#walking around with minimum to no sitting to honor the dead

[genderlessjacky]

being a athetist kid in a religious asian household is so much more annoying then you would think

[andreamctld]

I inhale confidence and exhale fear.

chapter of life unlocked: my experience in grade 11

When it comes to my own life's book, I don't think I've ever been much of a writer. I was more of a reader. I would read and follow the plot. I never had the courage to pick up a pen and write it myself.

That is why I am starting now. I'm starting a new chapter in my life. I'm sure it'll be a good one. Written in my personal style and taste.

This new chapter begins with an awakened me. I'm going to take charge. I'm going to make my own decisions, make my own moves, and chart my own path. Then, for better or worse, I'm going to stand by them all and accept the results. I recognize that I cannot control everything. So, whatever happens, happens. But it'll happen because I said so.

One of the reasons for the beginning of online classes was the pandemic. I've been taking online classes from grade 9 to grade 10, and it's finally coming to an end. A new chapter in my life has now begun. Here's to new experiences, my grade 11 experience.

Where to begin? As my junior year came to an end, I became excited regarding face-to-face classes and my senior year. I deliberated carefully about which strand I truly belonged to because I was torn between STEM and ABM. And now, as a senior in grade 11, STEM 1, I am honored to share my experience.

I recall vividly the first day of class. I was so nervous that I had to accompany Kyle, my best friend, into our classroom. When I walked into the classroom, I was greeted by new faces. Then, my two other best friends eventually arrived, Kerby and Jewel. We sit in the same row so that we won't get apart from each other. I still remember Kyle holding Kerby's shoes and throwing them in front of us and when it was still so close to us I kicked it and when I sat in my chair I lost my balance and my chair made a loud noise, and everyone in the room looked at us.

That was my favorite core memory from my first day of grade 11. After a few weeks, I got along with my other classmates. We sometimes eat together and talk about the previous school year, sometimes we buy food in the canteen together, and sometimes we go home together. Grade 11 wasn't so bad in my opinion. I feel that grade 11 could surpass all of my best memories from my junior year.

It was Teacher's Day. We prepared a cake for our adviser, Ms. Mendez, as well as chocolates for the other teachers. We came to school earlier than usual to prepare the balloons, ribbons, cake, and letter so that we wouldn't be late when our adviser arrived. We waited for our adviser to arrive as time passed and our preparations were stable. When she arrives, we throw confetti over her and say, "Happy Teachers Day, Ma'am!" She looked at us with such joy in her eyes. To me, the money and time spent on preparation were well worth it because we made our teachers happy.

After the teacher's day, I genuinely think I get along with my other classmates. Jeremy, Ella, Trisha, Mervin, Ranz, Eyrel, Sean, Maxene, Nicole, Zoe, and Catherine became my friends. We were always wandering around in different places with my best friends Jewel and Kerby. I remember when we were eating at KFC, the crew helped us find a seat and after that he said, " start na po ang business meeting."

Just thinking about these things makes me laugh out loud. I believe this is the beginning of my new chapter. This school year, I can be more of myself. I can make decisions that I can benefit from. I can talk to them without feeling awkward. When we're all having a good time, I can make loud noises and say whatever I want and they will just laughed at me.

Grade 11 STEM 1 is a lot of fun. My classmates could make us laugh even when doing the most insignificant things. With Kerby around, he can make us laugh by doing the bare minimum. Teachers constantly tell us that we're ' dead serious ' but they didn't realize we were a bunch of kids with superficial happiness.

Therefore, I can say that my first semester of 11th grade wasn't too bad. My first semester was full of joy and good memories to cherish. It still makes me laugh just thinking about and sharing what we've been through. I can proudly say that STEM 1 never gave me a dull moment. There is never a dull moment with them. I inhale confidence and exhale fear.

‘ Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced. ’ - Soren Kierkegaard.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 8

Cult girl and Hannibal go through an exhaustive list of potential adoptive couples. 

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warning: sexual harassment, christianity, discussion of pregnancy and family planning, adoption, murder and cannibalism 

Step two: find an adoptive family.

Some would say your list of expectations for potential adoptive parents was too extensive. Impossible for any human to reach. But it was really just the bare minimum.

Regardless of if they were two men, two women, one of each, or a few people, the parents had to be trustworthy. It wasn't easy to earn Hannibal's trust, but he could recognize those who had the capacity to right away. It was a little instinct you had dubbed 'friend or food'.

On paper, the apostolic pastor and his wife of 19 years seemed like the perfect candidates. The adoption agency tried to push them on you, as they had a great track record with adopting from them prior. Three boys, all of which were honors students.

Hannibal insisted on a formal introduction, during which you could conduct a proper, though surreptitious, interview. It was an invitation to dinner.

He invited the couple into his office, where a pot of tea and an interrogation was waiting for them. Then there was you. Barely-pregnant little [F/N], feeling entirely safe so long as your fiancé was beside you.

"You're doing the right thing, y'know." The woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Landon, said upon meeting you.

"How do you mean?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"All god's life is precious." She said, placing a hand on your not-even-remotely-showing-yet stomach. "You're walking in obedience to the lord by giving this child a shot at life."

Strike one: bringing up religion unprompted. Strike two: touching me without asking first.

You wanted to swat her hand away, but remembered that patience was a virtue. She and her husband took a seat across from you.

"Y'know," The man began, his mannerisms eerily similar to those of his wife. "I don't usually begin with the god talk, but I think a higher power had to have been involved in the conception of this- well, our child. I'd like to think the good lord brought us together today."

Strike three: already believes he is entitled to my child. You're outta here.

"Don't flatter the adoption agency like that, Jacob." Hannibal chuckled, placing his teacup on the side table.

"I'm serious, Dr. Lecter." Jacob interjected. "Faith and I really do believe that god put us on this earth to prepare his smallest soldiers for the spiritual war."

You shot Hannibal a side glance that said 'can we please just eat them now?'.

The answer was no. Hannibal liked to play with his food.

"And your adult children have all moved out?" He asked.

"That's right." Jacob nodded. "We have plenty of room in our five-bedroom house for the new little slugger to run around in."

"And if it's a girl!" The wife interrupted. "We have enough closet space for all the denim maxi-skirts money could buy."

Strike four: arbitrarily genders the behavior of a nine-week-old embryo.

The man then returned the teacup to the table, not bothering to use the saucer and instead leaving a nasty ring of condensation on the polished mahogany.

"Okay." Hannibal huffed, resignedly rising from his seat. He pulled two hypodermic needles from his back pocket and carefully, subtly stuck them onto the couples' necks. They couldn't even scream.

The tacos al pastor that followed (after a few days of marinating, of course) were exquisite.

The next week brought a new couple to your doorstep. Frank and Angela, they were named. Their claim to fame was that their oldest son played football for one of those big southern party schools. Either Auburn or Alabama. There was hardly a difference.

You sat for what felt like hours listening to the man speak in unintelligible football babble, waiting for him to take a breath. Surprisingly, it was the mom who got him to finally shut up.

"Frank, please." She said with more frustration than this one situation even remotely warranted. Either she had enough intuition to know she was being tested, or she’d spent the last decade putting up with this. Possibly both. "You're boring our hosts to death."

"What? No way! She loves it!" Frank replied, then turned to you. Not to Hannibal, just you. “Aren’t you having a great time, sweetheart?” 

Strike one: takes advantage of the female socialization to be passive and polite, allowing himself to take up the most space.

You shook your head. “I hate football.” 

His wife looked quite pleased with herself. 

“Angie, I just wanted her to know what good breeding her son is going to have.” He said, without a lick of irony or self-awareness. He eyed you up and down and licked his lips. “And it is mutual, I see.” 

The room went quiet as everyone tried to determine whether he was serious or if it was just a fucked-up joke. The longer the silence lingered, the more you realized he wasn’t kidding. Angela looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I don’t know what the agency told you, Mr. Wyatt,” Hannibal said, trying not to grit his teeth. “She isn’t a surrogate. She’s already pregnant.” 

Frank’s jaw hung dumbly open. “I thought you were looking for a sperm donor? I just-” 

“No.” You cut him off, raising your hand and covering your face. “I don’t want to know what you thought.” 

“Well, I would!” Angela interjected, righteous fury eclipsing what should have been crippling embarrassment. “What exactly did you think this was, Francis?” 

“The file said that he was over fifty, so I just assumed--” Frank rationalized, his voice far too loud for the room. “Y’know? That she wanted a baby that wouldn’t come out all funny-looking?” 

“You’re disgusting.” You blurted out. 

“Francis Howard Wyatt,” Angela scolded as if she were talking to her son. “You are forty-eight and the only increasing part of your body is your blood pressure. Why on Earth would any woman choose you over her smart, handsome doctor fiancé?”

This made Hannibal sit up a little straighter. He wanted Francis on the butcher’s block yesterday, but he momentarily considered letting Angela live. 

“They’re not married?” Frank whispered, or whatever the loud-aggressive-toxic-masculinity version of whispering was. He paused, as the dead hamster on the wheel powering his brain crept back to life. “That actually makes sense.” 

Angela loudly smacked her hand against her face. “Dr. Lecter, Ms. [L/N], I am so sorry.” 

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Wyatt.” Hannibal stood up, readying the next batch of needles. “It just makes what I’m about to do easier.” 

It took quite a bit of restraint to not make their deaths hurt, but he made up for it when it came time to carve. He had fun running his fittingly small penis through a meat grinder. Not with any intent to cook it, though. Just because. 

Hannibal wanted to make Francis Wyatt into the least dignified meal imaginable. You quickly recalled going to a friend’s barbeque in Georgia and encountering a horrendously Southern delicacy known as Frito Pie. You proposed the idea to Hannibal, who, after reviling in abject horror at the notion of eating something out of a bag, agreed that it was the most fitting end. He could spare a few pounds of flesh to grind up and make into chili. 

The third week brought yet another couple. They seemed smart enough to realize your invitation wasn't the friendly olive branch the others had interpreted it as. Their healthy skepticism was refreshing, to say the least. Then, you met them: Max and Archie.

"You'll have to forgive my partner's paranoia." Max said upon entering the house. He tugged playfully at Archie's hand. "We watched Get Out recently, so an invitation to the suburbs sounded some alarms in his sleep-deprived brain."

"I love that movie." You chimed in. "It reminds me of my family."

"Oh no." Archie's eyes widened in only half-pretend fear. He shot an I-told-you-so look in his partner's direction. 

"But my favorite horror flick has to be Midsommar." You added. "My friends and I saw a midnight screening and we didn't sleep at all that night."

"But have you seen Hereditary?" Archie posited.

"Of course." You shrugged. "Aster is totally genius."

You made more than just polite conversation with the couple. Max, despite his young age, was a skilled data analyst and day trader. He attributed his success to the hard work of his immigrant parents. Archie was an environmental lawyer and land activist. He was also a bit of a thrill junkie, indulging in everything from scary movies to bungee jumping.

It didn't take long to realize that you wouldn't be eating them. They were far too pleasant of company to eat.

"So when is this baby planning to make its entrance?" Archie asked, gesturing to you. "You don’t look all that pregnant to me."

You put your hand over your slightly-protruding stomach. "Late August, I believe. If everything goes according to plan."

"You're not far along at all, aren’t you?" Max observed. "That gives us plenty of time to prove ourselves to you."

"Believe me." You put up your hand. "You're doing a great job so far."

“If you like horror stories, we might have to indulge you in the last two encounters we had.” Hannibal commented, leaning back comfortably in his chair. That was a good sign. “No blood was spilled, thank god. Would have ruined my carpets. But believe me when I tell you it came very close.” 

The couple laughed along. Archie leaned in like he was about to tell a life-shattering secret. “You wouldn’t believe the hoops we had to jump through to even have the chance to adopt. And I don’t want to say that it’s because we’re an interracial gay couple, but...” 

“Agencies aren’t exactly colorblind.” You finished, via his prompting. 

“She gets it.” Archie pointed to you. “See, Maxie? She agrees with me.” 

Max pushed his glasses up his nose. “I never said I disagreed.” 

You spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for the conversation to take a sharp left turn off a cliff, but it didn’t happen. They were wonderful company; polite, intelligent and articulate. Exactly the kind of people you’d want to see taking care of your child. 

You’d have to look for you next meal elsewhere. 

[draken-rotzi]

Bug Man x Reader Part One*

Read on AO3

SO, wanted to write something of this topic bc we all need some more Musical!BJ in our lives, it’s a nice comfort ngl, I enjoyed writing it and hope you do too c:

(Got carried away so here's the first half while I edit the second one in the meantime, it takes a bit to get to the main part we all want to read forgive mE it's better in th next one believeme)

I'd love some feedback since I haven't written anything since 2019 ;v; some wordings might seem odd since my brain speaks spanish first english second

Summary; Old boring university life and a broken but hopeful heart meet the supernatural and whacky demon/ghost with the most, reader-chan needs to get out from a toxic relationship and what's a better help than a magic dead man? Cutting ties might seem easier when someone else arrives and flips your world upside down with no warning.

Mostly fluff, bits of angst l8r

Female reader, but tried to not give any other specifics to the character themselves, OCs appear

It was a fresh autumn afternoon, birds still chirped before migrating to warmer areas for the winter, the wind was cold but nice, not yet freezing but enough for people to wear light coats. You sit on a school desk, a class about taxes and fees, you drift off a bit looking at the window while half-listening.

You lived in a medium but popular city, it was a great place, with nice, kind people for the most part, huge malls, restaurants and lots of places to go out with friends or alone.

...

"Miss ___? Care to answer this equation here for the class?" The teacher asks, a tall, slender woman that radiated authority, it made some students shiver in times like this with a direct question.

"Oh? Yeah- sure miss Adams" You replied, while trying not to look confused since you just missed the topic, hopefully you remembered from the last lesson by the time you walked up to the blackboard and took the marker to write.

...

After class, you were walking with your friends to the cafeteria next to the main exit to wait for an uber to arrive; your side job as a freelance wasn't good enough yet to afford a car, but it helped pay the bills and to have enough for a bit more more than the basic needs.

Your two best friends at college were Itai and Rob. Itai was a funny dude, with a darker tone on his skin, not so tall and full of charisma. Rob was a bit more collected, but still a lot of fun to be around, being the voice of reason for you three most of the time, emphasis in most, because sometimes he got carried away too.

"Man I hate that class, I don't understand a thing! Why do we even need math?" Itai tells the group, sounding annoyed as usual, he was a simple guy, but simple guys need a degree too, to secure a better job.

"Well if you paid attention instead of eating that cold baguette in class you won't be that confused my man" Rob replies, laughing a bit at the end

"At least you weren't asked to do math in front of the class" You sigh, putting down your backpack and sitting on a table next to the building's exit, looking at your phone to know how much time was left for the driver to arrive, around 10 minutes.

"Yeah everyone felt so bad for you, but hey, if you’ll be daydreaming at least look at the front instead of the window next time, it might help you" Rob said while opening a bottle of apple juice, his favorite, he wouldn't drink any other thing, he was probably 60% apple juice after years of drinking it that often.

A few minutes passed by, the three friends chatting about the day's events, their plans for the weekend, and how to get the next assignment done. A figure appeared behind you putting a hand on your shoulders.

"Well hello ladies!" A man chirped, you turned around laughing softly

"Hey yourself!" you replied "Already off?"

"Yeah I've got the last hour free so I'm gonna head out to Kris' place, we'll play some games and work on that big project I told you the other day"

"Great, have fun! You say hi to Kris from me yeah?"

"Sure thing, see you later!" He says with a squeeze of his hand on your shoulder, then a quick pat on the head, turning around to leave.

"Bye, take care Nick!" you say as the man walks out of the cafeteria's door waving a hand.

Silence lingers for a bit until Itai breaks it

"Hey so, you're still going out with him?" He says with a crooked smile and a nervous look, Rob has a similar expression

"Yeeeah... it's been okay for some time now, you know? Hah" You look down for a second, pondering "Maybe this time is the good run?" Uncertainty fills the question, but you still smile to your friends.

Nikolas wasn't the model boyfriend, at least not for your friends; he was full of sweet words, hugs and kisses, only in private places though. When it came to the campus he treated you just like any other friend.

There was a small reason, according to him, he wanted to wait a bit more to make it public, get to know each other better, just to be certain from both sides.

That was the excuse a year ago.

It wasn't like he was out and flirting with other people, not at all, but one could expect to be treated like a love partner after so much time and moments together, you’ve gone to the movies, to dinner, to each other's houses, hell your families knew you two were dating, it just wasn't more than the bare minimum from him, seemed more like a thing someone does if they have free time, not make time for that thing, the thing being the relationship.

It seemed to be only a problem of neglect and apathy, probably, though you were so dumbly in love with him at first, you have been hoping and asking for a change since the relationship escalated to more than just holding hands and light kisses.

"I don't think anything's gonna change, he's been stalling for a whole year now" Itai mumbled, looking at Rob, he nodded in agreement

"Yeah, just dump him already, you deserve way better, you give him everything you got and he just throws the leftovers at you."

"I guess, but we're going out this weekend! You know he doesn't like going out often"

"With you" Rob adds

You hesitate a reply, it was true, most of the times you asked him to go out for a change, he was either too busy or decided to change the event the same day, turning it into a make out session in his house every time. Even though you saw each other 2 days every week, you have seen him go out with his friends more often, on actual enrichment outside activities.

"I know..." you sigh " I'll think about it, I'll try to talk with him about it next time”

Both of your friends let out a small groan of annoyance, they knew you weren't gonna do it, or that he'll just brush it off as always, between the lines of 'oh you're overreacting'

"Ah my ride's here!" You got up from the table and grabbed your backpack, tossing it over one shoulder.

"See he can't even give you a lift to your place!" Itai teased, they knew how you felt about the whole situation, but joking around sometimes made it a bit less bitter.

"Ha-ha, you know we live in opposite ends of the city! Besides none of you give me a ride either" you said while sticking a tongue out on your way outside the cafeteria

"Yeah because you live at the ends of the earth for some weird reason!" Rob joked back

Everyone said their quick goodbyes, and after a calm ride back home you remembered something just as you were locking the door, tossing your backpack into the living room’s couch you walked over to your room.

You flopped onto the bed, looking at your phone you opened some pending messages on the family group chat, apparently a distant relative of yours had died, and the family was gonna hold a small funeral tomorrow morning on the local cemetery, you didn’t enjoy those kind of events since you’d get really emotional, but since it was something really small, no more than 20 people, it was private and most likely no strangers would see you cry over someone you barely knew.

Tomorrow was saturday so it was okay to spend one free morning humoring your family.

After some mindless browsing on your phone, it was already 12:30am, you haven’t even got off your sneakers since you got home, you did a quick self-cleanup in the bathroom, tossing today’s clothes to the side to change into an oversized shirt with no pants as a makeup pijamas, it got a bit warmer in the afternoon so you wanted to enjoy wearing something light before winter fully arrived, getting under the sheets and you were out fast, maybe from all the overthinking of what’d tomorrow might bring, you’ve forgotten what are funerals like.

But there was certainly no way you’d know what would happen at all the next day

...

The event was simple, thankfully there was not much crying, seemed like everyone accepted already what had happened, some kind of illness you heard, at least they weren’t suffering anymore and they’ve come to terms with everyone close to them, that was nice you thought, it sure felt a bit heavy in there, as usual for funerals. After the ceremony, the family offered a barbeque in the departed’s honor to bright up the mood a bit; right at the cementery, maybe it was cheaper than renting a place for it.

Free tasty food was something only an idiot would decline, so you spent some time doing small talk with the relatives you knew best, but still you mostly just listened and ate in silence.

You saw a glimpse of color and movement out of the corner of your eye, since everyone was wearing dark tones it stood out, turning your head there was just an empty plastic table with some half-full plates and glasses, still, you felt a shiver up your spine, it was probably the weather.

When you looked back at your phone's clock it was already 6 pm, guess dad jokes and food made time fly, you said your goodbyes and condolences to everyone and headed out, you were still at the cemetery, so you had to call a ride back home, the driver dropped you near a convenience store just around the corner of your apartment, since you needed to buy a snack for dinner, on sundays you usually had takeout, so no need to worry much about it right now.

_______________________________________________________

“I know I didn’t imagine anything, that breather saw me at the cemetery! we even locked eyes for a second! It may work this time, just gotta get closer while they're alone”

_______________________________________________________

…

Walking down the street, humming a bit to some music and a bag of snacks in hand, dusk started to set, some stars could be seen and the sky was a beautiful fuchsia tone with oranges and purples mixed in the clouds. On instinct, you took your phone out of your jeans pocket to take a picture of the cute sky.

Just as you took a couple of pictures, to make sure at least one was good to share, something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye again

You felt a shiver like a cold wind out of nowhere, similar as to when a car drives a bit too close to someone on winter, but there was not even one driving car on the street.

"Oof, should get back now, it's getting colder" picking up the peace to get home faster-

A piece of paper slapped you in the face

“EW- wind trash” you muttered while grabbing what seemed to be a flyer, and it flew indeed.

You naturally took a closer look at it when you took it into your hands and out of your face, it was a very faded print, with an image of an… insect? man? holding a hammer over a small house and people, you chuckled, it was a funny irony cartoon, a bug crushing people.

Half of the flyer was unreadable because of some liquid or dirt, already dry but you couldn’t read what was supposed to be, written under the drawing was the end of an ad;

“Ghostly services one name away!

RESIDENTIAL - INDUSTRIAL - COMMERCIAL

Call BETELGEUSE

BETELGEUSE

BETELGEUSE!”

“Betelgeuse? ...Like that one star?” There was that shiver again, Halloween was a week ago, so this kind of paper seemed normal to be hanging around with the wind.

As you walked down the street, some lights started flickering, the cold wind seemed stronger and the sky was a deep dark purple now, strange, it was supposed to be clear dark blue by now, fall nights came quickly this time of the year, still it didn't feel like the usual night. You were just around the corner of your street when the closest light bulb exploded and zapped with a loud 'CRASH', making you stop for a second cowering from the shards

"What the-!? No one told me we'd be getting winter thunderstorms sooner what the eff" muttering swears you made a run to your apartment, scurrying for the door keys in the process, lights kept flashing and the wind made windows sing a high 'oooo' noise, you have seen this kind of weather before but no one would like to be outside when it happened, nervously and quickly you finally fit the key in the lock and opened the door, hurrying inside and closing it behind, a loud bang thundered through the silent room, the unexpected storm slamming against the walls and windows, you left the lights on before going out.

After a minute it seemed to calm down, wind turning into a breeze and the sky now it's usual black, no stars in the sky.

You let out a sigh and walked to the counter to drop your keys, the phone and your purse, you had to make sure all the windows were closed for the night, luckily it was Saturday, so no need to go out tomorrow on that crazy weather.

Windows secured, you changed into your winter pajamas, a gray pair of pants with a pattern of a cat on toast and eggs, with a pastel blue loose shirt. Making your way to the kitchen you decided a light snack would be enough for tonight, after that run and emotion on the way back home you had no energy to cook a proper dinner, not even microwave, it was also too late for it anyways you thought.

You put the snack bowl and a cup of water on the kitchen counter, looking to grab your phone. You noticed you still had the dirty flyer, forgot to drop it between the commotion maybe?

Placing it aside and unlocking your phone screen, you opened the ‘best friend's’ chat group

You. 'Hey guys, did you get any of that weird winter storm action today after school?'

Rob. 'Nah, it was a clear sky for me'

Itai. 'Same, also I was asleep all afternoon'

You. 'Strange, I got caught on this whirlwind on my way back home from the store, just my luck I guess >:('

Both of the boys. 'Lol yea'

Putting the phone down and chomping on some of the snacks, you thought about the events, it was indeed a clear sky earlier, only a couple of common clouds you took pictures of before it. You grabbed the phone again, quickly to see if any of the photos looked good.

"Pleasepleaseplease" you muttered in excitement, it was a very cute view, hopefully one picture captured it nicely.

And they did, a couple looked stunning, you smiled, thinking at least it was worth getting your hair all messed up by the wind, you were about to delete one picture it since it was blurry when you noticed a different kind of blur, it was gray with splashes of green in the corner, similar to what you saw at the funeral.

"There was nothing green on the other pictures, was it?" you looked through the other photos and they were pretty normal, full of pink, purple and blue from the sunset.

You looked back at the flyer

"Betelgeuse, betelgeuse, betelgeuse huh" You said in a playful tone, grabbing the torn paper from the counter, you felt a shiver, a strong one this time, well that was the opposite of a calming experience, but still the word felt strange when you said it, it wasn't like you hadn't said before, Orion was a popular constellation, and the Betelgeuse star was on it; but this time the air inside had a tense feeling.

All the lights went off after a second "Now a blackout? What's with today ugh" picking up your phone to use as a flashlight, after a couple of seconds before you could turn it on, all the lights came back again, but you almost had a heart attack when you saw someone standing in the center of the living room, enveloped in a green mist.

"FUCK wh- WHO THE FUCK-" you stuttered before turning around and grabbing the closest thing to use as a weapon, a wooden spoon used for beating eggs this morning "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE? WHO ARE YOU? GET OUT!"

The figure was a man, taller than you, dressed in a striped black and white suit, dark hair with green tints at the end, a wicked smile plastered on his face, he took a look around, then back to you, endless chills went down your spine when you met his eyes, you could feel the tense aura from before growing stronger, anticipating, colder.

"Well who might I be? You should know, you called my name baby! Glad to make some business with you tonight!" He said as he extended a hand and walked, floated? quickly towards a paralized you, frozen in place, you only managed to put the spoon up in self defense from whomever this man could be, the lights were out for just a few seconds, was he inside the apartment all this time?

"S-stop right there you!" tried to threaten the man with the wooden tool, he didn't seem to notice nor care, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, then placing a sloppy kiss in your face, petrified, you shivered and gripped the spoon harder, he felt oddly cold.

...Did he just kiss you? Who does he think he is??

"No no, no stopping now! We just got started cakes, and now that you said my name three times, I can finally interact with you and everything here in the world of the living! Gotta say thanks it's been real boring being invisible for so long lemme tell ya-"

*WHACK*

You hit the man in the head with the wooden spoon as hard as you could.

...the spoon broke.

The man's smile grew wider

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 71 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Fun fact: this rewrite is now the second-longest fic in the Drace Race RPF section of AO3. (Second only to the original story, lol.) So if you’re looking for a lot of content…we’ve got you. ;) Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Violet revealed her estranged relationship with her family to Sutan, and Courtney struggled to live up to Miss Fame’s demands.

This Chapter: Some uncharacteristic vulnerability from Violet, Met Gala meetings and morning television.

***

“Do you want more marshmallows?”

“I always want more marshmallows.”

Katya grinned as she got up from the kitchen table, grabbing Trixie’s mug to top them both up. They were decorating gingerbread men, Katya pulling them from the oven last night. Trixie was doing clothes, drawing in the lines and putting details on them, one of his favorite jobs.

It was a tradition of theirs, spending the Sunday before Christmas in their pajamas, preparing cookies and watching Home Alone, the leftover icing always ending up in the bedroom for some sticky afternoon fun.

***

“Aaaand release...”

“Oh god,” Sutan groaned, rolling onto his back and spreading out like a starfish. “I’m dead.”

When he had jokingly asked if he could join Violet for her yoga session, he hadn’t figured she’d say yes, and he definitely hadn’t expected that it’d be this hard, those last few breaths of extended child’s pose essentially torture where he could feel his bones bend and creak.

“Stop being so dramatic,” Violet grinned, his girlfriend sitting back on her knee, the leg with her cast spread out to the side. “We only did 40 minutes.”

“You’re not even sweating.” Sutan looked at her, Violet’s hair in a high ponytail, the Sunday look of one of his shirts and a sports bra quickly becoming a fave.

“Some of us remember to do more than weights and cardio, Mr. Amrull.”

“I’m texting my trainer right now,” Sutan reached over his head, grabbing his phone that he had left on the floor next to their mats, Violet giggling as she laid down next to him, putting her head on his shoulder.

“There,” Sutan pressed send, his trainer probably falling off of his chair when he read the message, Sutan always attempting to get away with the bare minimum when it came to exercise, but he refused to be humiliated by being unable to reach his toes.

He was just about to put his phone down, when Violet reached up and tapped the screen, his front camera opening up, both of them in frame as they were lying on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a picture?” Violet smiled, her sarcastic tone never wavering. “To document the moment.”

Sutan looked at the screen. It was so incredibly tempting to say yes, to keep this moment in the private password protected collection that had steadily grown since Thanksgiving, Violet really and truly trying to let him take pictures, but he couldn’t say yes, not when he knew why she was so confident.

“And can I post it?”

“Post it?” Violet raised an eyebrow, sitting up on her elbows. “Why? Isn’t your hair...?”

“A mess?” Sutan didn’t want to smile, but it was impossible not to, Violet knowing him way too well if she had already figured out that he was sometimes embarrassingly vain about his hairstyle, the mess on his head looking like he had been fucking for an hour. “Yes, but I still want to post it.”

“I-” Violet had pulled away completely now, not a single trace of the sweetness left. “No.”

“Violet,” Sutan sat up as well, putting his phone down, “I know you hate social media, but you’re my girlfriend, and I don’t think what I ask for is unreasonable-”

“Sutan. Please” Violet grabbed her mat and rolled it together in an attempt to avoid him. “I said no.”

“And I’m pushing because I don’t understand.” Sutan could feel the annoyance build, the hurt and the rejection. It stung every single time Violet denied him, hurt every time she neglected what they had.

“I’m not saying we have to announce it with a workout selfie,” Sutan hated that they were fighting, but he couldn’t help himself, “but I want to tell the world that we’re together.”

“And I don’t-” Violet looked at him, her brown eyes filled with hurt. “If the world knows, they know, and I don’t want them to know where I am or what I’m doing.”

There it was. The they, the them, the family from Atlanta that was haunting his girlfriend's life like a shadow that had slowly started to creep into his too.

“Violet, I hate to be the one to tell you,” Sutan didn’t touch her, simply putting his hand down on the floor next to hers, telling her that he was there. “But the internet exists. If they have your name, they can find you, no matter what you do to hide.”

“Have you taken a moment to consider that they might not have that?”

Sutan paused, Violet’s words like a bomb.

“... What?”

Did her family not have her name? It was true that Violet Chachki barely got any hits on google, that it was Parson’s assignments and internships that popped up, the Galactica employee directory right at the top, but Sutan had never considered that possibility, had never even toyed with it.

“This wasn’t how I planned on telling you. Actually, I probably wasn’t counting on telling you at all, but I’m not…” Violet was fiddling with the tiniest hole in her yoga mat, her fingers tugging on the foam. “I wasn’t born Violet. Wasn’t even born a Chachki. Hasn’t it ever seemed weird to you that my last name literally means trinket?”

“It does?”

“Mmh,” Violet smiled, the same heavy sadness he had seen in the hospital in her eyes. “I needed to not be… Blair anymore.”

“Blair?”

“Yes,” Violet nodded. “Blair Dardo. It was my birth name. I never liked it, and I changed it the moment I turned 18, left it behind the second I could. That’s why I can’t,” Violet gestured vaguely to Sutan’s phone. “Changing it meant that they can’t, that they can’t find me, and I-”

Sutan didn’t know what to say, but it felt like he had just been given another puzzle piece in the mystery that was his girlfriend.

“I’m sorry.”

Violet’s head snapped to attention, her eyes widening in confusion. “...What?”

“I’m sorry.” Sutan said it again, making sure he put his genuine emotion behind the words. “I should have realized that you weren’t saying no to be difficult, and yet I kept pushing.”

“Sutan-” Violet still looked confused and a little suspicious, like she didn’t really understand what he was doing. “You don’t have to-”

“No but I do.” Sutan smiled. “I get it now, and I’m sorry, but next time you have a deep dark secret, maybe you could just tell me instead of this charade-”

Sutan was cut off as Violet threw herself in his arms, knocking him down on the floor and kissing him like her life depended on it, gratitude rolling off of her in waves.

***

“Raja?”

Alyssa held out the plate of croissants, Raja waving it away since she didn’t want one. The entire senior management team was gathered in the  conference room, Fame for some ungodly reason always insisting on a full breakfast spread for their Monday meetings, even though only a fraction of them ever actually ate any of it.

“So,” Fame looked around, a gold fountain pen in her hand, a black moleskin notebook open in front of her. “Any updates?”

The theme of today's meeting was the 2015 Met Gala, Raja barely hiding a groan when Courtney had sent out the meeting agenda.

It wasn’t that she disliked the Met Gala, the first Monday in May a spectacular party, but it was such a hassle getting there, the gala the fashion world's version of the Oscars.

“Yes,” Pearl smiled, turning around in her chair. She was weirdly chipper, her blonde hair collected in a clip, her signature leather jacket exchanged with a cropped black fur. “We have the final confirmation from Jessica Chastain’s team. She’s in.”

“Good,” Fame nodded, making a note in her moleskin, the fact that Fame was actually writing herself more than enough to cement the severity of the situation. Courtney was standing against the wall, Ivy sitting at the table with her computer open, typing away, but when it came to the Met, Fame left nothing up to chance.

“She’s looking forward to working with us, and she says she’s honored-”

“Yada yada yada,” Fame made a hand puppet, and Raja had to hide a smile, Pearl leaning back in her chair with a roll of her eyes, mouthing at everyone else that she’d send a follow up email.

It was Fame who had requested Jessica, in her own roundabout way, her friend casually mentioning to Raja that she had a good smile, which was more than enough for Raja to make Pearl offer her up as Galactica’s celebrity face.

It wasn’t every house who did it, but the big ones always had a celebrity at the gala, wearing their clothes and repping the brand.

“Does anyone know if they’ve moved away from the terrible theme yet?”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” Alaska offered up, the promotional material the Met had sent out at the start of the fall in the middle of the table thanks to Ivy’s forthsight. “It’s December, and since we haven’t heard anything, they’re sticking with China's influence on western fashion.”

“Good god, I was really hoping they had come to their senses.” Fame breathed out through her nose, and Raja had to agree with her. Sure, ‘China: Through the Looking Glass’ made sense as an art exhibition, but there was really no way to convert it to fashion without being culturally insensitive at best and offensively appropriative at worst.

Besides, Galactica had never been a brand that sought inspiration from the east in their designs and aesthetics, which made the entire situation quite the predicament.

“I’m sure we can work with it,” Trixie gave a small smile, the stack of papers by his elbow indicating that he had probably already put his senior designers to work coming up with concepts.

“And how,” Fame turned, looking directly at Trixie. “Are we supposed to work with it? Raja’s the only one who could possibly get away with being theme appropriate.”

Usually, Fame and Raja were the ones who walked the carpet together with their celebrity, Fame a nervous wreck for weeks before the gala because of all the strangers, while Raja enjoyed it because of her modeling days, seeing old acquaintances without the stresses of fashion week, a delightful yearly treat.

“I’m Indonesian.” Raja knew Fame didn’t mean anything by it, and she wasn’t that concerned about being politically correct herself, but everyone knew what it could mean for a fashion house to misstep, Dolce and Gabbana somehow walking directly from one scandal and into another one. “Not Chinese.”

“See?” Fame sighed, leaning back in her chair. “It’s a controversial time bomb. Either, we stay on theme, which I refuse since I look terrible in Chinese red, ”

“So we’re going off theme?” Trixie had picked up his papers, sorting through them, and Raja felt a moment of gratitude for their head of design, Trixie of course coming prepared with off-theme suggestions as well.

“Unless they get a grip and change it? Yes. Yes we are.”

*

“There!” Everyone held their breath as Maxwell pointed at Violet’s screen, an email from Ivy just ticking in, the Met Gala meeting still in full swing.

“Open it, Chachki!” Blu was practically biting her nails, hopping from one foot to the other, her red hair in a braid over her shoulder.

“Alright, alright-“ Violet clicked on the email, Bob standing right behind her, his eyes flying over the screen before he called out.

“It’s Jessica!”

A collective sigh of relief went through the floor, a loud ‘yes’ coming from Kiara who was clapping her hands together, the group breaking up, chatter filling the air.

“Thank god,” Maxwell groaned, putting a hand on Violet’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I knew having you here would be worth it Chachki.”

“Right.” Violet raised an eyebrow, looking up at him, clearly not understanding why no one had thought to simply ask Ivy for updates before, the suggestion just casually slipping from her during morning coffee, the entire department running with it instantly. “But I still don’t-“

“Get it?” They turned to look over at Jovan who was sitting at his own desk, the man one of the few who hadn’t gathered around Violet’s computer.

“Yes.” Violet nodded. “If you needed information all this time, you could have just asked-”

“Like we could have just asked you?” Bob said, cutting her off and Violet opened her mouth, only to close it again. “Exactly.” Bob grinned. “You would have told us to fuck off.”

“I see your point.” Violet tapped her fingers on her desk, a small smile on her lips since everyone knew she would have said those exact words directly to their faces when she had been in Fame’s front office. “But, why is it such a big deal if a celeb is confirmed or not? The gala isn’t until May, that’s 4 months away and it’s three outfits. A whole collection is usually done in that time.”

“A collection doesn’t have to be approved by the celebrity,” Maxwell counted on his fingers, “the celebrity’s stylist, Vogue and Anna Wintour personally on top of Trixie, Raja and Fame. Alexis usually starts producing concepts in October.”

“As soon as they reveal the theme girl!” Alexis yelled over her shoulder, already pulling her sketches from their shelf, the confirmation meaning that she’d be in a meeting with Trixie for the rest of the day, working out the details of the first round of negotiations with the celebrity.

“Huh…” Violet looked around, the puzzled expression still on her face. “And what about-“

“Fame and Raja?”

Violet nodded.

“You’d think Fame would be the difficult one-“ Maxwell smiled.

“But make something gorgeous and custom in ivory and she’s on board,” Jovan grinned, putting the pen he was using behind his ear as he turned around in his chair. “Every year, she pretends like she’ll follow the theme, and then never does.”

“Exactly.” Maxwell nodded. “Fame is demanding, but consistent. Trixie has an entire drawer of Fame-appropriate outfits that we all contribute to whenever we have an idea.”

“That makes a disturbing amount of sense,” Violet looked mildly impressed, and if any of the rumors Maxwell had heard about how she had managed Fame’s front office, that approach wasn’t too far off from how Violet herself had attempted to tame the beast.

“Rule one of surviving at Galactica: Never disappoint Miss Fame. For once, however, Fame isn’t the problem.” Maxwell sighed, taking a seat on the edge of Violet’s desk. “Raja is.”

“Raja?” Violet looked genuinely surprised. “Really?”

“Yes really.” Maxwell crossed his arms. “Every year, she tells us that she’s chill, that she’ll wear whatever goes with the spring collection or the theme-“

“And every single year, she changes her mind at least four times.” Bob chimed in, the drama loving smirks on his lip. “More if you’re lucky.”

“Which is why,” Maxwell nudged Bob’s side with his elbow. “We’ve unanimously decided that you have the honor of dressing Raja for this year's Met Gala.”

“Me?” Violet’s eyes widened. “What? Why?” Violet looked at them, confusion painted on her face. “I’m the most junior member of staff.”

“True, but you’re also sucking her brother's dick,” Maxwell grinned, “so we figured she can’t kill you during the process, unlike the rest of us mere mortals.”

***

It should have been one of the most exciting mornings since Courtney started at Galactica--Miss Fame and Raja were being interviewed on a talk show, and so she got to go to the famous 30 Rockefeller Plaza building, and be on the set of a real television show. Unfortunately, it was such a whirlwind of activity and Miss Fame was in such a demanding mood that she didn’t have a second to enjoy it.

She felt like a chicken with its head cut off, running around in a hectic scramble to meet every request. Today was the last day before their holiday break, and even though Courtney knew that spending her break with Bianca would be incredible, she also knew that she had about a billion things to do before that could even start. Today was supposed to be a half day, but with how packed the schedule was, she’d be lucky to leave by 5.

She entered Miss Fame’s green room, silently handing her the coffee she’d asked for and then leaning on the wall to catch her breath. Miss Fame took a sip and then immediately spit the coffee back out.

“What is this?” she asked, holding the cup out like it was a bag of dog shit.

“It’s your usual-”

“This is not my usual. This is weak, and not hot enough, and-did you just roll your eyes?”

“No, Miss!” Courtney insisted, praying that she was telling the truth. She was tired, having arrived at the office at 6 am to drop off her stuff for Bianca’s, and there was a teeny tiny chance that she may have (accidentally) rolled her eyes. “Would you like a new-”

“Let me tell you something, Courtney. This may be the last day before a vacation, but I expect you to be fully present and accounted for. We have too many important things going on and I will not accept anything less than your absolute very best. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Now. Please go find me some decent coffee before I get a migraine.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“And after you come back, I need you to go to the dry cleaners. I’ve decided to wear my ivory Valentino suit to meet the investors later.”

“Yes, Miss, will do.”

“That’s all,” Miss Fame said, waving her hand, and Courtney took off back down the labyrinthine hallways of 30 Rock to hunt down a coffee that would meet her standards.

***

“Good morning! Welcome back to Coast to Coast. I’m Nina West, and today we are positively blessed to have with us the icons of fashion, Miss Fame and Raja Gemini of Galactica, here to talk to us about dressing to impress in the new year, and their exciting new business ventures. Thank you so much for being here, ladies!”

“Thank you, we’re thrilled to be here,” Fame smiled, the lie easily falling out of her red painted lips.

Raja could see the way her hands were clenched in her lap, her wedding ring turned inward and digging into her palm, and knew that she was at her tensest.

Raja had long ago gotten used to giving live interviews. She had a laid-back attitude and while she always wanted to represent the company in the most flattering light, she tended to relax and let the conversation flow naturally.

Fame, however, had never quite gotten the hang of it in the same way. She was just so brand-conscious, almost to a debilitating degree, written interviews so much more her speed.

She always looked impeccable, very much the ice goddess she was so often called, but Fame had never gotten the same confidence in her speaking skills as Raja, who had been dragged through developing them in her modeling career.

Even though Fame hated being on live TV, they occasionally got an offer they couldn’t turn down, and between the makeup line being released in January and the overhaul of their website and online store, they had a lot to plug.

The whole thing was so stressful Fame had asked Raja four times to check her pits for sweat stains, her papers with facts from the makeup department and pointers from Pearl not leaving her hand until they literally had to go on.

Raja leaned forward, giving Fame’s shoulder a reassuring pat, and added, “This is our favorite show, we never miss it!”

“Aww, thank you!” said Nina, grinning. “Now, I’ve heard through the grapevine that you have an exciting announcement.”

“Yes, and we’re so happy to be able to share the news with your viewers first-”

“An exclusive!” Nina exclaimed, eyes comically wide and mouth open as if this was news to her.

“Yes, exactly. Early this year, we released a limited makeup line, and it’s been doing just wonderfully. So in 2015, we’re going to be rolling out a full line of makeup and skincare, with special edition palettes and colors all throughout the spring.”

“All natural, vegan, cruelty free...I always want the very best for my own skin and I wouldn’t offer our customers anything less,” Fame cut in, and Raja felt a surge of pride at how natural she sounded. All their rehearsing had clearly paid off.

“If you use it, I’ll use it!” Nina said with a chuckle. “You both have the most gorgeous skin I’ve ever seen.”

“We expect the first batch to sell out quickly,” Raja said, “So go straight to our website, Galactica dot com, and sign up to be part of the mailing list to receive alerts on all new product launches and where they’ll show up in stores.”

“I’m doing that, the second we go to commercials,” Nina said. “But first, I heard that there’s more news about your spring line...”

***

Patrick reached for the remote, turning off the TV as Nina West rounded out the segment with Fame and Raja.

He was sitting in his office, wrapping up the last details before the firm could close down for the holiday break.

Fame had done a great job, the nerves he knew she had felt not showing on her beautiful face. Patrick picked up his phone, a smile on his lips as he started to type out a text.

Fame would probably not read it until she left work for the day, but he was proud of her, and he hoped that she was proud of herself too.

***

Fame collapsed onto her dressing room sofa, completely emotionally drained, the crystals she had stuffed in her bra digging against her skin.

Being on camera for live television always took up every drop of energy, and left her with nothing to spare. Unfortunately, she knew that she didn’t have much time to rest, since she was due at the Russian Tea Room to meet her potential investors in less than an hour. The makeup artist they’d hired was standing by for touch-ups, and her ivory Valentino suit hung in its dry cleaning bag on the clothing rack. But first, she knew that her blood sugar was dangerously low, so she needed…

She looked around. Where on earth was Courtney? Fame had never met someone with such a tendency to be underfoot at the worst times and completely MIA when her presence was required. She walked to the doorway, spotting Courtney having a casual chat with a girl in a headset, carefree as anything.

“Courtney!” she snapped, and Courtney looked up, surprised, even though she was literally here for the sole purpose of taking care of Fame’s needs. “Come!”

Fame turned and walked back into her dressing room, irritated, the rapid click of Courtney’s heels as she ran over grating on her nerves.

“Yes, Miss?”

“I need to eat.”

“Oh…” Courtney’s gaze shifted to the table, where a fruit basket sat amongst assorted pastries and other snack food.

“Not that sugary garbage,” Fame explained. “Violet always had- Don’t you have any protein bars?”

“Oh, of course!” Courtney exclaimed, rummaging through her purse.

Fame rolled her eyes, sighing. That girl truly was useless. What Bianca saw in her, Fame would never understand. She took one of the protein bars that Courtney had carefully lined up on the arm of the sofa beside her.

“I think you’d better head back to the office and prepare the conference room for the investor presentation.”

“Oh, but did you need anything el-”

“No, I’m much more concerned with the meeting,” Fame said. “Everything needs to be perfect. These people will be paying attention to every little detail.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Oh, and take this back with you…” Fame handed over a large manila envelope. “It’s some sketches I’ve been working on.”

“Sure.” Courtney began to put the envelope into her bag, and Fame’s eyes widened with alarm.

“Don’t bend them! For god’s sake…”

“Sorry Miss,” Courtney said, biting her lip, holding the envelope at her side. “Is there anything else you need before I-”

“No. That’s all.”

***

Courtney sat in the back of a cab, eyes squeezed tightly shut, using the time in traffic to center herself and go over her massive to do list. She had to make sure that all the presentations for the meeting were set up, work with IT to test it, messenger out the holiday gifts that Miss Fame added at the last minute, make sure the schedule for January was in order, set up her out of office reply…

Plus, the meeting with the investors wouldn’t begin until they were back from the restaurant, so the “half day” was looking more and more like a full day. At this point, settling in at Bianca’s felt like it was a million years away--and traffic crawling at a standstill didn’t help anything.

She pulled out her phone. Maybe she could set up some of the gift deliveries now, while she was stuck in the cab.

When they were finally in sight of the Galactica building, her phone started buzzing. She looked at the screen. Miss Fame. That couldn’t be anything good.

Courtney took a deep breath and answered, stomach tightening.

“Hello?”

“Courtney!” Miss Fame’s voice was sharp, sharper than usual. “Do you ever use your head? Or do you just go through life without a shred of critical thinking?”

It was fairly obvious that it was a rhetorical question, so Courtney kept her mouth shut, wondering what had gone wrong, what mess she’d have to clean up now.

[dontcare77ghj]

Breaking the News

Natasha x reader x Bucky

Note: Direct sequel to Witches. Honestly want to start a series in this universe and the Parenting universe. Requested by anon.

"There you are. I was just about to get Clint to check if you were dead." Tony said, raising a mug in your direction.

"Like I would go up there without warning them." Clint snorted. "I don't need to be permanently scarred."

"Didn't Tony you walk in on a naked, drunk Tony once?" Wanda asked the archer.

"How did you know about that?" Clint spluttered as Tony turned his attention to his drink.

"Telepath, remember?" She reminded him. "The only person's thoughts I can't hear are Y/N's."

"I think Occlumency could help you with that." You hummed. "Guess you already know the news?"

"I do." She grinned, moving over to hug you. "I'm so happy for you. All of you."

"You feel left out, Barton?" Tony asked the archer, watching as Wanda hugged Bucky and Natasha too.

"Can we join the party, or are Tony and me just going to sit here wondering?" Clint asked, watching the four of you intently.

"You're going to be an uncle, Barton." Natasha shrugged, struggling to keep her expression blank and the smirk off her face.

"Nat, you better not be joking," Clint said, looking between the three of you suspiciously. "I've already been fooled once."

"That was your fault for eavesdropping." Bucky shook his head. "But it's not a joke."

"We're pregnant." You grinned, gaining matching grins from the men.

"That's fantastic, Y/N!" Clint cheered, moving forward and pulling you into an enthusiastic hug. "Remember, Clint is a fantastic name." He said, pulling back and nodding at you.

"Nowhere near as good as Anthony." Tony scoffed, stepping towards you. "Can even be changed to Antonia."

"What makes you think we're naming our kid after any of you?" Natasha scoffed. 

"Clint is a great name! And one of my kids is named after you!" 

"You could convince me to have it as a middle name, depending on what you've made for lunch," Natasha smirked, leading you over to the kitchen table.

"That is considered bribery, Romanoff." Tony scoffed as he and the others joined you at the table. "I could be extorted for much more."

"The only thing I want is for James and I to be relieved of duty for the next year minimum," Natasha said, taking yours and Bucky's hand as she stared the billionaire down.

"You don't need to give me the assassin stare," Tony said, raising his hands in innocence. "Honestly, you could say you're out entirely, and I wouldn't say a word."

"I would like to add as a request, Wanda comes to visit at least once a month." You said as Clint placed a plate in front of you. "Even after the baby's born. They'll need to get to know their big sister."

"Big sister?" Wanda asked, eyes going wide.

"If you want the job, that is. No pressure." You told her with a smile.

"No, I'd love to. If that's okay with you all?" She said, looking between the three of you.

"Wanda, Y/N already wants to adopt you. And at this point, I'm inclined to agree. We'd love for you to be apart of the baby's life." Bucky assured the girl.

"Y/N, I want joint custody," Clint said, sitting down. "I already promised Laura that she could meet Wanda, and I refuse to anger her." 

"Wanda lives with me. That means you need to include me in this custody agreement." Tony announced. "Give me your lawyer's name, and I'll have my people contact them. We can have the papers drawn up within minutes."

"Are either of you idiots going to ask Wanda's opinion?" Natasha raised a brow. 

"No, because they know she likes it here best," Bucky smirked.

"Says who?" Clint and Tony exclaimed in unison.

As the four continued their playful banter, you snuck a look over to Wanda. The girl was watching the exchange with a wide grin and slightly misted eyes.

'You alright?' You mouthed as you caught her eye.

'Never better.' She assured you with a bright smile.

"Okay, I think that we've practiced enough for today." You said as Wanda finished her spell. "I think we might have to get you another year level's books." You smiled.

"Really?" Wanda questioned you. "You really think I'm ready?"

"I think you're as ready as a house-elf is to clean." You told her. "And I want to talk with you anyway."

"What's up?" Wanda asked.

"I wanted to see how you really feel about what we talked about yesterday." You began. "I wanted to see if you were actually okay with being apart of this child's life."

"I wasn't lying when I said I want to be around," Wanda told you. "I lost my entire family. I thought I was alone, and then I got the team. And I was so happy because they were becoming my family, I was getting control of my powers, and I thought everything was finally working out. But then my inner witch was spiraling, and I thought everything was going to disappear. I thought they'd all hate me, and I'd end up alone again.

But they didn't, and instead, Bucky and Nat invited me to your home. Introduced me to you, and you have not once acted like I'm, like I'm a monster. You've taught me I'm a witch, you taught me what it means to be a witch. That I don't have to be scared of any of my powers, or who I am. I want to help pass that along to others." Wanda explained with a soft smile. "I want to be around and help you teach your child that message."

"I don't know if I've said this before, but you are too sweet for this shitty, shitty world." You said, making the girl giggle. "You remind me of someone I knew long ago."

"Is that a good thing?"

"The best thing." You said, moving next to her. "And Wanda? You're never going to be alone again. I swear to you. You have so many people in your corner, and we might not be your biological family, but we'll be your family as long as you want us to." You told her, wrapping your arms around the girl.

"Thank you."

"Are you sure it's okay if I come?" Wanda asked, chewing her lip nervously as she looked at the three of you.

It had been three weeks since you'd announced your pregnancy to your partner's family, and now it was time to tell yours.

The war had left you an orphan, but you still had family you wanted to tell. 

It was time to tell the Potter's and the Weasley's.

"Of course it is, Wand." Natasha smiled as Bucky handed her her coat. 

"I've been talking everyone's ear off about you, and I think Hermione will wack me if I don't bring you along." You said, causing Bucky to chuckle.

"That woman is terrifying." He shook his head. "I'll never forget the donkey incident."

"To be fair, she was pregnant at the time." You defended your friend. "And Ron was kind of asking for it."

"Do I even want to know?" Wanda asked with a smirk.

"No." Natasha shook her head. "You really don't. Now put your coat on, it's cold."

"And it's going to be colder at the Burrow," Bucky added.

"Where exactly are we going again?" Wanda questioned as she did what Natasha asked.

"England." You told her. "Molly and Arthur still live in the Burrow and have invited us all there."

"But they don't know me. What makes you think they will be okay with me coming?" Wanda insisted.

"Hon, Y/N has been talking everyone's ear off about a little witch who is the brightest, sweetest, and the kindest person she's met. Everyone wants to meet you." Bucky said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

"Plus, Molly loves having new people to smother and feed." You smirked.

"Expect a jumper come Christmas," Natasha told her. "All right, is everyone ready to go?"

"How are we getting there? Plane?" Wanda asked as you and Bucky nodded.

"We're witches, Wanda." You reminded her. "We have a better way." You said, holding a hand out to her and Bucky as Natasha took your hand. "Hold my hand tightly, keep your eyes closed, and don't let go." You instructed as Wanda took your hand, and Bucky placed his on your shoulder.

"I hate apparating," Bucky whined.

"Do you want to try the floo again?" You raised a brow.

"Just apparate already." He shuddered, causing Natasha to snicker.

Closing your eyes, you let out a deep breath, and within seconds you were all in front of the Weasley family home.

The tall, spindly, home, which was only held up by magic, was still standing as tall and proud as it had been in your childhood.

The land had not changed much, despite the tragedy of your sixth year, and it brought you a feeling of nostalgia.

"Aunty Y/N! Aunty Nat! Uncle J!" An excited voice squealed and was followed by pounding footfalls.

“Lilly-petal!” You grinned, kneeling to hug the red head. “Look how big you’ve gotten.”

“I missed you, Aunty Y/N.” She said, squeezing your neck.

“What no hug for your favorite uncle?” Bucky asked, drawing her attention to him. Lilly giggled and moved to hug him.

“Y/N!” A male voice called as you stood. You grinned widely at the sight of the man before you.

“Hiya Harry.” You chirped as he brought you into an embrace.

“You know you’re late, right? You’re just lucky Molly knows you’re always late.” Harry smirked, causing you to wack him in the head. “Blimey Y/N!”

“He’s not wrong, dorogoy.” Natasha said. “You’re always late.”

“Nat.” You groaned, watching as she hugged her niece. “You’re supposed to defend my honor.”

“He’s still right.” Bucky agreed. “You’re rarely on time to anything.”

“I will divorce the two of you.” You deadpanned.

“No you won’t.” Natasha and Bucky replied in unison, causing Wanda to giggle and you to sigh.

“Harry, this is Wanda Maximoff.” You said, pulling Wanda to your side. “Wanda, this is Harry Potter and this is his daughter Lily.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Potter.” Wanda stuck her hand out.

“Nope, none of that.” Harry said, pulling her into a quick hug. “It’s Harry, and if Y/N considers you family, then you’re my family too. Okay?”

“Okay.” Wanda smiled.

“Great. Let’s get the four of you inside, everyone’s waiting to see you.” He said, taking Lily’s hand.

“Look what the Hippogriff dragged in.” Ron smirked, holding an eight year old Hugo in his arms. “Is this the brilliant witch you’ve got ‘Mione so excited to meet?”

“Yep, Ron this Wanda Maximoff.”

“Nice to meet to meet you, Wanda. We’ve heard a lot about you.” Ron smiled at her.

“Y/N has told a lot of stories about you all too.” Wanda told him.

“Oh God, you’ve heard some shit then.” Ron chuckled.

“Ronald, you better not be swearing in front of Hugo.” Hermione scolded, entering the hall with her hands on her hips.

“No, never. I would never swear in front of our son.” Ron stammered as Harry laughed. “Uh Hermione, Y/N has someone for you to meet.”

“Oh Y/N, is this Wanda? You must be Wanda! Oh it’s so nice to meet you, I have so many questions for you.” Hermione said almost in one breath as she launched forward and embraced Wanda.

“Nice to see you too, Hermione.” You shook your head.

“Oh, it’s good to see you three too.” Hermione said, pulling back. “Now, Wanda, would you like to sit so I can ask you some questions? Is that okay with you? Y/N?”

“Breathe, Hermione, you’re going to scare her away.” Harry laughed.

“Oh I’m sorry, it’s just so nice to meet you.” Hermione sighed. “Y/N has told me so many things about you, your magic, and your other powers. I just would love to talk to you. If you want, no pressure.”

“I’ll sit with you if you want.” Natasha said as she took Hugo into her arms. “Just in case.”

“I’d like that.” Wanda smiled.

“Excellent! I have a whole list of questions for you. Oh Y/N! Molly’s in the kitchen and wants to see you.” Hermione said, before pulling Wanda and Natasha away.

“Your wife is a tornado.” Bucky said to Ron.

“Don’t I bloody know it.” Ron smiled. “You better get going, mum’ll throw a pan at you.” 

“She loves me.” You shrugged. “You want to come see nanna, miss Lily? Maybe we can find chocolate frogs somewhere.”

“Chocolate frogs!” Lily exclaimed, latching onto your hand and began pulling you towards the door.

“Have fun boys.” You laughed, following the little girl. “Hi, Molly.” 

“Oh, Y/N! It’s so nice to see you.” The short woman said, giving you a hug as Lily searched for sweets, having no interest in the conversation. “How’s my newest grandbaby?” Molly asked, placing a hand on your stomach.

When you first suspected you were pregnant there was only one person you could think to ask for help. Molly had been the first to know you were expecting and promised to keep your secret until you were ready.

“They’re doing really well.” You promised. 

“Have you told Natasha and James? And how’s my other grandchild?”

“Tash and Buck both know along with their family. And Wanda’s amazing. I would’ve brought her in with me, but ‘Mione snatched her up.” You told her.

“I’ll get to meet her at lunch.” Molly waved you off. “Sit! You’re carrying precious cargo.”

“I’m not an invalid, Molly.” You said, still taking the seat.

“Have you thought about how you’re going to tell everyone else?” Molly asked as she returned to making lunch.

“I have. I’m going to say during lunch. Gives everyone a chance to settle and I have the perfect way to say it.” You told her.

“Am I going to be included with everyone or can I know before?” She raised a brow.

“I want you to be surprised.”

“I’m not a fan of surprises, dear, but I suppose I can wait.” She sighed. “Go join everyone else, lunch will be ready in ten.” She said, shooing you out of the kitchen. “Lily, go with Y/N. No sweets before lunch.”

“Okay, nana.” 

You led Lily into the living room where everyone, bar Arthur, was sitting.

“Have they scared you away yet?” You asked as Lily ran to her mother and you took a seat next to Wanda.

“We’re not scary, Y/N.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Well you have your moments.” Ron smiled, receiving a thump to the arm from his sister. “Bloody hell, Gin.”

“Everyone’s been very nice.” Wanda assured you. “Hermione says she has some books she wants to send me.”

“Of course she does.” You grinned. The fourteen of you were continuing your light conversation when you were summoned into the kitchen where Molly and Arthur were waiting.

You all served yourself lunch and continued with your conversations.

“How is the Avengers?” Ginny asked Natasha. “Driving you up the wall?”

“Always.” Natasha chuckled, sipping her wine. “It’s like being stuck with a group of children.”

“You must be itching for a vacation.” Ginny smiled.

“They’re about to take one.” You told her.

“Y/N bully you into it?” Harry asked Bucky with a smirk.

“Harry James Potter, you take that back. I am not a bully.” You gasped.

“You hit me in the back of the head not even an hour ago.” He pointed out.

“You were being a bloody git that’s why.” You grumbled. “But I did not bully them into taking a vacation.”

“Did you miss aunty Y/N too much?” Lily asked as Ginny cut her meat.

“We always miss aunty Y/N.” Bucky smiled at her.

“Actually they’re taking a vacation for other reasons.” You told your niece. “They want to be around when the baby’s born.” You casually said, drinking your water.

The room went silent for several seconds before cheers rang out.

“Congratulations!”

“How wonderful!”

“Bloody hell you three!”

“The kids absolutely love her.” Ginny said to you. Lunch had turned into dinner. The four of you had made no want to return to your home and decided to stay with everyone else. 

It was currently almost dusk and you had all made your way outside. The kids had dragged Harry, Bucky, Ron, Arthur, and Wanda to play while the rest of you sat watching.

“Everyone loves her.” Hermione corrected, smiling at her children. “She’s incredibly sweet.”

“Clint’s wife said the same thing.” Natasha said, squeezing your hand. 

“She’s so smart. For someone who never attended a school, and has only been learning a couple weeks, her progress is incredible.” Hermione added.

“Hopefully this ones the same.” Natasha commented. “Otherwise we might need to stock up on fire extinguishers.”

“They could come out muggle.” You reminded her.

“At least you’ll have plenty of help with the baby, magic or no magic.” Molly said. “For this one and any of kids in the future.”

“Definitely in the future. We’ve already got two.” You said, watching Wanda and Bucky laugh as Natasha kissed your cheek.

None of your family was actually related to you. None of your family shared your last name, but they were still your family.

It didn’t matter you were a L/N, and they were Weasley’s, or Potter’s, Maximoff’s, Barton’s, Stark’s, or whoever. It didn’t matter weather they were muggle, witch or wizard.

Your family was your family. And they always would be.

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[anakin-danvers]

to love again

not my gif!

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!reader

reader is fem!

Request: “I loved them more than anything in this world, and they’re dead because of me.” With Anakin Skywalker please? Your last one was *chefs kiss*

Word count: ~2.8k

Warnings: mentions of death, angst, crying, feelings of guilt. 

A/N: Sorry for the delay my dear anon! I got busy with summer classes, but I wanted to get it out by today as a little birthday present for myself (wooo happy birthday to me!). I’m glad you enjoyed the last one, and I hope you enjoy this one! As always, please let me know what you all think, your comments always make me so happy! Also, requests are open :)

—

Keep breathing. Empty your mind. Just focus on the feeling of the Force within you, around you...just breathe. In, out, in again, out again....is that...is someone walking outside?

You open your left eye. Your right eye follows suit, your concentration broken. A sigh escapes your mouth, and you give up on your futile efforts of meditating. Uncrossing your legs, you get up from the floor of your quarters. It’s late and you should be sleeping. But you aren’t. You can’t. 

Every moment your eyes close, you see them. Their faces, their fear. 

You shake your head, trying in a way to shake the thoughts from your mind. Don’t think about it. The more you think about it, the harder it is. 

The cool floor press against your feet as you walk over to the washroom. There, you turn on the faucet, putting your hands under the running water and bringing it onto your face in an attempt to clear your mind. You dry off and make your way back to your bed, sitting on the edge and taking a look at the room before you. 

As a Jedi, you were taught not to have possessions, to live a simple life, and your quarters reflected that. The room was filled with the minimum, only little parts of it showing your personality. The bags of your favorite Naboo tea by the small kitchen. Your saber on its place in the table next to your bed. Some nice rocks you had kept from your missions to distant planets. Your favorite cup gifted to you by your former master during your padawan days. The colorful, handmade blanket on your bed–

The blanket they had given you. 

You shake your head again, a useless attempt to stop the images of the destruction, of their faces, from filling your mind once again. Defeat washes over you as the realization that you won’t be sleeping anytime soon becomes clear. So instead of wasting your time trying to sleep, you slip on your night slippers, put on your usual Jedi robe, and make your way out of your quarters. You decide to leave your saber behind, this being one of the rare moments you can actually leave it behind. 

The halls of the Jedi temple are quiet. It seems everyone else is doing what you can’t: sleep. You make your way down the halls with light steps to avoid making any noise. Your feet lead you to a nearby balcony, where you hope you’ll be able to clear your mind while surrounded by the night. 

As you approach the balcony, you realize you were wrong in assuming everyone in the temple was asleep. No, you are not the only one awake. Standing there, looking up at the night sky as you’d planned on doing is no other than Anakin Skywalker. 

Your feet stop. The point of leaving your quarters was to have some time to clear your head. Could you do that with someone present?

It doesn’t hurt to try. You two could just stand there in silence. Plus, the next balcony is on the other side of the floor you are on. 

With your mind made up, you continue to walk towards the balcony, hoping to not interrupt Anakin who seems to be lost in his own train of thought. 

As you reach the opening of the balcony, Anakin turns, a curious look on his face. You smile at him, your hand coming up to give a small wave. 

“Hi Anakin. I don’t mean to intrude, I just need some air,” you say. He nods and you make your way to the other side of the balcony, putting a good amount of distance between you two to try to give him his space. 

You know Anakin as well as you know most of your Jedi colleagues, at a distance and mostly formal. The interactions between you two have been limited thus far, mainly consisting of greetings around the temple with the occasional meeting on the battlefield. However, you’ve always wanted to get to know him. Your longing to know him better soon developed into something more, something that causes you to go red in the face whenever your interactions are more than just your routine greetings. But you try to suppress the feelings; Jedi are not allowed to have attachments. 

Attachments. Funny how you know you’re not supposed to have them, yet you do. Or at least, you did. 

You close your eyes as you take a deep breath to try to calm the emotions threatening to come back to you. The night breeze grazes your face, calming you more than your quarters had. You open your eyes, looking down at the bustling city of Coruscant below you. 

“You’d think that for a city that’s so loud, nobody would be able to sleep.”

You turn to look at Anakin, where you find him looking at you, his body facing you. His face is easier to see now, and you see how tired he looks, the lack of sleep evident on his face. 

“I guess nobody can blame us for being up, then,” you say. 

The corner of Anakin’s mouth lifts up slightly, and he looks down at his hands. You take that as a sign that he’s done talking, so you move to face the night sky again. 

“Do you mind if I join you?”

You find yourself looking at him again, and he looks almost sheepish as he waits for your response. You nod, your lips tugging up to a smile of reassurance. He makes his way to stand next to you, the heat creeping its way up your face clashing with the coolness of the breeze. Soon, he’s standing next to you, not too close to invade your personal space, but close enough that it was clear you two are here together. 

“I would ask you if you’re having trouble sleeping, but I think we’ve covered that already.”

“Yeah,” you say, a small sigh escaping your lips. “It’s been a rough few nights.”

“I understand. I’m going through a rough patch myself,” Anakin says, his voice growing quieter towards the end. 

“Well, I’m sure we are both out here to clear our minds, so we should try to do that.” You turn to face him, a sudden sense of confidence running through you. You ignore the way your stomach feels as Anakin turns to face you better, the ghost of a smile playing in his lips. 

“If you have any ideas on how to achieve that, I’m all ears.”

Your eyes look at the city below you, thinking of how you two can clear your troubled minds. With the feeling of Anakin’s eyes on you, your eyes dance around the different city structures, the speeders, the life around you. Then it hits you. 

“I know what we can do.” You don’t realize how excited you sound until you see one of Anakin’s eyebrows rising, the ghost of a smile manifesting itself into the real thing. 

“We’re surrounded by so much life right now. We can clear our minds by living through them in a way, imagining what their lives might be like.” At Anakin’s continued gaze on you, your confidence begins to shake a bit. “If-if you like, of course. If not, we can just enjoy the night in silence—“ You stop the beginning of your rambling as Anakin shakes his head.

“No, no, I like your idea. Living through them.” 

And so you begin to imagine the lives of the beings all around you. You take turns in the beginning, each thinking of a name for the driver of a speeder that passes by. Soon, you are both coming up with life stories together, adding unnecessary details that bring smiles and laughs to you both. 

“He owns a loth-cat named Obi? You can be a bit more creative with your names, Anakin.” At your words, the Jedi shakes with laughter, a fully-rounded laugh that lights a warm feeling in your chest. 

“What can I say? I admire my Master very much.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh. Your hand flies to cover your mouth, the sudden laugh surprising you. It seems to surprise Anakin as well. 

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, it’s not that,” you rush to say while also trying to regain your breath from your laughter. “It’s just, you two always seem to bicker when together.”

A fond smile appears on Anakin’s face. “I guess it’s just the relationship we have. He’s almost like a brother to me.”

The honesty in his voice makes your laughter disappear. Instead, you find yourself smiling as well. You can see it, to be honest. Obi-Wan’s padawan years were cut short at the sudden death of his master Qui-Gon Jinn, so taking Anakin as his padawan right away meant they had to grow up together. 

“I can tell he feels the same about you.” Your words cause him to look timid for a second, his smile shy on his face. He looks at the city below him again, his face growing slightly more serious. 

“You know, for how much we’ve been told that emotions should be kept at bay, I believe my emotions are what have made me the Jedi I am today. Attachments...I know we’re supposed to reject them, but who would I be today if I did?” He shakes his head, his hands coming up to cover his face. 

He seems so vulnerable like this. It’s something you didn’t expect to be seeing when you decided to leave your quarters earlier. But here you are, and you feel almost honored that he’s showing this side of himself to you. 

“I understand, Anakin,” you say, placing a hand lightly on his arm. And maybe it’s the way the lights contrast with the night sky, or the lack of sleep you’ve had the past few days, or the way your heart seems to clench at the sight of Anakin before you, but something prompts you to keep speaking. “I...I’ve loved before.”

It was the first time you called it that. Love. You always knew that’s what you felt for them, but you were always too afraid to face the truth. Your confession makes Anakin turn to look at you. His face looks troubled but somewhat hopeful. 

“You have?” he asks, his voice just above a whisper. 

You nod, not being able to form the simple ‘yes’ you wanted to. The beating of your heart quickens as the images of their faces come to your mind once more. 

“I reconnected with family some time ago while on a mission.” It’s you who’s vulnerable now, your palms growing sweaty as you want to both stay quiet and spill everything you’ve been burying inside for the past weeks. Anakin catches on to your hesitation, moving so that he’s fully facing you, giving you his attention. 

“The mission took us to Tora, a small planet on the outer rim. It’s usually uncharted, so small that some consider it insignificant. It’s where I’m from originally. 

I was there with Master Plo Koon and the 104th. Commander Wolffe was talking to two locals, when one of them recognized me. Wolffe called me over; it turns out the woman who recognized me was my mother’s childhood friend. That’s how she knew who I was, she said I look just like my mother. Her and her husband knew my mother and father well, and they knew me. They were there when Master Windu found me all those years ago, and they were there when my parents sent me with Master Windu here to the Jedi Order. 

That night, I found my way to their home. There was this part of me that needed to know. About my parents. About what my life would’ve been if I hadn’t been Force sensitive. They indulged me in answering all my questions. They informed me that my parents had passed, my mother of an illness, my father of a machinery accident in his place of work. They comforted me as I cried.” 

At the memory, your voice wavers. You hadn’t expected the news of your parents to affect you, your memories of them distant. But it had, and they were there to comfort you through it all. 

Anakin takes hold of one of your hands, giving it a comforting squeeze. You look at him and he gives you a comforting smile, prompting you to continue. 

“We formed a bond that night. I visited any chance I could while on the mission. Even afterwards, I’d visit Tora whenever I found myself near. I was always welcome with open arms by them.  They’d have food waiting for me, and in one visit I found they’d made a blanket for me so that I could rest in between my missions.” You smile, they’re words replaying in your mind. 

“And I loved them. I know Jedi are not supposed to form attachments, are not supposed to love, but I loved them. I loved them more than anything in this world, and they’re dead because of me.”

They’d been among the casualties of a Separatist attack. The Separatists had wanted to take control of the region, thinking its lack of popularity would make for a great place to hide developments of any battle tactics against the Republic. 

Confusion falls on Anakin’s face, quickly followed by understanding. He shakes his head, his hands moving to hold your arms. 

“You can’t blame yourself, Y/N,” he says right as a few of the tears you’d been holding back make their way down your face. His hand comes up to wipe them away, the warmth of it bringing comfort to your broken heart. 

“I could have saved them, Anakin. I could have arrived sooner.”  More tears fall down your cheeks and Anakin continues to wipe them away. “I had to take their bodies out of the rubble. I keep seeing the look on their faces. The fear that was still there.”

Anakin’s arms come around you, bringing you to his chest. The embrace breaks your wall, the tears flowing freely now. His gloved hand comes up to lightly rub the back of your head. He doesn’t try to stop your crying, no, he lets you cry, lets you unbury all the emotions that have been eating at you from inside. 

Your crying slows enough that he pulls slightly back. He once again goes to wipe away the tears left on your face. 

“It’s hard, Y/N, I know. But you cannot blame yourself. You just can’t. It won’t let you sleep, it won’t let you eat, it won’t let you live. You need to be strong, for them, for their memory.” 

You nod, his words doing more for you than the sleepless nights wandering around the temple ever had. 

“Thank you for this, Anakin. I’m sorry for dumping all of this on you, it’s just been eating at me for longer than I would like to admit.”

The look of understanding returns to his face. “I get that. I lost someone very close, someone I loved, some time back. I too blamed myself, admittedly I still do. I’m working on not doing that anymore. There’s some nights I’m less successful than others, such as tonight.”

Realization hits you. The both of you had loved. And the both of you had lost those you loved. Now you two are working on it, but not alone. Not anymore. You are finding comfort, finding support in one another. 

“Anakin, I...” you stop talking, knowing there’s no words that can express what you want to convey to him. So instead you embrace him this time, your arms enveloping his waist as your face connects with his chest. He doesn’t hesitate on returning your hug, his arms circling you and his face burying itself in your shoulder. You hug him tighter, hoping you can express to him everything he needs to feel the support he’s giving you this night. 

After a few moments, the two of you pull back. 

“I cannot thank you enough for this, Anakin,” you say. He once again shakes his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“If you need to thank anyone, thank the stars for having us walk onto the same balcony tonight.”

The warmth in your chest is sparked again, spreading until you feel warm all around. Not an uncomfortable warmth, but rather a warmth that makes you feel alive. 

You smile, a genuine smile that is mirrored on Anakin’s face. “Well then thank the stars.”

You look at one another for a bit, your smiles unfaltering, before Anakin speaks again. 

“Come now. I’ll walk you to your quarters. I think we will both be getting some much needed sleep,” Anakin says. You nod again, following him as he begins to move towards the temple. 

And as you walk side by side down the hallway to your quarters, both of your smiles still on each other’s faces, you believe that maybe, just maybe, you can love again.

[alexhogh7137]

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Scare

Word Count 3k

Warnings: slight angst, heavy fluff

The day after your father's attempt to end your life, you finally gave your best friend a proper burial. You and her mother wept the entirety of that day which you knew was bound to happen. You lost Thyra and you can never bring her back, but her mother informed you continuously that it was not your fault. But deep down, you will always feel a sense of guilt because the man that took her life was none other than your own father. Nonetheless, she is in a better place and is having the best time with the gods above, which brings you as well as her mother, some comfort to this tragedy. After Thyra was buried, her mother went back to Wessex, but not without having this conversation with you:

Helga "Thank you, Y/n. The burial was beautiful."

"Mmm, I am glad that I could do that for her. She did not deserve this." You began to cry again.

Helga "No she didn't, but in the end, she died for what she felt was the right thing to do."

"I would much rather have her here than her gone, Helga. She did not have to sacrifice herself-"

Helga "Your father didn't give her that chance. He killed her because she never left your side. She loved you, she still loves you."

You sniffle, "I loved her all the same. She was my sister, even if we weren't blood, she was always my sister." She nods and wipes a tear off of your cheek.

Helga "And you were hers, my sweet girl."

"Well on the plus side of life as we know it, the king is dead and Wessex will be safe again."

Helga "Oh, that is wonderful isn't it?" You nod, "But who will rule the kingdom?" You still have not thought of the concept because of all of the chaos, so you do not know what to say to her.

"I-For right now, I would like for you to gather a list of good men and women that you think will suit for being in charge, and send me the list. Once I have the letter, I will return to Wessex and give the final decision."

Helga "In charge?"

"Exactly. You see, they will not be a king nor a queen but the kingdom needs a sense of guidance and leadership in order to stay a kingdom." She nods, "But I will return every chance I get to check on everyone, especially you Helga." She smiles, "And as for a king or queen, my daughter will be queen of Wessex when she is of age."

Helga "Oh Y/n, that is so wonderful!"

You smile, "Yes. But my ruling is beside my husband. Wherever he is, I am. Ivar is the king of Kattegat, therefore I am the queen of Kattegat."

Helga "I understand."

"So, when the time comes, my daughter will rule with honor and dignity."

Helga "And so she shall."

"Now, you get home safely, yes?"

Helga "Yes. Thank you again sweetheart."

"You are so welcome." You hug and say your goodbyes. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five Days Later…

Ivar has sent a letter to the prince of Kiev to ask for his approval of traveling to visit. It is only a waiting game as of now. 

Hvitserk "He is just going to love you, Y/n."

"Oh yeah?"

Hvitserk "Yes. He is a sucker for beauty such as yours." He caresses your cheek, making you blush.

Ivar "Yes but this time, I will be going there with my own queen." He smiles.

"A very pregnant queen, at that." You say as you rub your growing belly and sigh because you feel huge. You still have a few months to go before your little goddess joins the world but you think to yourself, 'how am I going to get any bigger than this?!'

Ivar "You are glowing, my sweet. You are more than perfect."

"Thank you, my love." He leans down and kisses your lips, "I'm just so excited to meet her."

Hvitserk "She will bring so much joy to our lives."

Ivar "Oh that is certain. As soon as she is born, she will be a new and bright, shining light in all of our lives." You smile at the thought. You and baby girl have gone through so much together and she hasn't even been born yet. She will be told stories about how strong she is and she will learn of her legacy and past ancestors. She will know all and then she will make her own story, create a wonderful life for herself, as you did. 

Hvitserk stands up from sitting down on a tree stump and walks over to join his brother in eating some chicken wings. You use your belly as a table as you snack on little bits of whatever you could find. You catch Ivar just staring at you and smirking.

"What?"

Ivar "Oh nothing." Hvitserk chuckles.

"What is it? You were staring."

Ivar "What?! I cannot stare at my beautiful wife?" He shouts, making you giggle. 

"But I am just eating, how can I be-"

Hvitserk "It does not matter, you are always beautiful, Y/n." You don't know what to say. They make you feel so special and so loved that you are lost for words most of the time. 

"Thank you, Hvitserk." He winks at you and continues to eat. After a few minutes, Ubbe and Torvi come join you three outside, enjoying the weather. Today is the first warm day of the year which brings your heart joy and warmth. 

Torvi "Uh, it is so lovely today." She says as she sits down next to you.

"It is."

Ubbe "Maybe it will melt the little snow that we have left." 

"I'm sure that my dragons are enjoying this weather.." you say as you look over at them, playing with each other. 

Ivar "Mm, do you remember when they experienced their first snowfall, my love?" 

"Oh of course I do. They were so small." You smile at the memory, "Their eyes sparkled!"

Ivar smiles, "It was the cutest thing!"

Hvitserk "Where was I?"

"On a trade shipment with Ubbe." He nods as if he remembered.

Hvitserk "Now we have new memories with them-"

Ubbe "And many more to come, aye?!"

You smile, "They are such a blessing, aren't they?"

Torvi "A true gift from the gods, just like your daughter." She places her hand on your belly.

"Mmm." That's all you can say, really. You are just so grateful to be carrying this miracle child in your core that you can only say the bare minimum. 

Ubbe "So, has Prince Oleg sent a letter yet?" 

Ivar "Not yet. He will though, I am sure of it."

Hvitserk "Will you be coming with us, brother?" Ubbe looks over at Torvi and she looks saddened. She hates it when Ubbe is gone for long periods of time, and if he were to go, he would not be home for two weeks. So Ubbe thinks for a moment before answering his brother. 

Ubbe "I do not think so."

Ivar "And why is that?"

Ubbe "Because I would like to stay home with my wife and children." Torvi smiles.

Ivar nods, "I see, well, will you look after Kattegat while we are away, huh?"

Ubbe "Of course." You three spend some time together before you all had to attend to your responsibilities.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Few Hours Later…

"Do you hear that?" Ivar looks over at where the sound is coming from and nods.

Ivar "You go inside and rest-"

You and Ivar have been helping around the village: checking in your people, feeding them and making sure of their wellbeing, while Hvitserk and Ubbe tended to the hunting. You were just about to go inside to rest your body when you heard commotion going on by your dragon's resting rock. 

"No, I can rest later." You don't let him respond before you walk off and towards your dragon's. Once you see what the noise was, you were infuriated.

"Hey! They are not toys, get off of them!" To your shock, there are children attempting to get on top of your dragon's, making them very irritated.

Ivar "Aye, you four, c'mere!" Once Ivar joined your side, the kids left your dragon's alone. When the four boys got in front of you two, they could not look either of you in the eye. 

"Why would you do that to them? They are not a playground." 

"I am sorry, my queen." They said.

"You could have gotten seriously hurt, boys. I care for your safety, as well as my dragon's safety. So please, do not attempt to get on them anymore. Do you promise?"

"We promise." The eldest one said for the four of them.

"Right...you boys run along now." They scatter as soon as you give the order. But soon enough, their parents come to you, begging for their forgiveness.

Ivar "The only person or person's allowed on those dragon's are your queen and I."

"I understand completely, my king." The mother said, "I turned away from them for a second and-"

"They are fast kids." The father said.

"I understand, truly I do. Anything can happen in a matter of minutes or even in the matter of seconds. Your children could have gotten seriously hurt."

Ivar "It is a good thing that your queen heard them in time."

"And I am forever in your debt, my queen." The mother said. 

"All I ask from you is to keep a better eye on your boys. I might not be able to come to their aid the next time something occurs."

Ivar "In fact, isn't that your job, hmm? As their parents, you two should watch over them and keep them safe, no?"

"Yes!" They both said.

Ivar "Then keep them safe by keeping them close. If those dragon's weren't kind and gentle, your children could have been eaten in seconds. Do you understand?" They nod.

"Good. Now, I suggest you inform them of what we told you."

"Of course, my queen." The father said. 

"Very well, if you'll excuse me." You walk past them and towards your dragon's who are very agitated. You place your hand up for them to sniff you. Once they do, their senses calm instantly.

…

"I know, I'm here." Neith lays her head down by your feet so that you can pet her scales. 

"I won't let anyone use you as their playground. Any of you." You say as you look over at your boys. They blink at you so that you know that they understand you. 

"Tomorrow, we can go flying, how does that sound?" All three of them bolt their heads upwards in a playful manner.

"I will take that as a yes." You laugh. You feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist. 

Ivar "Are they okay now?"

"They are. They were just confused is all."

Ivar "Mm, I could only imagine how that made them feel."

"I told them that I would fly with them tomorrow. We haven't done that in such a long time..just me and them."

Ivar nods and kisses your forehead, "Just be safe while you fly, hmm?"

"I will." He smiles and takes you inside for the both of you to rest.

As night fell, all you could think about is taking a warm bath and then placing your head on a cold pillow and falling asleep. Your feet were swollen and your legs felt like they were going to break in half so you figured that a warm bath would suffice. Therefore, you asked for a maiden to run one for you, to which she obliged. 

Ivar pulls you into his side while you wait for the water to fill up. When you are in his arms, you forget all about being sore. 

Ivar "A bath will help, my sweet."

"Mm, I know." 

Ivar "Oh look," he looks at the entrance, "the idiot's are back." 

"Hey.." he laughs.

Ivar "Sorry, I know." Hvitserk smiles as soon as he locks eyes with the mother of his daughter. He makes his way over to you and he sees how swollen you are and he frowns.

Hvitserk "Are you alright?"

"Oh I am fine. Just been on my feet for too long. The maiden's are running me a bath."

Hvitserk "Oh good." He kisses your head.

Ivar "Any big catch today, my brothers?" 

Ubbe "Three deer, a few rabbits.."

Ivar "That is good. Now that it is getting warmer, more food to catch aye?"

Ubbe nods, "That is true." 

"My queen, your bath is ready."

"Wonderful, thank you dear." She bows and tends to other matters. "I will be out soon."

Ivar "Do you need help getting in, my love?"

"I think that I can manage." You offer a warm smile before wobbling your way to the bathroom. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you undress to get into the tub, you realize how hard it is to balance by yourself. Your feet are the size of pumpkins *to you, they feel like they are* and your legs feel like they are about to go numb from the aching. You try and hurry to get yourself into the tub before you physically can't do it yourself. But in rushing, you fall short of breath and have to take a breather by the vanity. You look at yourself in the mirror and realize that this feeling is not a burden, it is a pleasure to be able carry a human within you. This calms down your breathing but you hear a knock on the door, making you hurry up to cover yourself.

"Uhm, who is it?"

Hvitserk "It is me."

"Oh, come in." When he enters, he offers a small smile. 

Hvitserk "I had to come to see if you made it in safely..."

You sigh, "I am kind of glad that you did."

Hvitserk "How can I help?"

"I can't get the back of my dress." He walks over and undoes your dress and helps you into the tub without hesitation. "Thank you." Your eyes begin to close as the warmth of the water sinks into your skin and through your bones. Hvitserk kneels down and sits by the tub.

Hvitserk "Of course, kitten. I'll always be there to help you."

"And I will do the same for you, Hvitserk." He giggles, "What?"

Hvitserk "Nothing, sweetheart. You are just so sweet is all."

"I try to be. All of the time...it's draining.." you sigh as he begins to play with your hair. 

Hvitserk "I know this to be true. I try to be as kind as you but sometimes it gets me nowhere.."

"I suppose I am the way I am because of my parents."

Hvitserk "That is why. Our parents shape us, but our pain and suffering strengthens us."

"You are right."

Hvitserk smiles, "Are you feeling a little better now?"

"You always make me feel better Hvitserk."

Hvitserk chuckles, "No I meant, is the bath helping you."

"Oh, yes it is. Thank gods.."

Hvitserk nods, "Good. That makes me happy, love. But, I will be outside if you need me, I am starving." He kisses your head.

"Okay." You say as you laugh. As he leaves, you can't stop smiling.

When you get out of the tub, your muscles are so relaxed that you had to force yourself to get out of the warm bath to get to your bed. You can't take the chance of falling asleep submerged in water, gods know what could have happened if you did. So without hesitation, you got out of your bath and slipped on a soft robe and made your way to the door. As you open it, Ivar is waiting for you on the bed. 

Ivar "My sweet, how was your bath?"

"It was divine!"

Ivar "Mm, that is good." He smiles and then he frowns. 

"Ivar, what is it?"

Ivar "Nothing Y/n, I've come to the realization that Hvitserk has not had the pleasure of your company in quite some time."

"Oh, yes I know. Just with the battle and everything, I needed to be by my husband's side at all times." He smiles and kisses your lips. 

Ivar "I love you so much, do you know that?"

"I do, I know it well. I love you too, beloved." He kisses you again but more passionately, making you both moan.

Ivar "You go ahead. You can sleep with him tonight if you'd like."

"Are you certain?"

Ivar "Absolutely. I always seem to forget that that little princess in there is not truthfully mine, she is my brother's-"

"She is still your daughter, Ivar. Just in a different way."

Ivar smiles from ear to ear, "I know she is, but I have to be kind...you taught me to be kind and loving. So, yes..go be with him tonight. If you need me, you know where to find me."

"Sweet dreams, my love." You kiss him once again.

Ivar "You as well, princess." You are so happy that Ivar said those words because you were hoping to be with Hvitserk tonight. You haven't been in his arms since the night before the battle. With great haste, you made your way to Hvitserk's room. He was already in a sleep state when you opened the door and found him on his bed. 

Hvitserk "Hey..is every-"

"I just wanted to be with you tonight, is that okay?" He rises from his position and opens his arms for you. You allow him to engulf you with his arms and immediately feel a sense of tranquility run through your body. 

Hvitserk "I was hoping that you would be with me tonight. It's been so long."

"I know. Ivar suggested it because we have not been able too, so I was not going to refuse his offer." You laugh.

Hvitserk "I am glad that you are here, kitten." He kisses your head but you pull his face down and towards your lips. He captures them with love and affection. It feels like the very first time he ever kissed you and that feeling is one of the best feelings that you have ever experienced. 

Hvitserk "I love you."

"And I love you back." He smiles and kisses you again. After a while, you both fell asleep in each other's embrace. Today had its obstacles, but it ended in a wonderful way.

@hvitserkmarcosource @youbloodymadgenius @ivarsgoddess @a-mess-of-fandoms @herestherealproblem @saldelys @heavenly1927 @conaionaru

[katsukikitten]

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

A/N I had so much fucking fun writing this and I hope you all enjoy it too!

Sleep seemed to be avoiding the ash blonde as he scrolled through his phone for a Christmas gift.

But nothing was screaming Bakugou Mitsuki.

He wanted it to be perfect.

Although his mom DID piss him off majority of the time she still pissed him off.

More scrolling just to come up empty handed had the ash blonde seeing red. He locked his phone, hoping that sleeping on it would help him decide.

But instead he rolls around restlessly before the sound of agitated pops fill his silent room.

He reaches for his phone until something catches his attention. He strains to hear, perking his ears to best get a note of the familiar melody that is softly playing. He stands in his bed, noticing that the sound is coming from the vent.

*"A pair of hop-a-long boots and a pistol that shoots Is the wish of Barney and Ben Dolls that'll talk and will go for a walk Is the hope of Janice and Jen And Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again"*

"Is that fucking Christmas music?" Bakugou asks aloud as he gazes at the time.

12:05AM

He shoves a pair of shorts on before forcing himself into a shirt descending the steps two at a time.

He creaks open the door to the stair well slowly, guiding it shut so it won't slam.

He finds the music coming from the common room and what he spies sends a spiral of emotions twisting in his gut, he leans against the jamb as he watches, arms crossed.

There you were, climbing a ladder, singing the lyrics softly as you worked in shorts that were much too short.

And a tank top that said "Meowey Christmas!" that hung from your form.

Scarlet eyes rove over your figure, your shirt lifts up exposing your toned back as you struggle to reach the ceiling to hang a small green plant.

It is that much out of reach that you almost tip the ladder.

Somehow by the grace of Kamisama you attach the foliage to the ceiling successfully.

You look up at it with triumph, hands on wide hips as you admire your work, although there was still so much to be done.

"What are you doing?" A gruff voice pulls you from the wonder of the large living room that is now garnished in garland and glitter. You startle losing your footing, the ladder topples before you do, hitting the floor with a loud crash before bouncing a bit from the force.

At this rate you're sure to bust your tail bone at the very least considering you're falling from at a minimum of six feet.

You expect the worst with your clumsy self, wondering how you'll ever be a hero if you cannot even land on your feet.

Luck for you, you fall into strong arms, while a growl reverberates in the chiseled chest you're pressed agaisnt.

"Be fucking careful!" His eyes shine with rage and annoyance. You shrink away from him as best you can while trapped in those muscular arms.

"Why are you doing this by your fucking self? And at midnight?!"

"I...I just woke up and couldnt sleep. And Christmas is next week..." You say sheepishly, eyes looking everywhere but him as he makes no move to put you on your feet. And you cannot bare to admit that a dream drove you down those steps and into the basement of the dorm.

Something green catches your eye and a devilish smile begins to form on your lips as an idea formulates in your head. The mistletoe that you had just successfully hung stares down at you expectedly. Demanding to be obeyed and for once you are torn.

Should you obey a times old tradition or should you avoid angering someone who barely tolerates you? The green leaves adorned with white and red berries seem to wink in the glow of the white Christmas lights, urging you to make the write choice.

"Your shitty music is too God damn loud. And you're out here doing this in the dead of night for fucking what?!" He rants endlessly as your heart pounds in your chest while you make a decision that you hope you won't regret.

You press your feather soft lips to his smooth cheek and he is silenced instantly.

Completely still as if a frozen by Todoriki's ice, he stares down at you in your shirt that slips of your bare shoulders confirming what he already knows.

You are braless, in shorts that barely cover that muscular ass and now you've pressed your lips to his cheek?!

What the fuck?! Is what the hot head wants to yell and as if you read his mind you answer. He watches a slender finget point up and he follows. He spies some damn piece of bush tapped to the ceiling.

"Mistletoe. Dems the rules!" You laugh and he stares at you as if you're fucking crazy.

Shame paints your cheeks, your cute idea down the drain despite not being brave enough to actually kiss him.

Suddenly his cheeks burn up into the tips of his ears before he sets you down on your feet roughly.

"So a fucking dried up plant makes the rules?!" You watch his jaw work as he grinds his teeth, flushed to all hell.

"Ah yes..." You say softly and he just stares at you before letting go the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Just stay off the ladder." He turns on his heel before you grab onto his shirt without thought.

You cannot bare the idea of decorating another year alone. He stills before looking over his shoulder, eyes turned into frozen hot embers.

"I...I." Your normally boisterous voice dies in your throat. Scarlet drinks in your features, your eyes rimmed with unspoken tears. Katsuki's heart sinks as if it were wearing concrete shoes

He sucks his teeth before turning, shoving you back towards the decorations, this time careful to avoid that damned plant. Deft eyes spy more than on sprig lurking above unknowing victims.

"What do you want me to do?" He growls, crimson watches your lovely features slowly light up as you realize what he has said. You begin to jump on the balls of your feet as you pull him to dusty boxes. You place a Santa hat on his head and he stares at you with glowing embers. He pulls at the stupid fucking hat and throws it over his shoulder holding eye contact. You figure you shouldn't push your luck too much as you pull another box in front of him.

"We need 21 stockings make sure everyone knows which one is theirs!" Bakugou instantly regrets agreeing to this little charade, he is about to tell you never mind but his eyes catch you smiling again. Humming along to the next Christmas song as you wrap the pillars with glittering snow dusted garland.

It's that same smile that allows you to order him around for the better half of the night before you pull him to the project you were working on.

The most important project of the night!

The tree.

A tree it seems you pulled from the Earth yourself, spending majority of the night trimming the branches to be sure it looked perfect. The thick trunk was secured tightly by a black stand, hidden beneath a fuax white fur skirt. Lights twisted around the tree all the way to its 7 foot top.

"Help with the oranaments!" You pull on his wrist, guiding him to a box filled with many different glass orbs. Your palm and fingers seem to sear into his skin.

"I trust your judgment. Put up what you calls to you." You smile wide at him, wide enough that your eyes seem to smile too.

His heart skips a beat before you turn your back to lift a long string of fruit.

"Oi is that why the whole damn dorm smelt like oranges and grapefruits?" His eyes follow circles of oranges and pinks, dehydrated from an agonizingly slow bake.

"Yes. I used to makes these with my grandmother." You smile at the memory, tears threaten to fall but you do not allow them.

This was the first Christmas since her passing that you had felt even an inkling of the magic again.

Before, it all felt bleak, meaningless and the holidays were just another reminder that the spirit of the season had died with her.

Normally your feeling of dread would have started long before Thanksgiving and you would have been holed in your room debating whether any of this was worth it or not while lying prone for the fifth day in a row.

Hiding beneath your heavy comforter in your overly neglected room.

But you don't feel like that now.

So why were you dwelling on it?

Clearly your grandmother was here, guiding you, *reminding* you to enjoy the holiday.

That her memory would be honored as long as you spread the joy, even if it was something as small as listening to a few Christmas songs that you had actively avoided for years.

So God Damn it you were going to enjoy it while it lasted.

If for whatever reason the magic faded again then you'd cross that bridge when you got there, for now you were decorating with your grandmother and an unusual guest.

That very same guest whose eyes go wholly unnoticed by you as he watches.

Watches you fight whatever it is that goes on in that gorgeously smart head of yours.

Suddenly you move, delicately wraping what feels like miles of dried citrus around the deep green needles that seem to reach out for your loving touch.

Bakugou breaks the spell by finally picking up some glass orbs and dotting them all over the tree. The smell of pine, citrus and your signature shampoo tickle his nose here and there as he works. He even catches himself humming along to the songs that float in from the radio, enjoying the sound of your slightly off key notes.

The two work in otherwise silence before you begin to bump into one another as you near closer to the top, earning yourself a glare followed by a snarl.

"Oi! Watch it!"

Somehow you smile everytime he says it, confusing him further before the two of you step back to admire your work.

A few moments pass by before two sets of eyes fixated on the illuminated tree with scrutinizing eyes.

It looks amazing, perfectly balanced in color, light and decoration but it seems off...

And the answer sits on the tips of your tongues.

"Ah the star!" You exclaim, rooting through box after box before finally producing a large golden star.

It catches the light of the room, pulling scarlet eyes to the reflective surface. He watches the Christmas lights dance along the gold, fighting to shine as brightly as you.

You make your way to the ladder before he grabs onto your wrist, snatching the star with a snarl.

"I'll put it up, you'll probably just fall again." You notice the blush on his cheeks as he climbs a few rungs, "Is that good?"

He instantly regrets his question as his blush turns into agitated flush as you tell him to position it this way and that.

Small explosions pop over his hands hinting at what he is about to do when you tell him to move it "just a hair to the left" for the sixth time in a row. He takes in a sharp breath to yell before you beat him to the punch.

"PERFECT!" You exclaim, bouncing on the balls of your feet again as if you were a child basking in the presence of the tree after Santa came.

He comes down from the ladder standing beside you once more looking over the work the two of you have done. His heart beats faster and with excitement, the music encouraging the feeling of the scene melding together into a cohesive piece. For a moment he is taken somewhere else.

To a memory long forgotten of him barreling down the stairs, his mom and dad sitting on the couch with tea and coffee. Mysterious gifts nestled beneath the tree. He had gotten an All Might figure that year.

Warmth pulls him back to the present, your arm wrapped around his as you lie your tired head on his shoulder. Sparkling, wonderous eyes glistening with tears.

*Happy* tears.

He remembers what you were not like this last year. He remembers how you looked. Hated how your normally bright shining eyes had become dulled. How your sunshine seemed to bleed from your smile.

He loathed the idea of you, the brightest thing he could think of, seeing the world in drab boring greys like you did last year.

But this year must have been filled with vibrant colors.

And he had helped with that with something as simple as hanging a fucking ball on a tree.

He silently vowed to help you see that the holiday shined as brightly as you did all year round, even if it meant being woken up in the middle of the night because you just felt like it.

His eyes stray from the tree to you before looking over the room once more. Suddenly he realizes y'all's orientation of the room and he looks up.

Spying the green foliage with poisonous berries with deadly intentions.

A devilish smile forms on his face.

He pulls your chin to him, to be met with a furrowed brow. He leans closer, breath ebbing between touching noses before he tilts his head just so, crashing his lips to yours. Fully kissing you, tongue sliding over your lips to tease but you open your mouth to his surprise.

He snakes his tongue in for just a moment before pulling it out to guide your lips with his own into a passionate kiss.

Passionate enough that you lean further into him for support, you stare up at him in a daze with burning cheeks.

He smirks with reddened lips as one deadly finger points up.

"Mistletoe." He breathes darkly.

××××××××××××××××××××

☆° EPILOGUE °☆

The sun floods into the common room in hues of reds and pinks as Kirishima yawns heading for the kitchen.

Voices carry in from the living room detailing the ruby haired boy from breakfast for just a moment. . The TV is Eji's guess as he makes his way to investigate why someone would be either up so late or so early.

Kirishima crosses the threshold, ready to erupt with an overly cheerful goodmorning when it dies in his throat. He looks over the back of the couch to see Bakugou lying in his back arm protectively wrapped around you, as you lie between his legs. The two of you sleeping snuggly beneath a cat Christmas blanket as the TV plays a classic movie.

Ruby eyes notice the decorations, the tree, all of the stockings over a lit fire that were not there the night before. He smiles a wide toothed smile looking down at the two of you with faint smiles painted on your lips.

[cozycryptidcorner]

Shark Merfolk Boyfriend

Hey guys- here’s the first place winner of the raffle! Sorry I’ve been MIA for a little while, school and family stuff has had be busy af this month. Hope you enjoy this story about a smartass shark merfolk with a gender neutral reader.

The train from the coastline to the Center takes well over an hour, the lights of the cars dim enough so the passengers can look out windows and into the depths. The glass that protects the track network is thick and military-grade, strong enough not to crack underneath the pressure of the ocean. You don’t mind the time it takes to get there, it gives you a moment to breathe, or finish up any last-minute projects. The paperwork at the Center can be a bitch, and it seems like everyone is running behind on it, even you. So while the wheels on the tracks whirl and moan, you have your laptop out, fingers flying across the keys as you electronically sign off a thing or two.

The shriek of the breaks is dulled significantly by the padding of the train’s walls, but you still hear the barest echo of the slowing wheels. There, out the window, you can see the lights shimmering through the currents, shadows of creatures swimming to and fro dancing on the edge of your vision. Carefully, you start placing your work things back into your bag, placing the strap on your shoulder as the cars come to a final stop. The intercom buzzes as someone’s recorded voice announces this as the Center, reminding tourists to calmly file towards the main lobby for the tours and special bundle deals for the whole family.

You watch your step as you get off, helping a mother carry a rather bulky stroller down the steep stairs while her toddler coos at the bright lights hanging overhead. Instead of following the crowd, most of them just curious passersby here to spend a long day, you scan an employee’s pass on a nearby elevator, stepping in and pressing your floor when the doors close. The labs are a lower level down, far from the loud shrieking of children and the aghast staring of couples as they look into the many different aquatic exhibits. You are similar to them in that you are here to be a spectator, though the reasons are vastly different.

The wetsuit waiting for you in the locker room is cold and wet, as it hadn’t managed to dry from when you left it the night before. You don’t think you’ve put that thing on while it was dry since you first got it, but it doesn’t matter so much once you get it on. It traps the heat from your body, keeping you warm despite the obvious chill deep seawater brings. You step into the main hall, barefoot and with your water shoes in hand, looking over at the adjoining waterway the merfolk use to get around. Someone waits for you, skin a dark shade of blue-gray, teeth sharp and layered in rows in his mouth.

“Hey,” you say, holding your bookbag slightly away from your body, so it doesn’t soak through. “How’d your night go?”

“Oh, you know,” Kanoa says, baring his razor-sharp teeth in a greeting smile, “the same. I watched a- what was it called... RIP Vine compilation for the Chaotic Good. I also learned a new human word: yeet.”

“Hm, interesting.” You bite your bottom lip, looking over the day’s agenda. “You are aware of the proper use of that word, right?”

“Of course, doctor. I would demonstrate, but I have nothing to throw besides an expensive, government-issued tablet.”

“Please don’t,” you are tempted to laugh, but hold everything together for the sake of a professional persona. “Management will not be particularly pleased about that. Our mysterious benefactor’s money can only go so far.”

When you walk, Kanoa follows alongside in the waterway, tail flicking for movement. You know that he could easily outpace you is he wanted, there have been some foot races up and down the halls just for the sake of fun. The merfolk are typically the ones who come out winning, their slick, long bodies perfect examples of speed and agility. Still, there isn’t any use in outrunning your partner when they can barely keep up, so Kanoa matches your rate of steps, looking over his tablet with a furrowed brow.

“How did our patient do during the night?” You ask, bringing up the file of a dolphin.

“I heard from our night crew that she had no issues, though she seemed lonely.”

“Once her wounds are healed up enough, she can join the communal tank.” You push open a set of double doors, entering a large, domed room, an artificial glow shining from the many lights against the ceiling. The simulation of daytime is remarkable, you would readily admit, for anyone less aware of the small biome’s existence, they might be readily fooled for some time, though the painted horizon on one side would be an easy giveaway. The sand feels warm against your bare toes, as the heated plates just a couple of feet below work to keep the internal temperatures like that of a paradise.

There, in the shallows of the water, a baby dolphin swims around in circles, though her movements are rather weak. Still, she’s significantly healed from when she first arrived, bloody and bruised from struggling to escape a stray plastic net she caught herself in. A little rest and some TLC and she’ll be back with her pod in no time, though her family went ahead and migrated without her, most likely under the assumption that their poor baby was dead. The GPS tags have them out in the northern waters already, so you’ll probably have her kept in rehabilitation until they come back.

Kanoa pops out from his own entrance underneath the water, shaking his head back and forth to get the water from his eyes. The dolphin clicks with joy when she sees him, swimming weak circles around his large, gray frame in an invitation to play. He picks her up, and she wriggles in his arms with joy, making loud, squeaky cries of excitement as he dives backward in the water, popping back up only a yard away from the artificial shore. She squeals when she notices you, too, beckoning you closer so she could swim excited circles around your waist.

“She missed us,” Kanoa laughs, picking her up again and placing a kiss on her forehead. “Awww, little baby, look at you! Getting better already.”

The dolphin’s excitement is ridiculously infectious, so you find yourself giggling along to her chirps of happiness. Your fingers run over her back as she wriggles back and forth between you and Kanoa, unable to decide who gets to get the honor of playing the first game of the day with her. Physical therapy, actually, it’s just disguised as something fun for her to do, but every little thing the both of you do has the express purpose of helping her recover. Still, dressing it up to be fun and engaging certainly hurts no one, least of all the patient in question.

“We need to come up with a name for you,” Kanoa coos, cradling her in his arms.

“Don’t look at me,” you say, “you can’t put me on the spot like that.”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” Kanoa says, more to the dolphin than you, “yes I will, baby girl, yes I will…”

You hide your smile behind the tablet, tapping briefly just to make it seem like you’re working. Kanoa is more than happy to take the first game, something designed to strengthen her muscles, while you sit on the sandy edge, monitoring her progress from a distance in case he misses something vital in her movement. She’s a wily one, even while injured, so she runs to risk of straining herself far too early, something that might permanently damage what has already been harmed. Then it’s your turn to give her some attention, swimming laps around the pool in the guise of tag.

“You take lunch with the other scientists, don’t you?” Kanoa asks, after a few hours of working with the dolphin.

“Usually. I don’t have the energy to pack my own food, so I eat from the cafeteria.”

“You should eat it with me. If you don’t mind.” Kanoa fiddles with his tablet, the corner of his mouth twitching. “It would give us some extra time to discuss our little patient here.”

It only takes a moment of hesitation for you to agree. “Sure, but you’ll have to let me grab something to-go from the main caf.”

“Of course,” Kanoa says, perhaps a little too quickly. “I usually eat here with little miss sunshine, so-”

“I’ll get something to eat and come back down,” you finish, nodding, “sounds good.”

It doesn’t take much longer for lunchtime to arrive, but it does take you a hot minute to go up to the cafeteria, lines all up the wazoo. You through on a simple cover dress, one thin layer to hide your skin-tight wetsuit from prying, curious eyes. Thanks to the ridiculous amount of tourism that takes up a good portion of the Center, there are many chain restaurants present to feed them all, so you always have a decent selection of menu. There’s an authentic Japanese restaurant, carved out in their own little corner, one that many a night you’ve spent with your land-dwelling coworkers.

The sushi there is top-notch, or at least you’ve been told so by your coworkers with more experience in the cuisine. While a tad bit pricey, it is one of the few things that both humans and merfolk can consume, so you’re drawn to it all the same. Just on a whim, you order one or two more than you think you can eat... in case someone wants to share. After a couple of minutes of waiting after your order was taken, the chef finishes up the lunch, placing everything in a sturdy paper box, one that biodegrades after a couple of days once it’s been used. Plastics are strictly prohibited; after all, styrofoam included, so everything that gets put in the trash rots after a couple of days. Keeps the risk of pollution at a minimum.

You walk back to the elevators, careful to dodge a group of shrieking children running out of the gift shop, little trinkets that couldn’t have cost more than five dollars in hand. It doesn’t take you as long to navigate the tunneling corridors back down to the rehab domes, the chill of the hallways biting at your fingers. The warmth of the artificial sun is a relief the moment you push your way through the doors, and you’re quick to kick off your sandals and bury your toes beneath the sand.

Kanoa waits for you, tail curled up, ceramic bowl in hand with spiced fish inside. It’s rather hard to cook food beneath the sea when a fire isn’t exactly an option, and going to any heat source like a lava flow would end up with you roasting alongside whatever you have, so it’s not really a surprise that merfolk eat their food raw. You sit next to him, placing a metal water bottle in the sand and wriggling it, so it stays upright, and look over to where the dolphin is swimming around in circles, playing her own little game with a large, inflated ball.

“How’s she doing?”

“In the few minutes that you’ve been gone?” Kanoa pops another slice of fish into his mouth. “Not very different. She’s extremely chipper today, wonder what the night crew did to put her in such a good mood.”

“Maybe she’s just stoked to see us.”

Kanoa looks over at you, brow furrowed.

“Stoked, uh, means,”

“Just playing,” he flicks your shoulder, “I know what it means: very excited.”

You snort, snapping a pair of disposable chopsticks in half. “You got me there, dude. I almost went on a whole tangent explaining what it means and how it’s used. Can’t have a repeat of the lmao incident from last year.”

Kanoa lets out a huffy laugh, looking over your meal with an interested gaze. “Sushi? You like that?”

You shrug, picking up one of the more fishy bites and offered it to him. “Mostly. You want some?”

He leans over and takes the sushi in his mouth, not taking too much time to chew before swallowing, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he takes a moment to decide whether or not he likes it. “It’s good.”

“Yeah?” You aren’t sure if you’re feeling relief or not.

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” You quickly pick up another and eat it, mouth savoring the natural saltiness of the fish and the soft crunch of an accompanying radish.

“I have a question,” Kanoa says in a casual-not-casual voice, “just something I’ve been wondering about.”

“Yes?” You take the bait, not sure where to look. Definitely not on his chiseled abs, that’s not a great place to stare at right now. Maybe not at your sushi, either, because that might seem rude. Ugh, eye contact it is, then.

“I’ve seen acts of affection on the Tube. Kissing, right?”

“First, never call YouTube ‘the tube’ again,” you take a breath, steeling yourself for where you know he’s trying to steer the conversation towards. You know what? You’re okay with this. “Second, yes, I’m aware of kissing.”

“I’d like to try it, if you don’t mind, with someone with experience in the action. Most humans do, yeah? You do?”

You clear the air away from your throat. “Yeah.”

“Would you mind?”

You let the question mull over in your head for all but two seconds while you bring forth the pros and cons of doing allowing a shark merfolk press his mouth against yours- or, you suppose, you’ll have to be the one to initiate, coaching him through the process. Pros; you look down at his abs, then back up to the shapely outline of his jaw. Cons; uhm, letting the softer parts of your face get up and cozy with that gauntlet of ridiculously sharp teeth.

“Sure,” you say, swallowing thickly, eyeing his pecs, “for science.”

Carefully, you set the box of sushi onto the sand. Then, slowly, you place both hands on either side of his shoulders, getting up onto your knees, and go in for the kill before you hesitate any longer. His mouth isn’t soft as a human’s; rather, it’s a tad bit rubbery, nor is it at all warm. It’s almost like kissing one of those dreaded dodgeballs that’s been hanging out in the cold night air for a good couple of hours, though his mouth is decidedly far more shapely than a sphere.

Kanoa doesn’t move an inch, frozen in place, almost like he hadn’t expected you to take his offer, or at least do so as quickly as you ended up doing so. When you pull away, though, his hand unexpectedly falls on your arm, his dark eyes almost glazed over from whatever emotions are running through his body. After a moment, he presses his forehead against yours, then tries his best to mimic the way your lips had gently pressed up against his. He’s clumsy at first, but that doesn’t stop him from making a second attempt, one that’s much more improved in the way of technique.

You’re quickly breathless, and you can’t remember how you ended up underneath him, only that his kissing abilities are improving very rapidly with every single intimate moment that passes. It takes you a minute to be able to think properly because you want to ask him something, but the heat the two of you share makes it awfully hard to create a single, coherent sentence in your mind. Oh, the coolness of his mouth was only offputting in the beginning, now it’s grown on you. “Ho-” you let out a little gasp when his face tilts, and he offers a teasing kiss on your earlobe, “how to your people do this?”

“They don’t.” He’s as breathless as you, unable to process any of his thoughts or your words correctly.

“Not this, but- but ways they show love?” You tangling your fingers through his drying hair, your nails pressing into his scalp.

Kanoa mulls it over for a moment, eyes darting across your face, your eyes, nose, mouth, then falls down to a sliver of skin that the wetsuit doesn’t cover on your neck. He leans over, his hair tickling your chin, then bites, not hard, not enough to draw blood, but enough to send a little spark through your nerves. Instead of immediately letting go, he stays that way for a bit longer, then slowly opens his mouth enough to release your skin. His teeth graze against your neck as he does so, the warmth of his breath sending delicious shivers down your spine.

“Like that.” He says, sounding satisfied with how disheveled you look beneath him.

“Oh,” you say, your voice small. “Do it again.”

He obeys, switching over to the other side of your neck, his teeth pulling at your skin. The way he bites is careful, full of cautious movement, clearly aware that any sort of wrong twitch might leave your skin torn and bloody. It’s a careful dance between too much and not enough, the line between pain and pleasure as thin as a silk thread, but he somehow manages to walk it with a sort of ease that you’re not confident you can come close to emulate, should the tables turn. When he lets go, the sharpness ceases, and you are left breathless and heated.

“We should stop,” he says, his voice quiet and muted, as though there’s suddenly a wall dividing the two of you.

“Wha- why?” You ask, suddenly aware that the zipper of your wetsuit had somehow managed to make it down past your collarbone. Did he do that? Did you? It’s a blur.

“I’m afraid I won’t want to stop if we continue- and I don’t think you would, either.” He looks over to where the dolphin is swimming around in circles, eagerly awaiting your return to playtime. “We’re still at work.”

“Right.” Your stomach stops its drop, relieved that he hadn’t suddenly decided that this was all too much, too fast, because the pace seemed to be just right in your eyes.

“There’s a utility closet that I can get into upstairs,” he says, “no one ever enters because it’s tucked in a far off corner.”

You smile wide enough that it hurts. “Oh? And what would be doing in there?”

“Going as far as we’d like without worrying about an audience.”

“I’ll give it some thought,” you say, playing the hard to get card. “Weigh the benefits of any feasible outcomes.”

“Well, please write out your final thesis on the topic and bring it by my desk by evening.”

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

Monsta X during Sex

A/n: @ddaengbaepsae basically cowrote this, bless her thotty brain

Warnings: Just pure filth, kinda soft though shut up I’m soft for them

Word Count: 2656

Son Hyunwoo (Shownu)

Welp he’s big all over folks

Stay safe, use lube

It’ll be fine he’s a big teddy bear

He might hurt you but he’d never mean to

He’s not the type to fuck around he’s definitely a one woman man

He’d be slow to initiate a physical relationship, too, he’s a shy baby under all those muscles

Not at all the jealous type you could thirst over another member right in front of his salad and he’d be like “You’re right, Jooheon does have juicy thighs”

Only very specific situations would make him feel possessive

For example if he comes home and you’re wearing Hoseok’s hoodie

His ears start turning red and you have no idea why

Rips it off you all hungry kisses hands everywhere

You’re shook when he gets a little rough with you, bites your shoulder when he comes

While you’re getting dressed after he puts his hoodie on you with a kiss and a sheepish smile

Missionary, lots of slow strokes, kissing

He’s a hard worker tho if you know what I mean 👀👀

Worries about your pleasure over his

High-key oblivious to you seducing him

You can suck chocolate off his fingers and he’s like “Jagi I can buy more chocolate, relax.”

You can strip off your clothes and he’ll be like “oh should I run you a bath?”

You’ll have to deadass put your hand on his dick for him to get it

He’ll be all blushy at first but then he’ll kiss you hard

So good at oral look at those lips sis. Won’t even ask you to reciprocate but would be so grateful if you do, stroking your hair, a little praise “You’re so good to me, Jagi.”

He’s so shy about asking for what he wants in general but if you do something he likes once, he’ll ket you know by his body language, throw his head back and buck those dancer’s hips

He isn’t very vocal at first but he’ll get a little more comfortable he’s never actually loud

Unless you sit on his face

Don’t @me Nunu loves it

This is when he’s loud, all deep throated moans and he’ll go hard, you’re gonna forget your own name, sis

He loves curves, loves you in white and lace

He is not a one night stand guy he’s a serial monogamist for sure

If he’s fucking you he’s in love I don’t make the rules

He’s fairly vanilla and he’d be highkey worried he’d hurt you if you were into choking or something like that

He would try anything for the person he loves but he’d be uncomfortable if it were something rough

He knows how to move, we all know that, so in any case you’re a very happy girl

Yoo Kihyun

So Ki wants you a lady in the streets

You start dating him thinking you got this traditional boy from a conservative household

But behind closed doors…

“Why are you wearing panties? You don’t need those here.”

He’ll buy you expensive lingerie just to fucking RUIN it

Look you leave his place sweaty and sticky and covered in hickeys

It’s a real walk of shame

He wants you a MESS the first few times he won’t even fuck you because he wants you hooked on him before he ever puts it in

You gotta beg for it every fucking time

But when he finally does you best be ready

He’ll have you ass up on all fours trying to blow out your back

Saying shit like “This is what you wanted, yeah? Wanted me to fuck you like my pretty little whore?”

You’re fucking SHOOK

Also he IS low-key a nice boy like in public he’s making you cover up your marks and shit

But the minute you get a little chummy with one of the other boys he’s ripping off your scarf like “oops”

He’s not that loud bc he’s focused on making you loud af

But he’s a real dirty talker he’ll whisper some shit to you at a restaurant that’ll make your legs shake

He’s the type to make you take off your panties in the bathroom and when you come back he’s talking intently with the boys while he just runs one hand along your inner thighs to tease you

He will be loud if you let him fuck your mouth tho (and you will please who are we kidding?)

“That’s my good girl. My sweet whore.” Throaty moans

Low-key kinky he’ll just randomly buy a riding crop and ship it to your house with a note like “tonight?”

He would love you in a diamond collar

Nothing even remotely submissive about this man

He’s a good time but you better be ready he doesn’t play if you’re his you’re his no questions no complaints

Lee Jooheon

What a fun time

But also such a fucking tease

Another one who wants you messy and keening

Acts all innocent when you beg all wide eyed “What do you mean, princess, I’m barely touching you? You’re so needy today.” All dimpled smirk

But he’ll fuck the life outta you right after

Also just a sidenote he’s got a fast tongue you know that vibrating thing? King of that

He sends you texts all day at work 50% sexts 50% sweet like “when are you coming to see me? I miss you.”

He is a s w i t c h you can’t change my mind

But he’s a brat if he lets you top, so whiny and desperate and he’ll know exactly what will make you give in.

Has a bit of a praise kink tbh so he might be a good boy just for that

When he doms he’s soft tho all praise all the time

He’ll praise you for being a brat be like “oh, I love it when you’re feisty. Do that again.”

Jooheon likes ass sis the more the better if you got cake and wear tight jeans around him you won’t be wearing them long

You gonna have handprints on that booty like at all times

Loves doggy style so much

Adventurous he would definitely fuck you somewhere public like a parking garage or a public bathroom he gets off on adrenaline for sure

High sex drive, all over you when you’re busy working from home and when you’re finally like “ok ok I’m done let’s do this” he’s barely touching you skating his mouth over your skin just to give you chills

Loves to show you off wants you looking like a bad bitch when he takes you out he loves it when you make heads turn

He’s not exactly possessive but he does want all your attention at first he’ll use aegyo and be pouty to try and get you to pay attention to him

If that doesn’t work then he’ll use that Libra seductiveness

LOUD AF

Particularly during blowjobs he will wake the dead “Please please please…” So desperate and whiny

Unironically refers to you as “his girl” like you meet his friends and he’s like “this is my girl”

Down for anything he’ll make all your kinks and fantasies a reality

Loves you wearing something revealing kisses all your exposed skin big open mouthed kisses

Softest sweetest cuddler afterward

Would be the BEST fwb

Chae Hyungwon

He strikes me as the the type to have a fwb for a real long time or be a serial monogamist

King of the long, deep, slow stroke game

You can beg him to go faster all you want but his patience will end you

Lots of stamina we’re talking all night y'all every single time

No quickies here you gotta carve out 2 hours in your schedule minimum

Look at that mouth phew you’re gonna need a good two hours to recover after he goes down on you too

It’ll take a while he can breathe through his ears you feel me

He’s pretty vanilla at heart but he’ll choke the shit outta you if that’s what you want, tie you up, whatever he ain’t scared

King of morning sex I just know it

Sleepy, slow, sweet morning sex

Have you in your feelings when the sun is barely up

SUCH a good kisser, wow

Mostly dominant in bed but he loves you on top

You have fingerprint bruises on your hips at all times

He doesn’t get possessive much at all he’s confident he’s got you on lock

If he does he’ll just throw shade at the dude you’re flirting with and fuck you an hour longer that night to remind you why you’re with him

One of those shuts the kitty down for two full days types, tbh he’s low-key BIG

Big big praise during blowjobs if you give the good succ he gonna fall in love

“Your tongue is sinful, you know that? You look so beautiful with your mouth full.”

Like before you fuck him the first time you’re worries he’ll be boring in bed because he’s quiet and sweet on dates

Then one night he kisses you goodnight and suddenly presses you against the wall, lips right by your ear: “You’re inviting me in, yeah?”

You’re like “Yes SIR”

After about an hour and a half you’re exhausted and sweating, muscles sore and he’s deadass asleep with one arm thrown around you

He’s full of surprises

Lee Hosoek (Wonho)

You first see him and your instincts tell you to run he’s gotta be a whole fuckboy

He wants to be and he’ll try but he’s s o f t

He would do a one night stand and then take you to breakfast and text you two hours later asking if you wanna hang out again

You’re absolutely shocked when he calls you the next day because the sex is definitely not soft

At least not at first

At first he’s throwing you up against walls, pulling your hair, all whiny moans and praises “God, look at you, all spread out like a whore for me.”

And he’ll keep it up but he gets low-key sweet as he inevitably catches feelings

Starts going down on you all the time, being a real tease, slow licks, two fingers in and out

Moans against you it makes him so hard to taste you

The cuddliest baby afterward

High-key possessive don’t even think about flirting he’ll have you backed into a corner marking your throat and breasts up in front of God and everybody

Wants a lot of attention but mostly wants to give you a lot of attention

I don’t know if a louder boy exists tbh

Good luck keeping any of your private times private he’s such a moaner, pleads with you, dirty talker esp when you give him head

“You’re gonna make me come so hard, will you open your mouth and let me see it on your tongue?”

He’ll want so many nudes of you

He strikes me as a real ass man just like Joo

He WILL eat the booty like groceries

He’ll try to wife you if you like anal but sis bring a lot of lube

BIG BIG BIG

Like he knows he’s big but he doesn’t realize how big

Scary big

“You wanna put that where?” Big

He’d sub he’s a switch he’s a good boy too

He is not too proud to beg and he’ll wear your hickies like a badge of honor

He’s strong he loves to manhandle you, throw you over his shoulder and smack your ass, standing sex in the shower holding on to your hips as he bucks up into you

Proud of his body and never wears a shirt around you if he doesn’t have to

Big boyfriend material though despite his fuckboy charm he is loyal and sweet

Lee Minhyuk

He might be a fuckboy look I know he seems soft but there’s a strong demon in there

I feel like he lives to make women fall for him but may or may not catch feelings himself

He’s the type to woo you hard and then kind of ghost you because he’s in too deep

Down for anything sexually a big switch

He’ll be excited to try new things and beg to hear your dirtiest fantasies

Sexually manipulative, he’ll talk you into anything

He’s so much fun but what a wildcard one night will be just missionary and kissing the next y'all are trying out every position in the Kama sutra

Talks a lot, praise, especially when you are on top

Whiny moans, bucking his hips but trying to be a good boy

He👏 loves 👏curves I cannot emphasize this enough

He’s fucking you from behind waxing poetic

“You’re so sexy. The curve of your spine, the way your lower back dips just before…” Skating his hands along your ass before he grabs a handful

He’s always touching you during, hands and mouth everywhere, soft open mouthed kisses on your throat, your breast, your thighs

King of foreplay

He’ll just touch you everywhere, run his hands along your things as he kisses you, your back, your arms, has you trembling before he ever gets to a sweet spot

Loves to overstimulate you but he’ll let you to it to him, too, he loves making you a mess but he’ll love being a mess for you too

Would love you to tie him up he’s a good boy

If he so desires he’ll turn the tables so quick it’s scary, though, he can talk you into anything, remember?

Absolutely an angel in aftercare, sweetest boy, bring you water and snacks to prepare for round two

Im Changkyun (i.m)

The biggest fucking tease

Will dirty talk you until you are weak in the knees

Sexts you in the middle of the day

“Remember when you rode me from behind? Let’s do that again tonight.”

He doesn’t forget a single moment because he’s watching everything, how your face looks when you’re close, the sounds you make

Inside a week he knows exactly what you’re weak for and will use it to his advantage

Teases you mercilessly when he goes down on you, but when you do come it’s overstimulation city he’s moaning against you and coaxing a second orgasm right after the first

He loves to bite you, oh boy, your inner thighs are covered

But that moan he lets out when you bite his neck? He loves to be marked

Cocky, arrogant in bed at first “I know what you like.”

But as he catches feelings he’s more open with you when he’s inside you than he ever is outside of bed

Emotionally attached to sex so when he starts to fall in love it gets even better

He starts to praise you instead of talking shit

Loves you on top, the awe on his face

Breathy, low moans instead of those usual grunts and growls

“Honey, you kill me, you know that? You were made to fit around my cock, yeah?”

He tries out every position but always ends up in missionary, looking in your eyes, kissing you hard and hungry

He memorizes every curve of your body, every face you pull when you’re coming apart because he wants to be able to call it up when he’s away

Low-key body worship when he’s in his feelings

His praise is very personal, too, he’ll talk about how the freckles on your shoulders are constellations, kiss everyone while he’s fucking you from behind

He makes sure you know what he sees in you

If you want to top him he’ll agree and let you but pretend he’s not into it until you really get going

You’ll break him the first time, he’ll beg you, hips bucking, so loud

He needs a girl who can do both

If you’re bad bitch down for anything he’ll fall in love on sight

So soft in the mornings, Eskimo kisses, murmured praise

[kainumbernine009]

I literally cannot do anything else until I get this out.

I’m... really not okay.

And when I say that, I’m not mentally unstable. I say that because I’m tired of waiting on empty promises, I’m tired of never having money in our account, I’m tired of living in a fucking city where half of the white people fucking worship the ground Trump walks on, and where most of the gay community has so much messy drama that it’s worse than middle school. And I went to a rough middle school.

I never talk about my past, because I don’t like to. It sucked. HARD. Being and only child in my family was nothing less than torture, especially as a closeted queer person. We grew up in the white Christian part of Nashville that dominated Music Row in the 90′s and early 2000′s. I played basketball with Alan Jackson’s daughter, and being around famous people was just no big deal. But, my parents decided to leave Nashville after my dad lost his job at TPAC, and we moved down south an hour to the town where the KKK got started (Pulaski, TN).

I had maybe two non-white people in my private Christian school growing up. I was never afraid of Black people, but my parents showed their racist asses quick when we moved there. The KKK has never left America, guys, no matter how many articles you read or studies you do. From 2005 to 2009 I saw a white town show its very worst to the Black community. I’ll never forget the first time I saw a march for “White Christians for Purity” the summer before Obama got elected. The disgust I felt inside was palpable. I had all kinds of friends in school, and I didn’t give TWO SHITS who they were or what they looked like... but I saw children my age, being brainwashed by their parents, that “white” is “right.”

Ever since then, I have been learning and growing about the issues of race. I remember my white classmates using the N word and getting away with it. I remember hearing about the principal at the high school punishing all the Black kids but not the white kids. I remember being invited to a church south of town that was a historically Black church, and how nice the ladies were to me for coming.

But I’ll never forget the racism that the religious groups promoted there, especially First Baptist Church and the 12 Tribes. I’ll never forget how FBC told me that my friend was going to Hell because she killed herself. I’ll never forget my mom telling me not to marry a Black man because of “impure genes.” I WILL NEVER FORGET THE INJUSTICES I SAW WHITE PEOPLE DOING TO BLACK PEOPLE THERE. NEVER.

And thank God, I have shaken the burden of religious guilt, but I still fight against this mentality. I live in a place that’s usually not even 10 minutes away from Trump-humping, sister-fucking, meth-addicted Confederate cunts in any direction. And we’re even closer to the rich white people who silently supported him, upset that their taxes would go up because of Biden.

And in the past four years since Trump got elected, I’ve gotten married, graduated college with honors, started my own photography business, and was making more than my husband there for a minute. I did my own taxes, marketing, editing, and everything. And then I came out as trans.

I lost everything.

I lost my studio. I lost friends. I had rumors started about me. I had people post hate messages on my wall. I had people at my drag shows tell others not to tip me, for whatever fucking reasons. I’ve had bosses give cis people jobs over me, and I’ve had government workers give me second looks when I hand them my license.

It. Fucking. Sucks. To. Live. Here. Like. This.

Oh yeah, did I mention I’m also a witch/medium? I’ve talked to dead people before and have told their relatives things I shouldn’t have known otherwise about their grandparents. Like, this information doesn’t even exist on Google. And I’m attuned to reiki. I’m always aware of what’s happening on at least SOME metaphysical level. This is a gift that I’ve had to go through life developing and learning about myself, with no one’s help but me.

I didn’t even know until I was an adult that I have autism and ADHD.

I’ve taken bullets from people who were about to kill themselves. I’ve yelled at 5th grade music classrooms for doing racist dance moves and appropriating Native Americans (I have a degree in Music Education K-12). I’ve consoled kids in classrooms who suddenly have panic attacks. AND I’ve told horny teenagers to stay in their fucking lane and respect the girls around them. I’ve apparently been an inspiration to those around me, but inspiration NOR exposure pays the bills. I’ve already had COVID, and so has my husband, but I knew that after graduating college that I would never have a fulfilling life being a music teacher in Tennessee’s public schools.

And now that we have COVID, and an orange, small-dicked, pedophilic, rape apologizing, dirty, crusty white president who STILL REFUSES TO CONCEDE, who is DIRECTLY RESPONSIBLE FOR HAVING HIS FOLLOWERS SEND DEATH THREATS TO MY FAMILY, I really don’t know what the fuck else to do other than go burn down all the houses I know of in North Georgia that belong to these Christian sex cult pedophiles and call it a day. My girlfriend unfortunately was born into one of those families, and I know just how bad it can get. In fact, her dad’s lawyer threatened me with blackmail earlier in November, so that was fun!

And now, on December 11, 2020, I’m still sitting here in the same fucking house, doing the same fucking things I’ve been doing all year - trying to get a job and failing horribly. I’M SICK AND TIRED OF THIS COVID BULLSHIT AND OUR INCOMPOTENT CUNT OF A PRESIDENT! And there’s only ever one other person I’ve ever called a cunt... my own mother.

I’ve lived in many places. I’ve met many different people. I’ve made mistakes, and have grown, but there’s one thing for damn sure that I always make sure to do, every single fucking day.

I ALWAYS try to do better.

In addition to this, I treat everyone with the same amount of respect, unless they have done something directly to me to negate that. If I know that someone believes in something that directly harms me or my family, I don’t even associate with them. I don’t spend my energy on things that don’t need it. And everyone else should, too.

The problem with some of y’all is that you care about the wrong things. Like will Becky text me back or did I get front row seats to that concert, or did I slave my life away to capitalism just so that I can own a Mercedes and have my friends jealous. I’ve had way too many dear death experiences to know that EVERY single fucking day is a gift. EVERY day.

I don’t want to be remembered first for the art I create. I want to be remembered for my character. I want to be remembered as the courageous person who never backed down in the face of adversity. But when you live in a place that already hates you and that is against you, that’s really fucking hard. Trust me. My marriage went from a cis straight passing couple to a white gay passing couple. I’ve seen how people’s attitudes changed around me as I transitioned. I know what it feels like to slowly lose a piece of your privilege you were born with.

So yeah, I kinda get a little fucking upset when I see people saying All Lives Matter, or when I see doctors refusing to treat trans patients in pandemics, or when I see cops YET AGAIN harassing Black people only a few blocks away from my house for no other reason than racism. And at this point, anyone who thinks they know me but only knows what people think they know about me can suck my entire ass and eat ten dicks. I don’t give a FUCK about who you are or what you’ve done. If you treat me or other people with no respect for no reason other than to be an asshole, you’re just plain shit. If you SERIOUSLY believe every little rumor and lie that someone tells about me before meeting me, fuck you AND the horse you rode in on.

What I can’t stand is people doing or saying things just to get a rise out of me or others. I thought we left petty shit in high school. Some of the people that “know” me really need to fucking grow up and grow a pair and either say what they want to my face, or stay mad. I’m tired of playing fucking petty games with y’all. We have a whole ass pandemic to solve.

So here’s the ultimatum... if you agree that Black Lives Matter and that queer people deserve basic human rights, EVEN THE ONES YOU HATE, then that’s the bare minimum to even be a decent person. If you can’t even do those things, then I don’t fucking know what else to say to you.

So NBC, maybe not have John Mulaney joke about my license debacle with my gold van on SNL, and Seth Meyers... maybe HIRE ME INSTEAD of Mulaney because clearly y’all don’t know about the south as much as I do? Oh, and that gazeebo joke with Lee University... I caught that. I may have autism, but I’m not a fucking idiot. I mean. I’m funny when I’m given the chance. And yeah, I’m on a watchlist, but who the fuck isn’t these days? At least all my secrets are out for the world to see, and I have a bangin’ tattoo.

I’m tired of everyone being like “omg, I’ve seen what he can do, it’s fantastic!” or “omg you’re so funny haha” and bragging on me and then NOT FUCKING HIRING ME. I’m TIRED of waiting on something that’s clearly at this point never coming.

I don’t even have testicles, and my balls are bigger than most of the cis men I have EVER met.

So, if you want to help me, or hire me, or get me out to an audition... I’ll be there. But until then, I’m so fucking MAD at some of these producers. Yeah, my mom is a cunt, but she worked in various forms of digital production from the 1980′s until she retired this year. She taught me SO MUCH about directing, writing, shooting, and more. I know how these things are supposed to run behind the scenes. I know what the fuck I’m doing, and I don’t take constructive criticism like a bitch. I actually WANT to be criticized, so I can do even better.

So PLEASE, for the love of Christ... y’all need to get your priorities together AND PLEASE STOP LEAVING ME OUT OF THE LOOP WITH THIS BULLSHIT. Grow a fucking pair and either call me, email me, or leave me alone. It’s really not that fucking hard. Looking at you, Lorne Michaels.

Oh and someone tell my husband what the fuck’s been going on because I’m tired of him gaslighting me about it.

[acopenhagenarmy]

RESPECT - 3

Pairing: BTS x reader but mostly hyung-line x reader

Mafia!au - gang!au - assassins!au

Word count: 3.6k ish

Warnings: Mentions of violence, swearing and some fluff if you squint. 

Summary: Growing up in one of the biggest and most feared mafias has it’s perks, but what happens when you and you’re friends are suddenly shipped off to the other end of the world? Will you stay together or will the world you live in tear you all apart?

Part one / Part two / Part three / 

Taglist: @purpletaehyung92 @jinmydarling​ @diefranzel​

You woke up the following morning after a good night sleep, something you were incredibly grateful for, because today was the day of your first classes. You didn’t quite know exactly what you’d be learning on this school, and whenever you or the boys had asked in the past, the answer had always been: “You’ll find out one day”

A quick shower later and you were out the door, walking straight for Jimin’s room as usual. It was a little weird that you wouldn’t be heading for the gym, as you’ve done every morning for the past three years. But you guessed it would be best to get a new routine as long as you were here, maybe the two of you would grab a coffee each morning like every other normal pair of siblings in their start twenties?  No, that didn’t really sound like the two of you…

You knocked on the door one time, which was quickly opened by a very bare chested Jungkook. He was beautiful, there was no denying that. He had a body that looked like it was shaped by gods. And even though you’d seen it a million times before, during and after workouts, it still made your breath hitch.

“Good morning Y/N!” He took a step aside to make room for you to enter their shared room. You looked around the space, it was bigger than yours, but then again, they were two people so that was only fair.

“Jimin is styling his hair, he’s been in the bathroom for ten minutes, so I guess he’ll be done in five” He laughed a little at his own statement, Jimin was known for being the late one and even more known for his hair.

“Fuck you Kookie!” You could hear your brother yell from the bathroom.

You sat down on one of the beds as you watched Jungkook as he got dressed.

“How did you sleep Kook?” You ran your hand over the tiger stripes on your arm, calming some of the nerves you had for the upcoming day.

He shrugged.

“Okay I guess… It’s kind of weird sleeping in another bed, but I guess I’ll get used to it. How about you?”

“Pretty good, but then again I think my massive hangover, the jetlag and so on had something to with it”

Jungkook finally put on a shirt as he ruffled his hair a little, something he had learned always made you a little sheepish.

“Sure, I guess sleep was what you needed then”

Jimin then entered the room making the both of you look his way.

“Hey you, what are you doing here?” He walked over and placed his hand on your shoulder as he squeezed it a little. The two of you had what people would call the twin gene, you always knew when something was bothering the other, even if you weren’t in the same room.

“I don’t know to be honest. It just feels weird to break our morning routine, so I just figured we could do something before class starts. I like that your face is the first I see every morning”

He gave you a big smile, one of those that made his eyes disappear into crescent moons.

“I would love that Y/N”

You knew that he would agree before you asked, but somehow you were still relived. You could almost physically feel some of the weight lift from your shoulders. Make you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in.

“So, what should we do then? I mean we can’t just sit around, that’s not really our style” Jimin said.

“How about we go out and explore some of this gigantic building, and figure something out?”

“You got yourself a deal sis!”

---

When you stepped into the gym for your first class you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips. The giant hall looked very similar to the gym you had left back home. The boxing equipment hang in the ceiling and on the walls, as well as the ring that was placed in the center of the room.

A man walked in and stood in front of the class, taking in every one of the young and eager people that stood before him.

“Listen up people! Every day, from now until the day you leave this place, will start here. The first three hours of every day will begin in this hall. This is the only place in this entire city you can beat the living shit out of each other, and only if I give my permission”

He was a giant, at least two meters tall, and almost just as wide, he had biceps that almost looked bigger than Jungkook’s thighs. An impressive sight, one that made you smirk a little. But unlike those doe-eyed women in your class it wasn’t because of his looks, no, a man like that had perfected his skill, and you were honored to learn from the very best.

“Pair up people, two and two and warm up”

You could see the spark in Jungkook’s eyes as he dragged Hobi to the nearest punching bag. He had a jump in his walk when he was happy, one that only enhanced his bunny looks.

You turned towards Jimin, as he held out his fist for you to bump, he smiled, and you returned it instantly.

“I guess we’ve found our morning routine after all, huh?”

You laughed as you quickly wrapped your hands to protect them from the possible injuries, and unlike most of the people in the hall, the two of you did it in mere seconds.

“Yeah we sure have” you laughed, but as your sentence ended you threw a punch towards your brothers face, one he stopped a centimeter before your fist would’ve broken his nose.

“You’re just as big a bitch in the morning in New York as you are in Seoul”

“Don’t worry brother, I’ll be in a much better mood after I kick your ass a few times the next few hours”

Your quickly redirected your other arm to aim for his gut, another punch he avoided quiet easily. Causing the both of you to smile. The two of you fought in the sidelines of the gym, just like you would’ve done at home, warming up the bodies and teasing whenever the other was to slow to block a punch.  

And not far away stood Taehyung, daydreaming as he watched how your body moved. He had never been a big fan of hand to hand combat. He understood the importance of knowing how to defend yourself without a weapon, but weapons were his thing!

Taehyung was what his members called a trigger-happy man-child. He always had a minimum of five weapons on him, and every single one of them was hidden. He might not be a geek when it came to computers like Namjoon, or a poison master like Seokjin. But he knew his weapons, and he had a serious doubt that he would every be caught in a situation where he would be without one.

“Look at him, he’s pathetic” a curly haired man close to him said to his friend.

“Shawn, please stop, will you?”  

At no point did Tae realize that the two men, standing only a few meters away, was talking about him. You and your brother had his full attention and he was captured in another world, a world of beauty, bruises and blood.

“Does he seriously think he’ll ever have a chance with her? I mean she’s the most powerful woman in all of Asia, if not the world! Does he really think he’d ever stand a chance? She’s the kind of woman who would eat him for breakfast, and not in a hot kind of way”

Jungkook and Hoseok both stood close enough to overhear the talk between the two men, and as much as they both felt sorry for the Min’s maknae, there was no way in hell they were gonna blow their cover to save his pride and reputation.

Shawn clearly had an opinion about you, and as your men it was their job to figure out if this guy, were your friend or enemy. And up until now he didn’t leave either of them with a very good impression.

“He might just be admiring their combat style?”

“Seriously? Because I really don’t think so. They are up to something, I’m sure they are. And don’t worry my man, when I’ve figured it out, she’s gonna be thanking me”

“She doesn’t really strike me as the type of woman that needs saving Shawn”

“She does, they all do in the end. They are women for god sakes!”

Hoseok cleansed his jaw as a raging fire took over his eyes. He stared at the man before him, and if eyes could kill, Shawn had been dead right then and there. Jungkook looked at his friend with concern.

Just as his brother, Jungkook could feel the rage in his veins, but he was much better at containing it. He had practiced that since his first fight. His emotions were put into his fighting, every single drop of rage, jealousy and lust was redirected into every punch of his opponent’s face.

Hoseok took a step forward, set out to give this person a piece of his mind. The only thing stopping him was Jungkook’s hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t do it Hobi, he’s not worth it and we both know that Y/N wouldn’t like us meddling in her business”

Hoseoks eyes had so much hate in them. His love for you were known by everyone except you, his need for you was bigger than his need for the air in his lungs. He wanted to protect you from everyone and everything, his life’s mission was to keep you safe. So this scenario was killing him.

A person falling to the ground was what dragged the boys from their discussion, and in the other end of the hall they saw Jimin now in laying on the floor. The laugh that followed made every man in the room stop and stare.

It was a laughter so contagious most of those who’ve heard it now had giant grins painted on their lips. Jungkook glanced towards Shawn, even he was affected even though he did his best to hide it.

“Imagine that Justin, getting your ass handed to you by a girl. Do you think he falls to the ground because she’s his leader or because she’s a girl?” Shawn said.

What he didn’t think of was the fact that the hall had been almost completely quiet after you had beat Jimin’s ass to the ground, so words that had previously been muffled was now clear to hear for everyone.

Jungkook had in a millisecond pushed Hobi out of his way and had now Shawn’s neck in the palm of his hand as he pushed the American boy towards the nearest wall.

“What did you just say about her?!” Jungkook was the strongest and best in hand to hand combat, he had dedicated his skill to you and your family and taught you everything he knew. You were almost as good as he was, almost. Which meant that when Shawn criticized your fighting skills, he criticized Jungkook as well. Something he most certainly didn’t appreciate.

Shawn smirked a little at Jungkook as you quickly turned on your heel and ran towards the drama that was unfolding only a couple of meters away.

“Jungkook!” You yelled as you curled your hands into fists.

You were ready to fight him, and he knew that. You’d done it before when he was out of line, and usually you were able to talk him down, but he was so close to seeing red and beating this kid up in front of everyone. Even if it compromised his spot in the school, no one disrespected you and walked away without a scar.

He lifted his arm to punch, but you were able to grab it only millimeters before Shawn’s perfect sculpted nose would’ve been ruined by his fist. You were fully focused on your friend with a stern look painted on your usually kind and beautiful features.

“Walk away from this Jeon”

You were able to pull his attention away from his victim, but you’d broken his spirit. He’d never seen himself as a Jeon, he considered himself a Park, in fact you all did, but you had to think of the bigger picture. And if hurting him meant he would stay by your side and finish this god forsaken school, well then, that was a price you were ready to pay.

He slowly loosened his hand from the neck he wanted to break and bowed before you. Then he stepped away leaving you alone and unprotected as he stood beside Hoseok.

“I know you don’t know me, at least not from anything more than reputation, but if I ever hear you disrespect me or my men again… You will suffer the consequences”

You turned on you heal to walk away as your eyes met Jimin’s who stood a little behind, he smiled. You felt you’d handled this right with no blood spilled.

“I see… In reality you do none of the fighting. Is that how the Parks do it? Huh? If that’s the case, then you are nothing more than a housewife who send your men into battle to die”

Jimin’s eyes lit up, a spark of playfulness took over him. He was a little pissed off that you didn’t have your katana with you, but then again if you did, Shawn would most likely had lost his head by now.

“Take his ear Y/N, when he won’t listen to you, he doesn’t deserve it” He whispered.

A sinister chuckle was all that left your lips right before you pulled one of Jimin’s knives from its holster in his belt. You swirled around on your tip toes and then, let the knife fly towards Shawn’s face. He didn’t get to blink, nor flinch, before the blade had secured itself a spot in the wall, and it didn’t mind the flesh that stood in its way.

“Learn to listen to those who are above you little man. I might be a woman, but that doesn’t make my unworthy”

You walked away before anyone had the chance to question what you’d just done. In the room surrounding you was all you could hear Taehyung’s laugh muffled together with Shawn’s screams.

---

You stood against one of the walls and looked up at the sealing as you tried to calm your heartbeat. You knew you’d fucked up, and you hoped that you’d be able to talk some sense into Dominic, so that he wouldn’t expel you from the school.

He stepped into the room and walked behind his desk without even looking at you. He threw his glasses on the table and after he sat down, he buried his head in his hands.

“You are making my job very difficult Y/N… I wasn’t expecting to handle something like this so soon”

You took a few step forwards as you said; “I know sir, and I’m sorry. But I just… I had to do something! It’s bad enough that people in my own gang start to question me and my leadership skills, but I need to put myself in respect while I’m here. I need people to know that they should fear and respect me, just as their parents fear and respect my father”

He looked at you for a few seconds before a sigh escaped his lips.

“I know. I knew it would be difficult for you, you are the first female leader we have, to roam these halls. But did you have to dismantle the boys ear Y/N?”

You looked at your hands and smiled as you rotated your ring around your finger. The smirk gave you a sinister appearance as your eyes went cold, the spark and fun disappeared in less than a second. And then you looked back at Mr. Holland.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t” You shrugged.

What you did might not have been the wisest in the situation, the best thing would probably had been to kick Shawn’s ass in the ring instead, but the psychopath that hid inside all of you took over, and she wanted blood.

“Try using your words in the future, or at least your fists”

A light chuckle filled the room.

“Trust me sir, if I wanted him to die, I would’ve let Kook finish him. This was the better outcome. What I do is different from all those before me and those who are here this year, and if blood is how I earn the respect I deserve then so be it. I’m ready to pay the price for that”

You could tell that he was concerned, but at this point you didn’t care. You were no princess in need of savior, but for some reason you needed to make that very clear to every man around you except your father.

He knew in his heart and soul you had what it would take to do this, if you didn’t, he would’ve picked Jimin as his successor instead of you.

“You are a strong woman Y/N, but you are stubborn. There are other ways to command respect apart from spilling blood. I know your father has taught you that. You need to find a way to do that without becoming a tyrant, because they are never on top for long, in the end their people rise up against their oppressor. Find another way, find your way”

You stared him down as you held back the need to bide the inside of your cheek. Your arms were now crossed over your chest, you knew deep down he was right, and you hated every second of it.

“Is that all?”

“That’s all for now, but please don’t let it happen again”

Two steps later you were out the door. Your blood was rushing through your veins, anger building up in your chest. You saw nothing and heard nothing, not until your body was slammed up against the wall and a pair of hooded eyes were all you could see.

His hands were warm and soothing as they held your shoulders back. Normally every instinct in your body would tell you to run, but instead you relaxed completely as he touched you.

“Breathe Y/N, okay? Just breathe”

Your eyes darted between his and your body trembled as he pulled a little further away from you, but he never let go. You had never studied anyone up close like this before.

His brows were low set above his eyes, giving him a somewhat gentle expression. His eyes were small and turned downward a little, but there was a gentle and almost loving spark hidden in the brown irises, right underneath the cocky demeanor he tried so desperately to pull off.

You could see his lips move, but you heard nothing. They weren’t thick nor thin, but as he talked, they revealed a pout every now and then. One that pulled on your heartstring and made you smile.

Just like you he was in a trance, he had no idea why he came to see you, no idea why he wanted to make sure you were okay, but before he could even talk himself out of it, he was outside Mr. Hollands office. And now that you were so close to him, so close to being in his arms, he didn’t want to let go. He couldn’t even if he wanted to.

“Calm yourself, don’t let the rest of them see you like this. You can’t let them know you are hurt by this”

You pushed him away instantly.

“I’m not hurt!” You spat out.

“Okay right let’s go with that” He leaned up against the wall opposite from where you were standing as he smirked with his arms crossed.

“I’m not!” You yelled out as you hit the wall three times.

By the third blow you could almost feel your skin ripping from the bones against the black brick wall. You rested your forehead against it in a desperate try to cool the fire you felt burning within.

A sigh was all he heard as he watched you. How your hell fell down your shoulders, he could glimpse the skin on the back of your neck. When you sat down on the floor, with your back against the wall to study your hand, he did the same.

“Why are you’re here Yoongi?” You never met his eyes, you focused completely on your hand instead of those beautiful eyes.

“I don’t know” He said, it was nothing more than a whisper, but you heard him none the less.

Yoongi cleared his throat a few times, almost to clear the air from the tension there was between the two of you.

“What are you gonna do now Y/N?”

“I don’t real- wait how do you know my name?” You smirked and once again your eyes met his. He almost lost his breath completely. He shrugged and started playing with the earring that hang in right ear.

“I have my ways, but don’t worry I’ll keep it to myself if that’s what you’d prefer”

A heat blossomed in your chest as well as your cheeks.

“Thank you, I’d appreciate it, at least for now. But to be honest I don’t know what to do, at least not right now”

He nodded.

“If you need help or just someone to talk to, I’ll be there listening and trying my best to give you some advice”

With that Yoongi stood up, sent a smile your way, and then he left you.

[sardonicnihilism]

A Biography of the Woman Who Never Was

Part 3 The Young Adult

Chapter 6

Shannon finished her senior year ever more alone and isolated. She continued with her exercising and her grades continued to improve. Often she proved as knowledgeable about a subject as her teacher. Gone were the days where she was seen as the dumb girl, just one step above retarded as a previous elementary school teacher had told her mother once. Now she was an honor student in the top 18th percentile of her entire graduating class. She was thin, smart, and beautiful, and completely miserable.

The only thing that kept her going was her music. A couple years back, Mary and Kathy had made a truce, and went halves on a drum set. It was as basic a beginner's set as you could find, and it was only a single bass set, but it was enough.

There was a joy and a passion she felt sitting behind her set that was near transcendental. Nothing in her life came close to this. Music was her calling, she knew it. Finding others to play with, that was another matter. Girls were seen as accessories for musicians, not musicians in their own right. This was especially true in the metal world (even more so in the extreme metal community in which she sought). Even though she listened to bands like Death, Sepultura, Morbid Angel, and Carcass, as soon as she would show up, the guys would often say this wasn't a glam metal band and close the door.

After graduation, she drifted from one dead end job to another. She tried to get jobs in cabinet shops, furniture shops, and carpentry crews, but was always turned down. Some interviewers were coy about why they weren't going to hire her; some were brutally honest.

"Sweetie, if I hired you, I wouldn't get a lick of work out of the guys out there because they'd be too busy trying to stiff dick ya."

So, she got a job for a local department store chain in the maintenance department. It wasn't much but still almost three dollars more than minimum wage (which was five dollars an hour back then). Of course it meant she had to clean toilets, which was absolutely disgusting. One time she got called back to the women's bathroom because someone had smeared feces all over the one seat.

One day, while cleaning up boxes, the head of ladies wear came up to her. She was a small woman with short, curly black hair and red, horn rimmed glasses. She looked to be in her early thirties but dressed like she was in her fifties.

"Shannon, can I talk to you? " she asked in a manner far to sincere for anything Shannon could think of.

"Ok, sure," Shannon replied with a shrug.

The two walked off and as soon as she thought they were out of ear shot of anyone who mattered, she looked Shannon dead in the eyes and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Huh?" Shannon asked stunned. What was she saying? Wasn't she doing her job right? Shannon began to get defensive.

"You. What are you doing here? You're young, beautiful, from talking to you, I know you have a good head on your shoulders, you're wasting your time doing this. At least transfer to my section. It's a bit of a pay cut, but better opportunities."

Shannon blushed with embarrassment. As much as she craved compliments, every time she got them, them, they made her feel uncomfortable and unworthy, like she tricked them.

"I don't do well around people," she stammered. "I see what you have to put up with and I couldn't do it. People, people scare me."

"With those arms?" Margaret exclaimed in amused bewilderment. "Honey, the men who work here don't have arms like that."

"You can't punch a customer," Shannon simply said.

"Unfortunately no," Margaret laughed, then got really serious. "You have so much potential. I don't know what happened to you, but I wish you could see yourself the way some of us other women see you."

She paused for a second, and asked, "Have you thought about college?"

"Not seriously."

"You should. And you should go out and have some fun. I never hear you talk about going out. You're only going to have that body for a short time, enjoy it while you can."

That last piece of advice turned out to be the worst Shannon ever received.

[peerless-soshi]

Moshang and 24/86 for the ask? Or 4/75 maybe

Rules: Send me two (2) tropes from this list + a ship and I’ll describe how I’d combine them in the same story.

Coffee Shop AU + Bed Sharing  

Most accidents occur at home. Or work, if you’re like Shang Qinghua and basically reside there.

Normally, he would be angry with his unlucky life, minimum working wage and hands trembling like a blender, but today it was all good since a certain customer visited the coffee shop and sat by the table to the right of him. Shang Qinghua looked away and swallowed a little too loud. It was almost suspicious how empty the coffee shop was, despite it being the Sunday evening. His heart raced, playing noiseless music and drowning out chill radio noises. He just hoped the customer didn’t hear it.

This particular customer’s name was Mobei Jun - Shang Qinghua spotted it entirely by chance on his credit card - and caught the waiter’s eye three months ago, when in the middle of winter he had ordered an ice cream as cold as his blue eyes. Back then, Shang Qinghua had spent way too much time daydreaming about his lips, a bit dirty from whipped cream, which resulted in spilling coffee on another customer and working after-hours. As if he didn’t live in this shop anyway. Shang Qinghua was ashamed only because Mobei Jun had looked at him like he was a clumsy snail falling off the wall, which was almost fair. And yet, from that day he was buying their coffee every weekend…

“You know, give me that already,” Mobei Jun growled under his breath.

Shang Qinghua jumped at it. He didn’t even noticed when Mobei Jun walked to the counter! Wondering what it would be like to drink this coffee together, preferably with just one straw, turned out to be a much more fun activity. He sighed as his gaze drifted down. A creamy snowflake he was trying to draw ended up as a milky pile of melted snow… How embarrassing. Though his client looked like a person who would just stir it at once.

Mobei Jun pointed to the cup. “Pathetic.”

“What?” Shang Qinghua snapped back, his tone resembling that of a child yelling about little scolding. “It’s just a small accident! Actually, I’m really good at making tea, fine?”

His knowledge on the secrets of barista’s work was pretty limited, but it didn’t mean he had to admit it here and now. What’s more, his tea was indeed good.

Mobei Jun’s eyebrow rushed up, and his lips twitched in a way that could be seen as a half smile. “If you say so….”

Maybe good appearance didn’t go hand in hand with a good character. Maybe Shang Qinghua should care more about such details. Maybe. But now, he just winced and walked past Mobei Jun, ready to save his wretched waiter honor.

As it turned our, serving coffee with grace was much easier in movies.

The problem was that Shang Qinghua didn’t even perceive what happened; one moment he was holding his head high, and then found himself on the floor, pitch black of coffee with no milk surrounding him. He groaned pitifully.

“Hey!”

No answer.

“You! Wake up. Now.”

With difficulty, Shang Qinghua opened his eyes and met Mobei Jun’s icy stare. The man was leaning over him with an inscrutable expression. Shang Qinghua’s head hurt, his back as well, and it sucked, but hey! At least he got the very awesome view!

“What’s going on?” he murmured, noting with surprise that his cheeks were on fire. Perhaps blood rushed to his head; a side effect of the fall.

“You slipped on some coffee. How have you even survived here?” Mobei Jun answered, helping him sit. Immediately, colorful butterflies flied before Shang Qinghua‘s eyes and burst into a rainbow mirage. He laid down again, through the floor was not comfortable enough to spend the night on.

“I’m tougher than I look,” he finally said with a faint smile that Mobei Jun didn’t return.

“Are you dizzy?” he asked in return, “or are you nauseous?”

Shang Qinghua shook his head, and the wave of sickness hit him like the floor. The only thing that could make this worse was actually puking on a customer’s shoes. Still, he would rather be caught dead. Heavens, let him die.

“It can be a concussion. Don’t die on the street,” Mobei Jun said, as if reading his mind.

“No worries. There’s a mattress in the back room, I’ll just stay here. I’d miss my last bus anyway.”

“You sleep here?” Mobei Jun repeated in disbelief.

“It’s close to work,” Shang Qinghua said and laughed to himself. It was painfully humiliating anyway - at least he could be cool about it.

What he would never imagine was Mobei Jun, still cold and serious, picking him up and moving to the store room. And carefully placing him on the old, stinky mattress with protruding spring. No chance in hell he would imagine something so surreal, so weird and beautiful.

“What? What are you… sir?”  Shang Qinghua said, getting red like a brick wall and making it all more awkward.

“I’m giving you first aid,” Mobei Jun answered.

Sure, just like that. As if every second weekendhe was carrying in his arms half-awake strangers. But maybe that’s what he did. Who knew? Of all people, Shang Qinghua was not going to complain, instead grasping this fleeting moment like a silly butterfly caught in a spider web.

“Then let me make you a thank-you-coffee, sir!”

“I don’t want it.” Mobei Jun shook his head, and looking right at him added, “But ice cream is fine.”

Hard to say if this was good or bad that Shang Qinghua spent his entire night locked from the inside in the coffee shop, eating frigid desserts with a person he knew nothing about. But in his eyes there were few chances worth the risk as much as this one. So when around 4 a.m. he woke up from a shallow dream to face Mobei Jun snoring next to him, Shang Qinghua didn’t think much and just pulled him on the mattress, wrapping tightly in a staff blanket. If Mobei Jun woke up, he’s never shown it. 

Shang Qinghua needed exactly one year - and one relationship anniversary full of ice cream - to ask himself why Mobei Jun didn’t just drive him home. 

[faveficarchive]

The Amazons of Dahomey: Part 2

By Susan M. Smith

Pairing: Xena/Gabrielle

Rating: Mature

Synopsis: Xena and Gabrielle head out of the city of Har and run into trouble on the road that separates them. Will they ever find their way to one another again?

A/N: This is a sequel to The Charioteer, and may not make a lot of sense without reading that first.

Part Eight

"I'll keep this short, you all have the sense to follow me. Tanit, daughter of Nzinga of Dahomey was kidnapped, along with Gabrielle. Desert raiders did the work, under the direction of persons unknown. I suspect the leader of this band was a Syrian called Shaitan, but I don't think he was acting on his own. Tanit and Gabrielle escaped. I met up with them in Egypt, at the house of a nobleman. I was riding with a desert raider at the time, a Nubian called Geb, an old enemy of Shaitan's. Somebody spread rumors that Tanit had been taken as a slave by an Egyptian lord, or a Harrian lord."

Xena paused at the shocked exclamations from Oromenes and Malache. "Keep your heads until I finish, it doesn't get any better. I think the rumors were started deliberately. It's smart strategy, to use any weapon to weaken your enemies. If I wanted to destroy a nation, I'd get them all riled up about something, then spread misinformation. Either the rumor got garbled, or it was set to indict both Egypt and Har. Nzinga roused her nation and marched against Egypt with half her army, taking the town of Sekhmet. The other half of the spears marched on Har, under her oldest daughters. When I was out of my head looking for Gabrielle I went to a Harrian temple in the wasteland and sent word to you that I needed help. You, Oromenes, sent me the entire Harrian army."

The Great King spoke from her throne, fathomless black eyes following the pacing Greek hero. "You are a Friend of the Royal House, Xena. I would deny you nothing." Oromenes said, in her light, clear voice.

"Well, that's a problem, too. The Amazons, all fired up about Tanit, saw the entire Harrian army on the border. They assumed you were marching to attack them, so they attacked first. No offense, but the Army of the Goddess doesn't have a prayer in Tartarus against five thousand enraged Amazons." Xena said, to Azarnes.

The General nodded, ruefully. "I know it too well. We've been losing ground since the first assault, our dead outnumber theirs three to one. But you said that Gabrielle is with the Amazons?"

Xena continued her pacing. "I brought Tanit back to her mother, to keep Nzinga from sacking Sekhmet. I thought that would defuse the situation, before it became a war. I thought wrong. The Amazons had already started fighting with you here in Baluchis. My status as a Harrian Lord got me arrested as an enemy, complicit in the kidnapping of the princess. Gabrielle managed to get them to grant me a trial, and not slaughter me outright. She must have talked them into releasing me once we got here. If I can get you to call a truce and parlay with Nzinga, Gabrielle can go free."

Malache took Oromenes' hand at the mention of Gabrielle's plight. "What about you, Lord Chabouk? The truce is easily granted, I'm sure I speak for Oromenes. We can't afford to fight the Amazons. What will they do to you?"

Xena stopped pacing. "I don't know. Make me stand trial, I suppose. My thought was only to guarantee Gabrielle's safety. You three will agree to a truce?" Xena asked, looking at each of them in turn.

"Of course. I will send a formal contingent to Queen Nzinga to parlay." Oromenes said.

"Oromenes, trust me on this, a formal Harrian contingent is not welcome in the Amazon camp. Send Azarnes and me, we're soldiers, we understand war." Xena said.

The Great King of Har rose from the throne, standing slender and dark against the Greek hero's armor clad height. "Azarnes will accompany you, yes. But so will I. I see that this war is in part my fault, for not meeting with my fellow ruler sooner. How could Nzinga hope to trust one she hasn't met in person? Every book on statecraft shows me this. The Amazons of Dahomey and the kingdom of Har need to cement their ties, face to face." The tone from the young King was commanding, assured.

Xena wanted to argue against it, but she'd been hoping that Oromenes would do this. The relationship between the nations had been sorely tested, and it would take face to face negotiations to bring them back into harmony. Xena clasped Oromenes' arm. "It'll take that kind of courage to untangle this mess. Let Azarnes and I command this mission. We'll take a small party, no company of guards, no ceremonial pomp. Just the bare minimum. I know, it's not Harrian, but we need to impress the Amazons, and we won't do that by anything but frankness and raw courage. Show up in their camp with me and Azarnes, and they'll respect your heart at the least."

"I'm going with you." Malache said, rising from the throne.

Xena looked at her, shaking her head. "Too dangerous. Sorry, Malache, it's not a good idea."

The former Harlot smiled, slightly, and took Oromenes' arm. "You forget, Lord Chabouk, I am Queen of Har. The Amazons will respect Oromenes for having me there. I'm also trained in diplomacy, politics and Amazon customs, from my time in the Temple."

Oromenes looked at Xena. "Would Gabrielle let you go alone?" She asked, settling the matter.

They left the camp immediately, under heavy dark cloaks. Azarnes retained his blackened armor and weapons, adding a sheaf of javelins to his horses' saddle. Oromenes had traded the robes of a Great King for a soldier's vest and trousers.

Xena had warned her against dressing in armor. "The Amazons are very sensitive to clues from their Queen. If they see the leader of an enemy nation coming in armed and wearing mail, they'll consider it an attack. They know me as a fighter, they'll expect me armed, and Azarnes is the General. You and Malache should wear simple clothes, that you can move in." She had said.

Azarnes selected the horses, mounts from the Royal Messengers, noted for their speed and wind. Xena knew his thinking, that he feared they might have to cut and run. She did what any good commander would do. She hoped for the best, and readied for the worst.

The Amazons of Dahomey rejoined the two halves of the army on a plain below the dun hills of Baluchis. Gabrielle watched the reunion between Nzinga and her daughters. The company of Amazons marched up to the Queen, led by two tall, splendid looking women, both wearing the red gold armbands of the royal house. In tandem they knelt, offering their spears to Nzinga.

The Queen went to them and raised them up, kissing them both. "I am overjoyed to find you both hale. How is it with the army?" Nzinga asked.

The taller of the two, Enomwoyi, clasped her mother's hands. "All is well now that you are with us. Is it true, Tanit has returned?"

"You will see for yourself." Nzinga said.

A great central fire was prepared, and the royal family gathered around it. Beer gourds were brought out, and wine, passed from hand to hand. The warriors of Dahomey were rejoicing to be in the company of their sisters and lovers and kin, the war with Egypt over, the battles with Har proceeding apace. They sat their spears on their knees, tore at the joints of beef roasting over cookfires and laughed to the gathering night. Gabrielle sat next to Nzinga on a lion's hide, in the place of honor before the central fire. Enomwoyi and Izegbe sat with them, their wives and soldiers sitting around other fires. Griots went from fire to fire, proclaiming the bravery of the soldiers who had battled the army of Har for the women who'd been in Egypt. In return, tales were told of the capture of Sekhmet, of the bloodless victory, and the return of the Princess Tanit to the circle of her mother's arms. Inevitably the tales included Gabrielle, the escape from the raiders, and Xena.

Enomwoyi, after a skin of good Harrian wine taken off the body of a fallen officer, sprang to her feet, calling out in a booming voice. "I hear much about the spectacular Greek! Where is the Harrian Lord Chariotwhip now, who thought she could deceive the spears of Dahomey?" The laughter around the central fire ceased.

"I released her." Nzinga said.

Enomwoyi, hearing her mother speak Greek, answered her in that same tongue automatically. "You released an enemy of the people, who might even now march against us? Mother, why?"

Nzinga indicated the small blond Greek sitting at her side. "Gabrielle, Queen of the Amazons of Greece, has taken her place. She will pay the forfeit if the Greek Harrian betrays us."

"A Queen, pay the forfeit? Is the fighter her family, her house?" Enomwoyi asked, confused.

"The Greek fighter--" Nzinga began, only to be cut off by Gabrielle.

"Has a name. Xena is my consort, and a hero."

Enomwoyi looked closely at the small Greek Amazon, sitting next to her mother. "Consort. You do this for one not your wife, not your blood? Greece has changed, then, since the days of old. I have heard that Greek Amazons cared for none but their kin, that their enemies trembled before them, their daughters walked with pride. Even their beast foes, the Centaurs, gave them heed and stayed off their lands." Enomwoyi said, with a gesture redolent of disgust. To her surprise, the small Greek woman stood up and faced her, undisturbed by their height differences. The daughter of Nzinga had her powerful whipcord build, her height, her mahogany flashing eyes. Yet, when the bard faced her, the gathered Amazons drew in breath. There was an undeniable presence to the Greek Queen that belied her stature, a power unlike the raw anger of the warriors. She had a knowledge of herself that made her tall.

"Greece has changed. We've learned that the Centaurs are not our enemies, learned to forgive and create peace out of generations of hatred and mistrust. We learned that a warrior's strength is not measured by the number of foes she's killed, but by knowing when to fight. And we learned that swaggering, drunken braggarts are more trouble than good for the nation."

A murmur ran around the fire, the gathered Amazons anticipating trouble just from the tone of the words. All eyes went to Enomwoyi. The daughter of Nzinga looked down at Gabrielle then moved like a striking snake. Her large hand clamped down on the Greek Amazon's shoulder in a buffet that would have knocked her off her feet had her stance been weaker. As it was she bent her knees to absorb the shock of the blow. Enomwoyi laughed out loud, clarifying the purpose of the blow.

"Eyhah! The Queen speaks, and wisdom is granted to the tribes. I apologize, Gabrielle of Greece, for insulting your house. Your consort has no enemy in me. If the trial proves her innocence, I will give her my hand, out of respect for you." Enomwoyi sat back down, to relieved laughter from the gathered Amazons.

Izebge asked Nzinga, "Now, if Oseye and Tanit would deign to join us, the family would be complete. Where are the girls?"

Nzinga shrugged. "Oseye is out among the nation, seeking what pleases her. I know not, these days, what that might be. And Tanit is in seclusion. I cannot lure either of them to my fire. But I am only their mother."

Gabrielle had a fair idea of where Oseye might be. Griots marched along with the army, including the famous Agassou the Panther, the chief griot of the royal house. From what Tanit had told her during their captivity, Oseye was enamored of Agassou's apprentice, Malika. The Amazon princess was probably out in the night with her griot's apprentice.

Nzinga had refused to explain the nature of the trial to Gabrielle, to tell her what she would face if Xena failed. Gabrielle wasn't able to question any of the other Amazons. She cursed the language barrier, and the quirk of Nzinga's that made her daughters, of all the nation of Dahomey, learn to speak Greek. I might as well be in Egypt, for all the luck I'm getting out of talking to Nzinga. - Gabrielle thought. Tanit was still avoiding her, and Izebge hadn't said a single word to her. Damn the luck, the only Amazons who speak Greek are the royal family, and they aren't speaking to me! - the bard thought, frustrated. Izegbe, Enomwoyi, Tanit, Nzinga, all of them useless for gaining information.

Gabrielle refused the wineskin that Nzinga held out. She wanted to keep her wits sharp, to be able to strategize. That's what Xena would do. Keep reviewing the situation in her mind, until a weakness in her enemies defenses presented itself. Gabrielle had trouble even thinking of the Amazons as her enemies in jest. Despite the situation she found herself in, she thought of the nation of Dahomey as her sisters. All Amazons are sisters, Tanit had said to her when they first met.

A thought ripped across Gabrielle's mind, clear as a strike of lightning. Sisters. She could get information from the one daughter of Nzinga she hadn't met, the one who might need an advocate for something she wanted. Oseye, who loved a griot's apprentice.

Gabrielle stretched and yawned, copiously. "This fire is getting to me. Think I'll take a walk, cool off a little." She said, to Nzinga.

The Queen of Dahomey was surprised. She couldn't lay hands on the Queen of a visiting nation and restrain her, but she could hardly let Gabrielle go strolling around the camp alone. "It's a poor night for a walk. Why don't you sit down and join us in a skin of wine." Nzinga said, in a firm tone.

"No thanks. I don't drink much." Gabrielle said, brightly. She saw that Nzinga was hesitant to command her, and resolved to use that to her advantage.

"Wait! You can't just go strolling around by yourself. It isn't safe." Nzinga said.

Cool green eyes leveled at her. "Not safe, in the middle of the Ten Thousand Spears?" She asked, innocently.

"You have to have an escort. As a visiting Queen, it is due your rank." Nzinga maintained.

"Oh, all right. Why don't you send Captain Musu with me? She looks very competent." Gabrielle said. Competent, and unable to speak a word of Greek.

Nzinga reluctantly agreed, not able to find fault with it. The Greek Queen had accepted an escort, one of the most powerful fighters in the nation. She couldn't possibly be thinking of escaping, not with Musu accompanying her. She had to let her go. Nzinga called Musu over and spoke with her. "The Queen of the Greek Amazons desires to take a stroll. Accompany her, and let none give her insult. Keep her safe." Nzinga said, and Musu inclined her head. She hefted her spear, towering over the little Greek. The blond smiled broadly at her, and waved her to follow. Musu looked at Nzinga, who motioned after the visiting Queen. Captain Musu shrugged, and followed Gabrielle away from the fire.

Gabrielle marched into the night, the hulking Musu trailing at her heels. She suppressed a snicker at the picture they made, reflected back to her in the face of the hundreds of Amazon warriors sitting around the campfires, eating and swapping tales about the battles passed, the battles yet to come. Some sharpened their spear blades, some slept, or joked, or gambled and passed beer gourds back and forth, but all around the camp spirits were high. They would glance at the Greek Amazon Queen and her escort, and roll their eyes at Musu after Gabrielle had passed on. A dangerous flexing of Musu's massive arms and shoulders quieted the humor.

Walking from fire to fire across the valley floor, seeing the red flames illustrate the handsome faces of the warriors, Gabrielle had to admit that the Amazons of Dahomey were as beautiful a gathering of women as had ever existed under the sun. The first ten fire circles she and Musu visited were the soldiers of Nzinga, who had been with her in Egypt. Each circle held twenty or thirty Amazons, with more off on the edges, blending into other circles. Gabrielle wondered if they stayed in companies, if they broke off into village or clan gatherings. There had to be a way to find Oseye.

They were near the slope of the valley where the dun hills rose up into the blackened sky. Gabrielle walked a little way up the hill, pausing while Musu scrambled after her. "Just wanted to get a good view of the valley." She said to Musu, who frowned and looked away. The Captain stood with her back to Gabrielle, leaning on her spear.

Across the valley, in what had to be the encampment of the soldiers of Enomwoyi and Izegbe, a bonfire larger than the rest burned. Gabrielle thought she could hear drums coming from that direction, and smiled. If there were drums, there might be griots. She pointed to the large fire circle, and tapped Musu on one brawny arm. "There. I'm headed off that way."

The Captain regarded her as one might regard a puppy, jumping and pawing at your heels. Gabrielle started walking down the slope, and heard the Captain sigh, then follow her. Around the great fire Amazons were ringed in a circle so tight Gabrielle couldn't see through them. The soldiers stood, shoulder to shoulder, blocking even the flicker of flame.

Gabrielle could the beat of hide drums struck with open hands, hear the shake of rattles, hear singing, but couldn't get a glimpse of what was happening. She tried to peer between the tightly packed bodies, to no avail. Frustrated, she turned to Musu, who lingered some paces behind her. "Could you move a few of them, please?" Gabrielle asked, pleasantly, and waited.

Captain Musu looked down at the small Greek Queen she was guarding, her face stony and unreadable. The woman had asked her something in that ridiculous barbarian language she spoke, and now looked at her with big green eyes, almost like a child who expects a treat. What in the world did the barbarian Queen want from her now? - Musu thought, and shifted her weight to her hip, leaning on her spear. This was the consort of the impressive Greek fighter, she well knew. She had seen the small woman curled like a cat into the lap of the warrior. What didn't make sense was the way the fighter did everything the Queen asked, even hung her head when being chastised. Where was the power in this girl-sized Amazon?

The Queen was waiting, staring at her. It made Musu uncomfortable, so she spoke to the Queen in Dahomey, the tone she would use on an untried girl. "I don't know why you're staring at me. Are you hungry?" She asked, in a deep voice.

The green eyes didn't leave her, so she shifted, hitching her shoulders. The barbarian pointed at the fire circle. Musu nodded, and grinned. The small woman couldn't see the dancing, and wanted a space cleared for her.

"How like a child you are." Musu said, more gently. She shouldered forward, her body clearing a space that the Greek Queen pressed after her to fill. The soldiers looked at who was shoving them, and faded back. Musu had quite a reputation, and none were willing to take offense when the scarred captain was holding her spear and scowling at them.

Gabrielle poked her head around the Captain's broad back and got a front row view of the fire circle. There were four women holding standing drums, beating out a open palmed rhythm. Four soldiers had stripped out of their kilts and vests, and danced around the fire in armbands and anklets, their bare feet swirling in the dust. Gabrielle blushed and tried not to stare at the oiled flesh, glistening in the ruddy light. The watching soldiers chanted an accompanying rhythm, occasionally shouting out encouragement to the dancers. It was a test of endurance, the speed of the dance increasing, the movements running from stamping, to kicking, to whirling, jumping higher and higher into the air. The crowd increased their chanting, urging the women on, the flash of teeth in the firelight, the momentary reflection of flame on sweat slicked skin, was all Gabrielle could catch as the dancers rode out the frenzy.

The drums abruptly stilled, mid beat, the dancers collapsed to their knees, spent. Into the circle, ringing with the silence after the chanting died, strode Agassou the Panther, griot to the royal house of Dahomey. Gabrielle knew immediately who she was, from the deference the warriors paid her. Many went down on one knee, giving her the royal obeisance, and even Captain Musu held out her spear in a salute. Agassou has been a warrior before she'd been called to be a griot, and still had some of the warrior's bearing. But age had slowed her step, and the weight of years bent her shoulders. Gabrielle guessed that she was in her seventies, a woman seamed with a lifetime of wisdom. Eyes black as kohl looked out of the map of her face, her hair was cropped close to her skull, pure white, under the cap made of a panther's hide. Her cheeks were scarred with running stripes, like the marks of a great cat, made after she'd found her spirit guide. She leaned on a spear haft as she walked, but the blade was gone.

"Children." She said, in a voice as soft as a cat's paw, eerily able to be heard all around the fire. "You celebrate, you drink, you dance. What victory have you won?" She asked, in her ageless whisper.

One of the dancers rose from her knee, saluted Agassou, and answered her. "We have secured the return of the Princess Tanit from the enemies of Dahomey. We fought the Harrians in three battles, beating them back into their own land. We now slake our thirst with the wines of their vineyards!" The soldier proclaimed, in a loud voice.

Agassou cocked her head, turning away, listing to other voices in the night. "I have heard that the Princess Tanit was freely returned, by the hands of a foreign fighter. I have seen the slaughter of the soldiers of Har, a people of a Goddess not so far from ours. I have seen the long spears pierce the armor of a sweet natured, pleasure loving people, who have never had skill at arms. Tell me again, why do you celebrate?"

Agassou walked around the fire circle, staring at the fierce soldiers. To a woman, they dropped their eyes when she passed by, their laughter gone. Agassou spoke as she walked, watching the soldiers bow before her. "I remember long ago, before your grandmothers were born. The Queen in that day was Yeye Omo, and she was famed before all nations as the bravest fighter to stride the dust of the earth. The Pharaohs in Kemet heard her name, and they shook in their gilded collars, in their skirts of linen. In Ethiopia, the Kandake's court, bristling with proud warriors, fell silent when mention was made of Yeye Omo. Memnon the Great, the most handsome man in all the world, the hero who went to fight with the Greeks in their lands, was known to step aside, that he might not brush her path with his shadow. All feared Yeye Omo! All praised Yeye Omo! In the palace of heaven, Oya the warrior, She who is the gatekeeper of cemeteries, heard the praises the living were heaping on Yeye Omo. Her warrior's pride grew hot, on hearing the boasts the Amazons made about their Queen. 'The waters of raging rivers turn aside from Yeye Omo and let her pass!' 'The sun darkens when Yeye Omo is angry!'

The heavenly court heard these things, Oya heard these things. Anansi the Trickster, heard these things. He came crawling up to Oya, lady of fires and lightning, and kissed her feet. 'I sorrow for you, Great Oya! A member of the living has taken over your domain! Mortals now pray to Yeye Omo for bravery, for success in battle. Soon your name will be forgotten.' At this Oya waxed wroth, and shook out the fires of heaven from her hands. 'There are none who are braver than I!' She cried out, in her pride. 'Yeye Omo will be taught the meaning of fear.'

Anansi the Trickster said to her, fawning, that he would be glad to see it, to see her receive her glory from the living once again. So Oya was set in her mind, and rode the lightning down to earth. She watched the village of Yeye Omo, carefully, for the turning of two days. She saw how the Amazons bowed down to their Queen, how their praise brought a smile to the face of Yeye Omo. Oya knew what she would do. The praise of her women was what Yeye Omo valued most, so that is what she would take away.

Oya went to Oshun, mistress of sweet waters, and said to her, 'Hold back the water from the lands of the Amazons. Let the rivers dry up, let the cattle die for lack of drink. Let the women suffer, let the children wail.' So Oshun did so. The land became as dry as a bone left in the desert sun. The grass grew gray and parched, the crops failed, the cattle died. The women suffered from lack of food, the children began to die. Plague stalked the land, taking away with her every third woman from every house.

The women cried out to their Queen, save us, save us Yeye Omo! But the Queen could not, for how does a warrior make it rain? How does a strong spear hand fight off plague? So she trembled in her fear, and her women died around her. They turned away from their praise, cursing her name, for they knew even then that the Queen is the nation. If all is well and the favor of heaven is on the queen, Dahomey will prosper. If the favor of heaven leaves the Queen, the nation will suffer. Yeye Omo suffered despair. She put aside her spear and wandered off into the grasslands, crying out to the orishas. 'Help me, emissaries! My people are dying, my land is a dry bone! Let me know what I may do, to bring back the water.'

Hearing this plaintive cry, Oya appeared to her. Her warrior's pride was set aside, she took pity on Yeye Omo. 'I will send the water back to your nation. But remember this, Yeye Omo- never let me hear your women falsely praising bravery again, or I will show them the meaning of fear.'"

Agassou finished her story, standing directly in front of Captain Musu and Gabrielle. The warriors walked away from the firelight, chastised. Agassou regarded the Greek woman with her bright black eyes. She said to Musu, "This is the Queen of the Greek Amazons, of whom I have heard much?"

"Yes, Agassou. But she doesn't speak our tongue." Musu said.

The griot motioned with her staff to edges of the firelight. "Bring her. The playmate of my apprentice speaks her language. There are things for us to discuss."

Agassou walked into the night, away from the gathered Amazons. Her own small fire was set near the outcropping of stone at the foot of the hills. She walked surely over the broken ground, leaving Gabrielle and Musu struggling to keep up. As she approached her camp, she clapped her walking stick on the ground, calling out "Enough kissing. We have guests."

A form seated in the shadow of the tent sprang apart, becoming two distinct outlines. One ran to Agassou's side, helping the ancient woman lower herself to a camp chair. She took the walking stick and panther skin cap, setting them reverently aside. Her hair was close cropped like Agassou's. A necklace of cowry shells and red, yellow and black stones hung around her neck. She had a pretty, mobile face, and looked to be about sixteen. The girl she'd been kissing came shyly into the firelight. She was the same age, but had the elaborate braids of a warrior. On her left arm, she wore the red gold lioness of the royal house. Agassou spoke to her, her black eyes watching Gabrielle closely.

The girl then addressed Gabrielle in Greek. "I am Oseye, Nzinga's daughter. The lady requests that I introduce everyone. She is Agassou the Panther, griot to our house. here is Malika, her apprentice." Oseye recited this dutifully, then walked forward and offered her hand to Gabrielle. "Tanit told me about you. Thank you for saving her."

Oseye went and sat on the ground next to Agassou's chair. She walked to Malika's side, but a small hrumphing noise from Agassou made her stop, and sit on the other side of the chair.

"Please tell Agassou that I need to speak with her."

The griot laughed, when informed of what the Greek Queen had said. How delightful the young woman was! Agassou kept laughing through her words, leaving Oseye to translate.

"The lady says that of course you need to speak with her, she invited you here. She wants you to tell her about your capture, about meeting with Tanit."

Gabrielle did, and Agassou appeared to be listening, at least partially. She kept opening a pouch of shells at her waist, casting them out into the palm of her hand, shaking them, then putting them back. She showed a handful to Malika, then had the girl throw more wood on the fire. She then sent Malika to her tent to get a gourd. Agassou poured a measure out onto the ground, held the gourd high, then started drinking. When Gabrielle paused in her tale, and Oseye paused in reciting it, she tapped Malika on the shoulder, and sent her running out into the night.

"Malika goes to fetch Tanit. Agassou says that the signs are all there, you tell her no ordinary tale. She wants to ask you certain things, to see if you understand them. Did you hear the tale she told the warriors, earlier?" Oseye asked.

Gabrielle shook her head. "It was in Dahomey, I couldn't follow it."

Agassou interrupted, and had Oseye recite the tale for Gabrielle.

"Now, what do you make of that story?"

"It's a cautionary tale, to warn against false pride. It's meant to teach warriors that there is more than one type of strength, and no matter how strong you are, you can't stop plague or disasters. It's a reminder that the gods watch our behavior, and are given to interfering, given to emotional involvement's, pride and vanity." Gabrielle said, after a moment of reflection.

Agassou lifted her hand and held it level. "That is the level the people hear. You are a storyteller, what is the level a storyteller hears?"

"It gives a clue as to how the gods operate. Oya is proud, but she wouldn't have gotten involved if Anansi hadn't manipulated her. It shows his strength, the strength of rumor and emotion to sway warriors, without their knowledge. It shows that weakness being exploited, by Anansi, who is never caught or punished. It is a cautionary tale, but also a tale of strength. The strength of the Trickster. And it reminds us that the Queen and the nation are one. If Yeye Omo hadn't been unbalanced in her pride, Anansi wouldn't have had an opening to interfere with the Amazons. It's a parallel to what's happening now. Nzinga is unbalanced, and it left an opening for Anansi to make trouble for the nation. You think he's behind all this?"

Agassou lost her mirth. The sadness that came over her face was sadness born of great love, of knowing how human beings often fall prey to their own weaknesses. "We are all pawns of the Spider. We, all of Dahomey, the kingdom of Har, you and your Greek consort. It is his delight to weave chaos, setting things on their heads, drawing together impossible happenings. Who else would delight in age-old allies going to war? He weaves, and we catch ourselves in his web."

Malika returned, with Tanit in tow. It was the first Gabrielle had seen of the girl since Xena had been arrested. She looked terrible, as if demons haunted her sleep. Her eyes were hollow when she glanced at Gabrielle, and she flinched as if burned. Agassou spoke gently to her, and she sat down next to Oseye.

"There is a way. There is a way for all to be revealed. Once we recognize the schemes of Anansi, his power over us lessens. The Spider overstepped himself, this time. He took the nation and set it to war against Har. Oya the warrior is guardian of Dahomey, she and Har will not be pleased that Anansi has been manipulating their people. Blood has been shed, it is a jest no more. We have to unweave the web Anansi has cast. Now, Gabrielle, tell me what a griot hears from the tale."

"When Yeye Omo and Oya spoke face to face, the trouble stopped. To set things right, we have to reveal them. Anansi has to be shown as the author of these events, Oya has to speak to the Amazons directly. I think Nzinga is the key, the Queen and the nation are one. If we can heal Nzinga, we can heal the nation." Gabrielle said, her excitement rising.

Agassou agreed, through Oseye, but kept questioning her. "How? What does Nzinga need?"

"She misses her wife, Mazena. I think she needs to grieve, but I don't know how to get her to do that. She needs to speak with Mazena, but that's impossible. The dead can hear our thoughts, but we can't hear them, at least, not most of the time."

"Ah, you are half of a wonderful balance, you see the lack in Nzinga. She won't hear it, from her own people, from her family. She has been cut off too long, her heart is hard. Her house is out of harmony. You hold the heart of your warrior, I see this. If you are there, she is there - balanced, powerful. She is might fight and strive, but needs you to be free to do so. Were her eyes not fixed on you, she would be lost in the outer darkness, beyond the light of home. So it is with Nzinga, but she will never reveal this weakness.

It is like the relationship of a griot to the nation. A griot carries the nation's heart. We remind the people of what is best in them, of what to be wary. Anansi found you with Tanit for a reason, beginning this mess. I think he put you there, to in the end undo his own scheme. I think he feels pity for the nation, with the Queen's heart on the ground. We are not so amusing anymore. So this is his way of reminding us. Your balance is new; it is our reminder. You will help me to heal the nation."

Agassou tilted the gourd again, pouring a libation on the earth between herself and Gabrielle. "Before we heal the nation, we must be of one mind together, or the openings for Anansi's mischief will be very great. So. You tell me your desire, Queen of Greece, that it not be hidden, and open to the weavings of the Spider. "

"I want Xena back, I want her to be alright. That above all. I want Har and Dahomey to be allies again, the war to end. And, I'd like Nzinga to return to her family. I think Tanit and Oseye both need her."

"Good! You speak from the heart, and so the spirits will hear you. Your consort above all, the nations after, the family of Nzinga then. Eyha! It is good to see a heart that knows itself. I, Agassou, want the nation healed above all. The Queen must be in harmony. Then, her family, whom are my own responsibility. Then, your consort returned to you, for you are a friend to us. We have the same goals, in different order; there is no fear between us for Anansi to play. Now, these girls gathered about my chair, must be as honest, or the web will be open. You, pretty daughter of Nzinga, who are always kissing on my apprentice. You tell from your heart your goals."

"I want Mother to be healed, so we can be a family again. I want her to let Malika in, as my bride. I want the nation to be healed." Oseye said, with a glance at Malika. The girl blushed, and dropped her head, pleased and embarrassed.

Agassou caressed the head of her apprentice. "You now, shy girl. You must learn to speak as a griot, from the heart.

"I love Oseye. But I want Nzinga to be healed before all, then all can come from there." Malika said, in a quiet voice.

Agassou smiled indulgently."Ah, you are wise to know that all comes from that, and your own desire is supported in it. Never forget, the nation carries you, you carry the nation's heart. It is a good order you have chosen, and I am pleased with you."

Tanit sat back, her knees drawn up under her chin. Her shadow haunted mahogany eyes flickered from Oseye, to Agassou, to Gabrielle. Agassou glanced to her. "You, now, new warrior, daughter of Nzinga. You must tell."

The girl shook her head, the braids shaking on her shoulders. "Agassou, I cannot."

"Child, desire is only a knife in your heart if it is unspoken. Once given form in the breath it can become many things, it can rise to fulfillment, it can blow away on the wind, but it cannot stab you any longer. Speak it, that it might be released from you and given rest. Speak, and grant yourself peace."

Tanit's head dropped down onto her folded arms. When she raised it, into the silence of the night, into the face of gentle green eyes, there were tears on her cheeks. "You gave me hope when I had given up. You gave me a reason to be brave, when I had none. I became something more than myself in saving you. I wanted to give you my heart. There was only room in you for the Greek fighter, for Xena. So I wanted her gone. If she were, you might look here, in Dahomey, for a new consort. I told Nzinga about her being a Harrian Lord. Worse was what I didn't say." The tears poured from Tanit's eyes, blinding her. "I let my mother believe that Xena might have kidnapped us when I knew it could not be so. I let this lie gain strength in my silence, until the trial was granted. I tried to take from you the only thing you ever told me you loved. I know that you will never forgive me. In doing what I did, I slaughtered all that was good in me. I do not deserve the spear of the nation."

Tanit's head went back down on her folded arms, and she sobbed as quietly as she could, muffling the sound. Oseye stood, but a single sharp motion from Agassou made her sit back down.

Gabrielle got up and went over to Tanit, kneeling next to her. She put her arms out, drawing the girl against her. "Shh. I was angry, Tanit, when I didn't know how to save her. I never hated you. You're wrong about a few things, you know."

Tanit pulled away, looking at the Greek Queen. "In what am I wrong?"

"You were brave because you have that bravery in you. You're the daughter of Nzinga of Dahomey! You didn't need me. And you didn't slaughter everything that was good in you. You made a bad decision. We all do that, I've done it more than I care to remember. But now you get to choose. You can do the right thing, help set things back the way they should be. That's what separates a warrior from an untried girl, the warrior knows that things aren't easy, but chooses to do what is right despite the pain."

Mahogany eyes met green, and held them. "You should have been born in Dahomey, Gabrielle. You are wasted on Greece. I cannot give you my heart, but will you take my hand?" Tanit held out her arm, and met Gabrielle's in a firm clasp.

"I'd be proud to. And don't give up on your heart, Tanit. When you least expect it, a girl will come along that will knock you right off your feet. Particularly when you least expect it." Gabrielle said, with a broad grin.

Agassou clapped her hands. "Good! All is clear. Now, to the business of the ceremony. Here are the things that you will need to tell your consort, Gabrielle of Greece. Listen well, and remember all. The nation rests on these words."

The Harrian royal party, such as it was, arrived at the fringes of the camp, met by surprised Amazon sentries. It looked like soldiers deserting from the embattled Army of the Goddess, until the lead rider threw back her cloak and roared at them. They recognized the Greek fighter, even if they couldn't understand her. Another of the riders, a young Harrian woman with brilliant red hair and bright green eyes pulled down her hood and rode forward. The Harrian was beautiful, as many of their women so often are, and charmed the guards by speaking their language. She praised their strength and courage, extolled their virtues as a nation, and politely requested an audience with Nzinga, who would surely be very grateful to them for providing an escort. Proud, pleased, and thinking that a chance to visit the Red City and get to know the women there might not be a bad idea, the guards provided them escort into the heart of the camp.

Following the Greek fighter's signal they dismounted and shed their cloaks. The Amazons could see that the Harrian woman was unarmed, other than her beauty. Her companion, a slim dark boy with a god's face was similarly unarmed. The older Harrian man wore blackened mail, a round iron helmet, and a straight sword rode his hip. The Greek wore her armor and weapons. Nzinga had released the Greek fighter, and given her the weapons back, so the guards let her keep them. What danger from one armed woman, in the camp of the nation of Dahomey?

Into the center of camp they marched, the fire circle of the royal family drawing them on. Into the fire circle strode Xena, her hands itching to snap to Chakram and sword hilt, an urge she ruthlessly restrained. She walked back into captivity, to spare Gabrielle. There was no other choice. Nzinga rose from her seat by the fire, her eldest daughters flanking her. All three women had a similar look, power and beauty mingled with strength, marred in Nzinga with the unmistakable addition of profound grief.

"You returned, Xena. Your word is good, Gabrielle of Greece is free of your forfeit. And the war? What said the Great King of Har to your request?" Nzinga said, in Greek.

"Ask the Great King herself. Nzinga of Dahomey, Oromenes of Har." Xena said, bluntly, leaving off their respective titles.

The Harrian boy with the night black hair strode forward, clapping Xena on the shoulder. He was clad as a peasant, in trousers and vest, boiled leather sandals on his bronze feet. His face was stillness made flesh, the air that came from him was the air of great age, of emptiness, of space that had existed naked under the moon. His beauty was disturbing, lost in the ancient stillness he walked in. With him walked the Harrian woman with the blood red hair, taking his hand. He came to life when she did so, a smile of gentle grace bestowed on her, even standing before the nation of Amazons as they did.

"Nzinga. I am Oromenes of Har, and this is my wife, Malache. I regret deeply that these are the circumstances under which we meet. My father Amasis was a friend of your house all his life, it is a goal I find most worthy." The voice was light and clear in the stillness of the waiting Amazon nation.

"You are the Boy King of Har. You must be, you dress like a peasant, but you speak like a prince. You are bold, Oromenes, to face the lioness in her lair. That, or a fool, but you do not look like a fool." Nzinga said, walking into the circle.

"I am only a fool if I continue to be seen as the enemy of Dahomey. I, and my nation, are not your enemy." Oromenes answered her.

"You sue for peace, because you know we might dine in the royal palace in the City of Har tomorrow, if we so chose." Nzinga said, her voice harsh.

"My army cannot stand against you, that takes nothing to admit. But no, I sue for peace, because there is no need for war. Har was not involved in the kidnapping of your daughter, who is well, I hear. Xena of Greece was not involved. The Army of the Goddess was on your border because I sent them there, at the request for help from my friend. Gabrielle, her consort, had been taken, as Tanit was."

"Is the Great King in the habit of sending out the army every time a foreign born Lord calls? If you expect me to believe that, you are mistaken. A ruler does not behave so."

"A ruler, no. But a friend, yes. My heart ruled my head, as it is said is the curse or blessing of all Harrians. I owe my throne, my marriage, and my very life to Xena and Gabrielle. If they require aid of me they have it."

Nzinga walked right up to Oromenes, looking down at the slim form of the King. The rulers of the two nations faced off, the powerful Amazon Queen, raised up in the ways of war, the sheltered prince who had been raised in seclusion in the desert. Something passed between them in that moment, a recognition, perhaps, of a similar nature. The Queen of the Amazons and the Great King of Har both took a step back. Mahogany eyes regarded jet-black.

"If that is so, then you are a friend to have, Oromenes. I was sorry to hear of your father's death. He was a great man." Nzinga said.

"We were sorrowed to hear of your wife's death, Nzinga. I was a Harlot at the time, word came through the temple." Malache said, in her sweet voice.

Nzinga looked at her, pausing on the splendor of her face. "Thank you." She said, softly.

The Amazon Queen strode back to her royal seat, speaking to all her gathered Amazons. "The Great King of Har has offered peace. I accept. Let the trial of the Harrian Lord Chabouk prove innocence, and I will give Oromenes of Har my hand."

Part Nine

Gabrielle arrived at the central fire to find Oromenes and Malache sitting with Nzinga and her daughters. Her eyes darted around, seeking the form of her lover. There, standing with Azarnes, behind the royal family, was the Greek hero, her arms crossed over her chest. She was frowning at something Azarnes had said, her dark brows drawn down. Then - sapphire eyes rose and met her, across the fire circle, with a heat that shamed the sun. Gabrielle just stood still, locked with those eyes, letting everything else fade out. She was alright, she'd made it back. Nothing, not the war, not the coming ceremony, not the interference of the gods, could stop her.

Captain Musu stood behind the Greek Queen as she stared at her consort. They were like lovestruck girls, speaking with their eyes in front of the nation, as if anyone couldn't see that they were lost in one another. She snorted, and pushed the Queen in the back, gently. "Go on, we all know she's waiting for you." Musu rumbled, in Dahomey.

Gabrielle looked up, startled, when the Captain pushed her toward the circle, then said something to her. The brawny woman was smiling at her, inclining her head toward the royal family, and Xena beyond them.

"Oh. That obvious?" Gabrielle asked, with a shy grin. Guess Oseye and Malika don't have anything on us- Gabrielle thought. The bard thought about what she'd told Tanit, then looked back at Xena. Definitely when you aren't expecting it.

Captain Musu escorted Gabrielle back to the royal seat, and presented her to Nzinga. "The Queen Gabrielle is finished with her stroll." She said, deadpan, to Nzinga.

The Queen of Dahomey raised her eyebrows at the stalwart Captain, sure that there couldn't be a trace of humor coming from Musu. That would destroy her reputation as a tree trunk, Nzinga thought, but there was an odd glint to Musu's eye. Maybe.

Gabrielle had gone on to greet Malache and Oromenes, and was currently being hugged by both. "It's wonderful to see you both here. I wasn't sure you'd make it." Gabrielle said, when they pulled back. Oromenes did a fine impression of an offended Harrian prince.

"You imply that the Great King of Har might fail? That Malache might not be clever enough to make the impossible happen? Truly I am disappointed, Gabrielle. You are the consort of a hero, you have seen the impossible done offhand."

"And that hero would like a word with you." The voice came from behind Oromenes, the tone plain enough even to royalty. Oromenes stepped aside.

Gabrielle felt Xena's arms sweep her up, felt her feet leave the ground. She hung there, between earth and sky, suspended in the arms of her lover. The scent of leather was as comforting to her as the press of the armor against her cheek, things not associated with comfort, but belonging to the only home she knew. She felt her feet lower back to the ground, but the embrace didn't loosen. She stayed pressed against Xena, heedless of the watching eyes, the royalty gathered, the nation of Dahomey ringed around the fire. Enough had separated them, and for long enough. The world could wait.

"They treat you right?" Xena asked, brushing her lips against the top of Gabrielle's head.

"You'll kill them all if they didn't?" Gabrielle asked, suppressing a smile.

"Every last one of them. The nation will be a smoking ruin. I might just knock off Egypt, because I'm in such a bad mood." Xena said, in her best warlord tone. The Amazons standing nearby flinched, not knowing the words, but recognizing the menace. Gabrielle tugged Xena's head down and kissed her.

"Don't do that. It'd ruin the reputation we've worked so hard on." The blue eyes were feral in the dark planes of Xena's face.

"I mean it. Did they treat you right?"

"With perfect dignity. I had a very interesting talk with someone, I have to tell you all about it."

Gabrielle turned to Nzinga, pulling Xena along by the wrist. "The trial is set for tomorrow?" She asked the Queen of Dahomey. Nzinga nodded, a look that might have been sorrow coming over her face.

"It is, and cannot be changed."

"Then let me have her for the night." Gabrielle said, taking Xena's hand. The sorrow was plain on Nzinga's face now.

"I would not deny you that, whatever you may think of me. Go with my blessing, sister. We will see you in the sun's open light."

Gabrielle drew the unprotesting Xena away from the main fire circle, across the camp, to the edges of the dun hills where Agassou's fire still burned. Xena had expected something different when Gabrielle started dragging her off into the night, and was frankly stunned to find herself standing in front of an ancient Amazon, who sat before a small fire on a camp chair. Two teenagers sat on the ground on either side of the ancient woman.

"This is Xena. Xena, this is Agassou the Panther, chief griot of Dahomey. The girls are Oseye and Malika." Gabrielle said, brightly.

Xena scowled. "What's going on? I thought-"

Agassou laughed, the sound exploding out of her. She waved at Oseye to translate for her.

"You will get what you thought, hero. But a little moment longer, linger here. I will tell you what you must do tomorrow, and how you may succeed."

Xena reluctantly sat cross-legged, facing Agassou's chair. Gabrielle sat next to her, her hand resting on the warrior's thigh.

"All right. I'm listening." Xena said, her voice dark as thunder. It seemed to amuse Agassou, the menace the warrior projected.

"The Ceremony of the Ancestors is your trial. We of Dahomey know that wisdom is the accumulation of all the mothers who have come before us. They who are beyond the veil can see the past and the future as one, they know, where we might only guess. So they tell us, when we seek their aid, when a person is innocent, or guilty of crimes against the nation." Agassou said.

"How? Signs, divination? An oracle perhaps?" Xena asked.

"No. Not like Har, with their snakes. In Dahomey we have no class of priestesses, apart from the people. The gods may speak to any, no? We invite the eggun, the dead, to speak through us. Sometimes they do. And sometimes the orishas - the emissaries between the gods and the nation, do so. It is called Mounting the Horse. The seeker invites in, and they deign to ride. If you are fortunate, you are ridden by one who will speak well for you." Agassou gestured at Xena with the gourd she was holding.

"Hera's tits. Invite a god to possess me? Not on your life." Xena said, her knuckles showing white as she clenched her fists. Gabrielle put her hand over Xena's, and the fists relaxed back into hands. A tremor went through the warrior, that only the bard caught. She tightened her grip, reassuring.

"I know little of the gods of Greece, they show themselves to you, do they not? In Dahomey, they speak through us. They must be enticed with songs and drumming and sacrifices, offerings. Anansi the Trickster sent the spider dream to your Gabrielle to start this whole mess. Would you let a god endanger your consort, because you hate the immortals too much to stand against them?" Agassou said, slyly.

Pure fury blazed up in Xena's eyes, a rage that shamed the stories the Amazons had heard of the bloody handed Ghoul. It was a rage that Oseye, warrior though she was, flinched from and looked away. Malika was fascinated, and looked into it, trying to memorize it. She might never again see a rage as pure, and wanted to be able to speak of it ever after. The fate of nations hung on it, on the love that sparked it into life. Malika looked through the veneer of blood and carnage, and saw the fire of Xena's heart, given life by the gentle Queen at her side. She gasped, and touched Agassou's hand. The old griot patted her, letting the moment pass.

"No one harms Gabrielle. Not man, nor god, nor demon."

"Then so it is. You must call down Oya the Warrior, she who rides to battle with Shango, she who keeps the gates to the cemetery. She is the guardian of the Amazons, and she can put Anansi in his place. But there is danger. Oya might become enraged at Anansi, her anger is terrible for a mortal to hold. You must be ready to endure agony, the anger of a god."

"I can handle anger." Xena said, simply.

"The anger of a god, of the Warrior?" Agassou pressed.

"Anansi took Gabrielle from me, made me think she was dead. I bathed the sand in the blood of men who sought to keep me from her body. You think one god can break me?"

The face was calm, the voice was calm, but howling whirlwinds spun in those sapphire eyes. Agassou nearly smiled, at the scenes of battle and madness promised in the Ghouls' clear gaze.

"So, and so. You entice Oya. When she is done, and you yet stand, ask for one more. An eggun, one of the dead. A clay cup will be passed to you. Break off a portion of the rim, this will call the dead, a broken vessel as their bodies are broken. You will wear a token from this eggun, she will seek you. If she Mounts the Horse, I think the nation will be healed."

"Who." Xena said, in a clipped tone. None of this sounded good. At best, it sounded painful, exhausting, dangerous, and possibly fatal. The thought of giving up her body for the whim of a god chilled her to the bone.

Gabrielle seemed to know what she was thinking, and caressed her face. "Are you up for this? I won't have you hurt."

Xena took her hand, and kissed it. The green eyes soothed her, put her fears back down into the darkness where they belonged.

"I can do it. It's for your Amazons, right?"

"The Amazons don't matter, if you're injured.

"You are always reminding me that I'm a hero. This is what a hero would do." Xena said, looking into the face of her lover, the Queen.

"Don't let it be about revenge. Don't let the anger be what takes you. I couldn't bear that."

Xena kissed Gabrielle's hand, her eyes worshipful. "Not revenge. Love. Your love for your Amazons, no matter how far flung they are. The love you taught me to live by."

"You must be clearly tied to life, to your self, to be ridden by a god, then by the dead. It is Mazena, wife of Nzinga, who you must entice. Are you able to do this thing we ask of you, able to undo the web of the Spider?" Agassou asked.

Xena barely glanced at her, the brief blaze of sapphire eyes in the dying firelight was answer enough. The hero had accepted the challenge. Agassou understood, better perhaps than the Greek warrior and her lover, what had been promised.

"Good. Go then, hero and Queen. Go, and bind one another to life."

Agassou watched the Greek warrior rise, and lift her lover to her feet. They walked into the darkness, holding on to one another. The griot smiled, in her way, at their retreating backs. Life finds its own way, its own balance, no matter how strange it may appear. Agassou felt the air change, felt the dead gathering. They knew they'd been spoken of, knew that the ceremony was coming. She felt them, around the fire, around the heat of the living forms.

"Malika. Oseye. Go, children, into the tent. The night is a long one, I have much to do. It is a good night to be in one another's arms."

In Gabrielle's tent, Xena threw the armor from her body and pulled her lover in. Too much had been between them for too long, they needed to speak blood to blood, skin to skin. They led one another along the path, until the separation of their flesh was agony, the union of their souls complete. In the heat of the sun the black eagle melted, pinions bleeding away into the white air. There was no separation then, only one, all together. Words sparked and faded, the speaker and the listener one and the same. One soul closed the circle, turned in the balance.

The small gods of the desert, the hill gods of the wasteland of Baluchis, the spirits who lived in that place took notice of the hide tent that glowed in the mortal night, shaming the stars. They gathered around it, thick as fleas, basking in that light, drinking it down like wine, getting giddy on it. It was a gift to them, a sacrament of life in that barren place. They felt a tug of envy and of joy. This was the sacred gift of mortals, that the gods might not know, this agony of reunion, the making again of one soul from two.

Off across the camp, the familiar light of a Harrian balance called to them, the night haired youth and the blood haired wife came together. They remembered these two, from nights in the hills, from afternoons in a gray fortress. There was a perfection to them now, the pain that had colored their infrequent unions was gone, passed over. It was delicious, and familiar, and Harrian, this balance, a meal of a thousand courses, a blend of spices on the palate. Yet the spirits and small gods lingered around the hide tent, drunk on the raw, primal energy of the hero and the Queen. The Harrian balance was like pure music, a flute played note by note on the night air. The Greek bonding was the roar of the earth, the grinding of stones, the music of chaos and order, water crashing down against the rocky lip of the land. It did not let up until the dawn, when the drunken spirits staggered back to their places under the hills. They had never seen anything like the mating of the untamed spirit, with one so civilized. They would speak of it, under the dun hills, for many years after.

The sun came up. Gabrielle thought she might be able to hold it back with the strength of her kiss, with her passionate embrace on her warrior, but the sun envied them, and flooded the valley. There was a story that Agassou might have told Gabrielle, about the Sun and her lover, the Moon, and why she is often jealous of mortal lovers, but Gabrielle didn't think to ask, and Agassou didn't offer. The Greek Queen et her energy rest, and lay in the arms of her hero, her lover. Xena kept one hand resting on Gabrielle's hip, covering it possessively.

"Are you afraid?" Gabrielle asked, speaking from the shelter of Xena's shoulder. The warrior looked up at the roof of the tent, as if she could stare down the sun beyond, make it slink behind the dun hills for a few hours more.

"Yes. Not of the pain, not of the ceremony."

"What then?" Gabrielle asked, thinking that she was the only person in the camp, perhaps in that part of the world, who would believe that Xena, Lord Chabouk and Ghoul, might ever be afraid.

"Of being apart from you. I lost my mind in the wasteland, when I thought you were dead. The trickery of the gods made that happen. My anger made that happen. The snake in Har's temple never said you were dead, only that you rested in a tomb in Kemet. I became the Ghoul, the Drinker of Blood. You wouldn't have liked me then."

Gabrielle trailed kisses from Xena's throat, down to her heart. "Open up, my love. Feel me, feel what I'm feeling right now." She held her hand over Xena's heart, remembering what Malache had taught her, until the warrior gasped and blue eyes turned liquid.

"That for me?"

"You. Of all the world, you." Gabrielle affirmed.

"Then I'm not afraid. With that, nothing can touch me." She held her hand over Gabrielle's heart, not sure she could do what the bard had learned to do. The bard closed her eyes, tears running from them.

"For me?"

"You. Of all the world, you." Xena said, reverently. "That's Elysia. Not the gods, not the afterlife. That. I've tasted it, and no one can take it from me." She took Gabrielle's hand in hers, that light contact completing them.

A scratching came at the tent flap. "Gabrielle? Xena? I've been sent to fetch you." It was Oseye, sounding very embarrassed and apologetic.

"We're coming." Xena called out, sitting up. "Let's get this over with."

"Let's invoke the gods, heal the nation, prove your innocence and cement ties between warring kingdoms. Then we can have breakfast." Gabrielle said. There was nothing left to do, but laugh.

Oseye was surprised to hear the laughter from the tent of the Greek Queen. She had spent the night in Malika's arms, the close brushing of sorrow, of the delicious thrill of fear for another pair of lovers touched them as it often touches the young, making them seek comfort in one another's arms. The thought of Gabrielle losing Xena, the thought of her mother's grief at losing Mazena, had Oseye clinging to Malika nearly till dawn. Love, when new and still forming, can be as solid as gravity, binding two bodies together. The balance of space between lovers is something learned over years together. The sweet melancholy of the night hadn't lent itself to humor, the laughter of these two women, who obviously loved one another beyond reason, was beyond her understanding. It would be many years into her marriage, when the first of her daughters was caught destroying the beer stores, that Oseye would look at her wife and learn to laugh that way. It was the laugh of a woman enough in love with life that she might see the humor in it, despite the pain.

Xena unfolded her height through the tent flap. She had considered her armor, her weapons, but from what Agassou had said, this was a battle to be fought on other ground. She lay them aside, and went out in her leathers, fighting down the feeling of nakedness without her sword or Chakram. Is that all I've become, a carrier of steel? - the warrior wondered. The bard came out of the tent and took her hand, and the feeling passed, buried in the warmth she felt from her lover's small hand taking hers. Xena smiled at her in thanks, knowing the bard would understand. She had always understood.

The ground before the central fire had been cleared, the dirt swept free of stones. The dust of Baluchis was not like the good, rich soil of Dahomey, the small gods of the hills were not the emissaries of the nation. The Amazons would have to work to entice their gods and ancestors, and they prepared themselves for it. Before the fire an altar was constructed, draped with cloths of nine different colors, the maroon of Oya, the yellow and black and red of Shango. Guardian's masks of black wood were set on the edges, sleepy eyed and open mouthed. Food, and beer and wine were set in dishes and gourds, ribbons and strings of shells and stone beads were entwined.

It was a setting for a party, a celebration, an invitation to the dead, to the emissaries. The talking drums were brought forth, drums tuned to the tonal language of Dahomey and played only to speak during ceremonies. Only certain rhythms were ever played on each drum, dedicating it to the orisha it spoke to. Griots strolled through the crowd and acted as praise singers, reminding the people of their heroic ancestors, telling family stories, calling out in rich, laden tones to the listening dead. The drumming had begun before dawn, dancing was now underway. Singing would start when the Greeks arrived.

Nzinga, Queen of the Amazons of Dahomey, had spent the night alone in her tent, hot eyed and sleepless. The look the Greek Queen had given her, when she asked for a night with her consort, had scorched her. What sort of woman had she become that a Queen of another nation would approach her with defiance on such a topic? Had she become known as so lost to love, she wouldn't understand the request? There had been no lack of understanding. Any Amazon knew that look that passed between the hero and the Queen. Any warrior who had to leave her wife to go off to battle knew the urge to join with her until dawn, to cement their union before the vagaries of fortune tore them asunder. Nzinga knew that feeling. The last time Mazena had left her, to go off hunting lions with her soldiers, she'd felt it, but she was a Queen, not some junior wife left behind for the first time. So she hadn't given in to it, hadn't taken her handsome, laughing young wife in her arms and pleaded with her not to go. And Mazena hadn't kissed her, hadn't said good-bye. She'd hefted her spear, made boasts to her soldiers about the lions she would kill, and given her wife a wink and a broad grin.

"When I return in triumph, you may greet me as a warrior deserves." She had said to Nzinga, irreverent as only she had ever been with the Queen. Nzinga, conscious of Tanit and Oseye watching them with great round eyes, had fought down her need to kiss her wife.

"Go then, your boasting is getting tiresome."

Hard words to live with, for the last ones. Nzinga had eaten herself alive with them, for a year. Why had she not given in to her premonition, and made Mazena stay? Why had she been flippant with her, when all she felt for her was love, and gratitude for her, for the way the warrior made her feel? With Mazena and of her wives only with Mazena, was she able to stop being the Queen, and be only Nzinga. When Mazena had died, that part of Nzinga had died, too. What was left was the Queen. She'd thought that was enough, for herself, for her nation, for her family. Now, looking into the defiant eyes of a young, foreign Amazon Queen, mad with love for her consort and facing danger with her, Nzinga got a glimpse of who she had become. Gabrielle of Greece held up the mirror, and the reflection blinded Nzinga.

They came into the fire circle together, the Queen and the hero, clasping hands. Side by side, they presented a fearsome whole, the small blond Greek projecting a wary protectiveness of the tall, fierce warrior. She walked as if she were ready to throw herself between the Greek fighter and all mortal danger, and looking into her face, it did not seem absurd. Love such as that could stand between flesh and the grave, between destruction and the beloved. For her part, the hero seemed aware of the protective aura the Queen cast, and stayed within it, proud of the shield of the small woman. Perhaps, Nzinga thought, that Mazena had seemed so, when walking with me, protective of her wife, even though her wife was royal.

Gabrielle escorted Xena to the royal seat, and Nzinga rose to meet them.

"You've been told what will happen?" Nzinga asked, in a quiet voice. The sheer vitality of the Greek hero seemed unthinkable, in the face of the trial. She glowed with it, life sparking from her hair, her hands, her eyes, whenever she came near to her lover. Nzinga might have sworn that she saw the energy dancing between them, but she was a Queen, and such things belonged to griots. The Greek hero's mouth stretched in the parody of mirth.

"I've been told. Let's get this over with."

"So be it." Nzinga walked to the center of the fire circle, the drumming dimmed, but didn't die. She addressed her gathered tribes, the nation she ruled, her women, her sisters.

"Amazons! We witness the trial of one accused of crimes against the nation! Let the Ceremony of the Ancestors prove her guilt, or innocence. As it has always been in Dahomey, let it now be, as we have always been, let us now be, as the foremothers bring us wisdom, let us heed it. Dance, daughters of Oya! Dance, followers of Shango! Call in the dead!"

The singing began. The strongest warriors from each of the tribes had formed the circle, dancing to entice the orishas and the eggun, and also to give them a playing ground. If trouble began, if someone went mad while being Ridden, they were there to keep the peace. A woman Mounted by a spirit, either the dead or the emissaries, was holy, and must do as the spirit directed. It was up to the guardians around the circle to see that no one got hurt. Gabrielle reached up and kissed Xena, not letting her go. She kept her arms around her lover's neck, whispering to her.

"You have it?"

"I have it." Xena said, touching her right bracer.

"I love you." Gabrielle said, letting that speak for everything else she wanted to say. It was the end, and the beginning, of all else between them, and when the time wore down, it was all that needed to be said.

"I love you." Xena said, in echo, in response, in her own assertion. It was the one truth she could carry, into the face of angry gods, in the teeth of the dead, it was her anchor and her balance. She invoked that truth like a charm or warding, then leapt into the center of the circle, giving her battlecry. The Amazons echoed, with a roar like Hevioso's thunder, and the trial began.

Xena danced. The talking drums spoke, calling down each orisha, Oya the warrior, Shango, Hevioso the Thunderer, Oshun of the sweet waters. Elegba, owner of the doors and roads, messenger between the worlds, was called and invoked, the passageways were opened. Xena danced, and the veil grew thin, shredded by the drums, by the singing of ten thousand spearwomen. The earth rocked on its bed, the power gathered, enough to shake down the sky. Nzinga felt the dirt roll like water under her feet, Gabrielle saw the glow start around her lover, like the aura of Har, when the Goddess had come down on Xena. The singing grew louder, in response to the groaning in the earth, the stretching and yawning of the natural world. The small gods cowered in their holes under the dun hills, afraid. Powers greater than they stalked the land, summoned recklessly by the mortal women. Xena danced on.

Geb, desert chieftain and acrobat, friend and follower of the ghoul, watched from the edge of the fire circle. He had heard that the Greek killer had submitted to this Amazon madness, to free her woman, and make peace between the warring kingdoms. Disgust rippled through him, at first, to think of his proud Ghoul humbled by this barbarism, but he saw her dance, and felt ashamed. It was not barbarism, it was a calling of the gods- even he, who cheerfully avoided all gods save Fortune, who could not be worshipped, only acknowledged, could feel the powers gathering. The Amazons knew how to invoke their deities, and have them come. Xena was as regal as a Queen, walking into the fire circle, shielded in the love of her small woman. But when she vaulted into the center, she became fire, and the Amazons gave ground, that she might not burn them. She danced, and the world danced with her, the air moved to the rhythm of her limbs, the breath of the wind and echo of her breath. The warrior called forth the emissary of War.

The warrior danced a battlefield, danced corpses piled thigh deep, danced congealing blood on the cracked earth, weapons fallen from dead hands, the sky filled with vulture's wings. Geb saw the bloody field, heard the wings coming down from the sky, smelled the charnel house scent of slaughter. She was now the Ghoul, the Drinker of Blood, as he had first seen her, all passion and madness, no direction, no thought, only the most basic and violent reaction that a riven heart could spew forth. Like a maddened lion she danced, lost to reason. Geb felt the chill running from the center of the fire circle, where no chill should be, the cold of the absence of life, of a wind blowing across the fields of the slain, of the keeper of the gates to the cemetery. From across the killing ground, footsteps echoed. Oya had heard her name, and was coming.

The drums were louder than the beating of Gabrielle's heart. Her eyes stayed with Xena, never leaving her lover, as if she could bind her with the force of that gaze. So it was that wide green eyes first saw Oya coming down on the hero. It was like a swarm of bees, the swirling, angry noise that cut across the drumming. Xena, even in her frenzy, fell to her knees, knocked down with the power of the Warrior. The hero's head drooped, the drumming stopped, silenced all at once, as if by a single hand. The black hair brushed the ground, mingling strands of jet with the yellow dust of Baluchis. Then- the head snapped back, rolled about on the column of the hero's neck, the blue eyes wide and unseeing. Xena staggered to her feet, but it was not Xena, not the tenant of that well-known and occasionally beloved form. The hero took a step, then another, like a drunkard relearning gravity.

The Greek stood on weaving legs in the center of the circle of silence. Something showed in those eyes, something more powerful than the normal inhabitant, a stretching of the muscles of mortality to hold its essence.

"Who calls Oya?" The voice came from something not intended to speak through human vocal cords, it burned and thrummed on the air. Gabrielle flinched, knowing that Xena must be in agony, containing that essence.

Of all the Amazons, only Agassou the griot had enough strength in her legs to propel them forward, to speak with the orisha the Amazons worshipped. The griot, leaning on her stick, walked into the circle.

"Hail and welcome, Lady of War. We called you, your daughters, to speak for this one - she is accused of crimes against the nation of Dahomey."

Xena's body took a step, finding the balance of its limbs, finding the strength in the mortal muscles that held it upright. Gabrielle knew that body as well as she knew her own, knew the scars that creased the tall frame, the places Death had barely passed by, the look of it in the abandon of love, in the frenzy of war. In every moment, she knew who lived in it, knew her as the other half of her soul. But now, the body of the tall, black haired woman was a stranger to her, and the bard realized how much of her self was bound up in the soul of the hero. She felt weak, as if her blood had been drained from her veins with a thousand cuts. She swooned, and felt a muscular arm catch her. Blurry green eyes looked up into the scarred face of Captain Musu, who called out in Dahomey. Oromenes and Malache were by her side, holding her up, her arms across their shoulders.

"Easy. I feared as much - your balance makes you share her experience. Easy. She will need your strength."

In the circle, Xena's body faced Agassou the Panther. The voice of the orisha came again, like the swarming of bees, like the thunder rolling across the grassland, like the cough of a lion in the dark.

"This one never harmed the nation of Dahomey. This one risked, to give back to the nation her own. This one is not your enemy."

"Tanit, daughter of Nzinga, Queen of Dahomey, was taken, great Oya. Who then did this thing?" Agassou asked, formally. Oya, in the Greek's body, frowned. She closed the blue eyes, weaving, examining things beyond mortal sight.

The body reeled, the eyes snapped open, the hands of the warrior clenched convulsively, as if on the neck of a mortal enemy. The voice roared forth, in a fury that made Xena's throat bleed to carry it, the anger of Oya.

"Anansi!" The roar came, and the air trembled in abject terror. The Amazons fell to one knee, some fell face down, before the anger of the Warrior.

Again, the ground rolled like water under their feet, the small gods gibbered in their hiding holes, the dust groaned in a voice of brass. Oya strode and the air was filled with the play of lightning, the crackle of heat, the spark and hiss of her power meeting the edges of the mortal world. The fire circle had become a place apart, a way station, the ground between the gates of the cemetery and the gates of life. The dead heard their mistress' heavy tread on the mortal earth and came forward, lulled by her presence. The eggun, the ancestors, the dead, joined the circle of the nation.

"ANANSI!!!!!" The Warrior gave tongue to a yell that split the skies, the ears of the Amazons rang under it, the ravaged voice of the mortal woman housing the orisha shredded and broke.

There came a barking laugh, a hyena like coughing, a burbling and yodeling like the voice of a camp dog, all woven together. It was the sound of madness and challenge, and it came from outside the fire circle. Gabrielle felt the hairs on her neck raise with ghost walking fingers. Oya, in her lover's body, strode the diameter of the circle, growling, the cold wind off the killing grounds driving back the dust of Baluchis, the ashes cast forth from the fire.

"Anansi!"

Gabrielle flinched at the broken voice, supporting the immortal's vibrating roar. Xena might never talk again, her throat sounded ravaged beyond repair, from channeling Oya's voice.

"Anansi, you are undone. Show yourself, Spider, or I will catch you. And when I do, I will pluck your legs off one by one!"

"Great Oya, who has slandered me? Who has raised you against me?" The voice was ended with the bark of a jackal, the pleading whine of a village dog. The speaker came into the circle with a yodeling, a wailing, a laugh, turning cartwheels as he came, kicking up clouds of yellow dust. He landed with a flourish and a bow, his stunted limbs moving in a spidery pattern, combing the air. It was Geb, or his body at least, but even the Amazons who had seen but a fraction of his acrobat's skill knew that this was not he. The Nubian moved in way that mortals do not move, his body giving the sense of many legs moving all together. He genuflected to the towering Greek, groveled in the dust, kissing her feet.

Oya grabbed him up and held him midair, her muscles writhing like eels under the Greek hero's skin. The Nubian's eyes bugged out, his tongue distended from his mouth as he struggled in her grip, thrashing his feet in a desperate search for the ground.

"I see your weaving here, Anansi. I see a bitter man, a slaver and a slave, given a dream that will earn him his freedom. I see soldiers of a foreign nation, a fool and a schemer, both under the spell of the slaver. I see a plot to bring my nation to war, with the nation of Har. I have spoken with the orishas, Anansi. You overstepped yourself, Spider, when you set hands on the royal house of my Amazons."

She flexed her hands and Geb's neck snapped like a rotten branch. The sound pierced Gabrielle like nails driven through her ears. An immortal had used Xena, to slay her friend. The bard knew that her lover would never forgive herself for this. The Nubian's body flopped into the dust. Gabrielle started forward, horrified, but Musu's brawny arm across her chest restrained her. She struggled with it, wanting only to get to Xena, to help bring her back from the control of the orisha. Musu didn't even acknowledge the struggling Greek Queen. She held firm as a tree trunk, and let Gabrielle flail against her. One person had been slain, the circle was not a safe place for anyone to venture. Oya was enraged.

Oya threw back the Greek hero's head and roared her unspent fury, threatening to shake down the stars. She stamped, and the earth shuddered, the hills ground down lower into the dust. Gabrielle clapped her hand over her ears, the sound of the Warrior's anger driving her down like hammer blows. How could Xena possibly bear that anger, and walk upright? Why was she not torn asunder by it?

Oya vented her fury, the mortal form she Rode unable to sustain it. Xena's voice gave out and Oya slowed, panting in the center of the circle, feeling the mortal weariness bring her fury down. A movement came from the dust at her feet. She cocked the Greek's head, curious, and watched.

The Nubian pushed himself upright. He shrugged his shoulders, setting his head back on the column of his spine.

"You are harsh, Radiant Warrior, to treat a mortal so who is not even one of yours." Anansi said, through the velvet voice of the dwarf. The laughter and madness had retreated, into the tones of a well-groomed courtier, used to the deflecting the rages of royalty. Oya, her fury spent, merely gazed at him.

"You sent the dream that began this madness. The Amazons are mine, trickster. I will not have them toyed with."

"Oh mighty Lady of War, I have done you a favor." The dwarf said, bowing low.

The air crackled around Oya, the wind blew cold across the mortals gathered around the fire circle. Her voice was a whisper, but it carried off to echo against the dun hills.

"You have done a favor for me?"

"Most assuredly, magnificent Oya. Have not your Amazons been...somnambulant, this last mortal year? Think on what I have done." Anansi said, fawning at Oya's side.

"I am doing so, fool. And I will have your head for a drinking cup for what you have done." Xena's voice was in ruins, barely enough to carry the harsh whisper of the orisha.

Anansi bowed himself double at the sound, kissing her feet. "Ah, to speak so harshly, to one who loves you so well! True, I set a few events in motion, a harmless series of events."

"Harmless? Dahomey went to war!" The blaze in the Greek fighter's eyes was beyond the range of her normal frenzy. It made Anansi smile to see it.

"Are you not Lady of War? Are your Amazons not followers of the Lady of War? What is a better death for an Amazon than a noble death in battle, in the service of the Queen and their Goddess? Look around you, Oya! Here gathered are the flower of your soldiers, in their pride, with a fresh victory to return home to boast of. The ten thousand spears have not gathered in generations. These days will be remembered in song and story, passed from mother to daughter, become a part of the nation's culture. The daughters in times to come will speak of the love Nzinga had for her daughter, to raise the nation to seek her! The soldiers will speak of their victory, the griots will sing of the wisdom of the Queen, to make peace with Har, when Dahomey might have crushed it into the dust. All the virtues of an Amazons have been illustrated, for the generations to come. Fire has been returned to your nation. Nzinga has her daughter back unharmed, Har and Dahomey have made peace. I have given you such gifts out of love for you, great Oya. Where is the crime?" Geb had never sounded more persuasive, more reasonable, his voice caressed the towering warrior, flattering and pleasing in his fawning.

Oya frowned at him, nettled.

"These things are true, but only because your web was unwoven by the Greeks."

"Did I not send the dream to the Greek Queen, and bring her to Tanit's side? Did I not send the hero in her madness to the yellow valley? You wrong me, Oya. Who else among the emissaries dared to confront you, as I have done, from love? Your nation languished in lethargy. I have given them life again." Anansi said, most reasonably.

Oya was silent, the hero's body was still. The wind that blew across the circle faded down, and died. Geb and Anansi grinned, teeth bared like salt. The warrior's hand shot out and grabbed the dwarf by the throat, lifting him again. He was held up to the hero's face, where she snarled at him.

"Whatever has been done, you forget one thing in your cleverness, Spider. They are my nation. I do not welcome the interference of any other god. You must pay for that crime, no mater the eventual outcome. There are ways that I may kill you, and not just the mortal you ride. You are aware of them."

Anansi grabbed onto the warrior's arm, pleading with her.

"Oya, Oya, it was but a jest! No harm is done. Let me make amends to you!"

"Amends? You cannot undo what has happened, Anansi. No, I think I will simply kill you. As you say, I am Lady of War."

"Radiant Oya! Vengeful Oya! Would not the blood of the mortals who took your princess be better to slake your hate? I am one poor, skinny old spider, not worth the trouble of killing. How much more satisfying to let your Amazons blood themselves against their foes."

Oya held Anansi up in one hand, considering. She narrowed the mortal's blue eyes, staring off into gulfs unguessed by the silent mortals watching the play of the gods.

"No, Anansi. If my nation rises to war against the garrison of Rome, then that nation will be bound to sweep down on us with fire and blood. I care not to have my women slaughtered in a fool's errand. I will kill you." She tightened her grip.

Anansi, eyes standing out from his head, grabbed again at her powerful hand.

"There is another way! Oya, Oya- I sent dreams to bring this web into weaving. I might send dreams to lure out only those three who harmed you. You might then do with them as you will, and not go to war against the nation of Rome. I will give into your hands the Roman fool and the schemer, and the slaver who dreamed of drowning the world in blood." He babbled to her, straining to hold back the closing of fingers like steel on his neck.

Oya opened her hand, and dropped him to the dust. "Do so. I will not speak with you again about this, Anansi. Do not give me cause to." She said, in the echoing whisper. Anansi kissed her feet. The wind jumped up with a howl, ran across the circle, driving with it dust and flame. It vanished, the gates to the cemetery rang shut. Oya was gone.

Xena collapsed headlong in the dust. Gabrielle cried out her lover's name, and heard no response. She threw off Musu's arm, only to be caught by Oromenes and Malache.

"Let me go! She needs me!" Gabrielle cried, her stricken eyes not leaving the prone form of the warrior. Malache looked at Oromenes, then at the uninhabited body of the hero.

"She's right. Let her go, beloved. Xena isn't there."

Part Ten

Gabrielle ran through the line of Amazons and threw herself down in the dust, cradling Xena's motionless body. There was a trace of blood on her lips, the only evidence of containing a Power within the cage of muscle and bone. She was still as death, not even breathing. Gabrielle reacted on instinct. She pressed her lips to Xena's, forcing her breath into the warrior's lungs. She tasted Xena's blood on her tongue and the coppery taste brought up a welling panic, but the bard fought it down. She concentrated on breathing life back into the warrior's body, dragging her spirit back from where it had gone when Oya took over. Gabrielle's world narrowed down to that, to the statue that lay limp in her arms, the breath passing from her, into her lover's body, in a hope of coaxing it back out again. Her breathing became more desperate when Xena did not respond.

"Damn it, you come back to me! You're not doing this to me again." She raged against the warrior's chest, grabbing the straps of her leathers and shaking her lover, alternating cursing her and forcing breath into her lungs. Xena's lips had turned blue, her flesh was cool, from the lack of life, or the inhabitance of the Keeper of the gates to the cemetery, Gabrielle didn't know. She felt her anger focus itself, then a tiny light exploded behind her eyes. No, that wasn't the way. Anger had fought Xena's spirit down, sent it to exile in whatever dark place it now lurked.

"You said you wouldn't give in to the anger. You said you'd let love take you, not vengeance. My love. I'm not letting you off the hook. You don't get to break promises to me, Xena. Come back."

Malache's eyes swam with tears, remembering the night in the cage when she cradled Oromenes' body, her spirit fled. Gabrielle had given her strength then, dragged her away from her grief. She could do no less now. She broke the circle, crossing to Gabrielle's side. She put her hand on Gabrielle's shoulder, offering her an anchor.

"Entice her. Remind her of why she should not stay where she is. I think Oya's anger was so great it pushed her under, she will have to fight back through it to return."

Gabrielle stroked the raven hair away from Xena's face, tenderly. "Don't stay there. Elysia is here, remember? Nothing can touch you when you have that. Come back through the pain. You've never shied away from a little pain in your life." She held her hand above the warrior's heart, giving her all her energy. It came like heat from her hand, warming the chilled flesh under the leather.

Gabrielle saw the eyes flicker under closed lids before she felt the breath against her skin. She choked back a sob and kept calling to her, in a voice so soft Malache couldn't hear what she said. Whatever it was that passed between them, whatever promises the Queen made to her hero, it was enough. Xena's eyes blinked open, and she was back inside them. She smiled, just a little, at her lover, and flexed her hand over Gabrielle's.

"I...hurt." She said, in a voice so ravaged Gabrielle could barely recognize it.

This time Gabrielle didn't hold back the sob. She curled around Xena's body, unable to raise her head.

Malache heard the broken sound of the Lord Chabouk's voice, and looked around for water. There, on the altar, was a clay cup. She ran to it, returning swiftly. Gabrielle's head was bent down, her eyes blinded with tears, and so she didn't see Malache hand the cup to Xena. The hero took it in her left hand, her eyes shifting to Malache. She looked at the cup fixedly, listening to Gabrielle cry. Her thumb closed on the rim of the clay cup, shattering off a piece. She struggled to sit, Gabrielle had to move back to let her. Xena drank from the cup.

It was then that Gabrielle saw the clay piece missing from the rim.

"Xena, no! You've done enough, they don't get to have any more of you!" Gabrielle cried out, but it was too late. Her lover had shattered the vessel, then drunk from it.

"I'll...come back." Xena whispered, her hand reached up to caress Gabrielle's face. The bard shook her head, but she couldn't stop it.

She lay back down, her body slumping. It wasn't like the coming of Oya, this time. No sound of great howling, no feeling of rage that rocked the ground. Just a shaking of the hero's body, like the shudder of a cold wind. Then, she opened her eyes. Unfocussed, the eyes swam past Gabrielle without recognition, past Malache. They swept along the circle, at the ranks upon ranks of Amazons gathered there, and lit up. One large hand reached into the Greek hero's right bracer, and drew forth the armband hidden there, the red gold lioness of the royal house. The hand lifted, and closed the armband on her right arm, above the elbow. Xena's body stood, faltering a little, the muscles still stretched and torn from Oya.

In the perfect silence, a mortal silence of withheld breath, the Greek's body walked across the fire circle, to the royal place. On the way it stopped, and casually reached out a hand, plucking a spear from the nerveless fingers of a terrified warrior. The Greek's body used the spear as a brace, but also as mark of pride, of recognition. This was a warrior coming home.

Tanit, Nzinga, Oseye, Izegbe and Enomwoyi faced the Greek hero. Oseye and Tanit trembled, knowing what was coming. Nzinga trembled for far different reasons, fearing it. She knew, it was impossible not to, but her heart cracked before the knowledge and refused to beat until it was confirmed. The Greek's body smiled broadly, a smile not suited to the muscles of Xena's face, seeking rather the conformation of another.

"I have returned, my wife." Mazena said, in the ravaged whisper the Greek's voice afforded her.

Nzinga, Queen of the Amazons of Dahomey, took a step forward, into the circle. She had faced eggun before. In her role as Queen, the dead were consulted for their wisdom, and often they asked to speak with her. So, as a Queen, she was ready for this. But as a woman, who had loved and lost her handsome, laughing young wife, she was not. So it was as Queen she responded.

"You are welcome here, ancestor, sister, member of the royal house. What wisdom do you bring to the nation?" She said, her tone remarkably even.

Both of the Greeks' eyebrows shot up and she cocked her head, leaning on the spear. Had her hair been bound up in a warrior's braids, had her skin been black as basalt, it might have been Mazena standing there. As it was, it was not the Greek, nor her expression, and it sheered a path to Nzinga's heart.

"So formal. I bring no wisdom to the nation." Came the whispered reply, with the hint of laughter underneath it.

"Then what do you bring?" Nzinga asked, her veneer of control splintering in the face of that laughter. Mazena (for truly it was her, even in the Greek's body) tossed the spear down, and spread wide her arms. She stood, the grin on her face, welcoming, until Nzinga broke. A sob tore from her throat, the sound stunning to Tanit and Oseye, who had never heard their mother cry. Nzinga stood and trembled like a child, harsh tears running from her eyes, unable to move. Mazena stepped forward and folded Nzinga in her arms, catching her as she fell.

Gabrielle watched as her lovers' body went to its knees, cradling the sobbing Queen of Dahomey.

"I have missed you, Mazena. More than you know."

"Ah, I know. I am always with you. I see how you make an idol of yourself. Only I went into the cemetery, my wife, but both of us died. Yet you live. Our family needs you. You should return to them." Xena's whisper was stronger, had a vibrancy to it. It carried across the circle, echoing. She raised Nzinga's head up, cupping her chin.

"You are too much the Queen. It sets you too far apart, makes you less of an Amazon. Let our women love you, Nzinga, not just worship you. Rejoin the circle of your nation."

Nzinga's mahogany eyes were lost behind the veil of tears. The weight of the words in her throat closed it off, strangling her. Words she had tortured herself with, this year long. She thought she might never breath again, if she did not say them. The eyes that regarded her were pale, not the warm brown of her wife, but the expression on her face was the same. It brought her heart to the ground. The Queen was gone, replaced by a grieving woman, at long last.

"I needed you, Mazena. I never told you."

The laughter was warm, it flowed over her, filling her heart. "You think I didn't know? I was young, my wife, I was not a fool. Let others know the same. This is the only wisdom I bring you - we are Amazons because we love one another." Mazena whispered. "Look to these Greeks, who move the heavens aside to get to one another. That is how Amazons love. It is how I love you, still."

"I wish I could go with you." Nzinga said, and her voice broke the heart of every woman listening. There was a small noise, like the sound of gates swinging open.

"Remember me, and I am never far." Mazena bent down and kissed Nzinga, helping her to stand. Mazena took a step back from Nzinga, then another. The Greek's body fell to one knee, her fist plunged down into the dust, holding the body upright. The black head fell forward, hair hanging down like a mask.

The air stilled, sound came back into the circle. Breath that had been held escaped. Nzinga still stood, tears washing her face. Gabrielle ran to Xena's side, slipping under the hero's arm. Her lover looked at her, pain clear in her eyes, but it was Xena, and so Gabrielle rejoiced. She helped her to stand, wincing when Xena winced.

"Are you all right?" The bard asked the hero.

"I wouldn't want to do that everyday." Xena whispered, her voice a shadow of itself.

"Don't talk. Your poor throat." Gabrielle said, touching it.

"I love you." Xena whispered, her lips forming the words. Gabrielle took her hand and kissed it.

"You better. I'm going to give you Hades for treating yourself like this, you know."

Xena didn't try and speak, but her grin was back.

Nzinga had turned back to her family, facing her daughters. The hero and Queen watched as she approached them, moving like she was as sore as Xena, her body worn down. But her head was high, her eyes clear under the tears. She held out her arms to her daughters, and Tanit and Oseye ran to her. She kissed them, both, as they held her.

"I have been gone a long time. It will not be easy, to heal that. But I am here."

The Greek Queen supported the hero as they walked to the royal family.

"We owe you more than I can express, Xena of Greece. The nation, my family, I, owe you a debt of gratitude that will never be repaid. What do you ask of me?"

Free Gabrielle and Geb." Xena whispered, and the bard swatted her.

"No talking. You like to let me do all the talking anyway. Is the trial over?" Gabrielle asked Nzinga.

"It is finished. Xena of Greece, called the Lord Chabouk in Har, is innocent of any crime against the nation of Dahomey. You are a hero without peer. I would be honored if you would take my hand." Nzinga extended her right hand. Xena took off the armband of red gold, and clasped Nzinga's hand firmly. The nation gathered there, witnessing the hand of the hero and the hand of their Queen join, exploded into cheers. Xena, unable to make a sound above that, dropped the armband into Nzinga's hand.

The Queen, tears in her eyes, took it and placed it on her own arm, opposite the one she wore. The healing had begun.

It took two weeks for Xena's voice to return to a shadow of itself. In that time Agassou the Panther simply forbade her to speak.

"The voice carries the soul. Shall you risk what is not yours? All the nation saw Gabrielle of Greece call you back from the gates of the cemetery. It is she who owns your soul, it is she who may speak for you. Submit, hero, you are forsworn."

Xena's eyes blazed up, but a touch from the hand of her bard quieted them. There was nothing in Agassou's words she could argue with, and so she did not. She spent the weeks a glowering presence, avoided by all but the bravest Amazons, who dared approach the woman who had contained Oya's rage and lived. Her own anger must be a thing not meant to be seen on the surface of the earth.

The one among them who, besides Gabrielle, who had seen her anger unleashed, even loved her for it, spent his time at her side. He was as silent as she, the breaking of his neck by Oya had changed him. Geb was no longer a laughing, self confident desert chieftain. There had come a silence into his soul, the silence of long gazing on the wasteland each man carries in his own heart. Anansi had healed him, but as it was said, the touch of Anansi is not always a gift, and never a gift unmixed. He would never again be who he was, before he'd been Ridden by the Trickster. He sent his raiders away, under command of Hardanes and Aram. He knew he would never ride with them again. The silent warrior and the silent dwarf spent a portion of each day gazing out over the dun hills at the silence of the desert beyond, finding there an emptiness they sought for different reasons. Gabrielle could see that Xena had found a kindred spirit, however the casing of flesh was arraigned, and let them be alone together in their companionable silence.

The Army of the Goddess returned to the City of Har with the General Azarnes. Great King Oromenes and her wife Malache the Beautiful journeyed on with the royal family of Dahomey, intent on cementing their ties. What better way, then by accompanying them back to the land of the Amazons for the wedding of Nzinga's third daughter?

Even after seeing Mazena, after the transformation of embracing her dead wife in the body of the Greek hero, Nzinga was still Nzinga. Oseye approached Gabrielle, after a few days of the Greek Queen keeping to her tent with her hero. It was said, afterward, that the sounds issuing from that tent formed the basis for a cycle of romantic poetry, to be sung for generations by the Amazons of Dahomey. Oseye was cognizant of this, as she scratched at the tent flap, as awkward around the Greek Queen and hero as she had ever been.

"Come in." Came Gabrielle's cheerful voice, from inside the tent. Oseye ducked in, and squatted in front of reclining Queen, her head in her hero's lap. The hero was stroking her hair, wholly absorbed in that task.

"Oseye! What can we do for you?" Gabrielle asked, brightly. Her days with her hero had been well spent, evidently. Oseye blushed, having only the vaguest notion of what occurred inside of the hide tent.

"I, we, all want to thank you, Gabrielle of Greece, for what you and Xena have done. My mother is...my mother again, not just the Queen."

"You're welcome. But you've all thanked us. The feast, the dancing, the wrestling with Captain Musu, that song about Xena-"

Oseye blushed again, thinking about the songs being sung about the pair of Greeks around the camp, most of them beyond repeating to the lovers face to face.

"Yes. So it is that I hesitate to ask more, of two who have given so much to the nation."

Xena tapped Gabrielle's shoulder, and jerked her chin at Oseye.

"Xena wants you to spit it out." Gabrielle said, correctly interpreting her lover's mood.

"Speak to Nzinga for me about Malika." Oseye said, in a rush. A smile of pure complicity spread over Xena's face. She nodded to the girl, and patted Gabrielle's shoulder.

"Of course we will. I will, I should say. We'll have it handled by this evening." Gabrielle said, warmly. Xena motioned to the tent flap, then at Oseye. She touched her own chest, then Gabrielle's, over her heart. The bard smiled at her lover, a smile so intimate that Oseye felt like she should leave.

"Xena says she understands. You feel about Malika like she feels about me, the gods themselves will not be able to stand in the way of that. Go on, and get ready for your wedding." Gabrielle translated, with a small smile of personal joy. Oseye took her hands, impulsively, and kissed them. She hurried out of the tent to seek Malika, at Agassou's campsite. If the Greek Queen vouched for it, it was as good as done.

I know, I elaborated a bit. You more or less said what I said." Gabrielle said, to Xena's raised eyebrow. "But she should go get ready for her wedding, we are going to handle it. We've handled everything else in this part of the world, what's one Amazon wedding?" Gabrielle saw the expression on Xena's face, and shook her head. "Don't you take that tone with me, warrior. I might decide that I haven't given you enough Hades for not telling me about that stunt with the eggun." Xena shrugged, and turned her face to the tent wall.

"You are so transparent. You sulk like a six-year-old. Stop. You know I love you."

Xena cocked her head, eyebrows raised.

"How can you doubt me?" Gabrielle asked.

Xena hung her head, the jet-black hair hiding her features.

"Xena." Gabrielle cajoled, drawing the hero's head back up. "What is it?"

The warrior motioned to the tent flap, to herself, to Gabrielle. The blue eyes added the unspoken words. She gently moved Gabrielle off her lap and stood, enacting the motions of drawing her sword. She swung the imaginary blade like a butcher's cleaver, Gabrielle could see the bloody flying in a scarlet rain, feel the hot breath of the combatants on her skin. Xena turned, her eyes feral and savage, her teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

Anyone else living would have flinched back from it, even Geb. Gabrielle did not. Xena dropped her sword hand, her head fell forward on her chest. She collapsed to her knees and crawled to the bard, laying her head in Gabrielle's lap. Automatically, Gabrielle's hands caressed the dark head, combing the jet hair through her fingers. Xena turned her head, her eyes looking up at Gabrielle, gentle as a kitten.

"I understand. No one else, in all the world." Gabrielle said, stroking her warrior.

Xena sat up, and took Gabrielle's hand. She placed it over her heart, above the leather. Gabrielle could feel the pounding beneath her palm, the strength of that savage heart, beating for her. She could see the question in her lover's eyes, as well.

"Yes." She answered, without hesitation. "We should wait until we get back to Greece, but yes."

Nzinga, Queen of the Amazons of Dahomey, was trying to have her dinner. The constant interruption wasn't helping her mood. In the space of a few minutes Oseye, Tanit, Captain Musu, Geb the Nubian, even her grown daughters Enomwoyi and Izegbe had dropped by her tent, just to see how she was feeling. She answered them all the same, she felt fine, but couldn't vouch for her mood if one more person interrupted her meal. It was a tribute, Nzinga thought, to the changes that had happened in the nation since the ceremony of the ancestors, that people now felt that they could pester her unmercifully.

She raised the cup to her lips and paused, her hearing still as sharp as a lioness on the hunt.

"Stealth does not suit you, or you are not trying hard enough. Come in and be done with it." She said. To her surprise, it was the Greek Queen who ducked in the tent flap, along with the silent hero. She had thought they were still secluded in their tent, cementing ties of their own, after the hero's ordeal. Nzinga had refused to move the army back to Dahomey until they had had their time; it was the least she could do for them, who had given the nation, and her, so much. She understood, in the grieving of her own heart, how much it hurt to lose your lifemate. These Greeks, for all their fire and passion, seemed like old lovers sometimes, knowing each other better than they knew themselves. It was an odd mix to watch, the madness of youth, coupled with the affection of a long life together. Nzinga glanced at the glory of the Greek Queen's face, the beauty there staggering after her days in her lovers arms. She wondered how long they had been together.

"Good evening, Nzinga." Gabrielle said, brightly.

The Queen of Dahomey motioned for the Queen of Greece to sit on the floor of the tent, along with her. The hero remained standing, behind her Queen, arms folded. Had Nzinga not been used to the posturing of warriors, it might have unnerved her, but she found it charming, in its way. The Greek fighter wanted there to be no room for question, even in the tent of Nzinga, that she was the champion of Gabrielle. She wore her place with great pride, and seemed a little sad that no one challenged her, so she might defend it.

"You may dispense with formality, Gabrielle. Half the nation of Dahomey, as well as many distinguished guests, have already dropped by, apparently to prepare me for your coming. And so I am prepared, and so you are here. What may I do for the friends of my family and myself?" Nzinga said, setting aside her cup.

"It's more of what we want to do for your family. One of your daughters has asked us to speak on her behalf." Gabrielle said. The hero tapped Gabrielle's shoulder, the Queen patted her hand. "Not yet, my love."

"Though many stories are told of my ferocity, why do you approach me so gently? What does Tanit want, that she asks you to intervene?" Nzinga asked.

Xena shook her head, the motion of the black hair drew Nzinga's eyes up.

"Who then?" She asked the hero, forgetting that she was forbidden to speak.

"Nzinga, I know of the regard that you have for Xena and I. I know of the regard you have for Agassou the Panther, how vital a griot is to your nation. It's about griots that I want to talk. Without the storytellers, the keepers of the history and culture, we lose who we are, do we not? It might even be said that a griot is more important than a warrior, because they are more rare, the training much more specialized, and talent plays a big part -" Gabrielle broke off, when Xena shifted her weight and refolded her arms.

"Oseye. She's in love, and wants your leave to marry." Gabrielle said, sensing that Xena's patience was fraying.

"Oseye? Who does she want to marry?" Nzinga asked, thunderstruck. Her middle daughter had fallen in love, while she'd been swamped in her own grief. "What warrior has stolen her heart?"

"Well, that's it. It isn't a warrior. This is where the bit about the importance of-" Gabrielle was cut off by Xena's hand, dropping onto her shoulder.

"Agassou's apprentice Malika." Gabrielle finished, and Xena smiled.

"A griot's apprentice? The daughter of Nzinga wants to marry a griot's apprentice?" The Queen said, the idea simply never having occurred to her. Every woman in the nation bore the spear, there were ten thousand warriors to choose from outside the tent flap. And her daughter had selected the one girl in Dahomey who was sworn not to bear arms?

"The Queen is the leader of Dahomey in war. It is our place to be first in battle, to lead the army, to be a bearer of the spear. How else might a nation of warriors follow us, were we not warriors ourselves?" Nzinga said.

"Oseye is already a warrior, she earned her spear. She's seen battle, at your side. If she becomes Queen, I don't think any warrior in the nation would hesitate to follow her. The Queen is also the leader of the nation in peace. You proved that, in accepting the hand of Oromenes of Har and stopping the war. A queen has to have wisdom and tradition on her side, as well as courage. What better way to balance that for Oseye, than by having her marry a griot?" Gabrielle argued, in a reasonable voice.

Nzinga hesitated, tradition crowding her. This had never happened before, in the long years of her knowledge. Xena dropped into a crouch, facing the Queen of Dahomey. Her pale eyes drew Nzinga's, reminding her of a moment when another had looked out of those gems at her. Xena tilted her head, holding Nzinga's eyes. She closed one large hand around her own upper arm, where the armband of the royal house might be worn, then closed the same hand around Gabrielle's arm. Gabrielle added the words.

"We've seen them together, Nzinga. They are already family, it isn't up to us to allow or not. All we can ask is the chance to bless their union."

Nzinga turned her head away, silent for a the space of many heartbeats. Gabrielle made a move to reach out to her, but was restrained by Xena's hand on her arm. She glanced at her lover, who shook her head. The Queen had to bear this for herself.

At last Nzinga turned her head back, and Gabrielle could see the weariness in her eyes. The beauty of her face was the beauty of character, of a woman who had loved, and lost, and loved again, had lost faith and had to find it for herself. It showed her strength, underneath all else, the willingness to keep going. Even bereavement had a grace to it, when it was acknowledged and lived with. It was how Gabrielle pictured Xena looking, in a decade or so, once wisdom joined with hard experience. It is how she hoped she would one day look.

"I love my family, oh honored guests. I have recently been reminded of how vital it is for Amazons to love one another. Mazena told me to look to you, who move heaven aside to be with one another. Let you be my example, then. Go tell my daughter to come in and speak with me." Nzinga said, with life in her voice.

Xena and Gabrielle rose to go, the hero holding out her arm for the Queen to use in getting up. Nzinga's voice halted them.

"Oh, and Gabrielle? Find Agassou the Panther. Have her tell the army to get ready to move. We have a wedding to hold in Dahomey."

The army was on the move by first light. Agassou went from campfire to campfire, spreading the word - Oseye, daughter of Nzinga, was to wed Malika, the griot's apprentice. The Amazons not already convinced of the changes in their Queen had no more doubts, when this announcement went out. It was a joyous band that marched back across the border, shaking the yellow sands of Baluchis from their heels. The good grasslands of Dahomey caressed their feet as soon as they passed through the guardian's huts. Runners went on ahead to prepare the closest village for the greatest celebration they were ever likely to see. The Queen was coming with her triumphant spears, to hold a wedding.

By the time the army arrived, the fires had been lit, cattle had been slaughtered and the smell of roasting meat filled the air. The army camped out across the grasslands, dividing up now into village groups, the fire circles containing friends and lovers, wives and daughters. Griots went from fire to fire, telling the stories of the Battle of Baluchis, of the bravery of the Boy King of Har, in coming unarmed to the camp of Nzinga. They spoke of the generosity of their Queen, in extending her hand to the Great King of Har, and ending the war. Girls not yet old enough to take the spear sighed in envy when the heard of Tanit's coming of age, her adventures with the Queen of the Greek Amazons, her first kill, her reunion with her mother. Tanit herself was called to tell the tale in person, at many a fire circle.

The tale of the Greek hero and her courage in accepting Oya's anger, the tale of Geb the Nubian and Anansi the Spider were saved for the night of the wedding feast. The Greeks sat with the royal family in their place before the central fire, to the right hand of the Queen. Next to them sat Oromenes of Har and her wife Malache, once foes, now honored guests. When the wedding ceremony was finished, when Oseye had pledged her spear to the defense of her bride, the cattle had been given, the calling of the blessings done, the pair of lovers walked to the royal place. There Nzinga took the red gold arm band of the running lioness, and placed it on the arm of her daughter's bride. The girl, shy to the last, ducked her head, feeling the lack of the heavy braids that all the warriors gathered around the Queen wore. But the touch of Oseye's hand on her waist, the look of pride in her new wife's eyes, was enough. She took Oseye's offered hand, and sat with her and the royal family.

Agassou the Panther walked to the center of the circle, leaning on her spear shaft. She raised her ancient eyes to the ranks of women, taking all of them in.

"We are surrounded in beauty." She said, and the nation murmured an assent.

"Strength is the servant of love, not its master. Ferocity is the tool of the warrior, but not her heart. Remember the days of Nzinga, who ruled Dahomey when our grandmother's grandmothers were not yet born. In her pride she marched on the City of Har, by the strength of her arm did she grind the Army of the Goddess down to dust." Agassou paused on this, letting the Amazons remember the tale. Gabrielle glanced at Malache and Oromenes, to see if they took offense, but they seemed calm, enjoying the tale. Oromenes' night black hair caught blue sparks from the firelight, she tilted her head toward Malache, smiling. There was no anger in the King of Har.

"Yet it was love that brought Nzinga down, love that stayed her hand, standing on the very battlefield, thigh deep in the bodies of those she had slain. She looked on the face of General Narbada, the proud commander of the Army of the Goddess, and she knew love. For love of her Nzinga spared her City. For love of Nzinga, Narbada took her hand, still stained with the blood of Harrian soldiers, and came as her wife to Dahomey. In this she became an Amazon!" Agassou's voice rose, taking on wings.

It reached out over the heads of the gathered soldiers, to the village, to the grasslands beyond. In ran on into the night, heard by the orishas, by Oya the Warrior, who looked on her women with pride. Next to her, inside of the gates to the cemetery a figure stood, leaning on a spear, ear cocked. She smiled, at the sounds from the wedding and threw back her head, arraying the braids over her shoulders. The echo of her hearty laugh came back across the grasslands, a ghost of a sound that just tickled the ear of the Queen. Nzinga glanced up, as if at the touch of a hand. She saw Oseye and Malika, hands clasped together, listening to Agassou's tale. The fire hit the gold of their armbands, highlighting them.

Geb the Nubian watched from the fringes of the firelight, hands hooked in his belt. It was good to see the Amazons rejoicing, it was pleasant to see the dancing and hear the songs. The food was not the food of a Pharaoh's court, but certainly as good as any he'd had in his days as a chieftain of raiders. He felt apart from the festivities, he, who had known how to laugh through any pain. Since Anansi had Ridden him, he felt no pain from his limb. The constant agony of his body had become almost a friend to him, to have it gone suddenly was like relearning to walk without gravity. The touch of an Amazon god had done this to him. He didn't like to follow any gods, and certainly had made a life out of carving his own fortune from his circumstances. What was he to do now, that the world had changed?

A small sound alerted him to the presence of another, a deliberate sound, for he knew the warrior could move more silently than the coming of night.

"Thought I might find you out here." Xena's whispered voice came from the darkness.

"And where else would I be, great killer? Ah, I should say 'hero' now, for that is who you are. You are no more the Drinker of Blood than I am the chieftain of raiders. My hate is gone, hero. I don't know how to live without it." Geb admitted.

The towering Greek blocked out the stars, from his vantage point. She stood next to him, and let the sounds of the drumming wash over them.

"I came to get you. The party returned from Palmyra. They have the Syrian. And the two Romans, who he worked with." Xena said, one hand catching at her throat. Her voice has started to return, she was testing it out when Gabrielle couldn't hear her. Geb nodded, his gold earring bobbing.

"I felt it, on the night wind. Come then, hero. We have business to finish. Leave the wedding celebration to those suited for it."

The Amazon warriors camped a respectful distance from the celebration, in knowledge that the sounds that carried on the wind might be very disturbing to the uninitiated. They were handpicked warriors, led by Captain Musu, to journey to the garrison and see if Anansi had kept his word. As Xena and Geb approached their camp, they could see that in this, the Spider had spoken the truth. Two Romans, their military haircuts grown out from the week on the march, were bound and gagged on the ground. Musu pointed to them with one brawny arm, speaking softly to Geb.

"The Captain says that these Romans belong to the Amazons of Dahomey. This one was the commander of the garrison, that one the owner of the Syrian. They are claimed by Nzinga for Amazon justice." The Nubian translated, watching the Romans with detachment. The one identified as the commander was stupid with fright, his eyes roving over the gag without purpose. His fellow Roman had the look of a soldier, even bound and gagged. He bore himself upright in his bonds, and kept his face a stony mask.

"How did they get two Roman officers out of an armed garrison without starting a war?" Xena asked Geb, barely glancing at them. Musu smiled, and stretched out her massive shoulders. Geb translated as she spoke, trying to capture the Captain's pleased tone.

"The Amazons camped outside of the garrison and waited. They had heard Anansi speak when he confronted Oya, they knew what to wait for. Once they got to Palmyra they built an altar to the orishas and called him, to remember his promise to Oya, and the nation. In the night, a dream came to the Romans, the dream of a spider. They went mad with it, and followed it out of the shelter of their walls, out of the ring of their soldiers. Unarmed, they walked into the night, following the Spider. It was easy work to take them, as a lion takes an antelope. Now they wait for Nzinga's justice."

Musu pointed to a stretch of grass behind the tents. She looked at Xena, with a mix of pride and compassion. The Greek hero walked in the direction the Amazon Captain had pointed, knowing what she would find.

There, staked out spread eagle, was the Syrian. He opened his eyes over his gag when he heard footsteps approach, not knowing the tread of his own death. His eyes saw the figure that loomed above him, large hands spread wide, fingers curling into claws. His face went bloodless at the chips of sapphire that glared at him, out of that shadowed face. Skulls looked down at him.

"Musu had a gift for you, great killer." Geb observed. He watched as Xena swayed over the bound body, saw the conflict raging in her. The muscles in her arms twitched and danced, her knuckles turned white with the desire to strangle this man, even helpless as he was. The anger was instinctive and immediate. This was the man who had taken Gabrielle from her, and made her think Gabrielle was dead. This casing of flesh and blood had caused her all the agony of Tartarus. Every sweet thought of revenge that had seen her through those terrible days came back, calling to her to give in, to rend this foe like the beast he was. Tear out his neck with her teeth, if she had to. It was her right.

"A gift for you as well, Geb. I still have the dagger that you gave me, when we met. I promised you that I would kill him for you." Xena's voice bore little resemblance to any human thing, the harsh whisper more frightening than a shout could have been. The anger of Oya was echoed in the anger of Xena.

Geb's answer surprised her. "I release you from it. Throw the dagger away."

Her eyes snapped around and fixed on him. "What?"

Geb stood, his arms across his chest. His head was back, his mahogany eyes fixed on the horizon. "Don't kill him. I don't have the hatred for him, anymore. Anansi robbed me of it. If I had, I would rend him myself. To what avail, great killer?"

"He took Gabrielle from me!" Xena said, through teeth clenched in rage.

"And that was effective, wasn't it? Even with the help of a god, he failed. You stopped the war, made peace between Har and Dahomey, healed the Amazon nation, bore the anger of a god. And you got your woman back. Where has he done a thing that keeps you angry at him?"

The Nubian walked to Xena's side, and put his hand on her back. He felt her tremble, as a race horse trembles, before a long run. "I loved you for your savagery, Ghoul. I had never seen the like. I think now, having seen you bear Oya's anger with such strength, then come back through the pain to bear the wife of Nzinga, that anger is completed for me. I have seen the best example of it, and I have seen how it can be won through. That lesson is done. Your woman completes you, great killer. You are more than anger with her. I think that is the next lesson." Geb stepped away from the bound figure on the ground, not even looking back. "Come to the fire circle, hero. There is a celebration going on. Your woman awaits."

The Nubian walked away from the warrior, back toward the camp of the Amazons.

Xena stood over the Syrian, her fingers flexing. She leaned down close to him, blotting out the stars, a deeper darkness then the night sky above the grassland.

"I could kill you." She hissed in Persian. She contemplated that fear she saw on his face, enjoying it for a moment. She looked at her fingers, strong as steel, able to snap his neck like a twig. It would be easy, one quick flick of the wrist, and he would be dead. But then what? She would have to go back to Gabrielle, and with that same hand, caress her lover. With the hand that slew an unarmed man, bound hand and foot, who had caused her no permanent damage. Xena shook her head.

"But I have a wedding to attend."

She turned her back on the bound Syrian, who had fainted dead away. She waited until she was several paces away from the Amazon's tent circle, before she spoke.

"You heard all of it?" She asked, to the night behind her. Gabrielle's hand closed around her waist.

"I heard enough." The bard admitted.

"You left me alone with it." Xena said, her voice breaking.

"I let you make the choice. I'm proud of the one you made." Gabrielle said, touching her lover's face.

"They can have anything from me but that part, the part that you love." Xena said, in a whisper.

"I love all of you. Not just a part." The bard said, sliding her arms around her lover's neck. Xena raised one black brow.

"So you haven't changed your mind."

"When we get back to Greece, you ask me again. We'll see." Gabrielle said, lightly.

Xena leaned down and kissed her with a passion that left her gasping. "I will." Xena took Gabrielle's hand. "Come on. I hear there are some songs about us that we have to live up to."

The hero and the Queen walked, hand in hand, back into the fire circle of the royal family of Dahomey. The dancing had begun. Somewhere out in the night, a Spider danced to the music of the drums. The gates to the cemetery swung shut. The watching figure turned away, leaving the night to celebration of the nation.

The End