, lips pressed into a tight line when he grabbed the man's face.

"S-Sehun," the man begged. "Y-You understand me, don't you?! I would never take your imports! No one even thinks of messing with EXO!"

He contemplated his next move, releasing his face from his grip before huffing, taking a stand and furrowing his thick brows, "Mianhe, Seungri... but this isn't the first time you've done wrong... G-Dragon will think we've done him a favor..."

Seungri watched the raven-headed male take a step back, turning to walk away, eyes widening with terror when he heard those two words fall from his lips.

Sehun came to a stop, ticking his hands into the pockets of his slacks, not once looking over his shoulder, "Kill him."

He ignored his cries, blocking out the sound of anguish in his voice as he made his way toward the car. In his thoughts, he did this city and BIGBANG's leader a huge favor by eliminating a piece of dirt. That was one less piece of scum tainting this world, and who knows if he planned on turning against his own.

Sehun opened the car door, taking the driver's seat and leaning back as he listened to gunfire, and Seungri's pleas ceased for good. He could see Chanyeol and Kai standing over his corpse, eyes lifeless and blood oozing from beneath him. The two of them walked away, taking care to get rid of any evidence that would incriminate them, and joined Sehun in the car.

"Looks like our imports are safe... for now," Chanyeol said as he called shotgun. Kai took the backseat.

"Tell Junmyeon hyung we're arranging a meeting with G-Dragon," Sehun got the car's engine running. "The sooner we tell him what we did, the better..."

He pulled away from the curb, driving onto the street before the cops could come, gripping the wheel as he stared out the windshield with a hardened expression.

Once this meeting was settled, he could go back to focusing on protecting that girl. He just had to find the person responsible for her grandmother's death, and Sehun had a feeling she would appear very soon.

[magicdrabbles]

Isekai Lucio AU

This was done for @junkpilestuff and their awesome idea of Lucio waking up in our modern era world and I HAD. TO. JUMP. ON. THAT. Here’s the finished product. Warning: This is pretty long and it’s dialogue heavy but whatchya gonna do? Read under the cut~

A flash of red, burning pain throughout my body...my vision go black...then...

Darkness...swirling around in darkness...but I feel so...light. I’m...fading…my senses are mixed and...and...

…..

And what’s that horrible smell?!

Lucio’s eyes flash open and he jerks up with a heavy gasp, sweating. He squints away from the blinding light, settling himself down from whatever just happened.

It was probably just a weird dream...but why do I smell...whatever that is? Ugh! Dirt!

He opens his eyes, adjusting to the bright light and recoils his hand from the ground shaking away any residue that was on it. He scowls at the filth around him before finally getting up and wiping the dirt off his now grimy white suit. He looks up and his mouth drops. He’s standing in an alleyway next to a large trash can covered in graffiti, skyscrapers towering above, taller than his beloved palace. The unfamiliar sound of sirens and cars fills his ears and he quickly runs out the street. Everywhere, people everywhere.

Absolutely...FILTHY people! And why are they dressed so...bad?

The New Yorkers stare at him and his attire. It’s not completely unusual for the Big Apple to see weirdos like this. But his look is so...outlandish that many thought he might just actually dress like that. Lucio was twirling, back and forth, trying to take in his surroundings. The last thing he remembers before waking up here...Nadia. She killed me...that absolute BITCH! Lucio stomps down his heeled foot like a child. He growls, anger pulsing out of him like heat before he is almost bumped into the street by a burly man in a faded suit.

“Hey! Watch where you’re goin’ bub!” the man yells back at Lucio.

“YOU sir, were the one who hit me! How dare you! Do you know who I am?!”

“Not a clue,” the man laughs, “what a weirdo…” he chuckles to himself, disappearing into the crowd. Lucio huffs, and twirls to face whatever is before him. He scans the area, eyes falling on...what are those?

Large windows displaying colors and people lined up and down the buildings showing beautiful people just...staring and smiling, sometimes holding perfume or fine jewelry. Lucio stopped when he saw him. On the...I think I heard someone say...jumbotron, Lucio saw one of the most beautiful men he had ever seen, almost as beautiful as him. Hmph, I could beat that. If Nadia doesn’t want me in Vesuvia then I can be the best here. Everyone can love me, he thought immediately.

With his large golden claw, he grabs a passerby on the shoulder and turns them toward him.

“You! Who is that up there?” He points his fleshed hand up at the screens. A stunned young man, scrawny and red-eyed looks at the advertisement for Calvin Klein underwear.

“Uhhh I don’t know man...just some model dude?” He takes a sip of his soda he had been holding, not breaking his somewhat impressive eye contact with Lucio.

“A model? How do I do that?”

“Uhhhhh lots of dudes just get famous on Instagram really or like...make a youtube channel”

“A wha-youtube? Instagram? Quit being so obscure! And just tell me damn it!” Lucio grabs the guys shirt with both hands and shakes him a bit. “Okay okay! Jeez, my dude, I have a buddy who does photos for a living I can introduce you...but I don’t know if he’ll wanna take your picture since you’re such a...douche”

Lucio’s eyes widen, “A WHAT?”.

“Nevermind, just follow me” and the young pothead leads Lucio to his friend’s apartment.

“By the way, that’s a siiiiick arm, my man. You cosplayin’ someone or…”

“This is my arm and yes it is quite...sick? I’m assuming that’s good in this world” Lucio said matter of factly.

“Hehe...yeahhh...super sick”

“What is your name? It’s not that I care but I have no idea what to call you.”

“Ah it’s Jesse my liege,” he tips an imaginary hat at Lucio and do a little bow “and yours?”

“Count Lucio of Vesuvia. Grand ruler, military leader, excellent lover…” He smirks down at Jesse, running his claw through his blonde locks.

“Heh, schweet love the confidence, my man”

They continue down a few more blocks before they arrive at the apartment of Jesse’s friend. Jesse knocks a little tune on his friend's door before it cracks open just a smidge. His friend’s eye peers through the crack.

“What’s the password compadre?” Jesse’s friend asks ominously from behind the door.

“Lmao, the password is SUCK MY WEENUS! AAAAAYYYYY”

“AYYYYYY” they yell in unison. The door slams closed. Locks on the other side jangle as they fall off the door and unlock. The friend opens the door with large arms wide open.

“My dude, Dan, let me introduce THE Count Lucio”. Dan, the man behind the door, stares at Lucio and his grandeur.

“Yo, you’re mega hot not gonna lie” Dan praises. Lucio blushes for a split second before his signature smirk returns to his face.

“Ha! Of course, I am,” Lucio parades past Dan into his too small apartment. He lands, light as a feather onto the tattered and stained leather couch, “And that’s why I’m here dear Dan. YOU are going to have the privilege of photographing ME!” He extends his body seductively along the couch, leg raised straight up high and an over exaggerated pout on his lips. Dan raises a quizzical eyebrow and looks over at Jesse. Jesse, taking a drag of his vape (Where did he pull that from, Dan thought) just shrugs his shoulders and blows the vapor into his friend’s face.

“Dan, the man...you are the man and you take awesome photos. This dude wants to be a model and I thought ‘Well I’m bored and I bet Dan is up to nothing so why not?’ so now we’re here and I’m high and I’m vaping and you’re staring at me and that flamboyant weirdo is excited to model so, like, why not?”

There’s silence...Dan just slowly looking back and forth at his friend and then at Lucio. Lucio blows him a kiss and winks. With a sigh, Dan resigns to the requests.

“Fine. But only because I’m bored!” Lucio jumps up and claps his hands together.

“Excellent decision Dan! Now, what should I do? I should pose like some of my portraits maybe? Do you have a skull from an enemy I can hold? Maybe some fine jewels I can lavish myself in?”

“Uh no...but like, you can just take off your shirt. Ladies LOVE a shirtless dude.” He extends his fingers into small, pudgy finger guns and waves them at Lucio.

Lucio obeys immediately. It’s not every day people ask him to strip. He enjoys the attention. This is going to be FANTASTIC.

A while later, Dan and Jesse had set up the lights, the camera, and simple white background for Lucio to model in front of. Lucio had stripped down to just his pants, although Dan and Jesse had to stop him from going past that. After explaining he did NOT need a skull to stand on, and that most models just pout and pose fairly naturally, Lucio began to get into the groove of it all, displaying his muscles the best he could and giving the camera winks every now and then. Dan uploaded the photos to his Instagram after doing a bit of filtering and face tuning, and they waited for the responses to start flooding into the comments section. Lucio paced back and forth, his heeled boots click-clacking on the hardwood floor.

“What are we waiting for? Surely I should be on that big screen by now!”

“Ahh, that’s not how that works my dude…” Jesse explained flatly, not taking his eyes off the TV screen. Just as Lucio’s face turns red with impatience at these...fools... a high pitched “Ding!” resonates from Dan’s little device. And then another...and another and another...soon Dan is launching himself across the couch to silence his phone.

“Yooo what the fuck...you’re blowing up Lucio!” His eyes widen at the screen, his greasy finger scrolling through all the comments and likes on his photos. “Oh my god...GIGI HADID SAID SHE THINKS YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!” Lucio waves his hand absently “Yes, yes I know I am. I don’t care who this Gugu is, am I FAMOUS now?”

Dan’s jaw drops. In his direct messages are requests for Lucio to model for big brands. Other models are asking who he is, designers are wondering how Dan discovered him.

“My dude, you’re gonna be famous” Lucio delivers a flashy smile to Jesse and Dan. Jesse goes in for a fist bump but Lucio slaps it away with his claw.

~

Months later, and Lucio is signed with some of the biggest modeling agencies in the world. He’s walking for Valentino, Gucci (his personal favorite), Prada, you name it, he’s modeled it. The extravagance he receives from his work is unmatched to that of Vesuvian riches; it’s BETTER. Fine clothes, drunken nights with the world’s most beautiful people, all the men and women he could dream of being with, everything! He has it all. He was even on the jumbotron. He hid his face from others, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He had made it. Lucio’s face and body were gracing every major advertisement medium- commercials, magazines, runways, even the sides of buses. One day, however, his lust for himself gets the best of him.

While walking down the busy city streets, paparazzi began flanking him.

“Lucio look over here!”

“No Lucio look here, look over here darling!” Lucio complied, striking pose after pose, strutting down the street. With a sexy smile and wink, he began to walk backward, arms up wide in pride. “Yes, New York! This is your COUNT your GOD! I AM THE BEST MODEL IN THE WORL-” 

A bus slams into him. 

A collective gasp from all the photographers is followed by silence, then by the flashing of lights and cameras. The bus, displaying Lucio’s own image, is the last thing the Count remembers seeing before blacking out.

Head pain...swimming in agony and...riches….darkness is creeping up again

Do I smell bath salts?

Lucio startles awake. He’s lying on a soft, luxurious bed, still dressed in his silk Gucci attire. A scream startles him and he looks to his side seeing a palace servant screech and run out of the room. Moments later, Nadia enters, her face at first shocked, then replaced with a scowl.

“You’re supposed to be dead Lucio, we were fixing you for a funeral. That was the least- actually-the most I could do for you” She crosses her arms, not at all pleased in the slightest. “And what are you wearing?” she asks coldly.

“It’s Gucci, bitch”.

[onthemeander]

A thousand thanks to Psionicsnow for the prompt. It was fun to write such a soft and subtle story. Very sweet and innocent.

Interested in getting your prompt written? Check me out!

Fresh Cut Grass

Everything hurt. Every organ, muscle, bones, joints, cell, and atom felt like it was smothered in gasoline and set ablaze in a tire fire. Her soul was cracked and broken and shattered and she couldn’t scavenge a single iota of energy to try and collect the shards. Instead, her tears carried them away on a wave of sadness rolling down her cheeks. All of it was let loose, laying across the floors and couch of her apartment as she cried.

Moose laid on her legs, pinning them with his warm wrinkly body while watching her with his watery eyes. She clutched the couch cushion to her chest, curling up as tight as possible without kicking her poor basset hound from his perch. Her eyes were burning and swollen as the tears pooled into a large stain across the cushion. Her sobbing was raw, a baser aching sound from her vocal cords that rang in her ears. The silence of her apartment making every sound amplified.

Suddenly, there was a solid knock at her front door. The sound was paired with a taut but gentle voice calling out her name. Moose sat up, ears perked towards the door, tail wagging and starting to pant in excitement. She heard her neighbor insert his copy of her apartment key into the lock. Tentatively the door opened, just enough for her blonde headed attractive neighbor to pop in. His light blue eyes widened as he slipped in through the threshold. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

“Steve. I’m… sorry. Please-“ She gasped out, trying to wave him away while rolling to her side, Pressing her face into the back for her couch. She pressed in as close as possible to he back cushions to quiet her sobs. Her door lock clicked into place, his sneakers squeaked as he quickly crossed her wood floors in only four steps. Even with her eyes closed, she could tell the light was dimming around her as his shadow came over her.

The scent of fresh cut grass, leather and musk wafted off of him. It changed the air altogether, making the stale stagnant sadness that clung all of them be washed into a soothing balm. The combination was so comforting that she started to breathe deeply for the first time since she started crying. The iron grip around her lungs slightly loosen, the sudden freedom set its muscles on fire requiring more cooling air to ease the ache.

A large calloused hand was soothing placed atop the crown of her head. A large warm wight that grounded her racing mind. Her head was manipulated, picked up just long enough for the sound of shuffling to happen. After several seconds, he had placed a rather warm and firm pillow under her head. The smell of grass was stronger now but the pillow felt weird. It was just a bit too stiff like there was a firm structure deep within its batting. Confused, she opens one of her eyes just long enough to realize that her pillow was his lap.

Even with the surprise, she couldn’t stop the tears, forced to close them again as another fit of hiccups broke out. Steve just sat there, still and calm, silently running his broad fingers through her tresses. Her hands, which had been cushioning her head, now gripped large chunks of his old t-shirt between her fingers. Time was suspended as they sat there.

Slowly she felt just enough energy come back to here where she could actually form words. “I’m… I’m sorry. I just…” her voice made a disgustingly wet gurgling noise, cut off by a full body sob. She was sure there were large tear stains cross his right pant leg. Steve said nothing, just rubbed circles into her scalp and random shapes into her back. Moose wined either upset by everything or simply hungry.

She was slowly coming down from the terrifying height of her crying. It felt like it took an eternity and all it shoved into a single second. Everything that was wavy and faded began to come back into focus as the tears slowed. her breathing haltingly leveled out allowing her own lungs to reach her nose, no longer having to be shoved through her mouth.

His sweatpants-clad thighs were burningly sturdy under her temple, as a set of rolled electric blankets, soothing the pulsing ache that had made its home there. Though he was dressed from the gym he was freshly washed, smelling of citrus, herbs and earthy woods. Like he took his run through a springtime forest, dashing through citrus trees, sage bushes and the fresh waters of some nirvanic stream. “Do you want to talk about it?” She could feel his stomach expands against the back of her head as he spoke. A sturdy constant rhythm she could align her own erratic sobbing gasps too.

She couldn’t, not right now, maybe when things were not as raw. “No. I’m sorry but not really.” Moose whined at their feet, his stubby wrinkly front feet prompting him up against the cushion seat. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes, refusing to look anywhere other than the pattern of the sun streaming through the window panes.

Steve remained quiet, supporting her in so many ways, simply breathing and being there. Stroking random shapes into her scalp with his broad callous fingers, his short nails feeling hypnotically heavenly against her pulsing headache.

Her sleeve was already covered in snot, which made her stomach cramp in embarrassment. Steve either didn’t notice or care as I magically materialized a tissue for her to use. “You must think I am ridiculous.”

“No,” His voice sounding so strong and clear, “we all have our times when we need to let everything go.” He kept handing her tissues not one complaining as her nose loudly honked as she blew it. Finally, the last tears rolled down her check.

Giving one last bone achingly deep sigh she rolled onto her back looking up at his handsome face. His hair was wet, starting to curl in the summer humidity. The light bounced softly off his jawline, freshly shaved and washed. Every bid the perfect all-American man that he was partially famous for. She probably looked a mess next to this Adonis yet the look in his eyes was one of pure reverence.

“Okay, I’m good. I’m sorry but I’m fine,” She said, proud of herself for only sniffing once. He had a soft closed mouth smile for her. “So why did you come over Steve? Did you need something?” Finally getting the energy she sat up, head slightly throbbing at the movement. Moose hopped down, woofing slightly in discontent at being forced to leave his perch. Steve let her sit up but kept close by, constantly keeping contact between them.

“Uhhh… No,” His face became a little ruddy, “actually I heard you from my apartment and was concerned.” She flinched at that, pulling into a tight ball, embarrassed and unable to keep touching him. “Oh god, I am so sorry. I’m sorry you had to come over like that.” He, however, seemed to have other ideas. With a gentle insistence, having her lean against his chest, tucking her head under his jaw. Moose was wagging his tail excitedly looking up at them as she had her head protectively tucked into the neck of the super soldier.

“No, No, it’s okay.” He comforted, voice rumbling so close to her ears. Everything was so close and homey. “I want to make sure you are okay. I want to be there for you when you need someone.” His cologne was centralized right above his collar bone, a buttery warm spiced musk that she could stop from greedily inhaling.

They sat there, simply breathing within each other’s space. The air was heated and electric, sparking all of her nerve endings just being in that place. Closing her eyes, she snuggled into the warmth, which was better than any blanket. She was content, ready to milk the moment and etch the memory into her mind permanently. Just below her palm, she could feel the bold beating of Steve’s heart.

Gently he urged her to turn to look directly at him. His eyes were positively sparkling, the color of a pair of Blue Morpho Butterfly wings with the sun streaming through. Every edge around him was softened, a far cry from the hardened edges sculpted into every soldier and hero’s being. “I care about you, you are special to me.”

“I… I umm… I… same?” Oh god, her heart was shoved so tight in throat she wasn’t able to even phrase a response. I’m sorry just started to pour out of her mouth, her skin burning surely as hot and red as a chili pepper. Steve’s eyebrows rose in an almost comically high pose as he held in a soft laugh. His teeth were white and perfectly aligned, putting Arlington to shame, as he lost out to the urge not to chuckle. His cheeks were red as well, flushed and glowing with so much life.

“May I kiss you?” He asked, his voice husky in it’s whispered tone. Her words were caged like a wild pacing tiger in her throat. She just leaned in, hoping that was yes enough. His hands were enormous, cupping her cheek, and tickling the sensitive skin behind her ear.  His aftershave clinging to his freshly shaved face, deep smoky burning that warmed her like the comforting feeling of the first summer campfire with family.

         His lips were as bold and gentlemanly as the rest of him. Every touch of their chaste lips was treated like a soft and sacred act. A sentiment left from a bygone era, something to be cherished. He took no advances, treating kissing, not like a lead up to the main event but the main event itself.

The fresh cut grass smell filled every one of her inhales. Sparking memories of rolling down hills as a kid and jumping through sprinklers as they watered lawns.  It mixed with the minty taste in her mouth leaving her energized and joyous. She ran her fingers up his arm, tucking them just under the cuff of his t-shirt, feeling the curve of his bulging biceps. He wrapped his large arms around her waist, resting them comfortably just above her hips.

The kisses became shorter, less afraid of them ending all together they simply basked at the moment. They shared soft giggles and gasps between kisses, all the joy, and excitement had to come out in any way possible. There were little moments of teeth clashing together, noses smooshing into each other and complete misses that resulted in lips on chins that made everything even more perfect and real. Movies kisses were so sterile, they didn’t prepare you for the true joy of the little mess ups that made it even more exciting.

Pulling away slowly they relaxed in each other’s space. They were breathing each other’s air and enjoying the look of each other’s flushed face. Steve’s hands stroked along her flanks, tickling ever so slightly. His lips were swollen and pink, becoming even redder as he chewed on it. He seemed almost nervous. All she could do was watch as those perfectly white straight teeth peeked out from his lush lips. Looking up she noticed his cornflower colored eyes pinning her with a determined stare.

“Would you like to go on a date with me tonight?” His voice, usually so bold was reduced to a tender whisper. Her breath caught in her throat, the thudding in her chest increased. He cupped her hands between his own, they almost disappear beneath the wide expanse of his palms. Her cheeks ached with the sudden strain of how wide her smile was. Tears threaten to fall again, but the pain was thankfully not accompanying it this time.

“Yes.”

[ronan-macteer]

⤷ have you heard? ( RONAN MACTEER ) has arrived in novigrad. the stories say ( he ) is also known as ( knight of the dawn ). he is very clearly ( thirty-five ) years old and a ( witcher ). little birds may whisper that ronan is ( - mendacious, enigmatic, wrathful, artful, silver-tongued and stubborn ) but their own would describe them as ( + gallant, charismatic, masterful, dauntless, genuine and loyal )  [ fc; richard madden ]

Hey there my dears - I’m Eden and I am super excited be here and bring to a dash near you the okayest witcher . Below you’ll find a vague-ish intro for my smol son because this one required more of an actual bio than Tea did ( adrastea incase you need to know ). Should you like to plot or fancy a connection with my love here hmu! 

tw mentions of death

Name: Ronan Albertus Martin MacTeer ( long I know but his parents really hoped a long name would inspire him to be more

Nickname: Ronan ( preferred ), MacTeer ( also preferred ), Roan, Roanie Ronan of Velen and other various nicknames and things one can shout at a witcher.

Title: Knight of the Dawn

Age: 35yrs. old. He does actually thoroughly look his age save for the grey stripe that appeared in his hair when he was just a boy.

Born:  Gors Velen, Velen, Northern Coast of Temeria

Species: Witcher ( formerly human? its common knowledge most witchers were human males if not all of them )

Gender: Male

Height: 5ft 10in

Physique: Muscular. ( everything about a witcher is enhanced and modified to create a more perfect fighting machine against the monsters that ever constantly threaten this world since the Conjunction of Spheres. Needless to say Ronan is no exception to that rule that everything about him is more than any other man. Still Ronan doesn't make it a point to laze around but because of his training he is always honing his skills, sharpening them for until there cease to be dangerous creatures there is still a need for him to be ready at all times to face them. Monsters are the only ones truly capable of killing other monsters - that was the reason for creating witchers in the first place. Too, Ronan is a gorgeous hunk of a man and you aren't simply born so stupidly sculpted and handsome )

Hair: Ginger. Well ginger to a point there is one single solitary wisp of grey in the very front. He does quite fancy that little wisp of grey and is prone to playing with it in idle moments or when he's about to cheat in Gwent ( bonus fact: that isn't often ronan is just that damn good of a player and almost never loses a game. )

Family: There was one once that existed. He had two brothers and three little sisters - being the oldest himself it should've fallen upon him to take care of them and become the patriarch of the family. Since the witcher that saved his father claimed the right of the law of surprise he hasn't heard of them since. He knows better than to look for them as well knowing that times were hard when he left and they wouldn't have survived very long. Its a sore point but he considers his fellow witchers brothers.

Occupation: Witcher.

About ( this one is a bio mhmm of sorts )

There was family once. Ronan remembers the smell of his mother's hair and brothers and sisters to play with and a father who would teach him there was more out there in this world. He remembers happiness when he was a little nothing of a boy barely able to hold a practice sword or say alghoul without butchering the pronunciation of it all. After all these years he still remembers them. Often in his journals  he'll write about them and there was a point he would secretly write letters home but they were never met with any sort of response. Ronan isn't entirely sure if they're still alive or if they can even read or write. One thing is certain the last time a contract took him to Gors Valen to his birthplace they weren't there and not a soul that lives there now remembers the fisherman, his wife or the score of children they had. Even still if they are there why would they accept that their brother is a witcher?

Young Ronan MacTeer was only five when the witcher named Velles claimed him and took him to train at the School of the Griffin. He fought that day - kicked and screamed and violently refused to go. Velles still had teeth marks in his skin until the day he died from where the young child bit him. A promise was a promise and Old MacTeer had promised his eldest  to the witcher for having saved his life and he would go. His mother wailed and the youngest of his sisters ran after the horse until her feet were unable to carry her. It was the price it was the pledge and it would be honored. Despite his initial resistance and there was a great deal on his part, Velles did become an adoptive father to him. The two came to care for one another very deeply. It still hurts and always will that he essentially has no one else now but he's gained another family all his own of brothers in arms he wouldn't trade any one of them for the world. They are all each other has.

While there were initial bumps this was the beginning of the Knight of the Dawn. He would earn his name soon after he completed his trials and he went through them all. They took a boy and took him apart. After the choice which Velles convinced him of it was excruciating. Witchers in the School of the Griffin hardly thought he would survive the trial of the grasses but Ronan did. When he came through Ronan, just barely a young man, insisted they put him through additional trials. Velles told him it was unnecessary that completing this one was enough and he was now a witcher of the griffin school but Ronan despite the pain it would bring insisted. Noble, gallant, dauntless and incredible stubborn he was already ten times the man most other witcher boys were at sixteen willing to suffer so for the cause he'd been taught to believe in. Yes it made him like all other boys submitted to the witcher trials a foul creation - a freak in their own way but he really and truthfully knew no other life. It was the sunrise on the next day after his final trial where the boy truly became a man. High up in the mountains, higher than any one else including perhaps the monsters they hunted cat eyes open and took in a deep breath. Ronan greeted the dawn as he did every other day only this day was the beginning of the rest of his real life. A monster yes by normal human being standards but who would protect them but a witcher - specifically the Knight of the Dawn as Velles coined him.

Years passed, contracts and contacts came and went and the more harrowing each job became but he greeted each monster with a cunning smile and a silver sword. Those were the days to be wild and alive. Sure enough the Knight of the Dawn earned his name for being noble and a most masterful fighter to his enemies they surely knew him to be a trickster of sorts - never told the whole truth, came for blood, could talk his way out of any situation and had a terrible way of gaining an upper hand but in all that he was still good. Cheated at cards and drank but her was more than most men and had a mind about him to think of more than just himself. Never once did he claim the right of surprise and when they couldn't pay he wouldn't force them too. Then came a day he questioned things. He wondered of his former family. Perhaps it started when Velles died that he wondered if there was more to what they did - more to life. He kept this curiosity quiet, the studying he truly did of the monsters they hunted expanding knowledge in the hope to understand. They were once people were they not as was he? Who in this age wasn't some beast hidden there in the dark? It's always been a thought to gnaw away at him in the lonely days. His wonder of those things went no further because he knew there weren't many of his kind left and that wonder led down a dangerous path no witcher could walk without losing their head. He was faithful to his brothers and he would have their back, even Urbis', to the end. Lonely it was but they were the shred of what family each other had and it was entirely possible they would be the very last of their kind. The life of a witcher was never promised to be kind - their training and the things they've had to do have all but ensured they know their place in the world.

Ronan despite his training, despite the trials that took a boy and tore him apart and made him the witcher he is and even despite his artful ways of dancing around the truth he wondered of love. He wondered and still questions as he fights for coin to rid the world of monsters if he is not more a monster than they are and if there would be a person who would share this cold and bloody world with him? Perhaps it is a fools dream of a life beyond witching? What is sad is he has loved, deeper than some would think a witcher capable of loving; an all consuming love with a woman who loved him just as much and understood that what he was and never feared him for she knew his hands would never harm her if only protect her. He wakes in the night as if he is missing part of himself and reached for the ground beside him to find nothing and it is a haunting loneliness no amount of silver-tonged ability, daring fights, drunken brawls or loose women has helped. He hides it well but it is a gaping hole and it is painful but the knight of the dawn has no other option then the press on because there is no other life than this one. Ronan misses the love of his life not even knowing it is she he's missing not even knowing the empty name he wishes he could call is Orianna... Orianna.

Here he is Novigrad, less of his kind than there was before having accepted another contract but the whispers of the Wild Hunt concern him. Other things have been amiss as well but if the Wild Hunt comes perhaps with it comes his end as well? His arrival here in Novigrad and the arrival of other witchers makes him suspicious that there is more afoot here than the place initially lets on. With that and the thoughts that plague his mind what a time it is to be alive in regards to the Knight of the Dawn for the future is unknown and he is unsure of what lies ahead...

Trivia

Moral Alignment: Neautral

Zodiac: Capricorn

Temperament: Choleric

Sin: Wrath

Norse God/Goddess: Tyr

Witcher School: School of the Griffin - duh

Favorite foods: Meat, seafood, hot biscuits, strawberries and ale. He does like food and has quite honestly a more refined palate.

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor

Theme Song: Oblivion by M83 feat Susanne Sundfør

WANTED PLOTS:

Oh boy all the things -. the list is endless. HONESTLY LETS PLOT

[kindcaptivity]

First Impressions of “Happier Than Ever”

Getting Older and Billie Bossa Nova were my faves. I Didn’t Change My Number was probably my least favourite.

Under the cut for length.

Positives Lyrically, the titular song “Happier Than Ever” has a lot of content but manages to feel light and I respected that. When I first heard it, the guitar and lyrics reminded me of going to the corner shop on rainy days and having half-thoughts about things. I thought that the lyrics were OK and I sympathised with them a bit. Halfway through, it becomes a rock song and I thought, “That’s innovative,” but I didn’t really feel it. I don’t feel a lot of modern rock. If you like Nirvana and Green Day, you’ll really enjoy it because it hits that niche. I predicted a rock song on the album, especially because Billie likes modern rock and I thought that she should do one, and I know that HTE is going to be big. The singing is sort of similar to “Getting Older” to the point that I confused the two songs a bit at first. 

My favourite song was “Getting Older.” I took one look at the lyrics and I thought, “This feels so cliche. I can’t relate to this.” The one lyric that I picked out that I somewhat sympathised with was her talking about opening the door to crazed fans and rehearsing her lines and I thought, “Ah, I can see that.” However, I put the song on and the music itself gave me chills. There’s a part where the reverb says, “Anybody else” and the tune that’s played there repeats itself several times throughout the song. My eyes snapped open and I thought, “That’s music!” I am definitely adding this to my playlist. I thought that the opening was scratchy, but I understood it on second listening. When she said, ‘Happier than ever,’ I thought, “Ah, that’s going to be on-the-nose,” but she plays a little bit of xylophone over it and it felt very thrilling. The song ends abruptly and I didn’t like that at first because it seemed cliche, but I enjoyed it after listening to the whole album. Overall, it’s my favourite song.

When I first played “Billie Bossa Nova,” I was taken aback by how submissive Billie sounded. I thought, “I’ve definitely heard this somewhere before” and my first thought was that it was the Mii Music (i.e., Billie has been known to sample video-games). Once I got over the lyrics, I rewound it and I really enjoyed it. The tune became great after the initial beat; the sound was so crisp and sudden. You could tango or break-dance to it. Each verse, the beat kept blossoming. I can tell that it’s going to be a hit or a cult classic. I never could have imagined it from the title. I expected something with a large bass boost, but the actual song sounds sort of Spanish. If you’re listening for one song to dance to, this is it!

“Everybody Dies” is good. It feels very intimate and friendly towards the end. I got a version that was scratchy halfway through, so I don’t know. That’s the only song that I didn’t hear right. I’d love to listen to it again when I get a better copy, but I think that I like it. I expected it to be depressing and cliche, but it was surprisingly friendly and calm. I felt mellow after listening to it.

Out of the singles, I liked “Your Power” the most. The string-plucking felt very delicate, bohemian, and hopeful. That song made me start waiting for the album. It felt vague and left me wanting more. The lyrics were very haunting and clear. I expected not to like it because it was so bohemian, but I did like it quite a bit. “Try not to abuse your power / But having it’s so strange” has such a soft, half-spoken vibe.

I thought that “my future” was poignant when it came out. I remember enjoying the beat drop, the lyrics becoming very high and melodic, and the soft ending. If you listen to the lines, “Aren’t I someone? (Aren’t I someone?)” and “I’d like to be your answer / ‘Cause you’re so handsome,” you’ll know what I mean. I thought that it felt more like a teaser than a song, but it sort of was.

“NDA” had my favourite lyrics out of the singles: “On his way out, made him sign an NDA.” I really like when Billie does lyrics about female empowerment. A lot of the album is from the perspective of female disempowerment including the dance songs. “NDA” had a beat that sounded like tip-toeing. I liked it for the same reasons that I liked the beat in “Getting Older.” She has done that style before. It’s good if you like Autotune but a bit simple and reminded me a lot of music from the early tens like nightcore, which was never my style. 

“OverHeated” was blood-chilling. I don’t think that I could listen to it again. If I’m correct, it’s about her breasts trending. Thankfully, the beat was not as dark as the lyrics. It’s just sort of curious and reflective. I remembered it from teasers. I don’t think that I could have finished it if the beat was dark. “Overheated” is obviously a reference to her taking her hoodie off because she was too hot. There was a moment where she said, “Did you really think this is the right thing to do? (Is it news? News to who?) That I really looked just like the rest of you.” I thought, “That’s so sad,” but she doesn’t actually linger on it in the track. I feel bad for her. There’s a bit where she laughs after saying, “Stop being flirty” that ironically tried to sound a bit homoerotic and sly. It was good. Then, she sped up her talking a lot for the bridge. I thought, “That’s crunchy. I love it!” It’s classic Billie. I wish that she didn’t put down other women in the lyrics, but I understand that it comes from her wanting to be a model when she was younger. Overall, it’s a great song lyrically and the beat lands.

Negatives I thought that I’d like “Halley’s Comet” more based off of the title. It was OK. It tells a very nice story, but it’s more ambient than anything. The song opens with Billie talking about her dreams and about how Halley’s Comet comes around more than she does. I thought, “Nice! What next?” The story never really goes anywhere after that though and she talks about being awake.

“GOLDWING” opens with choral vocals. I thought, “This is great! I predicted it!” I wish that the vocals went higher, but I just feel happy that there was any choral music, especially because I know that Billie isn’t used to this. Then, it switches into being a remix, which is not my style. The first time, I thought that the lyrics were a bit self-congratulatory. The second time, I realised that the lyrics are about Billie avoiding being recognised in public and being lied to by media personnel. I just didn’t connect to the beat or lyrics, but there’s a bit where she says, “Just to sell you in a year” and I thought, “Hm, that’s sad.” I could barely hear it on the track though, so I think that I overestimated its importance. 

“Oxytocin” was vaguely unsatisfying, perhaps because it was the first song that I heard. The title surprised me because I expected it to be on a more upbeat song, especially since Billie wore that pink hoodie with the word, ‘Oxytocin’ on it. It has a suggestive clapping beat and the lyrics were very sexual. Halfway through, I thought, “Ah, the beat’s going to drop finally,” but it didn’t. It introduced Arabic influences like Britney Spear’s “Toxic.” The ending committed to the beat drop and was nice, but I wasn’t a fan of the concept. It seemed like it was playing into the industry standard for women. My favourite lyric was her murmuring, “I wanna make you yell” at the end. It sort of hit that sexually aggressive vibe without being disempowering.

“I Didn’t Change My Number” opens with very aggressive dog sounds. I thought, “That’s amazing.” I actually stopped for a moment and thought, “That’s the most aggressive dog sound that I’ve heard on a song so far,” but I like that sort of stuff. Sadly, the beat was dry and the whole tone of the song is sort of petty and spiteful. I think that it’s the most petty song so far. I couldn’t vibe with it.

I remember hearing “Therefore I Am” on the radio and thinking, “Hey, a new Billie song!” It felt loud and new but sort of half-finished. I went home and played the music video on my laptop and I didn’t really like it. It felt a bit proud and vindictive. “Lost Cause” felt like that but sexual, especially with the music video. I would put those songs near the same category as “I Didn’t Change My Number.” If you’re one of the people who said, “Billie is in her flop era” after hearing those songs, I would recommend that you listen to the album because it’s just one style of song that she does.

“Male Fantasy” never recovered from the opening lines about Billie watching adult films, but the chorus and second verse were gentle and relatable (i.e., “I got a call from a girl I used to know / We were inseparablе years ago / Thought we'd get along but it wasn't so / I worry this is how I'm always gonna feel / But nothing lasts, I know the deal”). The last lines of the album are about how she can’t hate. I thought, “That’s good” and expected it to end on a high note, but it didn’t, which was mildly depressing. The album could have been in a higher key sometimes and I wanted a few of the songs to go harder.

Aesthetic I don’t like the aesthetic. I’ve tried to, but I don’t. All of the brown tones feel very unapproachable. I understand that it’s meant to be “old-timey,” but it just gives me the Uncanny Valley Effect. I cannot dig the blonde hair. I don’t especially like blonde, but I do know people who can pull it off. I don’t think that Billie is one of them. At moments, I thought, “Is she trying to challenge our pre-conceived notions?” So, I tried to push through and like the hair, but I just do not think that it is Billie’s style. I do feel excited to see the new MVs. I hope that my opinion changes and I just haven’t seen enough of the new aesthetic.

Conclusion “Not My Responsibility” was more word poetry than anything, so I didn’t include it. The beat was dark. I remember first watching the video and feeling both happy for Billie directly standing up for herself and concerned for Billie taking a more sexual approach. The sound is clear and sudden.

The album deals with one subject and becomes very heavy (e.g., Male Fantasy and OverHeated). Overall, it made me think a bit about relationships and how women are seen. I think that I want to be in a relationship less now. The album made me think about how lonely and disconnected being a human feels.

I don’t know if these opinions will change. If a song is playing everywhere, I’ll definitely find it more catchy. I can’t wait to hear BBN and add “Getting Older” to my playlist. I’ve looped that song so many times. I’m sure that there will be a lot of thinkpieces about the album. I can’t wait to see what everyone thinks.