#to give your sons such beautiful values and making sure they can shape their own future to its best shape possible

[purplelea]

This King right here is not only the best King ever but also the best dad, however brief his actual appearance in the show was. His influence can be seen everywhere but most importantly in his two sons Callum and Ezran, because they're the protagonists. The main reason Ezran is able to lead a country at such a young age is thanks to his dad. Harrow was a king beloved by his people, but he made mistakes, and he was aware of them. Big mistakes, that led to war, instead of the peace he sought to protect. His main priority was that his children wouldn't follow his path. That they would break the cycle of violence and not be trapped by history. He knew death awaited him for what he did and didn't fight it—he looked forwards, to his sons, so they would get a brighter future thanks to the value he taught them. And they did.

Vote King Harrow.

THE DAD BRACKET: ROUND 1

Moominpappa - Moomin / King Harrow - The Dragon Prince

If you like what I’m doing, reblog so others can participate! And remember: Bring your favorites up, don’t bring the others down!

[fandomlovingfreak]

Glacial Passion (1/?)

Regulus Black/Reader

Rating: Mature / Explicit (Lemon) 18+ Readers ONLY

Word Count: 3931

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link 

Summary: Glacial, cold, icy... all words that described Regulus Black's grey eyes. Was there truly no emotion behind those eyes, or did a caring man exist beneath? Could she defrost those glacial eyes?

Disclaimer: Regulus Black (Walburga Black, Orion Black, and Sirius Black) is a character from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. Reader or y/n is not owned by Rowling. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: Should be maybe 2-3 chapters. It’s a mini series! I’ve never even thought to write Regulus content so I hope this is good! I enjoyed writing it. I want him to go from cold pureblood quiet boy to a more “loving” person. I hope that translates in the next few chapters.

Enjoy

"(Y/n) Raynott will be your bride," Walburga says matter-a-factly. Having been used to his parents making decisions for him his entire life, Regulus doesn't argue with the announcement. The indifference he wears well masks the annoyance he feels.

"We will arrange for the ceremony to take place soon."

His eyes dart up to his mother, "I have not met miss Raynott."

Walburga waves her hand dismissively, "dear, that is not  necessary  for a wedding."

It sort of is , he thinks to himself. He doesn't dare vocalize his displeasure. Orion looks between the two, too disinterested in the whole affair to give his opinion. Hell, he probably had something to do with the match.

"You'll have plenty of time to acquaint yourself with your wife when you are married."

Regulus looks towards the parlor window. The sky is grey, with storms passing over since the morning. A perfect reflection of his mood.

***

Mother fusses over my dress. "You need to look presentable. The Black family is respectable; they want a proper young woman,  who has been raised as you have , to be the perfect wife for their son."

The sudden betrothal has me in a state of shock. I hadn't thought my parents would do this without my permission... without telling me! 

"We will solidify the engagement tonight and choose the date." Mother continues to prattle on. "Probably in the next months. How exciting, isn't it (y/n)?"

"Yes, ma'am."  Lies.

***

Regulus straightens his shirt collar in his bedroom mirror. Grey eyes stare back at him, devoid of emotion. 

It'll be fine.

"Regulus!" His mother's shrill voice echoes through the house, "come down this instant! The Raynott's will be here soon."

Regulus takes another look at himself in the mirror before making his way down to stand by his parents. His mother nitpicks his person for a minute before she restrains herself. Not pleased with him completely but satisfied enough to let it go for now.

A knock sounds on the door, causing Kreacher to make a mad dash to the door to greet the guests. The house-elf leads the family of three towards them.

The first glimpse of the woman he'll be tethered to… He could admit she was pretty. She probably was very pretty. All he could focus on is the anxious tightness of her lips.

***

Dinner is a quiet affair. I don't talk, not to Regulus, or my parents, or the couple who will soon be my in-laws. I don't know if I could talk if I tried.

Walburga and Orion look pleased. Probably enthralled to have picked out such a meek and obedient wife for their son.

Their son , who has stolen glances at me the entire dinner but hasn't let a word fall from his lips.  His rather shapely lips.

He was handsome; I could acknowledge that. Not that it helped in the situation I've found myself in. No, his good looks  did not  make me happy to be stuck with him.

"Have we thought about potential dates?" Orion asks, taking a sip of his wine.

Father looks at mother, "Possibly in the next few months--" Mother is interrupted by Mistress Black, who makes a disapproving noise in the back of her throat.

"Nonsense. Next Tuesday will do just fine."

I nearly choke on my wine.  Next Tuesday?

"That could work as well," Father looks at me, "how does that sound, Sweetheart." I want to roll my eyes. How dare he call me some loving pet name as he was marrying me off.

"That-- It is fine." I look up at Regulus. Unreadable as ever.

"What do you think, Regulus?" Mistress Black turns her attention to her son.

Regulus glances my way, blinking slowly, "the sooner, the better."

**

Days fly by, finally arriving at the day he was to be married.

Married.

It didn't sound quite like it should be a word that describes him. Regulus never assumed his parents would find him a match at his age. Nearly twenty now, his parents had suddenly decided he had his fair share of bachelorhood. 

Orion had taken him to his first brothel at the age of seventeen, intentions being his son would learn the art of procreation early on and get any foolish actions out of the way. Some of his best and worst moments had been in his father's favorite whorehouse. 

Orion clearly believed his education in whoring should be satisfactory by now. The bloodline was to be his mission next.

'Mission' was harsh. He didn't want his wife to feel like the women he had slept with were in preparation for this match. He wasn't the perfect man, he could admit that, but the last thing he wanted to do was make this girl believe she was being used for his pleasure and creating the next heir.

There was truth in her being the vessel for his line, but he hoped she could see he did not intend on treating her like such. Regulus did not know (y/n), doubted he could ever love her,  even with time , but she was to be his wife. The next Mistress Black. She should be happy. If they could not share mutual happiness like a couple ought to, he would try to make her happy in  different  ways.

Merlin knew his presence alone would not make her happy. Regulus was a cold man; he didn't share sweet moments or loving smiles. He would never promise to kiss her goodnight or hold her hand in public. It just wasn't who he was. But he could try not to make her completely miserable. And he hoped that would be enough for (y/n). 

It would have to be enough.

***

I feel numb as I stand in front of the long mirror in the white dress I didn't want. It wasn't ugly; I just wasn't the one to choose it. Which fits perfectly with the day's mood. Wearing the dress I didn't pick to marry the man I didn't pick.

Poetry.

I sigh loudly as mother walks into the room. She squawks about how beautiful I look in the dress  she picked.

"Thank you," my voice is so quiet I can barely hear myself.

"Where is that veil..." mother searches around my packed things for the long organza veil. Finally, she locates it. 

"Come sit so I can place it in your hair. Hurry now. We're nearly late." I obey, sitting down on my bed so she can fuss with the damn veil.

"Perfect. Let's scurry now. It would be very embarrassing for me if we were late for your wedding."

Would it be mother? 

***

"Who is giving this woman to be married to this man?" The older wizard officiating looks to my father.

"Her mother and I do." Regulus doesn't show a pinch of emotion; his face as inscrutable as ever. 

When I had dreamed about this moment, I had imagined the man who was to be my husband would have shed a tear or at least smiled at me as I walked down the aisle... Regulus regards me like I'm a chore as he takes my hand from my father.

"The ceremony of pureblood marriage in which you come to be united in values is one of the first and oldest ceremonies of our kind. Marriage is a gift in that we give ourselves totally to one another. Marriage is a gift given to comfort the sorrows of life and to magnify life's joys." The wizard continues spewing lies of a happy marriage to come. 

"Pureblood marriage is that of traditions, where two families come together to strengthen our convictions. The ultimate union, a blending of blood." I grimace, happy the veil hid my face well. It gave me no joy to think of a  blending of blood  between Regulus and me.

"Regulus Arcturus Black," the wizard turns towards him, "Do you take this witch as your wife? Do you promise to provide for, protect her, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do." He says the words with such ease. The wizard turns to me, reciting the words once again.

I pause. Maybe longer than what is appropriate, surely an embarrassing pause compared to Regulus's swift one. His grey eyes stare into mine. He doesn't look angry or alarmed that I've taken nearly half a century to reply. 

"I do." The words slip from my lips. I stare back through the wall of organza between us. 

"Master Black, you may kiss your bride." 

Surprisingly, Regulus hesitates for a moment before he lifts the veil from my face. The kiss is nothing more than a quick brush of lips. His hand wraps around my wrist as he pulls away. Without appearing to drag me, he pulls us through the dining room doors away from the crowd.

Letting go of my wrist, Regulus sits down on one of the velvet couches of the parlor. From a decorative box, he plucks a cigarette, lighting it without a word to me. The drag of the cigarette is long, the smoke billowing from his lips, expanding throughout the room. 

I have half a mind to tell him to extinguish the cigarette at once. Instead, I walk to the other side of the room and sit on a different couch.

The feeling of his eyes on my person can't be ignored, but I cannot make myself meet his eye. I want to wallow away in my misery, if only for a moment. Long stretches of misery are what I expect most of all from this union.

"Come," he stands from the couch, beckoning me like a lap dog towards his awaiting arm. I frown but obey, seeing no other option at the moment. He'll be surprised when he tries this again when I'm not expected to be with him. 

Regulus pulls out something from his dress robes pocket. Taking my left hand in his, Regulus slides a purple jewel on my finger.

"What--?"

"A wedding present. From me."

I look down at the large jewel. It looks expensive.  Hell , it probably is expensive. It's a massive ring, for Merlin's sake.

I remember myself quickly, "thank you."

Regulus nods. "They'll be waiting."

***

Regulus sits on the bed, watching as I pace around, searching for my clothing and personal items. Where the hell did all of my stuff go?

I huff, hating that I must ask Regulus, "Where are my things?" 

"They have been appropriately placed in our room."

"Yes, but  appropriately placed where in the room ?"

Regulus looks at me for a moment. His eyes are cold as he stands, walking towards a door. I follow close behind, finding my clothing has all been hung within the large closet. He glances at me before walking away.

I exhale, beginning to rifle around my side of the expansive closet. I pick a nightdress from the large collection, intending to remove this ridiculous dress...

Damn it!

The only buttons I can successfully reach on the back of the bodice are the top two. There's at least a dozen down the back, and the last thing I want to do is ask for Regulus's help… but if I don't, I'll be trapped in this damned dress for the rest of eternity.

With nightgown in hand, I shyly walk back out into the bedroom. Regulus now stands near the lit fireplace, staring into the flames. He's still dressed in his wedding robes.

"Regulus," I say quietly. He turns towards my voice. The light from the flames flutters against his dark curls.

"Yes?"

My face scrunches up. I hate to do this. "Can you help me? With the buttons, that is?" I turn my back towards him, waiting.

His feet make the lightest of noise against the wooden floor as he approaches me. "You'll need to move your hair." Slender fingers lightly touch my neck as he gathers my hair. I oblige, moving my hair out of the way as his nimble fingers loosen me from this trap of a dress.

When his task is complete, he doesn't move away. Instead, Regulus stays put, his breath fanning gently over my naked shoulders.

He stinks of cigarettes, and I wonder if he had somehow snuck another when I was occupied in the closet.

"Did you smoke?"

He's quiet for a moment before chuckling softly. "I did." 

I would have maybe pestered him about the habit, but I'm so caught off guard by his laughter. 

"Do you not like that?" He whispers in my ear. 

Turning around does nothing for my flustered state as I end up nearly nose to nose with Regulus. He doesn't move, his eyes never leaving mine.

Finally, I find my words, "no."

"No?"

"No, I do not like that you smoke."

He studies me, eyes flickering across my face. I find myself wanting to know what he's thinking. His face betrays nothing.

I don't know what to do with this, his body so close, eyes glued to my face. It unnerves me the way he hasn't said a thing back.

"Regulus..." his name comes out as barely a whisper.

Suddenly, Regulus is leaning in closer. There's no time to react before he's kissing me tenderly. It's not much more than the kiss we shared in obligation earlier, but now his fingers caress my neck and jaw. I get lost in the kiss, my body unconsciously pressing in closer to his. 

"Regulus--" I sigh as he presses kisses down my throat, his fingers beginning to move my sleeves off of my shoulders.

His nose brushes against mine before he mutters a low, "come." 

The nightdress in my hand drops to the floor, forgotten as my body seems to move by its own volition. Willingly letting him situate me on the bed has me in perfect shock. Only a few soft touches and gentle kisses have me so pliant under his touch.

"Do you want this?" he asks curiously, moving ever so slightly away from me.

I pause, unsure. I'm certainly attracted to him. I would be a fool to deny that. And... well, there's the pressure from this sort of relationship to complete the bond of marriage. In pureblood marriages, an extra spell was placed upon the couple specifically to encourage coupling. It was meant to bring a couple together, an artificial sort of attraction. The bond only strengthened with intimacy. Most couples liked to complete the initial bond on their wedding night because it gave a stable foundation for something  like love  to blossom from arranged marriages.

I stare up into his cold eyes, "yes."

"You're sure?" 

I nod. Deep down, a girlish fantasy still burns within me. That this artificial attraction that was placed upon us will grow into something other than comfortable civility.  I wanted Regulus to love me . I want to love him back in turn. I didn't wish to live in civility with children and an overbearing mother-in-law. I wanted romantic, passionate love. I wanted his glacial eyes to thaw. Wanted those eyes to be filled with warmth  specifically for me.

Regulus kisses my neck again, his fingers moving down the front of my dress.

"Can I?" His eyes flit up to mine. Fingers move across the neckline of my dress. 

I feel dizzy as I nod. Regulus gently pulls me up to a sitting position, moving the dress up and off my body. I want to cover myself up as he inspects my naked body.

"Don't cover yourself," his tone is alarmingly smooth. He seems to notice the way my eyes widen at his words. He rephrases himself, "please do not cover yourself."

"Are you going to get undressed?" I ask, trying to figure out where to put my arms.

A small smile jumps on his lips. He almost looks amused. I squirm as he begins to loosen the silk scarf from his neck. 

Slowly, he strips out of the rest of his clothing. Before I can get a good look at his physique, he's moved back onto the bed.

"Have you done this before?" He leans down, whispering into my ear.

My mouth opens and closes slowly before I shake my head. No, I had not. But, what was he expecting? Of course, I hadn't. No one like us--  like me  would even dream of this before this specific moment. Like Mother had said,  I was raised for this life. 

He stares down at me for an unnervingly long beat. Much too long for my liking before leaning in to kiss me. The kiss is deeper this time and full of something  more  than the last two we had shared. Courage comes over me, and I tangle my fingers in his curly hair. A low moan escapes his lips as he moves to press open-mouthed kisses to my neck.

His hand moves down my body, stopping to cup my breast. My fingers grip his shoulders as I press up against his palm.

Pupils blown wide, Regulus pulls away to situate between my legs. His long delicate fingers run across my skin, spreading my legs further.

Trying to breathe normally and push the sudden embarrassment that comes over, I focus on his face, ignoring the light brush of his fingers as they move up my inner thigh.

"It's going to hurt a little bit." His thumb moves slowly against my clit, as he watches my face with interest.

"What are you doing?" 

"Getting you ready for me." He gives me a small smile.

I frown, turning my face away from him again.

"Don't be that way," he gently moves my face back towards him, "there's no need to be embarrassed with me."

"I have no idea what I'm doing." Admitting this shouldn't make me so... self-conscious.

He looks amused, "I'll keep that in mind."

Regulus presses my knees closer to my chest. Maintaining eye contact, he presses kisses down my abdomen to my thighs. 

"Relax, (y/n)."

"Regulus--" I squirm as Regulus's thumb moves from my clit, dipping into my sex. 

"Relax." Regulus replaces his thumb with his finger, slowly easing it in to his knuckle. 

He watches my face as he moves his finger gently, "how does that feel?"

"Odd."

I catch his smile before it disappears from his face.

"Not exactly what I wanted you to say" He presses a kiss to my clit before lightly sucking. 

"Oh!" My fingers find his hair again. I hadn't expected this to feel good...  for me , at least.

A second finger joins the first as Regulus continues to please me with his mouth. 

It feels like electricity flowing through my veins. Small jolts pulse through my nerves with each swipe of his tongue or movement of his thumb. I want to close my legs, the feeling becoming too much too quickly. 

"No," he moves my thigh back towards the comforter.

"But--"

"No." Regulus continues the dance of his tongue against my sensitive clit, his grey eyes locking with mine as I writhed under the hypnotic movement of his mouth on me.

The pleasure crashes over me in waves. My fingers dig into his hair, pushing his mouth closer. My fingers relax as the aftershocks take over. I feel like I'm melting into the bed, satisfied and pulsing with dull electricity.

Regulus sits up, leaning over my body. His right-hand plants down by my head, his left moving my leg up towards his waist.

"Are you ready?" 

Suddenly, I'm shy again. I nod.

"I need you to tell me you are ready, (y/n)." His hand smoothes over my upper thigh as he waits for me to give consent.

"Yes, I am ready."

Regulus nods, hand pumping his cock slowly, "I'll be gentle, as gentle as possible." 

I stare up at Regulus, watching him focus as he brushes the head of his cock against my slit before pressing in slowly.

"Relax. The pain will subside in a moment. Relax." His voice is surprisingly gentle as his thumb brushes the sun under my eye, moving down my cheek. 

As he continues to press into me, I try to do as he asks. 

Regulus bottoms out, his eyes staying glued to mine. For a moment, I think I see a flicker of something in those grey eyes. 

I open my lips to say something, but the words don't come. His eyes flicker to my lips. Slowly, he leans down, kissing me tenderly. 

"You can touch me if you want," he whispers. His nose brushes against mine as his hips begin to move.

"I--" I inhale shakily as he presses forwards, "Where?"

"Anywhere you want to. I don't mind." He continues to watch my face as I reach for his hair.

"Do you actually like this?" I laugh, raking my fingers through his curls. 

He huffs out his own version of a chuckle before replying, "I do."

"Oh--" I was expecting him to tell me I was giving him a headache with all the hairpulling. 

He continues the slow pace of his hips rocking against mine, watching my face.

"What are you looking at?" I ask quietly.

"You." 

I squirm uncomfortably. "Well... don't?"

Regulus stops, "don't look at you when we're doing this?"

"You're making me self-conscious!" 

He rolls his eyes, " I'm inside of you.  There's no room to be self-conscious."

"That..." I frown, "does not make me feel any less self-conscious."

I wiggle, sitting up slightly on my forearms. I look down where he's buried deep inside of me.

Regulus sighs, "There's no reason to feel self-conscious with me."

"But--"

"No." Regulus stops me from rambling on, "no more talking unless you want me to stop or you want something specific from me. Do you understand?"

I nod.

"Good," Regulus looks like he's collecting his thoughts before he restarts his pace. "Touch yourself."

"What?" 

"Touch yourself," he presses his lips against mine, "touch your clit."

Hesitantly, I move my hand between our bodies.

"Just like that. Trust me."

My fingers press against my sensitive clit. I shudder beneath him, feeling overwhelmed by the push and pull of his cock as I press deeper against the nerves.

I look up at him, "Will you kiss me again?"

Regulus doesn't give me an answer, leaning in to kiss me hungrily as he chases his release.

Without warning, he moves my hand out of the way, replacing it with his own, more skilled digits. 

"Cum for me," the snap of his hips quickens as his fingers move rapidly. My world shatters as I cum for the second time tonight.

"Fuck." He buries his face in my neck as he releases.

I feel lightheaded as he rolls away from me. Slowly, I turn my head to look at him. His hair's splayed across the pillow, jaw relaxed as he catches his breath. I study his side profile with interest.

The question sits at the tip of my tongue. What happens next? He hasn't tried to... cast anything, a charm to end the chances of a pregnancy. Unless this was his plan?

"What... what about the possibility of a baby?"

"Don't worry about it."

"But there's a possibility, or maybe you wanted--"

"No," with a flick of his wrist, Regulus stops any chance of that.

I turn my body towards him, "are you tired?"

Regulus glances over, "Yes. I am."

***

He holds her as she falls asleep. It's nice, he supposes.

But dangerous.

It couldn't hurt to hold her when she's sleeping. He just can't let her catch him holding her when she wakes up.

She can't get the wrong idea about their relationship.

[sansacherie]

First Kiss

I.

The Third Month of The Year 298

“You look lovely, Rhaenys.” Aegon smiles at her as Rhaenys enters the Hall of Lamps, accompanied by her three bridesmaids and their escort of guards.

“Only lovely?” Rhaenys wrinkles her nose. “You disappoint me terribly, Aegon. You should not describe a bride as anything less than exquisite. At least, that is what my bridesmaids tell me.”

Arianne winks at her while Sansa and Daenerys giggle. In the Faith, it is often the custom for a bride such as Rhaenys to choose three bridesmaids to honour three of the seven gods- the Maiden who bring bless the marriage with lasting love, the Mother with children, and the Crone with wisdom to survive the years together. Rhaenys had agonized over who to pick among her ladies, not wanting to cause hurt, but thankfully her mother had guided her into selecting Arianne, Daenerys, and Sansa. No one can fault her for choosing family, or soon to be family in Sansa’s case, Elia reasoned.

“Your sister is playing with you, Your Grace.” Arianne drawled. He does. Aegon laughs and offers Rhaenys his arms, before lowering his voice. “You look beautiful as always, Nee-Nee. I suppose I’m just used to it.” Rhaenys smiles sadly at this resurrection of his babyhood nickname for her.

Rhaenys does feel beautiful, however. Of course, although she is not vain enough to deem herself the Maiden’s rival, she also does not find any value in lying to herself when she sees her reflection.

But this is different. The dressmakers have done well, truly. Rhaenys’ gown is a glory, a creation of red silk with long flowing sleeves that felt inviting as sin when she was helped into it earlier. Her bodice glimmers with golden thread. Resting on her black curls is a golden diadem with red rubies and an inscription in Rhoynese at the bottom.

On her wedding cloak, is a dragon whose open mouth reveals no crackling flames but instead a large golden sun that overwhelms the creature in size. The other dress that Rhaenys will change into for today is also just as beautiful, with Sansa gasping in delight upon seeing it. Although it is not demanded, it is not unusual for a bride to wear a gown favouring her new husband’s colours at their reception as if their vows were not enough to demonstrate that she was now his. But Rhaenys has no wish to offend her river lord or make him feel uncertain, so her gown is silver satin and sleeves consisting of myrish lace. Adorning the outfit is a belt made of deep red velvet with blue sapphires.

Aegon signals that they are ready, and from inside the sept proper music begins to play. Arianne lifts up Rhaenys’ cloak from the ground, while Sansa and Daenerys pick up the hems of the gown; the former looking painfully excited while Dany almost looks as nervous as Rhaenys feels.

Arianne nods at her and proudly smiles at Rhaenys in the way that Aegon did, and Rhaenys wills herself to breathe.

As a princess born, her entire life was the realm’s, shaped and nurtured with it in mind. It was the offering demanded for her birth and rank being predetermined by the Seven. It was a truth familiar to Rhaenys as a favoured story might be for a child who delights still in its thousand telling.

However, unlike that small child, Rhaenys could never be allowed to want other stories. Rhaenys is not friendless in this either, she remembers.

Her life belonged to the seven kingdoms, and so it appeared, did her first kiss.

Their kiss does not make Rhaenys forget to stand, or forget the crowd that had gathered in the royal sept to witness Lord Edmure Tully take her for his lady wife.

The number of guests is not as many as the wedding of Aegon to Lady- Queen Cassandra Baratheon, but Rhaenys’ wedding is still the first of a blood princess since that of her paternal grandmother forty years ago. Their noses bump, and his beard tickles Rhaenys chin. Nobody dares laugh to break the spell of the solemnity of the occasion, but Edmure reddens all the same.

When they turn to face the cheering crowd, Rhaenys cannot squeeze his hand- there will be a hundred times during the wedding there will be time for contact, but she gives him a bright smile, to put him at ease. “My lord, I must confess. You’ve rather exceeded the expectations of a maiden’s first kiss.”

Edmure’s eyes widen, then his generous mouth curves into a boyish grin. There is a kindness in it, and Rhaenys’ heart twists suddenly. Did her father smile at her mother on their wedding day? Despite the betrayals that he rained down on her, did he at least do that?

There is no way of knowing. Rhaenys cannot ask her father this, or a thousand other questions since she was old enough to understand how the crown prince almost brought them all to ruin. She does not want to dig up the past for her mother, who now basked in the warm present; with her adoring husband. Elia Martell paid Rhaegar Targaryen little attention in death, just as he paid her little respect and dignity in life.

II.

The Third Month of The Year

Two weeks pass before they enjoy their first misunderstanding.

“Have I done something to upset you?” Edmure asks her, in Rhaenys’ bedchamber.  They have been given adjoining rooms here in the castle.  They will not leave the Red Keep until the end of the month.  Rhaenys is glad of it.  She is not afraid to leave, but she is not necessarily anxious to either.

Rhaenys shakes her head, her sketchbook lying forgotten in her lap.  “Of course not, my lord.”

Edmure frowns.  “In public, whenever I try to kiss you, or take your hand- it’s almost as if I am some stranger and not your husband.  You look uncomfortable.”

Rhaenys feels a flush of shame. She’d not meant to sail down this river.  However, she smiles at him.  “Give me your trust in this, Edmure.”  Edmure’s eyes widen.  Until now Rhaenys has called him Lord Edmure or my lord, while he has alternated between Princess Rhaenys or my lady, or my princess, for Rhaenys will be a princess long after she is Lady of Riverrun.  “If you were a stranger kissing the king’s sister, you would know it.”

“That still does not answer my question.”  It is almost an accusation.

That still does not answer my question.”

Rhaenys sighs.  She must be truthful with him. “It is not because of you, I promise.  It is because of me, and well- Lord Tywin.”

“Lord Tywin?” Edmure echoes her, like the sound of the ocean in one of the seashells that could be found along the beach of Dragonstone.  Then he looks a little ill.  “You mean to tell me that you love Tywin Lannister?” Edmure splutters.

Rhaenys cannot help but laugh; the notion is so ridiculous.   Love is wasted on a man like that.

“No, my lord.”  Rhaenys says gently. “It is because I cannot forget who I am, and who Tywin is.  Or Mace Tyrell. You know the line of succession to the Crown, I trust.  I am my brother’s heir, after any children he might have.  My sons will inherit first over any sons that Viserys might give his Cersei.  May the Seven permit that we have a future where Aegon lives long and has many children.  I want that for him.  But you and I are not foolish to think that Tywin is equally satisfied.

So, I have always been- careful. Careful with my behaviour, with how I am perceived.  I told you that you were my first kiss. I- I had no wish to give Tywin palace gossip that he could use to his advantage.”

Edmure crinkles his forehead.  “Surely nobody would think badly of a child for having kissing games.  Cat and Lysa-,”

Rhaenys now tosses her sketchbook aside. “Forgive me my lord, but your sisters’ experience cannot be compared to mine.  Their mother is not Dornish.”

Edmure looks lost.  “What has that got to do with this?”

“Everything.”  Rhaenys hisses, standing up now.

“People will take innocent kisses and think it proof of a Dornish woman’s wanton ways, as if there isn’t plenty in the Reach or Westerlands who were no maidens when they were married! Or men who have a dozen mistresses!  I know the rumours of Ashara Dayne, my mother’s lost friend.  Everyone assumes that Ashara slept with Brandon Stark, but she never did! She was younger than me when she died, and yet people simply assume that she gave him anything more than a smile.  And Dany-,” Rhaenys wipes away her tears.  “We were only children at the time. I don’t think Dany was any older than five.       We were calling each other stupid things as children do, and my mother had entered the room when Dany called me a Dornish slut.  To this day, I still don’t know where the hell she got that from.   And the look on my mother’s face-,” Rhaenys stares at the floor.  “My darling grandfather called her that, a few times.”

“So, because of this, I have always been careful. My mother has taught me so.  Since I was a maiden flowered, being alone is not something I am used to.  There has always been either my family or my ladies or my guards.  I will not let myself be vulnerable to any rumours that would paint me unsuitable to be a queen; rumours that the lion and rose will try to use for their own ends.”   Rhaenys is surprised by the vehemence in her voice.

She takes a deep breath, before continuing. “Secondly, it is just my nature. I appreciate that you are my husband, but I have never been comfortable with physical affection in public, specifically hugs and kisses.  I endure it for proprietary’s sake.  If truth be told, I am not entirely fond of being embraced.”

Edmure’s forehead creases.  “Even your own kin?”

“No, that’s different.”  Rhaenys corrects him.  “My family is close to me.  My ladies are close to me, so I obviously did not mind when we slept in the same bed, our legs tangled together like branches or held their hands as we danced or played games.   And you and I will become close too, I hope.”  She adds, shyly.

Edmure nods.  “Thank you Rhaenys, for telling me this. I will keep that in mind.”  Rhaenys’ smiles at the use of her name.

He grins.  “Speaking of kisses has made me want to kiss you still, however.   So – may I kiss you?” He asks tentatively. His voice makes Rhaenys remember their wedding night, and how he asked her the same thing in the dark.  Their first coupling was well- it was nice, she supposes.  She does not have anything to score it by.  Still afterwards, she had slipped a hand between her legs, for there was nothing in scripture that forbade such things.  

But a kiss is different.  She nods, and Edmure gingerly brushes a curl from her face. “I hope we have a girl with hair like yours.”

His kiss is long and sweet; as sweet as the smell of rain after a month’s drought.

III.

The Sixth Month of The Year 298

“Rhaenys?”

Edmure’s worried face is illuminated in the candlelight, as he sits down on the bed beside her.  Rhaenys is clutching her knees, her eyes downcast.

They have not yet reached Riverrun, thanks to the river lords who insisted on guesting them for a few days.   Stars have risen in the sky for the third time here at Stone Hedge.   No doubt the Brackens insisted on the third night to beat the Blackwood’s two.  “By the time you do reach Riverrun, you’ll need a new wardrobe.”  Desmera Redwyne had predicted, giggling.

There had been no giggling when Desmera had gone to fetch Edmure after Rhaenys had bolted up in bed, tears streaming down her face.

“Desmera need not have woken you.”  Rhaenys mumbled.

“I’m not sorry she did.”  Edmure counters.   “My lady, you are trembling.”

Rhaenys fiddled with the end of her braid.  “It was a bad dream, that’s all.”

For a heartbeat, silence rested between them.  Then, Edmure spoke.  “When I was a boy, my sister Catelyn once told me that you always feel better after talking about a bad dream.”

Well, what has she got to lose then?  He will not leave her.  “It’s a dream I’ve had before.”  She confesses softly.  “I’ve had it on and off since I was twelve or thirteen.  In it, I’m trying to get away.  But I can never far enough.  They-They never change how they kill me.  With a knife.”

Edmure sucks in his breath.  “Rhaenys-,”

Rhaenys bites her lip.   “And the strange thing is, I’m never the age that I am.  In it, I wasn’t eight-and-ten.  Instead, I’m a little girl.  I might be four, I think.”   Tears well in her eyes.  “Tell me, what chance does a girl of four have against a man who wants to kill her?”

“Very little, I would judge.” Edmure softly replies.  “I’m sorry.  Maybe I shouldn’t have pressed you to tell me.”

“No.” Rhaenys corrects him.  “Don’t be sorry.  I-I do feel a little better now, as you predicted.”  It is not a lie.   She has never spoken about the dream to anyone else, before.  

It feels freeing.

She turns and wraps her arms around Edmure, kissing him.  This kiss feels different somehow.  It is not as though she hasn’t been vulnerable with Lord Edmure before.  She gave her maidenhood to him.  She will feel a little vulnerable in Riverrun she thinks, until she can gain the respect of Edmure’s household.

But this kiss – it is a comfort.  Of course, Rhaenys has been comforted before.  But the solace of a mother or brother is different from that of a husband.  This- the feeling of his lips against hers- is like being told a secret.  But it’s not a secret designed to hurt.  It’s not one where the longer it is kept hidden from the open, the worse the fallout is.  

Instead, it is like being given something small, fragile.  That is a precious thing, Rhaenys concludes.  It is a precious thing to be given such trust.

IV.

The Eighth Month of the Year 298

“I’ve had a thought,”  Edmure says, as Rhaenys massages his aching shoulders; courtesy of his sparring session.

Rhaenys had enjoyed watching that, very much.

“Oh?”  Rhaenys smirks.  Removing her hands from his shoulders, she cocks her head at him.  “Is that unusual for you, my lord?”

To her husband’s credit, he only grins at her.  Other men like Stannis Baratheon or Tywin Lannister were not so kind to such silly little japes.  

“I was thinking that perhaps we could write to some of our vassals’ families and ask for some girls.  For you, I mean.  I know you’ve brought some from Kingslanding.  But the Riverlands can’t be their home forever, while you- I think it would be good for you.  Not that I don’t think you’re not doing well in your duties so far.”  He adds quickly.

Rhaenys smiles warmly.  “That is a wonderful idea.  We should ask Maester Vyman for his counsel on who to choose.  Three seems a good number, I feel. In time, perhaps we can ask for some wards.  Companions for any younger sons or daughters we may have."

Edmure answers her with a kiss to the neck.   Rhaenys gasps. He has never kissed her there before.   Always on the lips or cheek.

She loves it.

“I hope we have a girl with hair like yours, my lady.”

Somehow, she knows that it will not be a wasteful thing to hope in this marriage.

[just-a-poor-boy-queen]

Another double feature, because it's been another hard day.

--

Part 7 of Jimercury Kid series

‘Those bastards!’

Freddie’s exclamation from the next room didn’t alarm Jim; it was something that happened quite often, though the cursing had lessened considerably since they had adopted Khaleel. Whatever it was that had angered Freddie, it had to be something bad.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked as he entered the kitchen, finding Freddie and Phoebe at the table, Freddie clutching a newspaper in his shaking hands.

‘Look at this!’ Freddie yelled, practically shoving the paper under Jim’s nose. ‘Look at this absolute trash they’ve printed!’

Jim took a moment to smooth out the paper, before running his eyes over the article that had upset his husband so greatly. The headline read – MERCURY’S SECRET LOVE CHILD? – with the tagline below reading: AIDS survivor rumoured to have fathered child with former girlfriend. Below was an image of Jim in a playground with Khaleel, holding his son protectively in his arms and shielding his face from the camera.

Jim sighed; he had warned Freddie that it was a bad idea for him to take Khaleel to the park that day. He understood why Freddie wanted him to go; he wanted their child to be able to have as normal a life as possible and be able to visit a playground just like any other kid. But the reality was, the press was always sniffing around. Jim had been pushing Khaleel on the swings when he noticed a photographer lurking in the distance, and he quickly grabbed his son before the bastard could snap a photo of his face.

He continued reading the article: Mercury’s gardener, Jim Hutton [pictured above] was seen with the child rumoured to be Mercury’s son in a local playground. The unnamed infant is believed to be the result of an on-and-off again relationship with the singer’s ex-girlfriend, Mary Austin, who he previously described as “the love of his life”-

‘Absolute drivel!’ Freddie grabbed the paper back before Jim could read any more, crumpling it in his hands. ‘Love child. Can you believe them? And I never called Mary the “love of my life,” who the fuck came up with that? “On-and-off again relationship”? We broke up nearly twenty years ago, for God’s sake-’

‘Freddie.’ Jim interrupted calmly. ‘It’s just another shitty tabloid. They make a living off printing lies. You know that.’

Freddie simmered quietly, while Phoebe took the hint and excused himself to put the kettle on, leaving the couple to talk. Jim sat down at the table and took hold on Freddie’s hand, thumb gently stroking his knuckles until Freddie was calm enough to talk.

‘Khaleel is our son.’ He growled between clenched teeth. ‘Mine and yours. No one else’s. I’m sick of them making up lies.’

‘It doesn’t matter what they think.’ Jim replied softly. ‘Weknow the truth. Khaleel is ours and he always will be. So what if the public think he’s Mary’s? Hell, some of them actually believe you’re straight!’

At this, Freddie snorted with laughter.

‘People are going to believe what they want to believe.’ Jim went on. ‘Like you said, that’s the way it is when you’re famous. Fuck them!’ He smiled when Freddie chuckled again. ‘Our little boy knows who his parents are, and I value his opinion much more than some rag of a paper.’

On cue, Khaleel scampered into the kitchen, a large piece of paper clutched in his little hands that he immediately shoved under Freddie’s nose. ‘Look, Baba! I drew you and Daddy and me!’

Freddie looked at the clumsy, crayoned drawing Khaleel had made. The three of them were standing in what he assumed was the garden, Khaleel in the middle while Freddie and Jim stood on either side of him, holding a hand each. There was a little square drawn in the background (which he assumed was the house) a few weirdly shaped cats (all of them with their names spelled wrong) and a round circle with arms and legs and a big smiley face squeezed into the corner with “Uncle Feebee” scrawled beneath it. Freddie’s front teeth were comically large, like a rabbit’s and Jim’s moustache took up half his face.

The sight almost made Freddie burst out crying.

‘It’s beautiful, darling. I love it.’ He said in a tight voice and leaned down to give their son a kiss.

Khaleel knew exactly who his family was. Fuck everyone else.

Ahhh they finally face the real world! It's as if they were living in their own little bubble till now, away from the vicious society that they live in. You expressed Freddie's anger beautifully, I feel. And oof, the comments about Mary. I want to tattoo those words lol because yes, they're relevant in our reality too. And I am sure Freddie would be upset if he saw the disregard his chosen family has faced since his passing.

But in this universe, I am glad that he has Jim and their son to support him and love him. Speaking of Khaleel, I am so in love with this baby boy. Him making a family portrait with his papas and uncle feebee and his feline brothers and sisters is the cutest thing ever💙

I hope you know how much we're all loving your writings, anon. A lot of us genuinely wait for your daily updates, and you have been receiving prompts from other anons too. However, if you ever feel you need to take a break, please don't hesitate to take one. Your priority should be your well being. Also, the offer to talk privately will always stand, so if you ever feel ready to contact me personally, you are most welcome to do so💙

(More drabbles by writer anon)

[chromium7sky]

The Devil Wears Armani| chapter 11

A/n: amg, finally updated this one 😭😭😭💖💖💖💖💖 you guys can follow this story with #damirae , #devilwearsarmani and #fashionistaau tag

2 weeks. It's been two weeks since the last video call. Raven have been pouring her attention on working the suit that she has planned for Damian Wayne to wear for the Gala.

She had done the cutting, the sewing and all, and what's left is doing the embroidery. She chosen the gold thread selectively which give the vivid glow and bring out the majestic value to the wearer.

The embroidery are complete within 95% thanks to a specified sewing machine which she bought with the price money she won before during the her first fashion competition. It helps alot.

The date of Gala approaching like crawling on the thread of time and for the final touch, she combined all the pieces into a handsome looking suit.

As she put the wardrobe on the mannequin, she took a step back and see it as a whole picture. With her both hands, she makes the photograph gesture to capture the feels of how Damian would look like if he wears them.

Contemplating and satisfied she felt after she iron the suit and store in special cover suit. She looked at the calendar and looks like she has extra two weeks before Gala.

Speaking of Gala, she wondered what would the dress look like since it was Damian who made for her? Would it be shoulder bare? Would it be one piece dress? Raven rubbed her chin as she wonder then she noticed herself on standing mirror. Slowly she spin to the left then to right as she look her body shape contour. If she was designing her own dress she probably went with thick fabric drape style. Simple, elegant and exclusive.

Her eyes glanced at the clock that's shows 10.30pm.

Wait.

She blink her eyes. How come she didn't thought of it. What would his design for herself? She did shown her sketches to Damian but won't he shown his? Curious, curious.

Raven imagine what if she asked, Damian would probably say, ' you don't trust me? Tsk tsk.' Raven sighed as her hand run down her face thinking about that. "Maybe I'll try to ask tomorrow."

Suddenly, a bleep sound indicate a message comes in. Raven blink then looked at her phone screen.

"Girl, You busy today?"

- Karen

It's been a while. Raven smiled then diligently answered the question.

"Not quite. Just finished designing a suit. What's up?"

She hit send.

Then came up another message on her inbox.

"We got party tomorrow at Viva La coast at Riverside. Wanna come?"

Raven narrowed her eyes then humming. Should she go or not? Perhaps she need a time off after that intense week. A little entertainment doesn't hurt.

"Sure. You pick me up?"

" For course, sis. 😘 See you at 8pm, tomorrow."

"On it.👌"

Raven smiled then landed on her bed. As she let out her relief sigh she put her phone at table nearby.

As she sleep, she dreamt of something pleasant. She's at fountain garden where surrounded by fragrance flowers and palm-like trees.

She notice her dress has gold accent along with silky texture clothes. Slowly her hands touched the dress she wear, felt it's smooth surface.

Her heart stop as she felt a hand holding her waist. Slowly she turn her head over her shoulder and -

BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP

Her eyes wide open as soon as she heard her phone alarm. She blink once then twice, trying to process her thoughts. When a sprinkle of dream remembrance filled in her her head, her cheeks start to blushed. Her hand quickly grab her pillow beside her and buried her face beneath it.

"O dear, don't tell me it's him that I'm dreaming about last night." She let out her sighed. She had fallen for him.

A message bleep chiming in her phone makes her peek under the pillow and quickly she reached for her phone.

A message from him.

'OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG' Raven's heart start racing. "Wh-Wha...H-How...." She tried to question reality, how on earth he's messaging her. Right now?

"You're awake?"

Raven bit her bottom lips as she look at her phone screen. Her finger diligently working on touch screen pad.

"Just awake. Can't sleep?"

She hit send button. Then for a few second she received his reply.

"I just had dream about you...

You look beautiful."

A dream? She blinked. Then another message comes in.

"Still busy working on the suit?"

Raven biting her lips to keep it as a secret but it's almost 25th like in 5 days away, so....why not? Her finger tapping the keyword on screen replying him.

"Actually I've finish the suit."

She replied. Another thought hit her and she quickly tapped it on the phone.

"I did promise making for dinner right? Maybe tomorrow?"

Again she send the text.

Interval in 2-3 second, her phone bleep it back.

"That would be great. I'll bring something as surprise."

Surprise? Raven mind start racing, mostly to that forbidden thoughts. What kind of surprise? She bit her lips and start typing.

"Well uh, I hope it's not a refrigerator you're bringing."

She shaked off those thought and try keep the conversation as innocent as possible.

"No. It's not. It's something, you probably would like it. 😏"

Raven looked at the emoji face he send. Did he send an emoji? Damian Wayne doesn't use emoji while texting or emailing.

"Well, alright then. See you tomorrow?"

She hit the send button.

Then a message came in.

"Can't wait to see you.♥️"

Raven flopped to her bed and her face now are red tinted. What is this? Why is this feeling so intense? She closed her eyes retracing her memory between them. Those bickering and end up with hot make out along intimate session in his office.

"I guess we should discuss about this terms of relationship." She talked in her pillow.

---------------

She has complete all the order that has been request by some local boutique and some are from online website. She's quite amazed with things that happens after the talk show incident where Damian said about Raven going to Wayne Gala this week.

People start to shift their attention to her especially her design clothes. Does Damian intend to promote her? She rubbed her chin then sudden, Mona, her assistant knock her door.

"Come in."

Mona peek behind the door, she smiled and slowly walk to her boss. " You have received a gift!" The assistant handled to her a parcel.

"A gift?" Raven whisper under her breath. Could it be Damian? Her eyebrows furrowed. She took out knife letter and slowly cut , unwrapped the parcel and she saw an apparel, black with velvet felt. There is the tag at the collar says Draco.

Her eyes widen. Draco? You mean Melchior Draco?

"Who is it? Your lover?" Mona feeling excited.

"No. This is from my competitor." Raven cover the box and push it away. Her head suddenly filled with painful memories about her and Melchior encounter. The way he flirt her before her first joining competition, the betrayal, and stolen her design to built his empire.

Her heart boiled with anger which in result she crumpled her paper nearby which made Mona a bit fall back by her intimidation.

"I'm sorry about that, Miss." Mona bow her head quickly apologize for not realise what is going on.

Raven snapped back from those memory and quickly look at the paper . " Oh!" She's surprise and quickly she try to straighten up the paper she crumbled. " No, no, it's okay, Mona. It's nothing." She smiled. " You can go now."

" Ah, alright then." She nod and walked to the door and-

" By the way, boss, there's a caller said he's from metropolis daily planet wanted to interview you about being guest at the gala." Mona turned to her as she spite out another appointment.

" Well, set it tomorrow then." Raven tidy up her table and throw the parcel to the bin nearby.

"Uh, you threw that?" Mona pointed at the parcel inside the dustbin.

"You want it?"

"Ummm...it looks beautiful." Her assistant fidgeting.

Raven smiled and took the parcel. She dust a bit. "Take it and wear where I don't see it. Or else I end up burn them with hellfire." Raven eyes shown deep hatred and anger.

"Ok boss." She smiled, quickly snatched the parcel and run to the exit.

As she was alone in her office, she slump in her chair and sigh heavily. "I guess he's also in town too." Her finger tapping on her table creating random melodies.

-------

Its 7.55pm, Raven now waiti g for Karen to pick her up as she lingers in her living room. She's wearing a one piece black dress decorated with golden and black labuci make it more fabulous looks.

She look at her phone to kill her waiting time until she stumbled on a post by E fashion news.

"Top trending designer DRACO are in town for launching their latest collection 'BLAK MAJIK' "

As raven read the article, she felt upset as she remember Melchior stole her ideas in doing a line fashion about magic before she presented the ideas at her first fashion show competition.

As she read the article, the sound of the car honking makes her jolt and quickly look at the window. It seems Karen has reached at her apartment block, quickly she goes out and greet Karen who parked at the entrance.

*********

"I heard that bastard Melchior are in town." Karen slowly stirred her cocktail as her and Raven where sitting on a table outside of the Viva La Coast restaurant.

"Yeah, I did read the article about it." said Raven as she drink her pina colada. " So, who are we waiting for again?"

"I forgot to tell you, Kory won't be able to join us. She has to come with her boyfriend meet with his family at Wayne Mansion."

"Wayne Mansion?" Raven's eyes jump out. Wayne, wasn't Damian last name is Wayne too?

" Yeah, but she's dating with Wayne's older adopted son, Richard Grayson. A high profile detective , probably will be promoted as soon. " Karen updating the status of their friend.

"I see." Raven looked at her drink. It's been a long time she hasn't talk to Kori because of her business setting up her small company.

"How about you then? You and Mal?" Raven raised her eyebrows.

"Well we've been planning for a wedding maybe in next year. " Karen smiled.

"Wait, I thought you're still in doctorate?" Raven eyes wide open as she remember Karen used to be a student in mechanical and atomic engineering.

"Will be graduated in two months." Karen smiled widely as she let out the fantastic news.

Raven goes all tears as she heard the good news. "Oh my god, Karen! I'm so happy!" She tried to hug Karen across the table.

Karen laughed with Raven's sudden behaviour. "That's why we celebrate it!"

"We should buy a cake. Wait, I know! Waiter!" Raven call up the waiter to get some dessert as celebration.

"And..."

Raven turns her head to Karen.

"I wanted you to design our wedding dress and suits." Karen faces flushes as she speak her request. " I really, really adore your work , Rachel. I wanted you to design it."

"Damn it , Karen. You make me all teary." Raven wiped her tears as she smiled sheepishly. " Of course I will."

"Karen, do you know anything about the youngest Wayne?"

"You mean Damian Wayne?"

"Yeah."

"I heard that he just back from middle east after doing charity project between the Wayne Enterprise and Leviathan Industries."

"I think everyone knows about that, Karen." Raven smiled as she drink up.

"I am very speculate that both of you have met." Karen with her mischievous smile now painted on her lips. " Is that the same guy who become your muse in your long lost sketch book?"

Raven clutches her hand on her drink, almost breaking it but she keep with her calm face. " I don't think so." She tried to denied it following with Karen's giggle.

"Plus, when he said there will be Raven in Wayne's Gala, I was like 'Raven?!' to the tv screen and I swear there's something going on between both of you." Karen crossed her armed with one eyebrow raised as she looked as Raven like she's a suspect.

"Well..." Raven averted her sight to the table and nervously tug her hair behind her ears. " There is."

BAM!

Raven jolted as Karen slammed the table with her drink. "TELL ME."

She swallowed her saliva as she seen Karen being over eager. She sighed as she adjust her seating, leaning towards the table.

"It start with that day, the day when he show up out of nowhere with that deal." Raven start to spilled what happen recently.

[nobuverse]

@kiicho​ said:   “ Nobu. ” Kicho is here with her santa hat on. She has her present in her hands. A finely constructed sword she’d been preparing in advance for a long time. “ Nobutada made the sheath, actually. He promised the kids to play with them now so I’m giving this on his behalf too. ” The sheath was sleek with dark lacquered wood. Their son had engraved and painted in red and gold the scenery of Owari; the seal of ‘Tenka Fubu’ comfortably accompanying the landscape. “ All of the swords you collected are gone now. We hope that you can start a new collection with this one. ” She unsheathes the sword slightly to show the dark metal of the blade, shimmering slightly red in the light, sharp and deadly in the right hands. “ I’m handing off my role of being the sharpest sword in your hand. Now, let’s just walk on this path side by side as equals. ” That was enough emotional displays for one day ! “ Anyway — ! Let’s get hot chocolate with everyone for our first Christmas ever ! ”

She looks so cute wearing that.

Nobunaga can’t help but smile the instant Kicho steps into the room, adorning festive dress she knew both of their ancestors would have mocked and berated. ( Christmas was a Christian holiday at its core, after all. A religion few people of  their time period had any tolerance for. ) 

Her expression stands still, however, as she’s handed the beautifully crafted sword and sheath. It’s - in a word - striking. Maybe it’s just the sentimental value of imagining her own son and her love working on something so thoughtfully, but she swears she’s never seen anything more beautiful in her life.

What a wonderful contrast. Before, her favorite swords had been taken by force -  Souza Samonji was little more than a conquer’s bragging rights, and she’d been so protective over her beloved Fudou Yukimitsu that she hadn’t dared used the tanto on her final day. 

“A masterpiece like that - it would be sure to make all the others jealous if it were still around.”

She finally comments, lifting her head up with a smile as she returns to reality. She brings the sword back into her 

She didn’t know if she believed in the old tale of swords having a soul of their own, but the sentiment certainly resonated with her more than it had in the past.

“Everything starts somewhere. I’m sure it’ll hold up that job remarkably well on its now. It’ll need a name.” 

Her head tilts ever so slightly to the side as her smile turns into a gentler one. What a relief to finally hear her say it. Living under the roof of a master that didn’t treat them as mere tools of war had clearly changed her. That or, maybe they were starting to recover from their scars of the sengoku period. 

“Hold on a minute! I haven’t given you mine yet-!” Nobunaga gives a child like whine as soon as Kicho tries to abruptly tries to change the subject. Putting the sword carefully aside, the warlord picks up a package with one too many layers of experimental wrapping. ( Trying to conceal the shape of a teapot was not the easiest task ).

“...Just promise me you won’t kill anyone here with this. Unless you have to.” She gives a lighthearted joke as she hands it off. Within it, held the classic invention of the Chinese assassins' teapot - the outside covered with illustrations of death-head hawkmoths. 

“Don’t worry, it only looks that way when it’s cold. With some hot tea inside, it’ll look like it’s covered in blue butterflies.”

You know - just so she could use it to freak out people even more. 

[sammysmaddy]

You (Sam x Reader)*

Summary: Sam has been watching you for quite some time now and one night he gets his opportunity to have you.

Characters: Stalker!Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader (AU, Sam and Dean don't know each other)

Rating: 18+

Chapter Warnings: Angst, stalking, dub con at the very least, non con beginning, p in v, protected sex (kind of) :), crying, oral (fem. receiving), talk of rape, implied attempted date rape (not from Sam), hand job ish, blowjob ish, rough sex, breeding kink ish, hair pulling. I think that's it.

W/C: Well over 10,000 :) I got carried away in the story lol.

A/N: Inspired by 'You' because I love crazy psycho people and it makes me more than happy to pretend that Sam could be like that too. Let me know if you want this to be a series ;)

Masterlist

Sam's POV

You looked so pretty on your date tonight. Your date is an arrogant, cocky son of a bitch, and I know you see it. I don't know what you find attractive about him, he doesn't care about you or how you're feeling- he only cares what you look like. You're just arm candy for his selfish need to be seen by everyone and you seem to be paying no attention to that fact. He ignores you when you talk, he looks down your shirt at your cleavage every time you turn your head, and he only talks about himself. Yet, most likely knowing all of this, you find him fascinating. You stay quiet when he speaks, you laugh at his half-assed jokes, you let him talk about you like you're not even there. When his friend came to talk from a few tables over, you let him degrade you. You let him talk about how perfect your body is, how compliant you are, and you smiled as he did so. But, you still didn't seem to mind. You blushed and took his disgusting words as a compliment. Maybe you're hoping that he'll be able to satisfy you at the end of the night or maybe the only thing that's keeping you sane are his green eyes. He doesn't even truly recognize how beautiful you are.

But I do. You, Y/N, I knew it was you ever since the first time we met. It was that small coffee shop in the middle of the city, so far from your house that I had a hard time tracking you down. After watching you, I realized that you don't even like coffee. You only like it when it's pumped full of sugar and completely diluted into almost zero caffeine. I purposefully bumped into you to get your attention and you apologized to me. Too bad you were in a hurry that day, I would have loved to get to know you right off the bat. I could have drank my coffee and you could have drank your sugar concoction and we could have talked until the store closed. I would have found out what interests you, what your hobbies were, what your family was like, and maybe in a few months, you would have invited me to meet them.

You weren't like all of the other girls. You're shy and you're sweet and you're too scared to tell the waiter when your order comes out wrong, you are the definition of perfect. You don't like overstepping boundaries or oversharing details about yourself because you're too scared that people might find you annoying, but you are just the opposite. You're everything I've ever wanted. Your head holds beautiful locks of hair, your nose crinkles when you smile, your eyes shut when you laugh too hard, and the best part is that you don't even have to try. Even when you don't wear makeup or focus on your appearance, you are just as breathtaking. You are intoxicating, you are the essence of beauty, you are meant for me- and for the fucked up fact of the day, you don't even know who I am.

You don't even know that I've been protecting you for the past six months, watching over you at home to make sure you don't choke on your food or accidentally hurt yourself. You don't know that I follow you to the store and through the parking lot to make sure nobody takes advantage of you. You don't know that I watch you every time you choose a random douchebag from the bar to take home or how I see that you can make any man come undone in less than three minutes. You don't know how much I envy them or how much I wished that you made those faces for me.

But they always let you down, don't they? It's like you don't love yourself, it's like you want to be used by all of those men. You never choose the right one and every time you're close to release, they beat you to the punch. I know the face you make when you come undone around your fingers and they rarely ever get the pleasure of seeing it for themselves. Then they leave you a mess that you have to sort out for yourself. I would never do that to you, Y/N. I would never leave you unsatisfied, I would leave you begging for more- I know it. I would be as gentle or as rough as you'd like, I'd find every sweet spot that made your back arch, taste how sweet you are, I'd know just how long to fuck you before you wanted to stop, I would make sure that you came before I did, I'd fill you perfectly. But maybe you wouldn't want that. Maybe, you'd want to use me- and I'd let you. I'd let you use me however your big heart desired, I'd let you ride me until the sun came up, I'd let you leave marks all over my body and claim me to let everyone know that I'm yours, I would embrace whatever kinks or fantasies you'd be too scared to share with anybody else, Hell- I'd let you tie me up and blindfold me if it meant I could feel you cum around my cock.

And maybe it's not even the sex that would make you satisfied. Maybe it would be the way I treated you. I would value you more than anything, I already do, I would make sure you fed yourself properly, I would kiss you goodnight and make sure the thermostat was on the perfect temperature. I would go with you to the stores, help you cook dinner, schedule your doctor's appointments for you. I'd make sure your coffee had the perfect amount of sugar in it, I'd always let you choose where we ate if we chose to go out, I'd let you show me off to all of your friends- treat me how all of those other men treat you. When it comes to you, Y/N, it doesn't matter what I want. It's all about you. It's been all about you since the first time I saw you.

The only flaw I can seem to find is the men you choose, but you're too sweet to turn them down- maybe, it isn't your fault. Maybe you don't actually like them. Maybe you see one good quality in them and try your best to focus on it, maybe you hope that they can bend and shape into what you want them to be. If only you knew how willing I would be to change for you. And don't get me wrong, I have problems too, Y/N. I can't seem to talk to you. I can't even get you to notice me. At first, I tried almost every day. I'd get to your doorstep and my hand would raise itself to knock, but then I would get scared. I didn't think it through properly and even when I did- I still couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't just show up at your door like that, I had to make sure when we met again that it would be perfect. But the time never came and it never felt right. That and, the more time went on the more my anxieties rose, and that caused problems within itself. What if I wasn't your type? What if you didn't like my jokes or the way I laughed? What if you thought I was too tall or I didn't have enough muscles? But the truth is if I didn't get the courage to actually talk to you- I wouldn't ever get the answers to those questions.

So I watched. Waited for the perfect time that never seem to come. You were laughing at that asshole's jokes like he was some sort of comedian. He wasn't. He was just some low life from Lawrence, Kansas, he wasn't good enough for you. Dean Winchester, he happened to be the most mysterious one yet. It was hard for me to find information about him, but not impossible. His father was a drunk, meaning he still had some emotional trauma- he could easily hurt you. He drove a beat-up Chevrolet Impala that screamed I'm a dick, but you found it fascinating. You don't even know anything about cars, why did you lie to him? He's been on national headlines more than once, sometimes even for murder, but those cases mysteriously went away. You wouldn't know any of this. You don't do your research. You should know who you're really with. But, luckily, you have me. I'll do all the nitty-gritty dirty work just for you. I'll make sure he doesn't hurt you, I'll make sure you're safe.

The end of the night was imminent as you stood up from your table. Dean stood up with you, leaving his chair untucked while you tucked yours under the table. Classic dick move. He gave you a cocky smirk, placing his hand out for you to take- and you did. You followed him into the parking lot and got in his car. I love you, but sometimes I wish you knew better. I started my own car's engine, opting to leave the lights off, as I trailed a few cars behind you. He was a reckless driver, swerving like a drunk and causing chaos, but I bet you found it funny. I bet you found him wild and daring, maybe that's your type. I could easily be that.

I was beginning to lose you, I didn't want to get a ticket for speeding and having my headlights off, but the streets looked more and more familiar. He was taking you to your house. It hurt my heart how sporadically you allowed random men into your house, but I got my kicks with everlasting memories from those nights- the thought was almost enough to give me an erection. He didn't know the backroads to your house, but I did. I beat you, parking across the street and turning my car off- hopefully, you thought I lived there by now. Then I heard the low rumble of his shitty car pulling up to your house and then you kissed him in the front seat. Were you really going to take him right there? Nope. He opened his door, awkwardly shuffling to reach yours before you could do it yourself, and then he opened your car door- the only gentlemanly thing he's done all night. You thanked him, patting down your jeans as if they were dirty. You shyly swiped your hair behind your ear, you were nervous. Why were you nervous? This was a weekly thing for you. Did you realize how bad of a guy he was?

I quickly put my beanie on, hoping that I would be less noticeable- but I'm a giant, hopefully, you're too tipsy to notice me. I had to be on my guard if you were nervous, so I stepped out of my car. I walked around the back, making sure I had my knife in my pocket and tried to watch you as inconspicuously as possible. You led him up the front porch, turning around before you reached the door. You gave him a warm smile and he placed a hand on the wood just above your head. His head lowered, placing a kiss on your lips so harshly that you fell back into the door. I got worried about him hurting you, but then you placed a hand on his chest. You pushed against him, lightly, knowing you- you probably didn't want to let him down. You shook your head and his head lowered again, forcing himself onto you as you squirmed underneath him.

This is why I'm here for you. This is why I'll always protect you, even if you don't know I'm doing it. My fight or flight mode activated and I pretended to walk down the street. I tried my best not to look as he shook the locked doorknob with his hand, trying to force himself in. I knew he wasn't good for you, Y/N. You're lucky that I'm here to save you. I reached the bottom of your steps, still on the public sidewalk, and pretended to notice what was happening. I could hear you whimpering, suffocated by his kiss. He was disgusting.

"Hey, man. I think she said stop," I yelled at him, but he didn't stop. I frowned, looking at how he was attacking you with his mouth. Cautiously, I took three steps up- so close to you and him. "Back off," I said, reaching the top step and yanked his shoulder.

He turned around, chest puffed but he was small compared to me. Your eyes widened, your lips a beautiful color of rose, and I barely heard him talking to me as I looked at you. So close I could almost taste you. "Mind your fucking business," He said, pushing at my shoulders and snapping me out of my trance- God, you are so powerful.

"Are you okay?" I asked you, ignoring his small hands that were just pushing against my frame. Your eyes stayed widened as you nodded your head up and down, but I knew better. He was going to hurt you, you were not okay.

"She's fucking fine, man. Get the fuck out of here," He grit through white teeth- almost as white as mine.

I tilted my head towards him and he raised his eyebrows at me, then the anger took over. I couldn't stop myself even if I wanted to- and I didn't. My hand came up from lying lazily by my side and my fist collided with his cheek. I heard you gasp at the same time as the collision, it felt so good to hear you after all this time. He stumbled back, ready to full-on fight me, but you stepped in between us. You are so strong. He almost hit you, but he stopped himself just in time. He's lucky, if he would have laid his hands on you like that- he was going to be a dead man. Your hands smoothed down his chest, trying to calm him down. Why were you helping him? Your heart is just too big. Then, you turned around and faced me. You were breathtaking, even more so this close. I hadn't been this close to you since the coffee shop way back when. Your lips were perfectly plump and your eyes twinkled in the dim porch lighting. You were made for me.

"What's your name?" You asked me, nervously chewing on your bottom lip. Your eyes stayed wide and I fell in love with them on the spot.

"I- I'm Sam," I told you, stuttering just like I thought I would when I finally introduced myself to you, and you nodded your head cautiously.

"Well, Sam," You said and it was hard to pay attention to the rest of your sentence. My name sounded heavenly rolling off your tongue. "We are just, um, we're role-playing." You told me with question in your voice. I watched your throat as you swallowed anxiously. Huh, should have known you had those kinds of fantasies. "Right, Dean?" You asked, turning towards him and I watched as his eyebrows furrowed.

"What?" He asked in return, rubbing at the fresh fist mark on his face. "You know what? I've had a lovely night. Thank you, sweetheart, but I ought to get going." He gave you a fake smile, patting your shoulder in a friendly way, and shoving his way past me down the steps. I watched him as he got in his car and quickly drove away, then I turned to look at you. You were still nervous. He was gone, hopefully, you'd feel safe now.

"Thank you," You muttered quietly, giving me a soft smile. Your cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of crimson and I smiled back at you.

"I can stay around. You know, make sure he's gone for sure," I told you and you immediately shook your head 'no'. Oh, Y/N, I'm not the bad guy. Stop looking at me like you're so scared.

"I'm okay. Thank you anyways," You told me, reaching into your pocket and digging out your house key. Your eyes strayed away from mine, even before you turned around to unlock the front door.

"I, uh, I really don't mind. I just want to make sure you're safe," I pressed on as you unlocked the door. You didn't open it though, you turned around to look at me.

"Sam, really. I'm okay. You can go home now." You said with haste in your tone. I tilted my head and furrowed my eyebrows, what was so important that you couldn't talk to me for a few minutes? You turned around, opening your front door, and let yourself inside. You were getting away.

"Y/N, really, I can make sure he doesn't come back," I said, now haste was in my tone, as I stopped you from closing the door on me.

You pushed against my hand before you stopped, realizing that I was much stronger than you. It wasn't meant to scare you, but you looked like you had just seen a ghost. Your face grew pale as you looked at me, tears welling in your eyes as they stared into mine. Why were you so upset? Maybe you didn't find me attractive- I really hope that wasn't the case. I pushed the door open lightly and you stood there in all your glory, but you fiddled with your fingers nervously. I watched as the tears ran down your cheeks, wondering what the hell happened to you that made you so upset. But I was here to help. Like I said earlier, I'm always going to be here to help you. I slowly stepped into your house to show you that I'm not a threat and wrapped my arms around you. I felt you tremble in my grip and you didn't hug me back. Was I making you upset? I hadn't done anything to you, maybe it was Dean. Maybe you lied to me so that I didn't know what he was about to do to you. You can trust me, I hope you know that.

"Please, stop," You whimpered in a small voice and I pulled back immediately, your wish is my command Y/N. My hands smoothed down your arms, holding your hands as I looked down at you to see what was wrong. You jerked your hands out of mine and took a step back. I took a step forward. I had to make sure you were okay. "I need you to leave, please." You told me, sniffling your way through the sentence. I don't understand. I just saved you and you want me to leave? You took another step back and I took another one forward. "Please, Sam. You're scaring me." You told me, so vulnerable and honest, but you still used the word please.

"I'm sorry. I just- I needed to know you were going to be okay," I admitted to you, hoping that you would calm down- but you didn't. You chewed on your bottom lip anxiously, almost hard enough to draw blood. Did I do something wrong? Why were you being like this? "Why are you still scared?" I asked you, brushing the hair out of your face and you winced.

"I- I don't know," You told me, grabbing my hand lightly and pushing it down my side. You were so warm, I can't want to feel you everywhere. But I couldn't get past your last comment. You were lying. Why would you lie to me?

"Why are you lying?" I asked you and you shook your head in defiance.

"I- I'm not. I promise," You replied, your shaking breath told me otherwise.

"Y/N, you don't have to be scared of me," I said, realizing exactly where I fucked up. Your name. You never told me it and here I was acting like I knew you, I was getting ahead of myself. "I, uh, you're my neighbor. That's how I know your name." I tried to cover myself, chuckling nervously, but you shook your head again. Shit, I really fucked up.

"No, you're not," You told me, your voice almost cracking as fresh tears continued to spill down your face.

"Okay, but my grandparents-" I began to reexplain myself.

"No, they don't," You cut me off and I tilted my head at you, how would you know? "I- I know you've been following me." You bit your lip and my heart dropped into my stomach. Fuck, maybe you do pay attention to your surroundings.

"I can explain-" I told you, but you made a run for it. Your feet took you surprisingly fast up the stairs and I felt my heart beat out of my chest. I didn't know what else to do, you were going to call the cops on me- get me arrested, I couldn't let that happen. I ran after you, but you reached your bedroom door and slammed it in my face. I shook the door handle, knowing it was most likely already locked, and began to curse at myself. "Please, Y/N! Just let me in, I promise I can explain everything to you!" I yelled, desperately shaking the door as I heard you sobbing on the other side.

"Sam, just go. I- I won't call the cops if you leave. I promise, Sam. I promise." You told me in between choked sobs and my heart broke for you.

This was not how I imagined meeting you again would go. As much as you sounded like you believed the words coming out of your mouth, I couldn't take that chance. I didn't have any other plan but to speak to you and I was not going to go to jail for wanting to have a conversation. I dug in my pocket for my lock-pick, which I always kept in case someone was hurting you or you were in trouble. Little did I know I would be using it to let myself in your room. I wasn't really sure how to use it, so I fiddled it around a bit- knowing you could hear my desperation. Then the lock clicked and I silently applauded myself, opening the door to see you sitting on your window ledge. You looked back at me as I ran towards you and you jumped. You're lucky my long legs reached you before you fell and hurt yourself. I pulled you up, collapsing backward as I held you in my arms. You were silently crying, not bothering to break away from my grip and it felt good to feel your heart beating against my chest. It wasn't exactly ideal, but it didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. You were perfect no matter how much you feared me.

"It's okay, Y/N. I just want to talk," I said in a quiet voice, stroking your wet hair strands out of your face. You shivered in my grip, turning your head away from my hand and I frowned. Why are you so difficult? Why can't you just let me love you?

"Are you going to hurt me?" You asked in a soft tone, still looking forward like you didn't want to look at me.

"No, of course not. Why would I hurt you?" I asked in return and you didn't reply for a good ten seconds.

"I'm sorry," You told me and I almost let myself fall for it. You attacked too quickly, shoving your elbow into my ribs as you scrambled to get up. You began to run towards the door, but I grabbed your ankle and you fell on the floor. It didn't have to be this way, Y/N, you just had to make it painful. "Please, Sam," You choked out as I sat on my knees, pulling you closer to me by your ankle. You turned yourself around, propping yourself on your elbows, and looked at me with glossy eyes. I used your thighs to pull you closer to my lap, letting them linger there when I got you where I wanted you. "Sam, let's just- let's talk, okay?" You asked me frantically and I didn't understand why your tone changed so drastically until I looked down.

"Oh, sorry," I told you as I realized how uncomfortable it might be for you to be so intimately close with me. You pulled your thighs off of mine and sat across from me, holding onto your knees for dear life. "Just promise you won't run from me, okay?" I asked you and you nodded your head slowly. Finally, now we can actually talk. "I- I have had a, um, a liking for you for-"

"Six months," You muttered, burying your head in your knees. Were you really that smart or was I really that dumb? Why didn't you do anything?

"You knew?" I asked in confusion and you nodded your head. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I did. They didn't believe me," You sniffled and I frowned. It made me upset that you went to the police before you decided to have a conversation with me. I hadn't even done anything to you and you tried to get me put in jail?

"You what?" I seethed through my teeth, feeling my blood boil. I didn't mean to get angry with you, but everything was falling apart too quick and it was the only way I could tell you I was upset. Your body shivered with my sharp words, but you didn't say anything. "Y/N, tell me exactly what you told the police," I told you, starting to panic. What if you told Dean and Dean was on his way to the station now? I needed to know. I reached across, meaning to be light-handed but it didn't exactly work out that way as I shook your arms so that you would look at me. "Tell me."

"I just- I was scared," You told me, finally looking up and showing me the fear I unintentionally instilled in you. "I didn't tell them anything, I just told them I was scared." You trembled, sounding like you were telling the truth for a change. Maybe you were just saying that so I would leave you alone. Not going to happen. You betrayed me. But still, I never meant to hurt you, that was my fault. We all have our faults, Y/N, and mine is growing in my boxers because of how close we are. You drive me crazy.

"It's okay, Y/N. It's going to be okay," I told you, pushing your hair behind your back and you stayed still. My thumbs wiped the tears off of your cheeks, only for your eyes to produce more. You're so sad, but you're still just as beautiful as ever. I couldn't help myself, holding your face in my hands brought an excitement in me that I couldn't contain as I smashed my lips onto yours. To my surprise, you didn't move. You didn't pull back or fight me, you just sat there and let me kiss you. Your lips were so soft, I just wished they kissed me back. "Just let me make you feel better."

"Please, Sam I-" You began to say, but I put my index finger over your lips. You were going to say everything I didn't hear and I want for the both of us to enjoy this as much as possible.

"It's okay, Y/N. You don't have to do anything, just let me love you." I told you, not waiting for your reply as I pressed my lips onto yours. Your mouth parted slowly, I suspect to protest, but it gave me the perfect access to shove my tongue inside of you. You tasted like sweet wine and chapstick as I explored every inch of your mouth, you were so much warmer than I expected. You didn't move your lips but that's okay, I'll do all the work for you. My hands travel from your cheeks and down to your neck, pulling you in closer to me. You were already close, but I couldn't help but feel like I needed you closer.

You whimpered into my mouth but I pretended that it was a moan as I trailed my lips down your cheek. They reached your neck, sucking in hard enough to leave a mark but not hard enough to hurt you, and I couldn't help but imagine- if your neck tasted this good, then how would your pussy taste? My erection was growing stronger, itching to get out of its confines as I continued to kiss your neck. I heard you choke yet again another sob, but I knew you wanted me- or else you wouldn't let me do this to you. You let me pull you closer, straddling your hips around my waist as I became drunk on the kisses that I was giving you. Your legs tightened around my waist and your arms lazily landed around my shoulders- surely you wouldn't do that if you didn't want me.

It gave me even more confidence, my hands reached up to cup your perfect breasts through your simple blue shirt. You always looked good in blue. Your breasts were the perfect handful for me, soft and warm skin that I couldn't wait to suck on. I couldn't help but groan into your neck as I imagined all of the things that I wanted to do to you. But, as I was kissing you, you pushed on my chest. You were light-handed, almost like you didn't want to hurt me, and you looked into my eyes.

"I thought you just wanted to talk," You said, lowering your head to look down at the predicament you got yourself in. My hands supported your lower back, making sure that you didn't fall backward and hurt yourself. It felt so good to have you this close to me, and maybe you knew I had been watching you, but you probably didn't know how much I dreamt this day would come. "Sam, are you listening?" You asked me and I realized that I wasn't. I was too busy looking at your body on top of mine, relishing the weight I felt as you sat on top of me, but maybe you know just what I like. Maybe you know I love it when you say my name, you seem to say it a lot.

"What's wrong?" I asked you as I continued to watch the tears stream down your face, but you shook your head as if nothing was wrong.

"I'm not sober. Don't you want me when I'm sober?" You asked me and I almost took a few seconds to think about it- but then I realized that you just didn't want to be with me. I worked too damn hard for too damn long for you to slip away from me, we're so close, you should just enjoy the time we have together.

"You only had two glasses of wine, Y/N," I told you, and you bit your bottom lip, knowing that I was right- you were definitely sober. I almost got angry again, it upsets me deeply when you lie to me, but then I looked at your lip. I always loved it when you would bite your lip, you're lucky you're so beautiful, or else I would be very unhappy that you weren't telling the truth. "What's wrong?" I asked again, why was I not good enough for you?

"Sam, I'm sure you're a great guy..." Here comes the 'but', "...but maybe I'm not the right girl for you. You deserve someone who loves you just the same, and I'm sorry, I just don't." You told me, trying your best to let me down easy. I'll admit, it hurt to hear those words come out of your mouth, it hurt to hear things that I didn't want to hear. Here comes my 'but'... but I still love you no matter what. I just wish I never gave you the opportunity to speak up in the first place. I won't make that mistake again.

"I don't want to hurt you, Y/N, but you know I can't just leave. You know how long I've been waiting to have you all to myself," I told you honestly, hoping that you would understand where I was coming from. You nodded your head, fresh tears spilling down your rosy cheeks, and I gave you a soft smile. I knew you didn't want this, Hell, I didn't want this- I never wanted it to be so one-sided, but I tried my best to get past that. You being so compliant just shows me how much you were made for me. You couldn't even let me down even after knowing that I've been watching you for quite some time. You're so sweet that it makes the butterflies in my stomach go crazy. "I want you to enjoy this too." I told you and you stayed silent, which is fine- I am going to lose it if you tell me that you don't want me again. "Can you walk over to your bed with me?" I asked and it took you a few seconds before you nodded your head.

I helped you stand up, holding tightly onto your hand to make sure you didn't escape- but not tight enough to the point where you might think it was to hurt you. You faced me at the edge of your beautifully made bed, another thing I loved about you was how nice you kept your room, and you looked up to me for instruction. Your eyes are wide and glossy, but they're not spilling tears anymore. I hope it's because you want this and not because your tear well is empty, but it doesn't really matter to me anymore because I am finally going to have you. I dipped down to kiss your cheek and you didn't even flinch, maybe I'm growing on you. My hands landed tightly on your waist, picking you up and setting you on the bed. Now you're eye level with me and I take this perfect opportunity to kiss you again. My fingers travel up your body and lock themselves into your hair, pulling your face closer to mine and I wrap my lips onto yours. Just as soft, a little less salty as earlier, and becoming plumper as I suck on them.

You surprise me when your hands land on my waist and it sends a jolt of electricity through my body before I realize you're trying to push me away. It's okay, Y/N, I'll push through to you. I grab your wrists, I'll admit a little too harshly for my liking, and push them to your sides while I continue to devour your lips. I push my hips closer to yours, pressing against your clothed core, and you whimper into my mouth. You sound just as divine as I thought you would. I pull at the bottom of your shirt and naturally you fight me, but sooner or later you will realize that I will get what I want. Lifting your shirt above your head, I try my best not to look up at your face because I don't want to see the hurt in your eyes. I'm not hurting you. I'm making you feel better. I am making up for all of those shitty guys who could never satisfy you the way that you deserve to be satisfied.

Your shirt hits the floor and my mouth waters at the sight of your slightly clothed chest. I reach around your back to unclasp the simple black bra that you always wear on the nights that you take men home, I wonder why you fought Dean tonight- but I push that to the back of my mind as the fabric falls down your arms and reveals your perfect breasts. You're sobbing again, I can hear it, but all my mind can focus on is the fact that- right here, right now, you are all mine and nobody can take that away from me, not even you. I tried to be nice, I tried the talking thing, you cried and cried, but then I realized that you'd never give yourself to me like that. I'm not your usual guy, I don't go to bars or try to charm you by getting you drunk, I don't try to charm you by talking about myself- I've barely even talked to you at all, maybe I'm not your type. That's okay, it's just one night, Y/N. You owe me that much.

My hands find your breasts, cupping them until I feel your nipples harden against my palms. They're almost rock solid when I go to pinch them and the surrounding skin is prickled with goosebumps, I can feel myself growing harder in my jeans.

"Wait, Sam," You told me just before I lowered my face into your chest. I pulled back to look at you and you bit your lip again- it's like you know exactly how to get me going. "You've been watching me for a long time now, right?" You asked me, nervousness in your shaking breath. I nodded my head, hoping that you were becoming more willing to share yourself with me- it is definitely the best way to have you, but not my only choice if I had to. "So, you know I use condoms, then. I, uh, I don't like birth control because it-"

"Because it makes you cry too much," I cut you off before you can fully explain it. You frown at me and I tilt my head in return, I was just saving you time because I knew it would have taken you a while to explain.

"Sam, you're a freak, I hope you know that," You mutter under your breath and it's almost enough to make me knock you out, but I'll give you another try. I'm not a freak... I just love you a little more than I should. "Condoms are in-"

"Bottom drawer, left side," I finish your sentence, see how well I know you? Don't you see how much I care for you? You nod your head and you get goosebumps all over your body again, your nipples like delicate flowers blooming in the springtime.

All right, we're definitely getting somewhere. By you telling me this- caring about how I take you, shows me that maybe just maybe you want me too. I leave you there, trusting you not to run anymore, and I make my way to your nightstand. The bottom drawer encases well over a hundred rubbers, all different sizes, even different flavors which is interesting because you don't let them in your mouth. I pick a random one up, hoping that maybe it will fit, but then again I don't really care. You're lying back on the bed, arms covering your chest, and looking back at me. You are so effortlessly beautiful, so pretty when you're not trying to fight me off. I walk back to the edge of the bed and you don't pick your head up to look at me, but it's okay. I'll take what I can get- at least you're not crying anymore.

I climb on, the weight of my body into the soft mattress making you fall a little bit closer to me. It's like you knew I was going to move your arms as you lay them at your side, fully exposing your bare chest to me. I give you a small smile and you roll your eyes at me in return, you're lucky I find it cute when you do that. As much as I want to stare at you like this for eternity, the twitching member in my pants tells me that I should get you even more undressed. You lay there, almost lifeless, as I thumb your jeans open. I undo the zipper, taking my time with it as I hook my fingers into the waistband. You don't help me or lift your hips when I start to pull down, which is fine, you're perfect just the way you are. Then, your jeans hit the floor and your panties are the only thing in the way from me seeing all of you. You look beautiful like this and I waste no time taking my own shirt off.

When I turn around to throw my shirt on the ground I feel your hands on my stomach. They're small and warm as they smooth along the dips of my muscles and I turn back to look at you. My eyebrows furrow in confusion and when you smile at me all of my concerns melt away. You move around, which makes my heart beat out of my chest, and you end up on your knees in front of me. For a change of pace, I don't know what to do when your hands pull my head closer to you and you place your lips on mine. When I kiss you back and rest my hands on the sides of your neck, your fingers leave my hair and land comfortably on my sides. It feels so good to have you kiss me back, you're nipping at my bottom lip with your teeth and swirling your tongue inside of me. Months I waited for this to happen and it's even more surreal than I thought it would be. You know what you're doing and it's evident by the way you lead my lips back and forth with your own. I knew you were perfect when I chose you. Then you pull back and my lips chase yours.

"Am I the freak now?" You ask me, your eyes soft. I shake my head 'no' and I feel your delicate fingers trail down my v-line to the top of my jeans. I look down as they unsecured the button, blinking a few times to make sure I wasn't having a hallucination, and I hear you giggle softly. "Why didn't you just ask for my number, Sam? I mean, I'm flattered, really- I just wish it didn't happen like this." You told me and I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out, and you continued to talk for me. "You're handsome, you're tall, you seem like you have a lot of problems. If you really knew me then you would realize that you're my exact type. Why didn't you just talk to me?" You asked, looking into my eyes as you roughly pushed my jeans down. I was stunned, was this real life? You were just crying, refusing to kiss me back, and now you're trying to tell me that I should have asked for your number? "I'm assuming you're the reason that the creepy cashier ended up on the five o'clock news? He was beaten up pretty badly, Sam. You didn't have to do that for me." You told me and I still couldn't find the right words, that was months ago. He was going to hurt you, I heard him talk about it with his friends, I saved you. But you knew it was me? I should be the one asking why you didn't come up to me when you figured that one out, why you didn't thank me as soon as it happened. "Would that have happened to me too?"

"No, of course not. I'd never hurt you, Y/N," I told you, cupping your cheek and you rolled your eyes again, swatting my hand away.

"You didn't think that raping me would be painful? Or leave me scarred for life?" You scoffed and I shook my head in protest.

"No, I didn't want to hurt you like that, but you kept fighting, and- No, I'm not like that," I sighed, trying my best to come up with a reasonable explanation for you.

"But, you are like that, Sam," You counteracted me and I frowned. I was hoping you'd never see me that way, all I wanted was to show you how much I loved you.

"But, I didn't have to be that way. I mean, look at where we are-" I began to reexplain myself again, but you shook your head immediately.

"Don't you dare act like I asked for this. Don't do it. I'm making this better for me, not for you." You cut me off and I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces. Is that really the way you see me? Is that the only reason you kissed me back and pushed my jeans down my thighs? "Don't look so sad. Take what you want and go." You told me, bitterness in your voice as you shoved your hand in my boxers. I couldn't help but let out a throaty groan when your soft hand wrapped around me, pumping me even though I was already fully hard for you. You never did this with anyone else, though. You always let them prepare themselves, I couldn't help but feel like I was special. I kissed you hard as you continued to twist me in all directions, masking my moans in your mouth as I could already feel myself getting close- but I wasn't going to cum, not yet. This was all about you.

I pushed you back lightly, following you with my mouth as your back hit the soft mattress. Your hand worked wonders as my lips trailed down your neck, sucking in your wonderful scent and even tasting the bitterness of your perfume. My hand reached your wrist, pulling you out of my boxers, and I rested it by your side. I kicked my jeans down my legs and onto the floor as I climbed off the bed. Pulling you by your thighs, I heard you gasp as I dragged you down to the edge of the bed. My hands worked hastily, guiding your black panties down your legs in one swift move and purposefully throwing them on top of my jeans- so I could keep them for memory's sake.

Then I looked back down at your naked body, your slick glistening in the dim lighting as I licked my lips. You were perfectly wet for me and I couldn't wait any longer to dive into your heat. My knees hit the carpet as I wrapped my hands around your thighs, holding you down and placing my tongue on you. Your back arched, your hands found their place in my hair, and small moans left your mouth as I drank all of the sweetness from your body. You tasted so much better than I could ever have imagined and your whimpers sounded heavenly, especially after knowing that I was causing them. Your clit was easy to find and I wrapped my lips around it, causing you to lift your thighs but I held them down for easier access. The sounds coming from your mouth combined with the noises coming from latching onto you was a deadly combination and motivated me even further to continue to try and burst the coil that I knew was growing in your stomach.

In all of my time watching those men take you, very few had the pleasure of tasting you- and when they did, they would go on for a minute or so before becoming selfish and getting ahead of themselves. Sex isn't a one-sided thing and I understand that, I want you to feel just as good as I will later on. I won't leave until I rip an orgasm from your body and I know you're getting close. I'm alternating from sucking and kitten licks on your sensitive sweet spot and you have yet to cease from moaning underneath me. Your moans are almost enough to make me come undone inside of my boxers, you sound so perfect. But maybe they just aren't as good as I am. Maybe I only need a minute to have you cumming in my mouth because your hands in my hair are gripping tighter, your thighs are getting harder to hold down, and you're screaming yes. You taste sweeter and more natural than honey and my mouth is making obscene noises as I try my best to coerce your first orgasm. I let go of your thighs, opting to hold onto your hips, and they wrap around my head. Your legs push me deeper into your core and it's getting harder to breathe but I don't care. My nose is just above your heat, my chin is deliciously soaked in you, and your legs are starting to shake against my ears.

Soon enough, you're screaming profanities and coming undone under my influence, but I won't stop until I work you through it. Your breathing is unsteady as you spill fresh juices onto my tongue and your hands attempt to push me away. Lapping up all of your climax and letting my taste buds soak in how good you taste, you begin to whine uncomfortably. I figure it's time to stop, so I flatten my tongue and start at your core- leading up until I feel you shudder underneath me when I hit your bundle of nerves. Your legs relax as I pull my face up, wiping my chin off on my forearm, and I smile- knowing that I'm going to smell like you by the time I leave.

"See, this isn't all about me, Y/N," I smirk, a little cockier than usual, and you give me a small and out-of-breath smile. "When was the last time you came because of a guy?" I asked you and you shrugged your shoulders.

"I- um, maybe a few months ago," You said breathlessly, your smile never fading from your lips.

"Four months ago. An asshole named Rich, but it was only because you were watching a sex scene on your TV, wasn't it?" I asked you, hovering over you and placing a kiss on your lips. You didn't care that you had just came in my mouth nor that I answered your question better than you did, you kissed me back hungrily and wrapped your hands around my neck. You even trailed my lips as I lifted up, whining when they disconnected, and I knew there was no way you didn't want me. You could put on a front and say that you didn't ask for it, and I might have believed you, but, ultimately, I would have known you were lying.

Your hands pushed against my chest and I stumbled a few feet back. I looked at you in confusion and you gave me an innocent smile as you climbed off of the bed. "You know I don't do this, right?" You asked, lowering onto your knees at my feet. I couldn't help but feel nervous when your hand wrapped around me, I've never seen you do this with anyone before. "Hm?" You asked again and I felt my breath hitch in my throat as you stroked my cock in your hands.

"I- I know," I told you, gulping eagerly, and watching as you wrapped your lips around me. A guttural moan escaped my throat at the sensation of your warm tongue circling around my tip, sucking lightly, and collecting all of the precum I produced just for you. I don't know what changed or made you decide to do this, but I didn't mind. I didn't even think about the possibility of feeling your lips wrapped around me- I never saw you do it with anyone else and I didn't get my hopes up. So, now, I'm here and you're sucking me down and I feel completely ill-prepared. It almost made me feel pathetic when I felt my climax bubbling too quickly and you had only been working me for thirty seconds, but with another fifteen I would be spilling into your mouth- I couldn't let that happen.

My hands entangled in your hair and pulled you off, your lips making a loud pop as they disconnect from my length. You gave me a shit-eating grin when I helped you stand up, knowing exactly how good you were. Maybe you never sucked their dicks because you didn't want them to cum before they got the chance to please you.

"You know what you didn't learn about me, Sammy?" You asked in a tone so close to a whisper as you grabbed me in your hand again. You gave me a nickname, don't think I take that lightly. My eyes looked down and back up into yours- which seemed so innocent and young it was hard to believe that your body count was so high. "I don't cum because they're not rough enough." You told me, hinting at your devious fantasies, making my urge to fuck your brains out ten times stronger. "Are you going to be able to help me with that or are you too eager already?" You asked with a cocky smirk, twisting your hand around me faster. The best part was knowing that you were taunting me on purpose- you wanted all of the power, you didn't want me to get the chance because you know the effects that you have on me. You wanted for me to cum in your hand, show you that I'm just like the rest of them. I know you, Y/N, and I'm not going to let you down no matter how low you think of me.

My head dipped down, ghosting your lips and taunting you like you were taunting me before I grabbed your arms and spun you around. You squealed when I pressed a firm hand on your back, keeping you down as I got prepared to make you wish you didn't ask for it rough. Then, I gave you no warning as I guided myself to your entrance, slamming myself fully into you.

"You forgot the condom," You whined as my legs hit the back of your thighs. If I ever wanted a chance to do this again, I knew I had to listen to you, so I pulled out. Reaching over you, I grabbed the foil on your bed and quickly ripped into the package. My big ass fingers had a hard time unrolling the lubricated rubber and putting it around my painfully hard cock. Just before I put it all the way on, I made sure to clip the end with my fingernails- leaving a small hole that you wouldn't be able to see me make anyways. "Thank you." You told me and I smiled, knowing you wouldn't be able to tell a difference anyway. If this one time happened to get you pregnant, it would be a blessing- there'd be no way for you to escape me.

Then, I decided to try again. I held myself in my hand, not particularly fond of the residue the condom left and nudged the tip of my cock at your entrance. I grabbed onto your hips and pulled you back on to me, only to slam into you which pushed you forward. You were so much tighter than I expected, so much warmer around me, and you sounded so good when you gasped. I took no time waiting to pull out and slam back into you again, the noise of the bed creaking mixing perfectly with your loud whimpers. Your cunt squeezed around my cock as I quickly found the perfect pace to fuck you at. I would be fully inside of you for less than a second before I would pull out and do it all again. One hand stayed on your hip while the other grabbed the back of your head, pulling your chest off of the bed and making your back arch. This position felt so much better and I knew that the new angle was sure to make the tip of my cock hit your g-spot with every thrust by the way you were moaning. You were whispering fuck under your breath every time my hips hit your ass, gripping the soft comforter under you for support.

I fucked into you fast and hard, just like you said you liked, and I silently thanked myself for jogging every day. My stamina was unmatched and I was able to keep the pace that had you screaming for more. I was surprised with myself for not cumming the second I entered you, but I needed for you to cum again before I did. The hand that rested on your hip moved to your clit, making your legs shake underneath me. You were close, you were screaming that you were close, and it all sounded like music to my ears. Your cunt dangerously clenched around me every time I pulled out like you were trying to milk me, but I knew it wasn't on purpose. I knew you were clenching around me because your climax was coming much faster than you could have imagined, it was just your body naturally responding to mine and I knew, now more than ever, that God made you for me.

Your palms grasped onto the blanket, making your knuckles turn white, as your body jolted forward with every thrust. "Fuck, Sam!" You screamed and I bent over to kiss at your neck, humming into you as I tried not to cum at the sound of my name leaving your lips. Your hand came down, pushing my fingers harder onto your clit and you moaned loudly as you came undone for the second time. Your legs were shaking erratically as you pulled my hand away from your core, squeezing my fingers tightly as you practically cried around me. You were holding my hand and it was sweaty, but it felt so good to hold you like this. I kept the pace up, fucking you hard throughout the entirety of your orgasm, using your sweet cries as inspiration for my own that was coming sooner than later. Pulling my lips away from your neck, I let go of your hair and grasped onto your hips again. I was grunting, moaning, and groaning as I fucked you faster than before. It wasn't hard to chase my release as your body collapsed onto the bed and I stilled in your cunt, fully inside of you as I felt my climax leave my body. Panting for breath, I stayed inside of you until my orgasm washed over me and I could barely see straight or hear your whimpers.

When I pulled out, I quickly took the condom off and got rid of the evidence, hoping to god that you wouldn't notice that my cum was slowly leaking out of your cunt- hopefully, you'd think it was your own. You rolled onto your back, panting, giving me a tired smile, and cupped your breasts because I assumed it was just comfortable. I hovered over you, placing one last kiss on your lips before I turned around and began to dress myself. Pulling my boxers up, I watched as you propped yourself on your elbows and you frowned at me.

"You're leaving?" You asked me and it made me stop in my tracks, isn't that what you wanted? You never let anyone else stay, even the guy that ended up making you cum, so why were you asking? "You decided you're going to stalk me for six months, give me the best sex of my life, and then leave?" You asked again, light laughter leaving your lips.

"You- you want me to stay?" I asked, uneasiness in my voice, as I prayed that you would say yes.

"If you promise not to murder me in my sleep, I'll even cook you breakfast," You said with a small smile plastered on your face.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch51: Captain America Homecoming

Intro: The team at the compound begin their experiment with the Quantum Tunnel, but it doesn’t all go according to plan. But just as everything seems lost, Tony appears having rethought his initial stance. And he has a little surprise for Steve.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: I can’t give @angrybirdcr​ enough credit…she makes my images into, well, erm, images…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 50

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Bruce needed a day to calibrate the computer and systems to the right configuration to use with Scott’s Quantum Tunnel (which was, amusingly yet completely unsurprisingly, in the back of his ugly brown van). Katie took the chance to head into the office to catch up and then inform Soraya she didn’t know how much she would be available in person over the coming week.

They had another day before they were due to collect Emmy from the train station, her five day trip to Philly was drawing to a close and when they had spoken to her last night she had been equal parts excited to come home and fed up that it was ending. But she would be back at school soon, and she had an important few weeks coming up as she was studying for her end of year exams. Neither of them were particularly concerned about that, however, as Emmy was a complete brainbox. Although she was only a freshman, she was taking APs in Human Geography and Psychology (having told her parents she wanted to be a Therapist) and was already being touted by her tutors as Harvard potential. Steve wasn’t overly keen about his daughter being in a different state, but all things considered, Boston wasn’t too far. And he knew he had to let her make her own decision so they’d cross that bridge when they got there.

For the time being, the only bridge Steve wanted to cross was the one he and Natasha were currently planning on making to reach out to the remaining original Avengers, Thor and Clint.

“Thor should be easy, surely?” Nat asked, swinging her feet up onto the table as she sat back in her seat. She looked to Steve for confirmation, but instead he sighed and shook his head.

“Has Katie not told you?”

“Told me what?”

Steve scratched at his chin. “He had a disagreement with one of the Elders about three months back. From what Valkyrie told Katie, there was a bit of an argument over the rebuilding of their army and the elder took a shot at Thor, saying he wasn’t fit to lead any kind of battalion as he had failed to keep them safe from Thanos.”

“That’s harsh.” Nat frowned.

“Yeah, I know.” Steve bit his lip. “I think it was more anger speaking than the guy actually thinking that, but it sent Thor into another downwards spiral and he’s ignored Katie’s attempts to reach out to him again so she’s given in.” “Okay, so, maybe a little harder than we anticipated.” “Least we know where he is. Any luck on Barton?”

“Rhodey thinks he’s targeting a gang in Hong Kong.” Nat sighed. “But I won’t know for sure until he arrives.”

Steve, nodded. “Well when we find out where he is we can scramble a jet and…” “No.” Nat shook her head “Not we, me. I’ll go alone.” “Nat.” Steve frowned “Clint, he’s been leaving a trail of utter carnage behind him, I don’t think you-“

“He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“It’s not him I’m concerned about, more the people he’s taking on.” “I can handle myself.” Nat replied, firmly as she looked at him. Her eyes were sparkling with that Black Widow venom Steve had to admit he had missed over the past few years. He took a deep breath and against his better judgement conceded.

“Alright. We’ll do it your way.”

Natasha frowned, and smirked. “Really? That’s it, no argument?”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You want an argument?” “Not really.” She shook her head, smiling.

Steve gave a chuckle and then they were cut off by an incoming call springing up in front of Natasha. She swiped to her right and the hologram form of Rocket appeared on the desk.

“Hey Nat.” He nodded, turning to Steve, “Cap.We’re wrapping things up on that latest lead, then we have to nip to Contraxia as I need a few things,” he Raccoon explained, looking at them both, “should be with you day after tomorrow lunchtime, ish” “Rocket, you were close to Thor right?” Steve spoke, an idea coming to him.

“Kinda, why?” “We need him.” Steve stated simply. “He knows about the stones, but convincing him could be a bit of a task. So I was thinking maybe you could help and go with Katie to New Asgard.” The animal pondered for a while before he shrugged. “I can try.”

“That’s all any of us can do.”

The raccoon nodded again “Alright.” He turned to Nat. “We’ll see you soon.” And with that he disappeared.

Steve stayed at the compound until late afternoon, popping in to see how Bruce and Scott were getting on, before he made his way home. Katie and Jamie were already back and he could hear the two of them in the living room.

“Who’s that?” Jamie asked as he pointed to the photo in the album that his Mom had open on her lap.

“That’s your Uncle Sam.” She smiled at the photo of Steve and his best man at the reception of their wedding “You know you get your name from him, well one of them anyway.”

“Where is he now?” Jamie asked.

“He err…he went away” Katie said slowly as she tried to figure out how to explain this to a three year old. “You know how daddy has told you about his friend, Uncle Bucky?” “Yeah.” “Well, a few years ago, before you were born, The Avengers, well they had a fight, with a nasty man, and your Uncle Bucky and Uncle Sam, and one of our other friends, a lady called Wanda…they had to go away afterwards.”

“Was Uncle Tony in the fight?”

“Yeah, he was.”

“And Auntie Nat-Nat?”

“Yeah. And Thor. There were a lot of people involved?”

“Did you and daddy fight with the Avengers?” Jamie asked, his eyes wide.

At that point Katie looked up and saw Steve hovering in the door way. He swallowed and walked into the room.

“A long time ago buddy, yeah.” He nodded.

“Did you know Captain America?” Jamie’s eyes were now almost the size of dinner plates.

“I did yeah.” Steve nodded, kneeling down in front of his son. “But he gave up fighting.” Jamie pondered something as Katie looked at her husband. “Not for much longer though.” She locked eyes with him.

Steve took a deep breath and swallowed once more. He wasn’t sure he’d ever hold that shield again.

“Maybe.” he said, shrugging, before he stood up and settled on the couch at the other side of his son.

Jamie made to turn the page in the album and the next photo was one of Steve’s favourites and one they had a large framed version of on the mantel piece. It showed him and Katie at their first dance, heads pressed together, huge smiles on their faces as he held her close.

“Momma you look real pretty!” Jamie smiled and Katie dropped a kiss to his head.

“Thanks, Baby.” “Your momma always looks pretty.” Steve smiled “She’s the most beautiful girl on the planet.” “Charmer.” Katie looked at him as he stretched his arm over the back of his son and pulled her in closer.

“Only for you.” He winked, dropping a kiss to her cheek.

****** Tony stood at the sink, rinsing down the dishes from dinner whilst Pepper settled Morgan down for the night. He’d spoken to Kiddo earlier, she’d told him they were running the first Time Travel trial tomorrow. He’d managed to push it out of his mind for most of the afternoon but now, as he stood alone, he kept thinking about it over and over again. He knew Bruce was clever, but this really wasn’t his area…

What if something went wrong? Not his problem.

Tony’s grip on the attachment to the tap slipped and it jerked out of his hand, spraying water all over the place. With a sigh he turned it off and grabbed the tea towel, mopping up the water from around the sink and then the shelf which it had squirted all over. He glanced at the photos, and paused for a moment at the frame that was placed just to the right of the one which held a picture of his dad. He took a deep breath as he wiped the water off the faces- him and Peter Parker holding the fake Stark Internship Certificate upside down, each one pulling peace signs behind the other’s head. He swallowed.

“We can snap our own fingers. We can bring everybody back.”

Tony looked around his kitchen, his stomach turning slightly. Yes, he had something to fight for, something personal, the kid. They all had something personal right? Natasha had Clint’s family, Rogers and Kiddo had Barnes, Wilson and Wanda… Scott had his girlfriend, or whatever. But he couldn’t risk it. He shouldn’t risk it….

But they were going to risk it. He knew that. And they could, probably would, fuck it up without him.

“Damned it, Rogers.” He mumbled, placing the photo down and heading into the dining room.

Two hours later, Pepper was out in the greenhouse as she often was later at night and Tony was talking to FRIDAY, with whom he had been brainstorming a number of ideas for the past hour and a half. He looked the holographic model in front of him and tapped at the pad on the table.

“Look at a mod inspiration, let’s see if it checks out.”  He instructed, watching as the image changed in front of his eyes. “So…” he pressed a few keys again, “run one last sim before we pack it in for the night,” he clapped his hands together and paced round the side of the table, “this time, in the shape of a mobius strip, inverted, please.”

“Processing.“ FRIDAY replied as Tony crossed his arms and watched.

“Give me that Eigen value,” he reached out to spin the image with his hand, “that, particle factoring, and a spectral decomp,” he grabbed the bottle on the side of the table to take a drink of the smoothie he had made, “that will take a second.”

“Just a moment.”

“And don’t worry if it doesn’t pan out,” he replaced the top on his drink and grabbing a blueberry from the packet he had been eating, “I’m just kinda…” he trailed off chewing the fruit, as he watched FRIDAY do her business.

“Model rendered.”

The red words ‘Model Successful’ with a rating of ‘99.987%’ flashed in front of his eyes and Tony felt his mouth drop open, utterly bewildered by his discover. He fell back into his chair, looking up at it and his mouth flew to his hand. He, Tony Stark, had figured out how to do exactly what Lang had proposed, how to safely travel time.

Despite himself, he felt a certain level of pride and smugness, and he threw his arms out to his side. “Shit!” He laughed out.

“Shit.” A voice spoke from behind him, followed by a giggle. He paused, and turned to see his daughter was sat on the bottom stair, grinning at him.

He held his finger to his lips and shook his head. “What are you doing up, little miss?”

“Shit.” She repeated again.

“No, we don’t say that. Only Mommy says that word. She coined it, it belongs to her.”

“Why you up?” Morgan looked at him.

“Cause I got some important shit going on here,” Tony jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the hologram, “what do you think?”

Morgan shot him a frown and he took a deep breath, when she pulled that face she looked ridiculously like her Auntie. ”No, I got something on my mind,” he explained in a softer tone.

“Was it Juice Pops?” Morgan asked, hopefully.

“Sure was.” Tony looked at the other side of the room before he turned back to his daughter, “extortion. That’s a word.” He stood up and looked down at her. “What kind you want?” He asked, taking her hand and she stood up. “Great minds think alike. Juice Pops, exactly was on-” he looked back to the model then turned towards the kitchen “-my mind.”

A little while and a juice pop later Morgan was back in bed, demanding a story.

“Once upon a time, Morgoona went to bed. The end.” Tony grinned.

“That is a horrible story.” Morgan looked at him with a glare.

“Come on, that’s your favorite story.” He grinned and as she rolled her eyes he smiled. “I love you tons.” He made it clear that was the end of the conversation by standing up, kissing her on the forehead.

“I love you three thousand.” Morgan looked at him and Tony smiled.

“Wow.” he said, quietly. His daughter had an ability, very like Kiddo, to say things that sideswiped him, and made his chest burst with love, and this was one of those moments. He contemplated that for a moment before he stood up and turned off her lamp. “Three thousand, that’s crazy.”

He walked to the door, and closing it behind him, still grinning he told her “Go to bed, or I’ll sell all your toys, night night.”

By the time he reached the living room Pepper was back inside, sat on the couch reading a book.

“Not that it’s a competition-” Tony spoke and Pepper looked up at him “-but she loves me three thousand.”

“Oh does she now?” Pepper smiled.

“You were somewhere on the low six to nine-hundred range.” Pepper laughed and turned back to her book. Tony, still chewing on the juice pop stick looked back to where the model was still projecting over his table.

“What you reading?” He asked, although he wasn’t particularly interested. His mind was racing once more.

“Oh, it’s just a book on composting”.

“What’s new with composting?” His eyes were still on the image. “Interesting science…” she began, but he cut her off.

“I figured it out, by the way.” Tony looked back at her, removing the juice pop stick from his mouth.”

“And, you know, just so we’re talking about the same thing –“

“Time travel.”

“What?” Pepper whispered as Tony glanced back at the hologram, arms folded. “Wow,” her gaze dropped down slightly, “that’s amazing, and terrifying.”

“That’s right.” He dropped down beside her, his left arm hanging over the back of the sofa.

“We got really lucky.” Pepper said, stroking his arm.

“Yeah, I know.”

“A lot of people didn’t.” 

“No, but I can’t help everybody.”

“Well, it sorta seems like you can.” Pepper pressed again.

“Not if I stop.” Tony shrugged, and Pepper gave a small huff of a laugh. “I can put a pin in it right now, and stop.”

“Tony, trying to get you to stop has been one of the few failures of my entire life.”

Tony gave a soft laugh and his right arm gently rubbed the hand that was laid over his left arm.

“Something tells me I should put it in a locked box and drop it at the bottom of the lake, go to bed.”

There was a pause, before Pepper looked at him again, her eyes soft and her face rearranged into a knowing expression.

“But would you be able to rest?”

Tony didn’t reply, he didn’t need to. They both knew the answer was no. *******

“Alright, Emmy, remember what I said?” Katie looked at her daughter who was sat on the couch in the living room of their old quarters.

“Yeah, I can’t leave here until someone comes to get us.” Emmy nodded

“No matter what.”

“Yeah mom, I got it. We’ll be fine, wont we Jamie?”

Jamie nodded, grinning up at his mother “Yeah, fine.”

“Okay, love you both.”

With one last glance over her shoulder at her kids, Katie made her way back to the hanger.

“Breakers are set. Emergency generators are on standby.” She heard Steve call out as he strode back towards the computer. Katie couldn’t help but admire his ass, he looked pretty good in a pair of black denims, light blue shirt as always tucked in, belt circling his toned waist. He looked at her, raising an eyebrow with a smug smirk as he caught the expression on her face and she shrugged.

“Good, ‘coz if we blow the grid, I don’t wanna lose Tiny here in the 1950s,” Bruce said through gritted teeth, jerking his thumb at Scott, only his comment wasn’t quite as quiet as he thought. Scott, who was stood in his suit, fiddling with something on his helmet heard perfectly.

“Excuse me?” Scott glared at Banner as Katie and Steve exchanged a glance. .

“He’s kidding!” Natasha said in a playful voice, shaking her head as she tapped on the tablet she was holding which would be used to track Scott. She looked up with a smile, which Katie knew perfectly to be false and laughed. “You can’t say things like that.” Natasha looked at Bruce.

“Yeah, sorry, it was…just a bad joke.” He smiled as he looked at Scott. Scott nodded once as he walked back to the van.

“You were kidding right?” Katie looked at Bruce.

“I have no idea!” Bruce hissed. “We’re talking about time travel here, either it’s all a joke or none of it is!”  He looked away from Katie and flashed Scott the thumbs up. “We’re good.”

Steve crossed his arms and let out a breath as Scott pulled his helmet on. He gave Bruce a double thumbs up and Katie smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

“Alright Scott, we’re gonna send you back a week, let you walk around for an hour, then bring you back in ten seconds. Make sense?” Bruce asked as he tapped at the keys on his desk with a pencil

“Perfectly not confusing.” Scott shrugged.

Okay, so now Steve was nervous. He took a deep breath and looked at the man stood by the back of the van, his hands dropping to his hips.

“Good luck Scott. You’ve got this.” He refrained from adding I hope.

“You’re right. I do Captain America.” Scott grinned, proudly, as Bruce hit a button, sucking him into the tunnel.

“On the count of three-“ Bruce called, and Steve dropped his hands, his fists clenching, mouth open slightly as he watched . At the other side of Bruce, Katie and Nat shared a nervous glance. “Three… two…one…” Steve breathed a sigh of relief as someone appeared but it was short lived as he realised the person in front of them could be no older than Emmy. Katie frowned as did Natasha, confusion etched across her face and next to them, Bruce adjusted his glasses.

"Guys, something doesn’t feel right.” The boy informed them nervously.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, as Bruce set about pressing a load more buttons. “Hang on…”

“Is that Scott?” Katie’s eyes grew wide as she looked at Bruce, who ducked down to hit something on the console, her eyes locking with Steve who looked as utterly perplexed as she felt.

“Yes, it’s Scott!” The boy exclaimed.

Teenage Scott was sucked back into the tunnel, Natasha watching Bruce as he straightened up and the four of them looked back to the tunnel to see another person thrown out, this time an elderly man.

“Ow, my back!”

“What is this?” Steve asked

“Can I…I need a little space!” Bruce demanded as he moved to his right.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Steve hastily moved out of the way and going to stand in between his wife and Natasha. “Can you bring him back?”

“I’m working on it.” Bruce hit one of the screens. Katie, Steve and Nat shared another panicked look as Old Scott was yanked back in only to this time reappear as…

"That’s a baby.” Steve deadpanned.

“It’s Scott!” Bruce defended.

“As a baby!” Steve snapped as the infant looked up at them wide eyed.

“He’ll grow!” Bruce said, attempting a joke.

“Bring Scott back!” Steve instructed sharply.

“Nat, when I say kill the power, kill the power!” Bruce called and Natasha ran off to the breaker at the side of the hanger.

Katie and Steve watched as Bruce jabbed more buttons, before he yelled out “Kill it!”

Natasha pulled the lever down and Bruce slapped a large red button. This time Scott Lang returned exactly as he had been before he left.

“Somebody peed my pants.” He called out loudly, standing stiffly still. “I don’t know if it was baby me, or old me. Or, just… me-me.”

“Time travel!” Bruce beamed excitedly, throwing his hands out to the side as Katie, Steve and Natasha looked at him. “What? I, I see this as an absolute win.”

Steve simply stared at Bruce in silence for a moment, before he shook his head, placing his hands on his hips. He looked down at the floor before he walked off, Katie watching him as he left the hangar and stepped outside.

“I think we should take a break.” Katie took a deep breath. “Nat can you check the kids, I’m gonna…” She jerked her thumb after Steve and Nat nodded.

Steve stood outside by the large metal pillar at the side of the building, hands still on his hips as he stared at the floor. What was the point of being able to time travel if you couldn’t control it? The worse thing being that he wasn’t even sure if they would be able to perfect it with practice, and was he willing to keep risking Scott to do that? They had been so close, but Tony was right, it had clearly been a pipe dream.

“Hey.” Katie’s hand fell gently to his elbow. “Honey, we knew it was a long shot.” “I know.” He sighed, looking at her. “But I thought it might have worked, you know. That we might have had a chance to…”

He was cut off as a loud engine growled in the distance. They both looked out over the compound to see a familiar Audi R8 speeding down the drive towards the hangar. Katie and Steve exchanged a glance as the car pulled up to where they were stood, but overshot their position slightly. Steve followed the car with his eyes as it backed up and Tony rolled down the window and looked at them both. Steve raised his eyebrows, looking away.

“Why the long face?” Tony asked, directing his question to Steve. “Let me guess: He turned into a baby”

“Among other things, yeah.” Steve replied, an edge of frustration in his voice as he looked back at Tony. “What are you doing here?”

Tony opened the car door and climbed out, walking to the back, completely ignoring Steve’s question as he spoke.

“That’s the EPR Paradox. Instead of pushing Lang through time, you might’ve wound up pushing time through Lang.” Tony looked at Steve “It’s tricky. Dangerous. Somebody shoulda cautioned you against it.”

“You did.” Steve deadpanned, not in the mood for a lecture.

“Oh, did I?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow and Katie felt a grin cross her face at her brother’s sarcasm “Thank God I’m here. Regardless, I fixed it” Steve raised his eyebrows as he glanced at his brother in law who held up his right hand which bore what looked like a watch of some description. “A fully functioning Time-Space GPS.

At this Steve let out a genuine smile as he realised Tony was here to help. Tony returned it with one of his own

“I just want peace.” He made the sign with his fingers. “Turns out, being angry and bitter is corrosive, and I hate it.

“Me too.” Steve nodded softly, recognizing this for what it was. An apology for the other day, and he was happy to provide his own.

“Guys, we got a shot at getting these stones, but I gotta tell you my priorities.” Tony urged softly, looking from Steve to Katie and back again “Bring back what we lost? I hope, yes. Keep what I got? I have to, at all costs”.

“So do we, Tony.”  Katie implored. “Our Kids, they’re the most important thing to us.”

“Nothing we do can jeopardise them.” Steve dropped his left arm round Katie. “Any of them.”

“And maybe if we could manage to not die trying, that would be nice.” Tony shrugged.

Steve smiled and held out his right hand. “Sounds like a deal.”

Tony shook it, before he smiled, cheekily, and headed to the trunk. Steve looked at his wife and she shrugged, before the two of them followed him, Steve watching curiously. Tony lifted something out, turned it upside down to dislodge the teddy bear sat on it and Katie’s hand flew to her mouth as she saw it was Steve’s shield.

Steve hesitated, taking a deep breath. “Tony… I don’t know..” He swallowed, the nerve twitching in his jaw. He wasn’t worthy of that shield, not anymore.

“Why? He made it for you.” Tony held Steve’s gaze. “Plus, honestly, I have to get it out of the garage before Morgan takes it sledding.” Steve looked over his shoulder at Katie, who was fighting back her tears and she gave him an encouraging nod. He lifted his arm and Tony slid the shield straps over his shirt and Steve looked down at it, taking a shaky breath. It felt like slipping into a familiar pair of sneakers. 

“Thank you, Tony.” Steve looked up at his brother-in-law, his voice choked as behind him, Katie dropped a hand to his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the spot between his shoulder blades, her face resting on his shirt.

“Will you keep that a little quiet? Didn’t bring one for the whole team.” Tony hesitated for a moment. “We are getting the whole team, yeah?

“We’re working on that right now.” Katie moved so she could see Tony, before she heard a yell behind her.

“Uncle Nee!” Jamie shot straight by her and launched at his Uncle.

“Hey, Sport!” Tony grinned, picking him up. “What you been up to?” “Me and Emmy were colouring and making dinosaur models.” “Wow!” Tony nodded, turning to Emmy who was walking towards them.

“Mom?” Her voice was a whisper as she spotted what Steve was holding. “Dad’s…” “Yeah.” Katie smiled at her, dropping an arm round the teenager’s shoulders as she continued to glance at his shield. Never one to miss anything, Jamie glanced at his Sister, then his dad and his eyes widened. 

“Why you have shield like Captain America?” Jamie frowned as Steve ran his fingers over the edge of the Vibranium before looking at his son as Tony placed him on the floor, struggling to find the words to explain.

Tony clapped Steve on the shoulder “Alright, I’ll leave that one with you. Time to go see what a mess of my compound Brucie has made. ”He walked passed Emmy, dropping an arm round her shoulders. “Walk with me kid, tell me about Philly.” He shot a glance at Katie who smiled as he steered the teenager back to the compound whilst she began excitedly telling him about her trip.

Steve turned to look Katie, his eyes glistening with emotion.

“Still suits you.” She smiled to him and he gave a little chuckle.

“Daddy!” Jamie insisted, tugging on his trousers, annoyed at his question being ignored.

“Sorry Pal,” Steve crouched down, shield still on his arm. “I have a shield like Captain America because I was Captain America.”

Jamie frowned before his eyes grew wide. An older kid might have laughed and told his dad to stop being silly, but Steve had never lied to Jamie before and it would never have occurred to the three year old to ever think he would.

“You were Captain America?” Jamie frowned. “When you fighted with the Avengers?”

“Yeah” Steve sighed, running his hand through Jamie’s golden hair. “I was.”

“Are you still Cap now?”

“I dunno.” Steve glanced back at his shield before he looked at Jamie, smiling gently.

“I think you are.” Jamie cocked his head to one side as his hand reached out to touch the shield. “Because Cap’s a hero and you’re my hero”

Katie saw Steve’s eyes water instantly as he pulled Jamie closer to him, dropping a kiss to the side of his head as the boy’s arms wound around his dad’s neck. He glanced up at Katie and she swallowed, leaning against the column to her left, wiping her eyes. It had been a long time since anyone had called any of the Avengers that, and to hear it from his son meant more to Steve than anything.

“Daddy?” Jamie mumbled against his dad’s shoulder, where his head lay.

“Yeah?” Steve cleared his throat.

“You got a helmet too?” Jamie pulled back to study his father’s face as Steve gave out a soft laugh

“Yeah buddy. I do.”

“And a uniform?”

“I have a few.” Steve nodded.

“Can I see?” Jamie’s face lit up and Steve glanced at Katie who smiled, nodding encouragingly.

“Sure… come on.” Steve stood up, Jamie easily lifted in his free arm. “You coming?” He stopped at his wife’s side as she reached up a hand to smooth down Jamie’s jumper which had ridden up slightly.

“I think this is a hero to son moment, don’t you?” She smiled, standing on her toes so she could give his lips a peck. “Besides, someone’s gotta stop Tony creating havoc in there.” “Good luck with that.” He muttered, giving her another kiss before he carried Jamie into the compound, striding through the hangar doors and across to the corridor. Katie waited for a moment, composing herself before she headed back inside.

**** True to their word, Nebula and Rocket arrived the following lunch and it wasn’t long after that Katie and Rocket headed off to New Asgard, along with Banner. Banner and Thor had shared a lot during the events leading up to Thanos’ attacking the Asgardian ship and Katie was hoping that together they stood a better chance of convincing the God to help. Katie sat in the passenger seat of the truck belonging to one of the Asgardians who had come to greet them. She couldn’t help but smile as they rolled past the sign at the side of the road WELCOME TO NEW ASGARD, PLEASE DRIVE SLOWLY. They stopped at the small port, and Katie hopped out of the truck, thanking the man, whilst Bruce and Rocket climbed out of the back.

“Kind of a step down from a golden palace for an Avenger highness and whatnot.” Rocket mused, looking around.

“Hey, have a little compassion, pal.” Bruce said gently. “First they’ve lost Asgard, then half the people. They’re probably just happy to have a home.”

Katie spotted Valkyrie who smiled at her, and then her face rearranged into surprise as she saw Bruce.

“You shouldn’t have come!” She warned as they approached her.

“Ah, Valkyrie! Great to see you, Angry Girl.” Bruce smiled.

“I think I liked you better either of the other ways.” She almost chuckled, taking in his appearance.

“This is Rocket.” Katie gestured to the raccoon.

“How you doin’?” He greeted her.

Valkyrie nodded at him before she turned to Katie. “He won’t see you.

“Still that bad, huh?” Katie folded her arms.

“We only see him once a month, when he comes for-“ she looked over to the pile of kegs on the side of the port, “-supplies.

“It’s that bad?” Bruce mumbled.

“Yeah.”

“We have to try.” Katie bit her lip, looking round before she turned to Bruce and Rocket. “Come on.” She led them down the side of the harbour and they walked up the small, cobbled street towards the fishing hut Thor was living in. Katie paused, and tried the handle. It opened and Rocket stepped in first. Instantly, Katie was hit with a smell that made her nose wrinkle. It was a combination of dirty clothes, stale beer and old take-outs.

“What the… woo!” Rocket grimaced, waving his paw in front of his nose. “Something died in here.”

“Hello? Thor?” Bruce called.

Thor’s voice rumbled through to them from another room. “Are you here about the cable?”

They made their way into the main room and Thor, who was shirtless, having definitely put on more than a couple of pounds since Katie had last seen him, was walking across the room gesturing to the TV.

“The Cinemax ran out about two weeks ago, and the sports are all kind of fuzzy.” He grabbed a beer from the ice bucket and Katie looked at Bruce who was frowning.

“Thor?” He asked, his voice disbelieving.

Thor turned and took a moment to look at the three of them, before his face cracked into a smile

“Boys!” He laughed out. “Little Stark! Oh my God! It’s so good to see you!” He crossed towards Rocket, trying to hug him, his knuckles rubbing the raccoons head. “Come here, you little rascal!”

“No, I’m good. I’m good. That’s not necessary.” Rocket groaned, wriggling away.

“Hulk, Little Stark, you know my friends, Miek, Korg, right?”

Miek and Korg were sat on a couch, the Rock creature in a Hawaiian shirt, play station controller in his hand playing what looked to Katie like Fortnite- one of Emmy’s favourites.

“Hey guys!” Korg raised his hand in greeting.

“Hey!” Bruce smiled. “Long time no see.”

“Beers in the bucket. Feel free to log on to the Wi-Fi. No password, obviously.” Korg said cheerfully as he turned back to his game, growing suddenly serious. “Thor, he’s back. The kid on the TV that called me a dickhead again.”

“Noobmaster.” Thor growled out as he spun round. Miek threw a piece of pizza towards the TV in disgust, giving a little click.

“Yeah, Noobmaster69. Called me a dickhead.”

Thor stomped over to Korg, took his headphones and spoke loudly into the mic.

“Noobmaster? Yeah, it’s Thor again. You know, the God of Thunder? Listen, buddy. If you don’t log off this game immediately, I am gonna fly over to your house, come down to that basement you’re hiding in, rip off your arms and shove them up your butt! Oh, that’s right. Yes, go cry to your father, you little weasel!”

Katie and Rocket exchanged a look as Thor returned Korg’s head set, before she glanced up at Banner who was watching, a look of disbelief on his face and Katie couldn’t help but echo his feelings. Seeing their friend, their once mighty Avenger partner, in such a state made her beyond sad.

“So you guys want a drink? What are you drinking? We have beer, tequila, all sorts of things.” Thor asked, using Stormbreaker to open a bottle of beer. Bruce walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Buddy, you all right?”

“​​​​​​Yes, I’m fine! Why, don’t I look all right?” Thor frowned.

“You look like melted ice cream.” Rocket crossed his arms, but despite his joke Katie could tell he was concerned.

Thor simply laughed and looked at them all. “So, what’s up?

“We need your help” Katie spoke gently “There might be a chance we could fix everything.”

“What, like the cable?” Thor burped. “Cause that’s been driving me bananas for weeks.”

“Like Thanos.” Bruce spoke and Katie saw Thor’s smile slowly disappear. He put a shaky hand on Bruce’s shoulder and pointed at him.

“Don’t you say that name.”

Behind Thor, Korg stood up, taking off his headphones. “Um, yeah. We don’t actually say that name in here.”

“Please take your hand off me” Bruce’s tone was quiet as he brushed away Thor’s grip on his shoulder. “Now, I know that… guy might scare you…”

“Why would, why would I be scared of that guy?” Thor scoffed, turning away. “I’m the one who killed that guy, remember? Anyone else here killed that guy? Nope. Didn’t think so. Korg, why don’t you, tell everybody who chopped Thanos’ big head off.”

“Umm… Stormbreaker?” Korg offered.

“No, who was swinging Stormbreaker?” Thor shot back.

“Thor.” Katie started gently. “I get it, we all get it. You’re in a rough spot right now-”

“I’ve been there myself.” Bruce picked up from her “You wanna know who helped me out of it?”

“I don’t know…Natasha?” Thor snorted and Katie rolled her eyes.

“It was you. You helped me”.

Thor walked back over to Bruce and pointed out of the window with the hand holding his beer. “Why don’t you ask the Asgardians down there, how much my help was worth?” he dropped onto the chair “The ones that are left, anyway.”

“We think we can bring them back.” Katie looked at him.

“Little Stark, please stop. Stop, okay?” Thor pleaded, opening a packet of M&Ms. “I know you think I’m down here wallowing in my own self-pity, waiting to be rescued and saved. But I’m fine, okay? We’re fine, aren’t we?”

He looked at Korg and Miek eating pizza and playing once more on the Playstation.

“Nah, all good here, mate!” Korg nodded.

Katie looked back at Thor as he stared up at her. “So, whatever it is that you’re offering, we’re not into it, don’t care, couldn’t care less. Goodbye.”

“We need you Thunder God.” Katie swallowed as she shook her head sadly. ”Please.”

Thor shook his head and ignored her.

“There’s beer on the ship.” Rocket broke the silence, crossing his arms.

Thor paused, and without looking up he spoke again, this time his words softer. “What kind?”

**** Chapter 52

 **Original Posting**

[rwbyvein]

Firen Lhain: Chapter 711: The Hart of the Oak:  Part I/III

"So, sister?" Winter asked, "You are... happy with this arrangement?"

"I understand it would be difficult to fathom." Weiss said to her, "But yes, indeed."

"How much is a fathom, anyways?" Ruby asked.

"Six feet." Winter quickly stated, "Though not in the context used."

"I'm still getting used to Weissy words." Ruby voiced.

"Weiss-y... words?.." Winter quietly asked, doing her best to not be judgemental.

"It's meaning seems to have shifted from overbearingness to simply, dare I say, effeetness." Weiss said to her, "It is made with the utmost affection."

"Yes!" Ruby shouted, "I think."

"There is quite a bit here I fail to comprehent, but..." Winter voiced.

"Buuuut?" Nora asked.

"But, I have never seen you so happy." Winter continued, "It is almost disturbing. Perhaps showing us that the life we led was subpar."

"This is warm and touching an all," Raven uttered, "but I think I'm going to take off."

"Just like you always do." Yang voiced. Raven looked at her, but wasn't sure what to say, so instead just stood up and walked away. "That's what I thought." Yang stated.

"And she is?.." Winter asked Weiss, "your mother in law?"

"She wishes." Yang harshly voiced.

"Their relationship is?" Weiss said, and paused, "Complicated."

"I do believe I can sympathize." Winter stated.

"Wait?" Yang asked, "I thought you guys hated your dad?"

"Father was a monster." Weiss simply stated, "Mother, however, was absent."

"She ran away?" Yang asked.

"She might as well have." Weiss stated.

"She had a fondness for wine." Winter said with a disappointed tone.

"Weiss did tell us this." Blake stated.

"Uh... when?" Yang asked, Ruby looking curiously on.

"The night Aurora served us wine." Ren stated, "Or, I believe the morning after."

"He did look pretty together the next morning." Yang said, looking at him.

"Temperance is a virtue." Ren said with a light smile.

Nora looked between everyone, seeing no one call him out on it, "Oh, man, you guys believed him?"

"Why wouldn't we?" Jaune asked.

"Oh, man," Nora continued, "he was hung over for like 2 days."

Ren developed a weak smile, the smile of someone completely unused to lying. "My meditation apparently does not make me immune to hangovers." he voiced.

"And this night was?.." Winter asked.

"Magical." Weiss said with a bright smile. "We had just been affirmed as Huntsmen and Huntresses. And you know what that means for minors."

Winter looked about for a moment, "In the case that minors are given their letters-patent, they are emancipated?" Weiss nodded.

"The first drink," Yang stated, "I didn't have to hide from dad." Winter nodded affirmatively. "But, as it turns out, dad knew about my drinking and was just always looking the other way. I mean, seriously, if I thought about it, I kind of did a shit job of hiding it from him." she said warmly.

"Your father helped you to evade the law?," Winter asked, "and you treat this as a fond memory?"

"Nothing brings a father and son together," Jaune stated, "like sticking it to The Man."

"I hate to break it to you," Blake coyly interjected, "but you are The Man, m'lord."

"M'lord?" Winter asked. "You have your... wives?.. call you sir?"

"Who told you?!" Ruby nervously exclaimed.

"He also spanks us." Yang eagerly said.

Jaune closed his eyes, breathing in deeply to temper his temper. He then opened them, looking Winter in the eyes. She turned to look into his. "The Black Hart of the Woods made me an Earl." Jaune said. "Now, since the meaning of Earl has changed drastically over the milennia, I really don't know exactly what that means."

"The... Black Hart?" Winter asked.

"We could introduce you!" Nora exclaimed.

"Though," Ren voiced, and everyone looked at him, "he would likely demand you pay Jaune tribute."

"He would, pardon, what?" Winter asked, and Jaune shrugged.

"He was the one who made me an earl." Jaune stated.

"Wait?" Nora asked, "Jaune's The Man?! I'm working for The Man?! I have a sudden urge to ride a lamb."

"That is not t'which that saying refers." Ren stated.

"It's not?" Nora asked.

"How about a lamb Faunus?" Ruby asked.

"So?," Yang interrupted, "Nora would ride a lamb Faunus?"

"Also not t'which that saying refers." Ren stated.

"So, what's it mean?" Yang asked.

"L-A-M." Blake stated, "To beat a hasty retreat."

"So, we're hiding with Lambs?" Nora asked.

"We have enough room to graze lambs." Weiss simply stated.

"First things first." Jaune stated, and looked at Winter, "Did you want to meet the Black Hart?"

"And do you have appropriate tribute?" Weiss added.

Winter brought her hands together and paused.

"Wait, you do?" Ruby asked.

"It was meant as a gift for my sister, on her... either engagement or nuptuals." Winter said, and then looked at Jaune, "Are you her husband or her beau?"

"Like a staff?" Nora asked.

"B-e-a-u." Blake added. "It means handsome."

"Or," Weiss added, "in this context my handsome man."

"He IS pretty handsome." Nora stated.

"You do have your own." Weiss said to her.

"I do?" Nora asked, and Weiss looked at Ren. "I don't know, Ren is more beautiful, don't you think?"

A pregnant paused followed.

"So?" Blake asked, "Who wants to go walk in the woods?"

"I hate to eaves drop..." Taj stated.

"No you don't." Yang said to him.

"No I don't." he said with a smile, and took a couple steps into the lounge, and in reply Winter sighed. "Is that any way to talk to your friendly neighbourhood travel agent?"

"He does know a great place to drop us off." Yang stated. "So, there's that."

"Yes..." Winter voiced, "please introduce me to this Black Hart."

"Of the woods." Ren said with a smiled, and turned to leave the lounge, Nora immediately behind him.

* * *

Winter and Weiss waited while Ren and Nora went to their room, and Jaune and her wives went up to the top floor. Taj disappeared under the stairs over to the hangar.

* * *

J + R_BY walked down the stairs. Jaune tossed Weiss' belt, which she caught. She affixed it as they approached, Jaune passing Myrtenaster in it's scabbard.

* * *

Taiyang picked up his scroll and saw a message from Yang. 'Hey, dad. We're taking Super Weiss to go see the Black Hart. Tell Raven if she bothers to ask about us.'

* * *

The airship dropped them in the glade, and the group quickly leapt down. Jaune stopped and turned back to Ilia, last on the airship. He held his hands out to her, head tilted back to avoid goring her. She weakly smiled before jumping down into his arms. He then put her down as he smacked the airship. It then lifted back up into the air.

* * *

Winter walked through the darkened woods until she felt a presence. She thought she saw the trees themselves moving, until she realized their were great antlers from a dark form. "You have brought her to my woods!" a great voiced bellowed, that made Winter feel momentarily faint. "Does this mean she is friend or foe?!"

"She's Weiss' sister!" Jaune bellowed through the woods. Immediately after Ruby let out a great howl. Weiss turned to glare at her, and Ruby looked about nervously.

"Humanoid siblings are not something we ken, but I suppose we could view the other Great Beasts as my kin, as you would view yours! Kin or no, you are in the woods of my earl! Have you brought sufficient tribute?!"

Winter stood up properly, "I have brought Dust!" Winter exclaimed.

"You value this as your lives?!" the great voiced asked. "Does my earl consider this sufficient tribute?"

"I do!" Jaune bellowed.

"Then!," the great voice stated, "you have the freedom of my woods, so long as the earl allows!"

Winter then thought she felt the earth quake, though that might just be her, as the black form moved away, the trees seeming to move with it. She shook her head and stood back at attention. "Great one?!" she bellowed, and the moving shape in the forest stood, and turned to look at her. She could not see eyes, consciously, but it was as if they were boring into her soul. "You must have great power to claim the woods as your own?!" she asked, and there was a moment's pause. She had to steel herself to not visibly shake.

"I do!" the great voice simple bellowed.

"Could you not help us to?.." and a great shout echoed from the darkened wood to silence her.

"We!" he snarled, "Have not choice!" The form then turned to step away. In the absence of his petrifying gaze, Winter found her body loose and aquiver.

* * *

They walked back towards the glade, but Winter found Jaune's gaze ever affixed on her. He watched her like a beast in the forest, his eyes able to gleam truth from the darkwood.

"Sister?" Weiss asked her, and Winter found her body quake. She quickly breathed in deep to stop the dark blue flush, and stop her body from shaking.

"Your beau has been staring at me." Winter said, using all of her strength to stop her body from shaking.

"Jaune?" Ruby accused, and Jaune stopped, at the vanguard, everyone else stopping with him. He somehow turned around despite the wood, his antlers avoiding the branches of the trees that would thwart him. He turned to look first at Ruby, then Weiss and Winter, and then everyone else.

"It is from concern." Ren stated, and then turned to continue on their path. Jaune turned to walk away, and the train of people turned to follow him.

"How could you meet that being?!" Winter shouted, "And not feel afraid?"

"You mistake my meaning." Ren said without looking back, "His concern is for you."

Winter then looked between everyone else. They didn't seem at ease, but at least far more at ease than she was.

Ren then momentarily stopped to look at her, "To answer your unasked question, our faith in our leader is what gives you strength." Ren then turned to continue down the path.

"So, Jaune's worried about Winter?!" Ruby asked, and Jaune dismissively raised and waved his hand without looking back.

"And what gives him strength?" Winter asked.

"You - don't - want - to - know!" Jaune's great voice bellowed through the woods.

* * *

Winter climbed onto the airship first, assuming it was because she was the guest. When she looked forward she found Taj looking back. "Why don't you come join me in the cockpit?" he asked, and gave her a friendly, beckoning wave. She walked forward to the cockpit and sat down in the co-pilot's seat. "Now, I know I have a bit of a reputation, but I do have a bit of advice for you?"

"And that would be?" Winter neutrally asked. Taj looked back to make sure everyone was seated.

"We ready to go?!" he asked, and Jauned nodded. Taj looked back and started to take the ship up. "So, there's no easy way to say this, but they're going to offer you the guest room, because you're a guest, and they tried to offer them to us."

"And you did not partake?" Winter asked.

"Ilia likes to be alone, has a bit of a trouble getting on with others."

"And yourself?" Winter asked.

"Yeah, well, you see, at night, the tower shakes."

"Periodic, predicatble earthquakes?" Winter asked, and Taj shook his head.

"It comes from the top."

"Wind shear?" Winter asked, and once again Taj shook his head. "Perhaps something to do with the gravity knots in the aerodrome?"

Taj sighed, "I suppose I'm going to have to spell it out, the new couple... coupling..."

Winter looked at him first with disbelief, then wished she still disbelieved. Her body flushed both light and dark blues and she stared forward for a few minutes. "He is strong enough to SHAKE - THE - TOWER?!"

"Exactly who is doing what is best left to the imagination." Taj voiced.

Winter's colour-shifting continued as she looked about lost, trying to come to some rational sense. "And, the others?"

"Ren and Nora do not seem to mind." Taj stated. "Aurora seems happy about it."

Winter gave him another disbelieving gaze.

[thedigitalpen]

My 10 favourite... beefcake animes!

Okay yes, I realise that this is a rather weird title. I had originally thought to call it something along the lines of my favourite martial arts or fighting animes, but because the animes don’t always fall into that category, I decided to call a spade, a spade (or a beefcake, a beefcake) and admit that, most times sometimes, I just enjoy animes with muscular guys in them. That’s not to forget the ladies though because some of these shows also feature some rather muscular ladies in the mix too. So there’s something for everyone!

So, in no particular order (because the genres are sometimes different so making comparisons wouldn’t be fair):

1. Street Fighter series.

Hardly a surprise considering that this is a series that has a legacy firmly placed in the gaming world. Although you don’t really need to know who’s who in order to watch these shows, it doesn’t hurt to know a little about the characters before you jump in - mainly because the creators assume that those who watch it are fans of the show. Expect a fair amount of fighting (the name gives that one away), lots of bromance (Ryu and Ken 4eva!) and the eternal fight of good vs. evil (which is usually the plot of every show/movie)! Even if you aren’t familiar with Ryu & co., the show won’t lead you astray so you can watch without worry. Oh and let me just say - Chun Li is ma gurl! If you want to see a woman that’s not only beautiful but can also kick your ass, then watch these shows - especially Street Fight II the movie! 

2. Hajime no Ippo.

One of my most favourite sports animes of all time which tells the tale of Makunouchi Ippo and his rise up the ranks of the boxing world. He starts off as a kid that just wants to get stronger so that he can fend off the bullies who harass him. Sick of his weak self (and after a couple of incidents here and there), Ippo joins a boxing gym, starting from scratch and going through basic training. His coach sees his potential and helps shape Ippo into a power boxer who fights head on and never backs down from the fight. Throughout the series, we get to know the other boxers in the gym as well as the competitors that they face, and we watch them battle it out in the ring. It’s a story with a great balance of sports, a sprinkling of slice of life (well, the life of a boxer) and comedy. And, of course, boxing boys come with boxing bodies... and I’m not complaining! And if you enjoy this and want more, try either “Ashita no Joe” (old school classic) or it’s more recent spin-off, “Megalo Box”. Oh and in terms of strong women - no one beats Ippo’s mom! She’s a powerhouse!

3. Baki the Grappler.

More of an MMA vibe with this one - it’s about a kid (he’s like 13 when we first meet him) who has been raised to be a fighter since he was born - his mother gets him the best trainers and equipment money can buy. He eventually feels like he’s outgrown the traditional training method and starts to find other ways to become a better fighter, which includes following his fathers footsteps - training the same way he did and with the people he did - and taking on some of the other fighters he meets along the way. After an altercation with his father (using that term rather lightly), Baki’s path eventually leads to the underground fight scene where challengers can test their strength and face off against each other in an anything-goes type of fight, using whatever techniques, power and skills they have at their disposal. And Baki’s ultimate goal? To defeat his father! It’s got some family drama as the foundation, but when it comes to beefcakes, there’s no shortage here - even if it is a 17-year old kid looking like a grown-ass man. Oh, best to be aware that (excluding the OVAs) there 3 seasons of Baki - the anime series from 2001 and the 2018 Netflix version which covers the "Most Evil Death Row Convicts" arc. 

4. Kengan Ashura.

When I first started watching this, the first thing I thought was - ahhh! this reminds me of Baki! And, indeed, there are quite a few elements that are similar. There isn’t any family drama here but there is an underground fight scene where anything goes in terms of fight style. However, the premise here is that the fighters don’t fight for themselves (well, not officially anyway) but that they fight for various companies who settle their business disputes via these types of organised “kengan” matches. It eventually reaches a situation where some of the other businessmen wish to get rid of the current Kengan chairman, and so this chairman organises a huge battle royale for any companies that wish to enter. The prize? The owner of the winning company gets to be the next chairman! This sets the stage for a number of one-on-one showdowns between the various fighter representatives. In terms of background stories, we have two main protagonists and their stories. The one is about a salaryman (turned “CEO”) and his life, as well his relationship with his son, and the other is about a fighter and the vendetta he holds against another fighter for a past incident. Personally, I love the way the fights are presented in this show - not only because of the eye-candy - but because it really does feel like you’re at a grand show! Oh, and unlike Baki, at least most of the fighers are adults.

5. Golden Kamuy.

Bring on the boys! Honestly one of the most entertaining shows I’ve watched in a while (and one where I demand that there be another season at least!) and also culturally/historically interesting too. It’s set around the time of the Russo-Japanese war and follows the story of Immortal Sugimoto - a soldier who left active service and finds out that there may be Ainu gold hidden somewhere in Hokkaido. The only problem is that the map has been tattooed in pieces, onto the torsos of various prisoners, most of whom have dispersed to different areas. Nevertheless, thus begins the hunt for the map! Along the way, Sugimoto meets various people along the way - making allies with some and enemies with others - all of whom are associated with each other in interconnecting ways. And all of whom are working toward one goal - get the gold! It’s a brilliant show that’s got some fighting, some mystery, some espionage vibes, some comedy (some of which is could be considered dark and/or weird) and some feels. It balances it all out and makes for an interesting and entertaining watch. Oh, and let’s not forget - a very enjoyable watch too! Mm mm mmm...

6. All Out!!

Another sport anime here, but this time it’s rugby! As someone from a country where rugby is a staple, national sport, this was totally up my ally! The premise is similar to most other school-based sports animes - a kid who’s self-conscious about his height joins the rugby team and learns to get along with the other boys as he trains and works together with them as part of the team. This is not only so that he can help the team improve, but to also prove his own worth. The team goes through training camps and they play against other schools, getting to know some of the opposing teams’ members and establishing some rivalries along the way. It’s pretty typical fare, but damn are these boys stacked! It’s pretty accurate though since rugby is a contact sport which requires some power (and apparently some short, tight shorts) to get the job done. It’s a light watch, but that eye candy is truly sweet!

7. Tiger Mask W.

From rugby to wrestling! This actually a continuation of sorts to the original Tiger Mask and Tiger Mask II series, building on the legacy and keeping related in the same sphere, but not directly incorporating the older characters. Unfortunately, the original series is hella hard to get hold of but even without it, you can watch Tiger Mask W without much of an issue. So the story is about a guy who had decided to join a wrestling gym and was pretty happy there until the gym was destroyed by another rival gym. Vowing to take that other gym down, he strikes out on his own and eventually joins one of the national wrestling associations, working in their match roster. But it’s all so that he can reach his goal of taking down that other gym by defeating the players supported by them. Enter into the ring various wrestling friends and both friendly and unfriendly rivals (including an old friend - bromance anyone?) and you get plenty of matches, plenty of muscles and some satisfying action! They also don’t forget the female wrestlers, which is a nice touch! Another one that’s light enough to enjoy at face value - much like how you’d enjoy real wrestling too.

8. Gifuu Doudou!! Kanetsugu to Keiji. 

A historical vibe with this one - it’s actually based on the spin-off of the original manga, “Keiji” which was created by Tetsuo Hara. And if that name doesn’t ring a bell, check number 10 on this list and you’ll know who I’m talking about - that’s right, it’s the guy who worked on Hokuto no Ken - and that should immediately give you an idea as to why this show is on the list. It’s a period piece about the friendship between Maeda Keiji and Naoe Kanetsugu - both of whom found their accomplishments on the battlefield. It’s told in hindsight, where they sit together, have a drink or three and reminisce about their younger days and what it took to get to where they are now. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but it was pretty entertaining - especially when you see just how clever these guys were when it came to political maneuvering as well as in a fight. Of course, they’re pretty high in the beefcake stakes so if you like your men manly, then you’ve come to the right era. 

9. Dragon Ball series.

I’m pretty sure that I don’t have to talk about this anime, but in the interest of completeness, let me give you the wiki breakdown about what this anime is about: “The series follows the adventures of the protagonist, Son Goku, from his childhood through adulthood as he trains in martial arts. He spents his life far from civilization, until he is found by Bloomer, a teen girl who encourages him to explore the world in search of the seven orbs known as the Dragon Balls, which summon a wish-granting dragon when gathered. Along his journey, Goku makes several friends and battles a wide variety of villains, many of whom also seek the Dragon Balls.” (source). Of course, this is continued throughout the various series that follow, where Goku has his own family etc. But when it comes to the muscle factor in this show, it’s got it where it counts - everywhere! It’s a classic for a reason so even if you aren’t into beefcake guys, you should still probably watch it if you haven’t already.

10. Hokuto no Ken.

It just wouldn’t feel right if I had to leave this off the list because when someone says “manly anime”, I’m betting that 99.9% of the time most people think about Hokuto no Ken / Fist of the North Star. It’s the post-apocalyptic era and times are tough, with everyone fighting to survive with what little there is on the planet. Some guys want to be rulers, some guys want to be thugs, but one guy just wants to find his fiancee and do what he can to right the wrongs of the world and make a difference to the people he meets. That one man is, of course, Kenshiro. It’s full-tilt action, usually incorporating martial arts through the various fighting styles of the characters - whether it’s Hokuto Shinken, Nanto Seiken or sometimes just brute force and good old hand-to-hand combat. There’s a few female characters here and there who also kick ass so it isn’t completely one-sided, but they usually end up getting saved by the dudes so take that with a pinch of salt. Post-apocalyptic world or not, these guys sure can maintain their physiques. And when it comes time for a fight, you best believe they pull no punches! If you like pure fighting animes where you get to see people explode each episode, followed by the most epic line ever said in anime, then this is the one! 

Honourable mentions.

...because, can we really do without more muscular men and women in our lives?

1. Terra Formars - if you’re looking specifically for that muscular vibe, then try season 1. While I enjoyed both, season 1 had better animation (for me) and they all looked badass when defeating those nasty roaches - both the men and the ladies! 2. Hinomaru Sumo - a sports anime that revolves around a newly formed high school sumo club and the career path of the main protagonist. Informative if you don’t know much about sumo and, as expected, loads of meaty guys aiming for victory and aiming for the position of yokozuna. 3. Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure - another show that hardly requires an introduction and would probably take way too long to explain considering how many Jojo’s there are, but rest assured, the guys are packed, stacked and ready to attack! 4. One Punch Man - if only because there a few characters who fit the beefcake category perfectly, e.g. Suiryu (hello there!), Garou and Tanktop Master to name a few. An anime that’s some parts serious, some part hilarious but always flipping shounen tropes on its head. 5. Sengoku Basara - also, not completely beefed out, but there are a few characters who would make the grade, e.g. Maeda Keiji (dejavu from number 8?) and Oda Nobunaga. Another period anime, based on a Capcom game, that uses a lot of poetic licence to make it an exciting watch with very memorable characters. 6. Free! - “Make us free na Splash! Kasaneta... 👏 👏 !” Swimmers bodies - that is all. If you’ve ever seen a swimmer’s bodies in real life, you’ll know what I mean ‘cos they have muscles in all the right places. A slice-of-life sports anime that revolves around high school boys (who eventually become college boys) who engage in competitive swimming. 7. Air Master - The ladies take over in this one, which is a show that revolves around street fighting and the goal of those various street fighters and martial artists to become number 1 on the Fukamichi Rankings. It’s more of that underground fight scene vibe but the main protagonist is a gymnast-turned-street fighter who takes on anyone who’ll challenge her (man or woman) and usually kick their ass. It’s got a quirky/weird sense of humour to it, but that’s part of why I liked it.

Well, I’m pretty sure that there are other shows that I’ve missed, and mountains of characters who have that A-grade beef, but I tried to choose shows that specifically have that muscular aesthetic as a default setting in the show. Hopefully I hit the mark here, sharing my faves with you, but if there’s some show or character that I absolutely must see, feel free to let me know! Because just like Tanigaki’s shirt, I’m always open to suggestions.

[starkerforlife6969]

Starker, Need ,Part 2

tw: mentions of death, dark peter

Tony knows he's made a mistake.

It is his own fault. His own runaway mouth is not under his command. He will punish himself for an eternity, as that is how long he will live.

Things have been peaceful for a few centuries now. Living here with Peter, presiding over Attica. Tony is a god. His mortal flesh long shed, power where there was weakness, endless talent where there was once fanciful skill.

He is a god, but all the shrines are to Peter.

Tony is not surprised. While he keeps to the palace on the hill, looking down over their polis and the people, Peter likes to go down and grace the mortals with his presence. Keep them on their toes. They teach stories about him, mother's take their blubbering babies into the streets hoping Peter will spare them a glance.

Their palace is laden with offerings sent from all the other countries and lands. Most of the gold and the art and the lion-skins are pleas. Leave us. Do not try to conquer us. Please. We beg you, Deus Peter.

That is what they call Peter now. Deus Peter. He is no god, but he has the favour and tricks of them. He wins every battle he fights, as Ares blesses his soldiers and his weapons. He is kept young and beautiful, strong and infinite. He is Tony's, and Tony is his.

The mortals call them husbands, lovers, partners. Tony once knew what those words meant. When he was contained in a body of flesh, when he understood the passage of time.

He sees his ignorance now. Peter and he are bound. Eternity is fathomable. Time passes as the tide, again and again, bringing changes, never stopping, but irrelevant.

The people do not fear Tony. When, on occasion, he comes down to the busy, chattering villages and cities, searching for inspiration for some new invention, they bow to him; fleeting, they press dedications into his hands for free, but here is no fear there. Why should there be? Tony has never harmed them. Would never harm them.

He is not the Captain. Peter is.

Perhaps it's his complacency that leads to such a mistake. Perhaps due to his mortal history, he forgets, lapses in his judgement. They are partners, they are bound. But Peter's love is unlike any other. His love is fierce and endless and even Eros cowers in it's wake.

They are eating: table straining under such a feast, when Tony errs.

"Archimedes turns into quite the young man." He says, and Peter looks up from his wine.

"Archimedes?"

"A young man from the city. His mind is unrivalled. You should give him your blessing."

Peter smiles. Cold beauty. His amber eyes hold the secrets of a hundred years. "I should."

Tony wisely, does not speak again.

"Tell me, does his mind rival yours? This Archimedes. Your new favourite."

"I do not take favourites-"

"His mind."

Tony slinks into his chair. He is wrapped with power. Powers that came with being a god. Strength, endurance. But there are his own powers too, that came from his mortal form. His mind, his sharp tongue, his hands. One touch and if he wanted, he can turn those into dust. He has not used it. "His mind shows great promise. His will be a treasure to us. To our country."

Furious, beautiful, deadly, Peter rises. He gestures to the table. "This is not treasure." He says, and the table cracks and splinters. He summons hoards of gold and gifts. "Even these are not treasure." They melt into tar. The attendants carrying them scream. Sharp teeth, cutting blood into the air. "That boy is not your treasure. I am."

"Of course you are," Tony breathes, the air getting sucked out of the room. He is a fool. He sees his error here. You do not command Deus Peter, and you do not forget your love for him. "I love you and only you. I could love no other. You are my treasure, the greatest, only treasure." He rises, tries to go to him, to hold Peter in his arms and feel that soft, smooth skin, but the air does not let him.

"You forget yourself." Peter hisses, eyes slits, "But I will make sure you do not forget again."

*

Peter has a kindness in him. A sweetness. He blesses children and widows. He labours with the common man when he passes them by.

Women swoon and bat their lashes. Peter looks just like a boy, beautiful, ethereal. He stands for paintings and pays handsomely to the ones he likes. Pays handsomely too, for the ones he doesn't. These, he destroys in the palace pyre.

When Tony was freshly turned, mortal blood still pulsing in his veins, still weak, Aides, son of the underworld, had broken into the palace. He had stolen a cursed trident. One touch, and Tony would have died.

Peter was there. He had pleaded, his beautiful tears, and Aides had smiled: hungry. His large hand around Peter's throat, the other feeling his lush body.

"I will take you," Aides had purred, "pretty nymph, after I kill this ambitious mortal."

"I should see you try." Peter had snarled, unsheathed, pretty to poison, uncoiling like a snake, biting Aides' throat out, lapping at his blood. "Queens of the underworld, your son I return to you." He'd spat, before blue flames had wrapped around Aides.

Then Tony was cut free. Peter healed him with his herbs and potions, loved him, caressed him.

"How long will I be like this? Half turned? Half mortal, half god?" Tony had croaked.

"A few more years yet, my love,"

"How long has it been?"

"Some decades."

Some decades. Everyone Tony knew is dead. As he was lost, in this haze of transformation.

"What of King Rumlow? What happened to him?" At Peter's look, Tony feels inclined to remind: "your father."

"Dear heart, why do you not sleep? I will have them fetch you tea."

Later, once he's changed, he finds a throne in the thick, green, palace gardens. Teeming with fecundity, overgrown with roses, the throne sits. It's Rumlows. Tony traces it's velvet softness. It is his old life. How many times had he bowed before this throne and he who sat in it? The fall of his home. Peter took it to war in the blink an eye. An army of the dead.

"Did my people fight yours well?" Tony asks, when Peter finds him, and hooks their arms together.

"What a silly question. We have the same people."

"What of my home?"

"You are there."

Tony had stooped low, and kissed Peter in the garden to see if it would still feel like safety. Like saviour. Like hearth and home.

It had.

*

News of Archimedes' death spreads slowly. A shadow, a slow, creeping monster over the city.

Tony hears of it from tradesman on the docks. He visits the grieving family. He knows he caused this.

When he returns to the palace, Peter is waiting for him.

"My darling," Tony whispers, getting to his knees. "I have no love for any other. Only you. I valued him only for his mind and the asset he would be for us."

"What of my mind? Is it not asset enough?"

"Even mortals have their skill, Peter. Even mortals have their uses. You saw that within me."

"You would have had me make him a god?"

"No, only your blessing. Only his safety, that was all I asked of you." He is not treading light enough. Peter's eyes are like fire. The attendants cower. Tony tries to pay them no mind. "I should not have asked that of you. You have done so much for me."

"You are grateful for none of it. I should have picked another."

Tony is wounded. His love is hurt, cut deep, and the scar is within Tony too. He is a tragic figure, yes, but he was tragic before. Now, in this endless bliss with his bound one, he has all he desires. Glory and triumph. He has Peter when no one ever has before. He hosts Olympians. He converses with mortals. Few kept gods are allowed such luxury. "My love." He pleads. He is bold, and touches Peter's legs.

Slim, shapely. He slides his hands up, up, up, to those soft, warm thighs.

Peter spreads them, his head still turned away.

"I want only to worship you." Tony vows, holding his bird tight, gratitude rolling off in waves.

"Then worship."

*

Sating Peter is hard-worn, but no hardship. Tony goes unsatisfied, aching, but thinks not of it. Only watches Peter, watches for his forgiveness or his wrath.

"Would you have me retrieve him?" Peter asks, fingers under Tony's chin. "Boil roots and leaves and retrieve your precious treasure from the underworld? You ask and I will do it."

Such divine forgiveness, Tony does not deserve it. "How can you retrieve my treasure," he asks, "when it is before me?"

Finally, Peter smiles. The kingdom seems to breathe in relief. The storm breaks. He lets Tony stroke his arms, brush his hair. "You can choose another favourite. With a sharp mind. I will let you be a mentor to them."

Tony kisses his temple. "And what can I do in return?"

"Be faithful." Peter beams. "Or suffer the consequences." He looks hungry to inflict punishment.

Tony laughs. Full and rich and godly. "If there is one thing I am certain of, it is my loyalty to you. Deus Peter."

Peter scrunches his nose; dappled with freckles and sunlight. Good hearted for now. Claws sheathed, for now. Teeth hidden, for now. It is like laying with a snoozing lion. "You have such mortal humour." Peter muses, distasteful, twining their fingers together.

Tony kisses him again, and avoids disaster.

[alethiometry]

sweetheart, mochi, honey, sunkissed ♡

sweetheart - favorite mug/cup?

this christmas alpaca mug that my old roommate gave me! she got it from a holiday gift exchange but she herself does not celebrate christmas, so i ended up keeping it when we moved out

it’s a tall, narrow boi so i swear it keeps drinks warm for longer than your standard mug shape, which is great for me because i am a very slow drinker!

mochi - favorite studio ghibli film?

PRINCESS MONONOKE!!!! i cannot tell you how many times i have seen it, but it is probably my favorite movie of all time. i know it’s kind of the dark horse of ghibli films in that it is much grimmer/WAY more violent than the others, but i think it is exactly what it needs to be in order to convey the story that it does.

strap the fuck in folks because i tried to keep this short and completely failed. it’s a really fucking good movie and i won’t apologize.

it was my first introduction to stories where nearly every character is (a) a societal outcast of some sort and (b) morally ambiguous and sympathetic, and you don’t quite know who to root for because everyone has good qualities and bad qualities and you can’t isolate any of those qualities from any one character without dismantling their entire selfhood. which is a really fucking cool concept for 9-year-old me to grasp, and is still really fucking cool now, 20 years later.

ALSO!!!! the reversal of gender roles, and even to an extent gender ambiguity in the film! lady eboshi is the undisputed leader of irontown (her outfit is traditional menswear of the era and she wears it SO well) and her assistant is a man who defers to her in everything. the men of irontown are traders and workers, but it is the women who pump the town bellows and keep the town running. on the other side of the central conflict, while moro, the leader of the wolf clan and parent to san, is presented as female in the english dub, their gender is far more ambiguous in the original japanese version. i’m not sure why there needed to be a gender distinction in the english version, but even if moro is presented as female it’s still fucking cool to see matriarchal power and dignity portrayed in so many ways in the movie.

(although if we look at the broad scope of hayao miyazaki’s filmography — i haven’t seen the ones his son made — the feminism and subversion of gender roles/tropes is a common theme tying ALL his movies together and i think that’s really fucking neat! there are always multiple women in power in each of his movies and i fucking love that.)

which also makes it really interesting that this movie is one of the few ghibli movies with a male protagonist. but ashitaka arguably loses his status as a “man” in the societal sense by being outcasted from his clan in the very beginning of the movie, and his entire journey is shaped by the actions of powerful women. he is the literal opposite of toxic masculinity, and i think that’s really fucking neat for a movie that is not only directed at teens but also follows a cinematic tradition of period/samurai films where men are usually front and center and “masculine” traits are valued to the point of toxicity. literally all ashitaka does for the entire movie is try to make everyone get along. we love a soft (but stubborn and principled) boi.

and speaking of cinematic tradition, how fucking cool is it to have a japanese period film set during the muromachi period that says “we don’t care about the samurai and the politics and the grasps for power; we want to see how these things are affecting the outcasts of society“: ashitaka’s emishi tribe, the ex-prostitutes and the lepers of irontown forced to rapidly industrialize in order to maintain a town that welcomes instead of shuns them, the forest inhabitants who are losing their home to that industrialization. meanwhile, the politicians, the samurai, the monks, even the emperor himself — traditionally the protagonists of samurai films — are largely background characters and are all antagonists. they exist on the sidelines, are comprised entirely of men, and cause only strife and suffering for the main characters.

(no shade to samurai movies ofc, a lot of them are works of art in their own right, and i don’t think miyazaki had any malicious intent in his narrative choices as they pertain to samurai movie/character tropes! i just think it’s neat that princess mononoke exists as a sort of foil to those!)

as for the story or message of the film — i could try and sum it up, but miyazaki does it better. if you’ve never read miyazaki’s write-up/proposal, i highly recommend giving it a read. just this passage alone lives in my mind rent-free and makes me fucking cry all the time:

We are not trying to solve the global problems. There can not be a happy ending to the fight between the raging gods and humans. However, even in the middle of hatred and killings, there are things worth living for. A wonderful meeting, or a beautiful thing can exist. We depict hatred, but it is to depict that there are more important things. We depict a curse, to depict the joy of liberation.

i think that has informed so much of my tastes and the kinds of stories i gravitate towards, where the ending follows a climactic event that uproots the entire world as the characters know it, and there is no going back, but it is still extremely bittersweet and tentatively hopeful and the most important things the characters have in the end is (a) hope, (b) their own perseverance/desire to live, and (c) each other.

and we’re not even getting into the soundtrack, of which every track is an absolute banger because mr joe hisaishi is a goddamn musical genius. if i knew anything about music theory i would probably be able to be more eloquent here, but i’ll just leave you with this fucking stunner of a track that plays over the last few minutes of the movie (movie version doesn’t have the lyrics/chorus though).

honey - favorite term of endearment?

already answered!

sunkissed - autumn or spring?

autumn! this year is the first time i have not hated spring (for allergy reasons mostly) because my houseplants are thriving, BUT i’m still a cold weather/long nights gal at heart. i’m just a silly little goth clown who wants to bundle up and drink some nice soup :)

soft asks!

[kelyon]

Golden Rings Chapter 6: A Shop

The Storybrooke Sequel to Golden Cuffs

Rumpelstiltskin gathers his thoughts and his stuff

Read on AO3

As Rumpelstiltskin drove Gold’s wife in Gold’s car to Gold’s pawnshop, he got a chance to look around Storybrooke. It was a cool, sunny, Monday morning in October. The first real morning since the curse had been cast. Last night, Emma Swan had decided to stay. After twenty-eight years, time was moving forward for the people in this town.

Did they know? These people, who led as ordinary lives as this world allowed, did they have any idea of what they’d forgotten? The man walking a spotted dog, the brick-haired woman thundering toward the hardware store, the flocks of children in their school uniforms. Could they even imagine who they used to be? With the Savior’s arrival, the curse was beginning to break. Was there any sign, any hint that things were different now?

Yes.

“Well look at that.” Rumpelstiltskin said as he opened the car door for Mrs. Gold. “The old clock tower is running again.”

She squinted up at the building across the street from the pawnshop. For the past twenty-eight years, the clock in the tower on top of the library had been stuck at 8:15. Gold had walked past it every day for as long as he could remember. Now it read 8:55. It wasn’t much movement yet, but it was a damn good start. 

Mrs. Gold made a polite, vaguely interested noise and then sashayed her way over to the side door of the shop. She had been quiet for most of the morning. Breakfast had shown both of them that the things that had pleased Gold were nothing but ash to him now. 

That meal had given Rumpelstiltskin a taste of just how enormous a task he had set out for himself in living with this woman. Mrs. Gold was only happy if her husband was happy. And Gold showed his pleasure with his wife by how frequently he used her, and how closely he controlled her. If Rumpelstiltskin left the woman alone, if he allowed her to live her own life and make her own decisions, she would think that he was ignoring her. And the only reason Gold gave for ignoring his wife was to punish her. Gold always wanted her to know every time he thought she wasn’t worth the price of her upkeep. 

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t want Mrs. Gold to feel worthless. He had taken mercy on her earlier, by ordering her to write out a shopping list. It pleased Mrs. Gold to do things for her husband. Gold had trained her to believe that was all she was good for. 

She was waiting for him at the door, hands behind her back, just as she had posed in front of the door to the house last night. She didn’t have a key to the shop either. 

“Do you--” Rumpelstiltskin looked at her for a moment, but then had to shift his eyes to the key in the lock. “Do you remember the last time that clock was in working order?”

Mrs. Gold tilted her head and thought. Her nose crinkled just like Belle’s. 

“I… don’t... think so? Would it have been when there was still a library?”

“Probably.” He opened the shop door and held it for Mrs. Gold. “I don’t remember the library ever being open.”

That was true. The Storybrooke Free Public Library had come into this world an abandoned wreck. Gold had taken pride in making sure it would stay that way in perpetuity. He owned the building but didn’t allow it to be put to use. There was no benefit for him in people having free access to knowledge and services. He even objected to the thought of the library as a place for people to come in off the streets without spending any money.    

“When I was in high school, we used to break in and drink beer. Try to find dirty books.”

Rumpelstiltskin raised his eyebrows at Mrs. Gold. He hadn’t realized the memories the curse would give them would be that comprehensive. 

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Well, Hunter, of course, and he never went anywhere without Jesse. And Sean Herman--you know, Mitchell Herman’s useless prettyboy son. Oh, and that pathetic Ashley Boyd was always hanging around Sean, trying to get him to commit.” Mrs. Gold sniggered. “That didn’t really work out for her, did it?”

They were in the shop now. It was a cool, dark room, filled to the brim with merchandise. Rumpelstiltskin shut the side door and went to unlock the front. Gold always had the store open promptly at nine.

“I’m surprised you remember so much about your adolescence.”

Behind the back counter, Mrs. Gold looked down at her hands. “I… I didn’t drink that much, Mr. Gold. But I understand if you don’t want me to talk about that… trashy stuff. I know that’s not who I am anymore.” She bit her lip and twisted her wedding ring.

He turned his back on her to flip the sign in the door from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open. He pulled up the venetian blinds and let the morning sunlight in through the front windows. 

Without looking at her, he asked, “How long ago was it? When you were in high school, drinking beer with boys?”

She scoffed. “God, a million years ago.”

He nodded. Of course she would say something like that. It would have been too easy to help her realize the truth with mere facts. According to her age, it should have been less than five years ago, at most, that she had been a teen-ager getting into trouble. But there were far more than five years’ worth of memories between that time and now. She had been married to Gold for longer than she had actually been alive. But he couldn’t simply point that out and expect her to believe it. 

The curse didn’t work like that. It wasn’t a faulty theorem that could be disproven with logic. No, the curse was the axiom of this world, the basis of logic. The curse was reality. Mrs. Gold could no more resist it than she could fight her need to breathe or the pull of gravity on her body. 

The curse was the truth for almost everyone in this town.

Mrs. Gold tapped her painted fingernails against the glass counter. “When did you want me to go to the grocery store?”

Rumpelstiltskin looked out the window. He could see the library from here. Belle would have been thrilled by the idea of a public library. She would read every book, and talk to people about what they were reading. When the curse broke, he would show it to her. 

“The sooner the better,” he answered the woman who was not Belle. Might as well get her out of the way for an hour or two. There were things in this shop that he needed to find, and it would be better not to have her hovering around.   

“Oh, okay.” Mrs. Gold had taken off her scarf and set down her purse, but she immediately began to collect them again. “Then I’ll pick up the ice cream before you close the shop? That way it won’t melt before I can get it in the freezer.”

For just a moment, Rumpelstiltskin wanted to ask the obvious logistical question: Why couldn’t she go home with the ice cream and then come back? Or stay at the house for a while? Why did Mrs. Gold have to revolve her activities around her husband’s schedule? 

But he knew the answer: Because Gold didn’t want her in his house without him. Because Gold didn’t trust the woman he married. Because Gold got off on making life difficult for his wife and then giving her a pat on the head after she successfully jumped through the hoops he set up every single day. 

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. 

“That’s a good plan,” he said quietly. 

“Thank you, Mr. Gold! I’m not always as stupid as I look!” 

Gods, her smile was dazzling. Even like this, even as she insulted herself, she was so beautiful. She looked so happy. Belle’s face, Belle’s eyes, Belle’s smile... He could look at Belle forever. But he couldn’t stand the sight of Mrs. Gold.

He stood in the center of the shop, with his cane set out in front of him like a longsword. She flounced over to him, then hesitated. Her hands reached out, halfway between her body and his. But Mrs. Gold knew better than to touch her husband without permission.   

“Is there anything else I should do today, Mr. Gold?”

She was waiting for him to touch her, he realized. Her body was poised for him to pull her in for one of Gold’s signs of affection--a breathtaking kiss, a possessive squeeze, a playful swat, or something rougher. Rumpelstiltskin knew those gestures. He hated to let Belle out of his sight without some last physical expression of his love.

Mrs. Gold was used to the same thing from her husband. Only there was no love in it on Gold’s part.

With a sweep of his arm, Rumpelstiltskin backed away from Mrs. Gold to open the front door for her.  “No, there’s nothing else I need. But take your time. If there’s something you’d like to do today, feel free.”

She swallowed and looked at him dubiously. “Maybe I’ll… go to the lingerie shop. Stock up on cheap panties?”

Rumpelstiltskin tried to keep from grimacing. “Whatever makes you happy, dearie. Let me give you some money.”

Mrs. Gold took the cash and strutted down the street. The mention of tear-away underthings had put a spring in her step. He watched her from the doorway. He saw the citizens of Storybrooke stop what they were doing to stare at her. His wife. Gold’s most expensive possession, on full display. 

He went inside and shut the door behind him.

****

The store was filled with bits and pieces of other people’s lives. This was a pawn shop, after all. Everything here had once belonged to someone else. Some of the merchandise was from Storybrooke--old snowshoes, a garden windmill, a telephone in the shape of a cartoon mouse. But many more objects had the inextricable mark of the old world. There was a set of seven beer steins, an oil lamp from Agrabah that had once been the home of a genie. A pair of marionettes gave a shockingly accurate depiction of the horror of unwilling transformation. 

Some of these objects had been a part of his collection in the castle. Other things had been kept close by people who treasured them. Even in the old world, people built their identities from the things they kept around them. With the curse, material possessions had been ripped away from their owners as completely as memories and identities.

Gold prided himself on taking things of sentimental value from the people of Storybrooke. To a man who already owned everything, sentiment was the best kind of value to take. People came to him and traded their past for their future, a part of their soul for a little of his money. And Gold, a man with plenty of money but hardly any soul, made that bargain eagerly. He bought people’s lives. Bit by bit, deal by deal. 

Now Rumpelstiltskin found himself looking around the shop for the pieces of his own life. His life, and Belle’s, and the life they had shared together, all too briefly. It didn’t surprise him that the objects he valued most would be for sale in Gold’s shop. Rumpelstiltskin’s mementos meant as little to Gold as they would mean to his wife. Less than one day ago, he had been as cursed as she was. 

But now that he was awake, he could rescue her. Or try to. At the very least, he could protect her. In a world without magic, his reach was limited. But there were still tools available to him. Many of those tools were in this shop. 

He found Belle’s necklace first. It was on display, priced so cheaply that it wasn’t even locked behind the counter. Her mother’s necklace--the only heirloom Belle had been able to bring to the castle-hung from a metal stand, crowded in with plastic beads and costume jewelry. 

Rumpelstiltskin held it up to look at it. In the old world, a piece of unicorn horn had hung from a golden chain. There were no unicorns here, so the small pendant took on the sheen of mother-of-pearl. It was still beautiful. Tiny and delicate, just like Belle. It had barely taken any effort at all to snap the chain off her throat. In the darkness of a dungeon, he had stolen it from her as a way to bind her to him.

That had been the first time he had ever made Belle cry.

Sighing, Rumpelstiltskin laid the necklace in a narrow gift box and put the box in his jacket pocket, close to his heart. Being Gold was not the first time he had been a monster to Belle. Their first deal had been for his complete domination over her body and her will, the right to cause her pain whenever he wanted. 

Belle had agreed to the pain, the degradation. She had even enjoyed it, and began to ask for it. She had leveraged her ability to endure mistreatment into a way to get close to him. They made a second deal that he would give her a piece of the truth as a reward for impressing him. So she got to ask questions. Persistent, invasive, disarming questions. Soon it became that every time he pushed her body to its limits, she did the same to his heart.

And he liked the pain she gave him as much as she liked the pain he gave her. 

That was how they became equal. That was how it became unendurable for him to hold real power over her. He could not allow her to give him her whole heart without giving her his own in return.

So he had given her back this necklace. He had given Belle her freedom. And when she had come back anyway, he finally gave her himself. 

He had given her his dagger. 

For millennia, the power of Dark Ones had been harnessed to a magical dagger. Whoever owned it held the most powerful being in the world as a slave. Or the owner could stab the Dark One through the heart and take the power for themselves. Rumpelstiltskin had been rare among Dark Ones in that he had never lost control of the dagger. Magic had never forced him to do the bidding of another. 

He had given it to Belle before he had asked her to marry him, before that thought had even entered his mind. Putting himself under her power was the easiest way to pay the debt he had accrued to her. 

Gold had put the dagger in the window at the front of the store. As far as he was concerned, the thing only had value as something to catch the attention of passers-by. It was a curiosity, not an antique. Gold saw it as a knock off of a Javanese kris with a faux-European style hilt and ridiculous vanity engraving. To him, it was obviously fake, a modern creation for the sort of person who wore sparkly wings to a Renaissance Fair.  

And it was easy enough to see why. Even with Rumpelstiltskin’s well-honed sensitivity to magic, the dagger was inert and lifeless. There was no power in it, not even a trace of dark energy. In a world without magic, this was nothing but a length of steel with some fancy enamelwork. 

Still, it was better to have it near him than to have his true name boldly advertised in his shop window. There was no way of knowing who else might have awoken from the curse. This town was Regina’s triumph, so it seemed likely that she would know the truth. She would want to be aware, to enjoy her victory. Perhaps there were others. Perhaps others would emerge gradually. Now that the Savior was in Storybrooke, anything was possible. He had to be prepared. He had to keep his cards close to his chest.

He put the dagger in a cardboard box and continued his exploration of the shop. There was a spinning wheel in the back office. It wasn’t one of the wheels from the castle, on which he had spun straw into gold. This was an artefact from this world, a great wheel, used to spin flax into linen. It was hidden behind a bedframe and some paintings too large to hang on the walls.

 His fingers itched to spin. There was never a better way to gather his thoughts and calm his mind. Spinning, and listening to Belle breathing while she slept. 

But taking home a spinning wheel would be too obvious. It wasn’t the sort of thing that he could hide or explain away, especially not to Mrs. Gold. She knew very well that her husband didn’t do handicrafts from the middle ages. There was only so far Rumpelstiltskin could strain her credulity. He would have to wait until the curse broke before he could safely spin again. 

In the back of the shop, there was a box full of broken scraps. As mercenary as Gold could be, he also liked to keep things for a rainy day. Even discarded junk could be broken down for parts or sold as-is to artisans.

That was where he found the chipped cup. It was wrapped in a ragged shawl.

Baelfire’s shawl. Rumpelstiltskin had made it, when he was just a poor spinner. He had shorn the sheep and spun the wool and dyed the yarn and knitted row after row--all in secret, so Baelfire would be surprised to have a present on the winter solstice. That was the year after Millah had left. It was such a meager gift, but Bae had been so happy to get it. His boy had insisted on learning how such a thing had been made. And all through that winter, father and son had worked together on a second project--a cap that Bae had worn every day until his head grew too big for it.

Carefully, Rumpelstiltskin pulled the shawl away from the cup. He held both objects to his heart and all but collapsed on a cot in the corner. Memories threatened to drown him in tears. Belle had found the shawl and the cap, in the room in the castle where he had locked them away. Belle had dropped this cup while serving him tea for the first time. When it had chipped, it had become something special. It had become meaningful in a way few other objects ever did. 

The chipped cup used to be their signal. If Belle gave it to him when she served him tea, it was her way of asking for him to play with her. To be rough with her, at her request. He never ordered her to give him the cup, there was always a whole teacup available. Every time she offered it--every time she offered her body in this way--it had been her choice.

That was a choice Gold never really allowed his wife to make. 

Gathering himself, Rumpelstiltskin wrapped the cup back in the shawl and placed it in the box with the dagger. He filled the box with a few other things--a butter dish, a tea kettle--and left it on the countertop. 

No one came into the shop all morning. It was the day after rent day. No one had anything to trade with Gold, nor any pressing need to. The bell above the front door didn’t ring until Mrs. Gold came in with her bags of groceries and lingerie.

“Hello!” she cried with her standard bubbly cheer. She made her way to the back of the shop and put the bags down in the office. “Miss me?”

Gold would have replied Never, then pulled her in for a kiss. Rumpelstiltskin said, “Of course,” but stayed behind the counter.

Mrs. Gold’s smile dimmed a little but she soldiered on. “Grocery store was uneventful. The boy stocking the produce section seemed very aware of how I was stroking the cucumbers. I didn’t stop until I found some too thick to get my hand around.” 

She snorted, and Rumpelstiltskin made himself grin.  

“And I did get something new at Sugar ’N’ Spice. The girl there, Mara Trudine, assured me that it was very sturdy. So if you want to get it off of me, you’ll have to use scissors!”

Rumpelstiltskin swallowed. It was an excellent idea, cutting fabric off of Belle’s body. He had always used magic when he wanted to undress her quickly, but this worked just as well. There was no reason not to destroy her clothes the moment they got in the way of his desires.

Gold’s desires. Not Rumpelstiltskin’s. 

He cleared his throat. “Did they have everything on the list?”

“Yes, I’ve got the receipts right here.” She produced the long strips of paper and laid them on the counter with a flourish. 

Rumpelstiltskin’s heart ached at the sight of Mrs. Gold. She was so delighted to obey him, so proud of herself for remembering his orders. Gold had set up a structured routine to control her, and she enjoyed meeting his cruel demands. 

He made a show of looking at the receipts, but he didn’t care how she spent Gold’s money. Gold only cared because he wanted to make sure it was spent. He couldn’t allow his wife to have any money of her own, that she might spend on something he didn’t know about. This way, she couldn’t squirrel anything away for herself to save for the day when he might kick her out for good. No, Gold wanted her to depend on him, every day, for every penny, just so he could hold it over her head what a waste of money she was. 

What a twisted arsehole. 

“Very good,” he said, and handed the papers back to her. “I’ll give you more money later.”

Mrs. Gold nodded, smiled. As far as she knew, things were back to normal. “What would you like to do for lunch?”

It wasn’t until he heard the word lunch that Rumpelstiltskin realized how hungry he was. This was his first full day in a human body. He wasn’t yet back in the habit of eating. But yes, that explained the familiar ache in his stomach, the slight draining of his energy. He hadn’t been hungry in years.

“You didn’t eat breakfast.” He realized her plight at the same time as his own. “You must be starving.”

She shrugged. “You didn’t have breakfast either,” she said. “Because I was such an idiot and burnt the toast.” 

“Stop that.”

 It was all he could do not to take Belle’s hands. He wanted to look his wife in the eye and hold her. It was Gold’s fault that she said such things, that she believed them about herself. He wouldn’t touch this woman, but he did try to speak kindly to her. 

“Tell me, Mrs. Gold, how do I instruct you to make my toast and coffee?”

“As black and bitter as your soul.” She repeated the phrase like it was a sacred truth.

“Yes,” Rumpelstiltskin said wearily. “And that’s very black and bitter indeed. You performed your task correctly this morning. It’s not your fault that I didn’t tell you that what I wanted had changed.”

“I’m still a cheap, stupid slut.” 

Again, she said it with a smile. That phrase was one of Gold’s secret signals, another unspoken game they played. Every time Mrs. Gold called herself a “cheap, stupid slut”, Gold reassured her that she had actually been quite expensive. The underlying “truth”, of course, was that she was still stupid, and still a slut. 

Yet another game that Rumpelstiltskin would not play. 

“You’re not stupid,” he said sternly. “And I would appreciate not hearing anymore of that kind of talk coming out of your pretty mouth.”

“I--Yes, Mr. Gold.” She stood up straight, with her hands behind her back, and looked at the floor. “Thank you for your instruction, Mr. Gold.”

“Good girl,” Rumpelstiltskin murmured. 

Perhaps it was unfair to give her even these orders, to act in the persona of Gold even for her own benefit. But he was not so heartless as to leave this woman utterly adrift. She did depend on her husband, as a drunkard depended on wine. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t deprive her all at once. 

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Rumpelstiltskin pulled out the gift box. “I have something for you.”

Mrs. Gold’s eyes lit up. “Ooh! What is it?”

“Open it.”

She did an admirable job of hiding her disappointment at the necklace. Her smile froze, but it stayed in place as though it had been nailed to her mouth.

“You don’t have anything in that style, do you?”

“No,” she answered, as she looked down at the thin gold chain. “Most of my other jewelry is… very different from this.”

Most of the jewelry Gold gave her was large to the point of being gaudy. The fact that the stones in the various necklaces, bracelets and earrings were genuine never made them look any less tacky.

But this was Belle’s necklace. This was precious to his real wife. Rumpelstiltskin felt a faint flicker of hope in his chest. Maybe… maybe this necklace could make a difference to Mrs. Gold.

“Will you put it on?”

Nodding, Mrs. Gold handed him the box. She removed the scarf from around her neck and stood in front of him, facing away.

Well, he had walked into that.

It was the closest they had been since he had gotten into bed with her last night. As he fastened the necklace, he found himself smelling her hair. He wanted to trace the line of her neck down her shoulder and over her bare arm. He wanted to hold her hand in his own. He wanted to wrap his arms around her tiny waist and hold her. He wanted to press himself against her body, to feel the soft curves of her bottom rub up against his hardening cock. He wanted to kiss her, to nibble her ears until she squealed with laughter. He wanted to make love to his wife.

Instead, he stepped back, turned away, and pressed his hands against the glass countertop.

Mrs. Gold spun around, her skirt flaring over her bare legs. Of course she was still Mrs. Gold. Of course there would be no change. There was no magic in this world, so there would be no magical solution. At least, not yet. 

“How does it look?”

He gave her as long a glance as he could bear, then nodded. “Lovely. Do you like it?”

“Of course, Mr. Gold. I don’t take your gifts for granted.” She took one tentative step toward him. “What do I need to do to earn this?”

If you have to earn it, it isn’t a gift, dearie! His hands balled into fists as he thought the impish words. As the Dark One, Rumpelstiltskin said that he never gave and he never stole. Everything was a trade, payment one way or the other. While Gold worked by the same principle, he didn’t have the same penchant for precise terminology. 

But there was no explaining that to Mrs. Gold. Instead, he pulled a money clip out of his pocket.

“Go to Granny’s and bring back lunch,” he said as he counted out a few fifty-dollar bills. “I want to try the sandwich that’s called a ‘reuben.’ You can order whatever you like, but--” he slid a fifty over the counter to her, “--you tell Ruby Lucas to keep the change from this.”

Mrs. Gold smirked. “Are we playing nice with her now?”

“Better to play nice than to not play at all.” It was a meaningless jumble of words, but Mrs. Gold nodded and went off to do as he said. 

****

After lunch, Mrs. Gold hung around the shop. They didn’t say much to each other. Rumpelstiltskin kept his hands busy by polishing all the silver in stock. He kept his mind busy by looking around at the various objects and determining who they had belonged to. Gold had a ledger for the shop as well, with many of the same names as in his rent book at the house. This was another way Gold had power over people. He knew their histories, knew the value of their lives to the penny.

Mrs. Gold dug up an Art Deco hand mirror and spent the afternoon looking at her reflection. She kept pulling the pendant of the necklace back and forth along the chain. Belle used to do that when she was nervous. Had Mrs. Gold ever done it before? Had Belle’s necklace actually awoken something in her? 

It was possible. Magic, especially the breaking of a curse, could work very slowly. Especially in a world where it didn’t exist. But it was possible. The Savior was in Storybrooke. Things were going to start changing.

It was possible for him to have hope.

When the time came for the shop to close, Mrs. Gold went to the ice cream parlor next door. Rumpelstiltskin had never had ice cream, but he knew enough about it to be amazed that Gold worked so near a place that sold it and never bothered to indulge.  

While Mrs. Gold was out, he loaded her bags of groceries into the back of the car. It was awkward with his cane. He could only hold one paper bag at a time, and he had to leave open the doors to both the shop and the car.

But it was worth it, to see Mrs. Gold’s jaw drop when she came back. “You--I--” She stammered for a moment before settling on “Thank you, Mr. Gold!”

He gave her a smile, a real one for once. “There’s just one more thing before we go home.” He gestured into the shop, for the cardboard box on the counter. “Will you give me that box, and everything in it?”

“Yes, Mr. Gold!”

It was a cheap trick, the sort of thing a fairy would do. Normally he thought himself above that level of deception. But it worked. When Mrs. Gold placed the box into his waiting hands, she gave him the dagger he had given to Belle. By the laws of magic, his power was his own again.

Perhaps there was no need to take this precaution. But Rumpelstiltskin was not one to leave things to chance if he could avoid it. He had given Belle the dagger because he trusted her with his power and his life. But he couldn’t offer Mrs. Gold the same trust, not with this. Not with something so dangerous as the truth.  

[dearmrsawyer]

J A M I L A please i must ask you supernatural asks and NO I WILL NOT limit myself to just one. Please can i ask you! 12. what is your most memorable episode (and obviously WHY) and 26. Best side Character. ALSO free question because i want to PLEASE JUST TELL ME SOMETHING(ANYTHING) YOU LOVE ABOUT SUPERNATURAL PLEASE THANK YOU

LE you’re so indulgent thank you ;__; (edit to say this is so long i am just... well. it was inevitable i suppose, ty for your patience lol)

12. what is your most memorable episode (and why!)

AAH this is hard because obviously there are so so many memorable episodes over 15 years!!!! but i think i‘d like to pull out the season 8 (or as i like to call it, season gr8) finale, Sacrifice. midway through season 8 my brother and i moved into our grandparents place while my parents were separating and i used to sleep in their spare room. they had this old tv in there that pre-dates flatscreens and i lowkey used to loveee watching it. anyway during that period i would use up all my grandparents’ bandwidth downloading new Spn episodes and destroy their internet until it reset at the end of the month LOL, but Spn was one of the few things that really kept me going at that point in time. i think God was like ‘jamila’s having a hard year, let’s make this one of Spn’s best seasons ever’ because truly i cannot explain to you how much i love that season. how much thinking about it pushes everything else out of my heart so i can feel the love for it as fully as possible. i have this extremely vivid memory of sitting on the single bed in that spare room watching the season 8 finale on that little fat tv, and feeling SO much, like feeling so many feelings about everything that was happening in the episode, and forgetting everything else in the world because that episode swallowed me whole, and i remember - i remember SO clearly - the last scene of that episode, when the angels started falling, and being completely awed, like jaw agape, heart pounding, just full of wonder, because that scene was so beautiful and shocking and like, just an unbelievable moment? i just REMEMBER how it felt to watch that episode more clearly than the watching any other moment in the show, it was so powerful to me. i think it was a combination of factors, like the intensity of life at that moment, the build up of this unbelievable season of a show that had carried me through 8 years (including this hard year), the fruition of a storyline focused on Sam, a character i’d loved so much for so long, and a really staggering episode. 

26. best side character?

oh NOOOO howwww how how can i choose. i’m gonna pick 3 because I’M in control! and i’m going to pick these based on the value i believe they added to the show, and to Sam and Dean’s lives. 

1. Bobby. It’s crazy to me that Bobby died literally halfway through the show (mid season 7) and yet he still feels like a core part of the show to me? Like it’s been 7 and a half years lol but i still feel like he’s a foundational block! I love Bobby SO much, for many reasons but most especially because he was really a dad to Sam and Dean. Like no disrespect to John (some disrespect) but he was their DAD. He took so much care of them, talked them down from so many ledges, showed them so much love (even if it was in his own gruff way!), and felt so much pride over who they grew up to be, like i truly think we owe Bobby for who they are. and he really acted as a home base to them for those first 7 seasons! Spn was always supposed to be a road show, 2 brothers driving across country, staying in bizarre hotels, no home base. But Bobby really WAS the home they could come back to anytime. And they needed that so badly. 

2. Mary. How many times can i explain how AMAZING it was to have Mary become a fixture in the show 12 YEARS IN. Like!?!?!?! And the reason i think Mary is such an incredible side character is because for those first 11 years (and all the years pre the show) the memory of Mary shaped Sam and especially Dean in very specific ways. Like she was this phantom known mostly through Dean’s vague, 4yo memories, so insubstantial and so dream-like. And that image of her was so extremely formative for them. And then all of a sudden BAM here she is in the flesh! And she’s not that dream-like figure at all! She’s fully formed and complex and has a lot of issues and neither she nor Sam/Dean know what to do about each other, because they’re all adults! And watching them figure out how to be a family was the most INCREDIBLE thing, watching Mary figure out how to be a mother to 2 adults (missing the opportunity to be a mother to growing boys) and also not being sure she even wanted to be one?? watching Sam get to know a mother he had NO memories of, and knew only by proxy threw Dean’s infant memories, and watching Dean have to reluctantly scratch out that image he’d been carrying around for 35 years and let Mary be her own self, not the self he’d been projecting onto her all this time, was justttttt <333333

3. Jack. I can’t miss out on our collective son ;__; listen listen listen, this idea. to have Sam and Dean spent 12 seasons learning and unlearning all the traumas of their parents, to face every challenge imaginable, and then to round out their story by giving them the one extremely human challenge they’ve not yet faced (being parents) is so... unbelievably beautiful. like to give them this character, who was presumed to be the doom of all creation, and have them end up seeing him as a son, and loving him, and fearing losing him, and wanting to do anything - anything - to save him, to break whatever cosmic rule it took (exactly the same way they’d do anything to save EACH OTHER these past 12 years btw) is JUST!!!!!! IT IS JUST!!!!!!! THE MOST INCREDIBLE STORY!!!!!!!!!! AND the fact that all their doubts and fears about his ‘potential’ for darkness were mirrored within Jack himself, and for him to try to combat that fear by modelling himself after Sam and Dean as much as he could, because HE believed that THEY were his salvation, and if he followed in their footsteps he would only ever be good. LIKE THAT MAKES ME INSAAAAAAAAANE. AND THEN HE BECAME GOD. SAM AND DEAN RAISED GOD. HE DECIDED ON THE KIND OF GOD HE WANTED TO BE BASED ON EVERYTHING HE LEARNED FROM THEM. NEVER COULD THIS SHOW HAVE FOUND A BETTER WAY TO GO OUT IT DRIVES ME CRAZYYYYYYYY

oh my god i’ve been writing this post for over an hour because i have to keep stopping and feeling emotions lol 

special le question: tell you something i love about the show!! 

god okay!!!!! so many things to choose from!!!! let’s try not to be an emotional mess this time lol. something that i love about the show is the fact that it had the time to experiment. the gift of long-running scifi shows is that they have time to find their feet, and then they have time to find their voice, and finding their voice allows them to play. and playing is how you get some of the best moments in television. and my god, did Spn play. episodes like “Changing Channels” where Sam and Dean were sucked into satirical versions of other TV shows like Grey’s Anatomy and CSI Miami. or “Ghostfacers” which was a found footage episode from the pov of a group of awful paranormal investigators, and Sam and Dean were basically the side characters LOL! or “The French Mistake” where Sam and Dean were sucked into a universe where they were actually the actors PLAYING Sam and Dean SJKJKD or “Baby” when they had an entire episode from the CAR’S perspective, or when they’re in a black and white monster movie!!!! something i love about the show is that they had the time to play and they USED it! so well!!!! it’s been 15 years of wonderful stories, i am just so grateful for them all

[stereostevie]

“I sacrificed the quality of my life to help people experience something that had been unreachable before then,” Grammy winner says in rare interview

In the late Nineties, the story of popular music became the story of Ms. Lauryn Hill. She first rose to fame as an actress and a member of the Fugees, whose second and final album, 1996’s The Score, remains one of that decade’s biggest albums. Then, at just 22 years old, Hill took a huge leap and decided to go solo. Released in 1998, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill filled clubs, radio stations, and MTV with her smooth voice and biting rhymes. Hill herself became as big as her music, appreciated in the fashion world and sought after by movie executives for roles she would eventually decline.

Miseducation took home five Grammy Awards and led to a huge tour. But by the early 2000s, Ms. Hill left behind the fame and the industry almost entirely. She has never released another studio album; her last full-length release was MTV Unplugged No. 2.0 from 2002, where she performed new songs in an acoustic style to a largely tepid reception.

The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill lives on. More than 20 years after its release, it is still regarded as one of the best albums ever made, landing at Number 10 on Rolling Stone’s voter-based 500 Greatest Albums of All Time List this past fall. Many of her songs continue to permeate culture, like the single “Ex-Factor,” which has been sampled or interpolated on major hits by Drake and Cardi B. Beyond that, the album’s impact on multiple generations of musicians is unmistakeable. Everyone from Rihanna to St. Vincent has cited Hill as having heavily influenced their own music.  

The years that followed Miseducation have been complicated. After the album’s release, some of Hill’s collaborators filed a lawsuit claiming she did not properly credit them for their contributions; that suit was settled out of court three years later on undisclosed terms. In 2012, she was charged with tax fraud, and went on to serve three months in prison. More recently, she has found herself back on the road more frequently, sporadically releasing music but mostly basking in the collective love and power of Miseducation through special performances of the album.

For the latest episode of Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Albums podcast, Ms. Hill granted a rare interview on the making of Miseducation as well as what happened after. Over e-mail, she spoke candidly about protecting her family and the little support she had after her first album cycle ended. Excerpts from the interview can be heard in the podcast episode, available on Amazon Music, along with tales from several of the musicians who were part of those sessions, like “Commissioner Gordon” Williams, Lenesha Randolph, and Vada Nobles. Ms. Hill’s written responses are here in full.

When you began recording Miseducation, you were 22 and already experiencing immense success with the Fugees. What were you hoping to prove with this album? As far as proving myself goes, I think that’s a larger and more involved story best told at a later time, but I will say that the success of the Fugees absolutely set up The Miseducation to be as big and as well received as it was. When I decided that I wanted to try a solo project I was met with incredible resistance and discouragement from a number of places that should have been supportive, so that had a motivating factor, but it was less about proving myself and more about creating something I wanted to see and hear exist in the world. There were ideas, notions and concepts that I wanted to exist, I set off in a particular direction and kept going. Initially, I intended to work with other producers and artists but found that what I wanted to say and hear may have been too idiosyncratic at the time to just explain it and have someone else try to make it. It had to be made in a more custom manner. The team of people who would ultimately be involved, we all witnessed as it took form. It was unique and exciting.

You’ve said you found yourself especially creative during your pregnancy. How did that experience shape you as a songwriter?

It’s a wild thing to say but I was left alone during my pregnancies for the most part. It was like all of the people with all of their demands had to check themselves when I was pregnant. The resulting peace may have contributed to that sense of feeling more creative. I was pregnant with my first child during the making of The Miseducation and the situation was complicated, so I was motivated to find more stability and safety for myself and for my child, that definitely pushed me to disregard what appeared as limitations. If I struggled to fight for myself, I had someone else to fight for. This also introduced my first son’s father, Rohan Marley, into the picture, who at that time, was a protective presence. If there were people or forces attempting to prevent me from creating, he played a role in helping to keep that at bay.

During those times especially, I always wanted to be a motivator of positive change. It’s in all of my lyrics, that desire to see my community get out of its own way, identify and confront internal and external obstacles, and experience the heights of Love and self-Love that provoke transformation. I sang from that place and chose to share the joy and ecstasy of it, as well as the disappointments, entanglements and life lessons that I had learned at that point. I basically started out as a young sage lol.

When you look back on it now, is Miseducation the album you intended it to be? I’ve always been pretty critical of myself artistically, so of course there are things I hear that could have been done differently, but the LOVE in the album, the passion, its intention is, to me, undeniable. I think my intention was simply to make something that made my foremothers and forefathers in music and social and political struggle know that someone received what they’d sacrificed to give us, and to let my peers know that we could walk in that truth, proudly and confidently. At that time, I felt like it was a duty or responsibility to do so. I saw the economic and educational gaps in black communities and although I was super young myself, I used that platform to help bridge those gaps and introduce concepts and information that “we” needed even if “we” didn’t know “we” wanted it yet. Of course I’m referring to the proverbial “we.” These things had an enormous value to me and I cherished them from a very young age.

I also think the album stood apart from the types and cliches that were supposed to be acceptable at that time. I challenged the norm and introduced a new standard. I believe The Miseducation did that and I believe I still do this — defy convention when the convention is questionable. I had to move faster and with greater intention though than the dysfunctional norms that were well-established and fully funded then. I was apparently perceived by some as making trouble and being disruptive rather than appreciated for introducing solutions and options to people who hadn’t had them, for exposing beauty where oppression once reigned, and demonstrating how well these different cultural paradigms could work together. The warp speed I had to move at in order to defy the norm put me and my family under a hyper-accelerated, hyper-tense, and unfortunately under-appreciated pace. I sacrificed the quality of my life to help people experience something that had been unreachable before then. When I saw people struggle to appreciate what that took, I had to pull back and make sure I and my family were safe and good. I’m still doing that.

This album permeated culture in a way that few albums have before it existed and made you a massive star. How were you handling the public gaze at the time? There were definitely things I enjoyed about stardom, but there were definitely things I didn’t enjoy. I think most people appreciate being recognized and appreciated for their work and sacrifice. That, to me, is a given, but living a real life is essential for anyone trying to stay connected to reality and continue making things that truly affect people. This becomes increasingly harder to do in the “space” people try to place “stars” in.

The pedestal, to me, is as much about containment and control as it is adulation. Finding balance, clarity and sobriety can be very hard for some to maintain. For example, being yes’d to death isn’t good, and people fear stardom can only result in this, but if the actual answer is yes, being told no just to not appear a yes-man is silly. Never being told no if the answer is no by people afraid to disappoint will obviously also distort the mirror in which we view ourselves. On the other hand, a person with a vision can be way ahead, so people may say no with conviction and resist what they fear only to find out later that they were absolutely wrong.

The idea of artist as public property, I also always had a problem with that. I agreed to share my art, I’m not agreeing necessarily to share myself. The entitlement that people often feel, like they somehow own you, or own a piece of you, can be incredibly dangerous. I chafe under any kind of control like that and resist expectations that suggest I should somehow dumb-down and be predictable to make people feel comfortable rather than authentically express myself. I also resist unrealistic expectations placed on me by people who would never place those same requirements on themselves. I can be as diplomatic and as patient as I possibly can be. I can’t, however, sell myself short through constant self-deprecation and shrinking.

“The entitlement that people often feel, like they somehow own you, or own a piece of you, can be incredibly dangerous.”

Is there a version of “Lauryn Hill” that you feel people expected of you, and how did that compare to how you saw yourself? Absolutely, which I touched upon in the answers before this one. Life is life, to be lived, experienced and enjoyed with all of its dynamism and color. If you do something well that people enjoy, often they want the same experience over and over. A real person can be stifled and their growth completely stunted trying to do this without balance. It’s not a fair thing to ask of anyone. We all have to grow, we all have to express ourselves with as much fullness and integrity as we can manage. The celebrity is often treated like a sacrifice, the fatted calf, then boxed in and harshly judged for very normal and natural responses to abnormal circumstances.

I saw someone lambasted once for discussing episodes of anxiety before going on stage, as if anxiety was only a condition of the non-famous. It was absurd, like someone with a record out can’t get a common cold. Someone in love with the art doesn’t not experience fear or anxiety, they just do their best to transcend it or work beyond it so that the art or the passion can be made manifest. Some days are better than others. For some people it gets easier, for some it doesn’t. The unfairness, the harshness was excessive to me. I didn’t like how I was being treated at a certain point. I just wasn’t being treated well and definitely not in accordance with someone who’d contributed what I had. I had a ton of jealousy and competitiveness to contend with. That can exhaust or frustrate your efforts to make anything besides primal scream music, 😊.

Provoking that kind of aggravation was probably intentional. You have to find reasons to still do it, when you’re exposed to the ugly.  People often think it’s ok to project whatever they want to on someone they perceive as having “it all” or “having so/too much.” Hero worship can be an excuse for not taking care of your own sh#t. The flip side of that adulation can turn severely ugly, aggressive, and hostile if people make another person responsible for their sense of self-worth. You can either take that abuse or say no to it. After subjecting myself to it for years, I started to say no, and then no turned into hell no, then hell no turned into f#ck no…you get my point. 😊

If you could talk to yourself at 22 now, what would you say? I’d share the things I do now with my 22-year-old self. If I had known what I know now, things would probably have unfolded differently. I would have continued to invest in people but I would have made sure I had people with the love, strength, and integrity around me to really keep their eye on the prize and my well-being. The world is full of seduction and if they can’t seduce you, they go after the people you love or depend on in some way. I would have with greater understanding tried to do more to insulate myself and my loved ones from that kind of attack.

Looking back on that period of your life, do you have any regrets?

I have some periods of woe, some periods of sorrow and great pain, yes, but regret is tough because I ended up with a clarity I might not have been able to achieve any other way. I would have done a few things differently though if I could go back. I would have done my best to shield myself so that I could better shield my children.  I would have rejected the manipulation, unfair force and pressure put on me much earlier. I would have benefitted from having more awareness about the dangers of fame. I would have been more communicative with everyone truly involved with The Miseducation and fought hard for the importance of candid expression. I would have demanded what I needed and removed people antagonistic to that sooner than I did.

You have released music since Miseducation and have continued to play live. Do you ever foresee releasing another full-length studio album? The wild thing is no one from my label has ever called me and asked how can we help you make another album, EVER…EVER. Did I say ever? Ever! With The Miseducation, there was no precedent. I was, for the most part, free to explore, experiment and express. After The Miseducation, there were scores of tentacled obstructionists, politics, repressing agendas, unrealistic expectations, and saboteurs EVERYWHERE. People had included me in their own narratives of THEIR successes as it pertained to my album, and if this contradicted my experience, I was considered an enemy.

Artist suppression is definitely a thing. I won’t go too much into it here, but where there should have been overwhelming support, there wasn’t any. I began touring because I needed the creative outlet and to support myself and my family. People were more interested in breaking me or using me to battery-power whatever they had going on than to support my creativity. I create at the speed and flow of my inspiration, which doesn’t always work in a traditional system. I have always had to custom build what I’ve needed in order to get things done. The lack of respect and willingness to understand what that is, or what I need to be productive and healthy, doesn’t really sit well with me. When no one takes the time to understand, but only takes the time to count the money the fruit of this process produces, things can easily turn bad. Mistreatment, abuse, and neglect happen. I wrote an album about systemic racism and how it represses and stunts growth and harms (all of my albums have probably addressed systemic racism to some degree), before this was something this generation openly talked about. I was called crazy. Now…over a decade later, we hear this as part of the mainstream chorus. Ok, so chalk some of it up to leadership and how that works — I was clearly ahead, but you also have to acknowledge the blatant denial that went down with that. The public abuse and ostracizing while suppressing and copying what I had done, (I protested) with still no real acknowledgement that all of that even happened, is a lot.

“I wrote an album about systemic racism… before this was something this generation openly talked about. I was called crazy.”

I continue to tour and share with audiences all over the world, but I also full-time work on the trauma, stifling, and stunting that came with all of that and how my family and I were affected. In many ways, we’re living now, making up for years where we couldn’t be as free as we should have been able to. I had to break through a ton of unjust resistance, greed, fear and just plain human ugliness. Little else can rival freedom for me. If being a superstar means living a repressed life where people will only work with you or invest in your work if they can manipulate and control you, then I’m not sure how important music gets made without some tragic set of events following. I don’t subscribe to that.

Lastly, I appreciate the people who were moved by this body of work, which really represented a lifetime — up to that point — of love, experience, wisdom, family and community investment in me, the summation of my experience from relationships, my dreams, inspirations, aspirations and God’s ever-present grace and Love in my life through the lens of my 20-something but wise-sage existence, lol. I dreamed big, I didn’t think of limits, I really only thought of the creative possibilities and addressing the needs as I saw them at that time. I also had the support of a community of talented artists, thinkers, and doers, friends and family around me. Their primary efforts (THEN) seemed to be to help clear a path and to help protect. However, when you effectively create something powerful enough to move the bulls#t out of the way, all kinds of forces and energies may not like that. They may seek to corrupt and discourage, to disrupt and distract, to divide, and sabotage…but we bore witness to the fact that this happened — a young, black woman through hip-hop culture, a legacy of soul, Spirit and an appreciation for education and educating others communicated love and timeless and necessary messages to the world.

The music business can be an industry of entanglements, where a small number of people are expected to be responsible for a very large number of people. It’s hard to find fairness in a situation like that. Now, I look for as much equity and fairness as possible. I appreciate being loved for my contributions to music, but it’s important to be loved for who you are as a person just as much, and that can be a delicate but extremely important balance to achieve. Experiencing that is important to me.

[latibulx]

chrysanthemum, daffodil, gladiolus, and salvia for miyeon

chrysanthemum, hydrangea, ivy, and peony for yeonwoo

❥     𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒    [   𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂    ] ㅡopen ㅡ @kangsoyou-ia

miyeon

chrysanthemum :   how does your muse express romantic love ?  how do they feel about love as a concept ?  

Given the nature of her job, Miyeon isn’t someone who will express romantic love through grand events and gestures, especially not if they’re out in public. However, in the privacy of a home, she’ll not hide her feelings nor restrain them (unless it’s an unrequited love). From hugs to sweet kisses, from compliments to looks of adoration, she will do it all because she knows how love is important, and how important it is to let the people you love know how much they’re cared about. She bas been raised by two loving fathers, and they’ve been a great example of what love should beㅡ not only the good moments, but also the struggles, the daily work it takes to make a relationship work and bloom. Secretly, she wants to love and be loved, and she wants what her parents have. At heart, she’s a romantic, and the love she sees on television, reads in books, hears in songs, that’s what she wants no matter how cheesy it is. 

daffodil :   is your muse one to be loyal in relationships ,   or are they likely to quickly move from one bond to another ?

Once Miyeon has fallen in love, she’s incredibly loyal. She isn’t afraid of throwing herself at 200% into the relationship. And it stands for others kind of relationships as well! May it be familial or friendships or working with her colleagues, she’ll always stand by their side and will not accept any kind of betrayal. 

gladiolus :   describe a moment from your muse’s life that they will never forget .

There are so many, given her ability! One of her most precious memories though was when she graduated high school. The past night, her fathers (knowing that there might be whispers and judgements) had decided which one of them would accompany her while the other would wait for them at a restaurant to celebrate. Miyeon had of course protested that she was graduating and that it didn’t matter if people pointed their fingers at her, because she loved both of them and she wanted them in her life, especially during such an important moment. Not wanting to possibly ruin her graduation, they had refused, which upset her though she tried to understand their point of view: it probably would have been difficult for them if there was gossips and glares in their direction, or even worse! However, when she went to receive her graduation certificate, the loudest cheers came from both of her fathers who had finally come to witness this moment. She cried a little from joy and they teased her for that, but the love they had for each other was undeniable, even from those who didn’t understand and accept. 

salvia :   is your muse possessive over people or things that matter a lot to them ?  how do they express that possessiveness ,   or lack thereof ?

Her possessiveness comes from the fear of losing the people she cares for because of her job. It’s not a kind of “you’re mine and only mine” possessiveness because that’s not something she wants to be, and something she wants to be on the receiving end as well. Nonetheless, she’ll walk her friends home after hanging out with them, she’ll call her fathers to make sure they’re doing fine, she’ll check up on her colleagues several times a week. Losing people - or being the reason she’ll lose people close to her - terrifies Miyeon. If she became a secret agent, it’s precisely to make the world a safer place. And if she ends up in a serious relationship with someone, she might just end up installing a tracker on their phone and cameras in their home, haha. Just to make sure that they’re safe and that nothing will go after them to get back at her. 

yeonwoo

chrysanthemum :   how does your muse express romantic love ?  how do they feel about love as a concept ?  

Small gestures define Yeonwoo’s romantic love: a warm dinner late at night, bringing a blanket or letting the other borrow their jacket if the weather’s too cold, buying something because it reminded him of them. He is more of an introvert and while he might not say “I love you” every day, it shows nevertheless in the way he does things for his partner. It might even just be a heart-shaped tomato or a little note slipped into the pocket of their jacket. Yeonwoo does believe in love, but doesn’t actively seek for it. If it happens, it happens. If it does not, it’s okay too. Fate and soulmates? Sure, why not. He supposes that for some people, it can work like that. He’s pretty open-minded, but does not mind the idea of staying single for the rest of his life either. 

hydrangea :   how much does your muse value communication in their relationships with others ?  are they prone to being misunderstood ?

Having a son has taught him to express himself better. He knows the importance of words now, and that some things should be said to not create misunderstandings, whether he likes it or not. Moreover, it’s precisely because he has a son that he can’t let misunderstandings grow: he doesn’t want to give anyone false hopes, doesn’t want anyone to think that he isn’t a serious person. And it applies to his work as well: he is a chef, and needs to be properly understood by his employees to make sure that the clients will be satisfied with their meals. It’s an every day work on himself. However he isn’t perfect and misunderstandings happen, but he knows that he can’t ignore them for everyone’s sake. Communication, for  Yeonwoo, is pretty important because there’s so much going on in his life. 

ivy :   what are your muse’s views on marriage ?   do they believe it is something strictly for love ,   or an institution rooted in business   &   social benefits ?   do they desire or have they desired to be married ?>

Well, Yeonwoo does think that getting married is an institution that allows for society to approve of you and to recognize you as “legit”. And he thinks that it’s a lot of money spent for only one day of celebration. But, he also sees the other side of the coin, can understand the need for couples to become a family through a marriage, and he appreciates the beauty of the moment as well. He remembers his sister getting married and how he had thought that he had never seen her glow like this before. It’s not an idea that haunts him, or a goal that he wants to achieve before he’s dead, but if he finds the right person, and if that person wants to get married, then he’ll be happy to do so! 

peony :   what would a   ‘  happy life  ’   look like in your muse’s eyes ?

It’s very simple: his son being happy and comfortable with himself. Yeonwoo doesn’t need much more to consider his life to be happy, he just wants for Woohyun to do anything and everything he wants, grows through his own experiences  whether they succeed or fail, he wants to be there for him in every moment of his life to support and love him the same way he believes his sister and her husband would have done. Yeonwoo having someone by his side is a bonus he, for now, doesn’t really hope for considering Woohyun’s young age. But, yeah, having someone to come home to, or being someone would come home to, would also contribute to his happy life. There’s no denying though that Woohyun will always have a special place in his heart and in his life and his happiness is above Yeonwoo’s own happiness. Now that I think about it though, I feel like a part of Yeonwoo secretly wishes for having someone by his side, and maybe have another two or three kids whether it’s through a natural process or adoption!