#women need to connect and support not point fingers and judge

[letloverule1111]

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I didn’t know this! I’ve been sheltered from this discourse happily. I love all my intergenerational friendships both older and younger. They all nourish me.

Also—all the generations need to STOP the stereotyping and judgment of other generations!!!! JUST STOP! Every older generation does that to younger generations and it’s lame lame lame. It blocks you from connections and understanding. Also - guess what! EVERYTHING ALWAYS CHANGES! That’s why every generation has a different flavor!

Also also—the older generation that criticizes the younger generation actually TOOK PART IN FORMING THAT GENERATION so if you’re feeling judgy, take a look at yourself!

[fleckcmscott]

Out of Sight

Summary: Y/N has an unexpected dash of inspiration. Arthur doesn't require much convincing.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut

Words: 4,221

A/N: This fun little request comes from @sweet-nothings04​​. You're wonderful and I hope this meets your expectations. Thanks for the request - I can't imagine ever writing this without it! 🙈 Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul​ for agreeing to beta!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Words didn't often fail Y/N, but the admission left her foggy, reminiscent of what she'd experienced after tipping over in a wheelbarrow race at a school fair. Her foot swung back and forth as she sat on the counter. Fiddled with the phone cord and twisted its beige, plastic curls around her fingers. Were there signs she'd missed? Was her gut right in insisting she was a terrible friend?

"Marriage counseling?" she repeated.

Arthur stopped filling his bowl with sandy, pecan cookies, alarm encroaching his features. She waved off his concern, mouthing "not us" before she spoke into the receiver. "I'm so sorry." With a grimace of understanding, he patted her knee and ducked out, sweets in hand. No doubt he'd ask her to elaborate. Not that she had anything to share. Not yet. "I had no idea you and Robert were having problems."

Patricia laughed lightly on the other end. "Neither of us have our bags packed." A whistle came from the background. Vague cheering. Then mild cursing about how terrible this season's Gotham Guardsmen's picks were. She sighed. "The little green monster's dropped-in since your wedding. Don't get me wrong. I couldn't be happier for you if you were my own sister."

Y/N wished Patricia was within arm's reach instead of all the way in Burnside.

"Next month we'll have been married thirty-five years," Patricia continued with a rare nostalgia. "We're a team, Robert and me. But we've both let things go, gotten old. I'd like the spark back before we lose the kindling."

Pursing her lips, Y/N bit back her qualms. Rebutting the steps Patricia had taken was uncalled for, and doubly so when she needed her support. Besides. Y/N understood them. She'd climbed them once, too.

When she'd begun to figure out the direction in which the weather vane of her life pointed, the comfort and confidence she'd shared with her ex-husband had started to wither. Transformed over the years into an awareness that her childish belief in love being enough was inaccurate. It was natural, she thought in hindsight. They'd wed at seventeen and twenty-one. But divorce had been uncommon back then, particularly in a small town in the Bible Belt. The night she'd moved in with a friend (a tactic to delay confessing defeat to her family), Jeff suggested they speak with a professional. Though her heart had known it was over, she cared for him. She couldn't deny them the chance to salvage their union, no matter how remote.

A solitary counselor was available, a disadvantage of rural living. The man claimed to be a pioneer in couples therapy, having begun his practice in the thirties. One forty-five-minute drive later and they'd found themselves squished into a leather loveseat in a smoky, cramped office. Diplomas and certificates covered the walls, the veracity of which she couldn't verify. Dr. Ellis's puffy pink cheeks and offer of sweet tea had been kinder than his approach.

Fountain pens and worksheets were provided with the mumbled instruction to answer honestly. But the questions had not fit her situation. They were for women who desired to be happy homemakers. To plan meals and do the weekly shopping. To nurse children and have dinner ready by six. Responsibilities and life stages that had given her mother purpose - a purpose that mostly eluded Y/N. Every comma and quotation mark inferred fault. And Dr. Ellis had read her responses like a disappointed teacher.

Somehow the filmstrips, accompanied by a crackling LP, were worse. Mr. Provider and Mrs. Housewife were featured. He consistently came home on time. She always wore an apron. The narrator's spiritless voice contrasted with the cheery soundtrack while matching Y/N's mood. A lively ping! cued them to advance to the next still, a duty switched between her and Jeff to practice teamwork. At least the sidelong looks they shared could still connect them.

The slides, the homework, the speeches. They all pointed to one problem: her. Her parents were a model couple. Didn't she know encouraging her husband in his livelihood was her job? That his main obligation was to invite her to share his success? She had to mend her ways. Make herself more attractive. Be grateful he displayed his affection by returning to her after a long day at the office; he could just as easily hang out at The Rusty Boot.

Not a little indignant, she'd stared at Jeff's profile. Downcast eyes betrayed his regret and assured she'd maintain composure, for his sake if nothing else. She fixed her focus on Dr. Ellis and gave the situation a good, long think. Jeff had never questioned her ambitions. Who the hell was this jackass to judge?

She'd covered Jeff's hand, rubbed his knuckle with her thumb. "You're the expert here, doctor. But isn't it possible neither party is at fault?"

"Mrs. Thompson, I've heard that misconception from many of my clients. It's never led anywhere positive. Now-"

"But what if they're both good people?" she interrupted, hanging onto diplomacy by a thread. Her resolve stayed, even as her volume lowered at the prospect of wounding the man she'd loved as a girl. "Good people who've grown apart?"

Dr. Ellis took what she'd learned was his usual position on the corner of his cherry desk. "You're mistaking natural sex differences for incompatibility. Not every husband allows his wife to work outside the home." His paternal smile hadn't diminished the sting of his words. "If you want your marriage to thrive, I'd advise a little more maturity. And I think I have just the book to help you."

Twenty tons of silence festered on the ride home, louder than the pulse beating her eardrum. Distress distracted her from noticing the run in her stockings. And it was drizzling. She cracked the passenger window of the Lincoln Continental, anyway. Closed her eyes at the bite of raw air against her overheated face.

"Look, I don't agree with what that guy says," Jeff started. He pulled at the gearshift and flicked the turn-signal. "Not when it comes to you."

As the car came to a stop, she swiped at her eyes. "I'm not going again." The press of a napkin to her palm prompted a mix of appreciation and annoyance. For his courtesy and that he'd detected her tears. "Do you even like being married to me?"

"Y/N-"

"Please." She flinched at his attempt to embrace her. "Don't spare my feelings."

Headlights from a passing car flashed in the cabin, revealing his stretched lips. He raked back his thinning hair. The quiet shake of his head when he moved to gaze at her was a relief. "I miss the girl I fell in love with."

She offered a slight shrug and pulled the corners of the tissue. "I don't like it, either."

His rapid blink softened her posture, along with the recognition that the dream they'd had was also out of reach for him. "I'm proud of the woman you've become," he said. "Even if she's not what I need."

"I don't want to be a lawyer's wife." A quiet laugh bubbled up. "The oral arguments are terrible."

He checked his blind spot and put the sedan back into drive. "I'll file the papers tomorrow. We can tell your parents and sister together. If you'd like." After some seconds, she'd slid across the bench seat and put her head on his shoulder, heartened by an affinity she'd nearly forgotten.

Counseling techniques must have evolved, Y/N considered. Perhaps Patricia would find help instead of blame. If not, tips in women's magazines were a tacky if economical alternative. She'd have to check the breakroom at work for forgotten issues.

She hopped off the counter and poured herself another cup of decaf. "Let me know if we can do anything. And how it goes."

"The first few sessions were great. I picked up a few booklets. 'Modern Marriage,' 'The Complete Woman...' Oh!" Paper shuffled as Y/N put back the milk. "'Enrichment & Exploration: Tips for Bedroom Fun.' I tried reading it with Robert the other night, but he left when I mentioned massagers and blindfolds."

"He's sixty," Y/N snorted. "Give him time."

Peeking around the corner, she spotted Arthur in his writing nook. He stood to stretch, then grab his lighter and pack of Stuttons. The low sit of his pajama bottoms was enough of a temptation for her to tuck her lip. An unexpected spasm tickled her abdomen. "Brief me on the blindfold chapter."

~~~~~

Nervous anticipation had kept her feverish for hours, ever since she'd bid farewell to Arthur with a "Save a smile for me" on her way out the door. His clumsy smooch lingered as she changed the date on her rubber stamp. While she cleaned the office refrigerator, she spent a good sixty seconds pressing a cup of expired yogurt to her flush cheeks. When the shoulder strap of her canvas bag gave out, she shrugged rather than cursed and settled the tote in her lap. With her plan in mind, the corners of her lips refused to relax .

After working the grand opening of the Gotham Mall, Arthur had the workshop she'd registered him for, a beginners' seminar for stand-ups. He'd be home right around six. That would give her thirty minutes to change into her mini nightdress with the ruffled hemline, dab musk oil behind her earlobes, and put on an LP. Dinner would be delayed - neither of them would be in the mood if they were too full. If she remembered correctly, they had a pizza in the freezer, the good kind with the real pepperoni and rising crust. She just had to figure out if she should wait in the bedroom or lounge on the sofa like a poor-man's Lauren Bacall.

As she unlocked the apartment, however, there came a muffled phomp-phomp-phomp. The unmistakable sound of a sink plunger. Fuck. This was the third time this month. Pushing through the door, she hoped the super had called a different plumber. It had taken ages to clean up the stray sediment left behind by the last one. Upon entering, Arthur's plaid bag came into view, next to his keys on the counter. A glance into the kitchen confirmed he was trying his hand at the repair. 

"Hey." Y/N hung her coat, glad her consternation was hidden by the wall. "What happened to your class?" she asked with deliberate playfulness. "Did they decide you were too advanced?" She crossed her arms and moved to the doorway. Tried to hold onto the tendrils of fading arousal by taking him in.

A pleased chuckle. "The instructor left a message." Phomp-phomp-phomp."It'll be rescheduled."

"I know you were looking forward to it." The rolled-up sleeves of his shirt and flexing biceps were having the right effect. She ambled towards him. "Let me help."

"It's fine. I had to do this a lot at my old place." The set of his jaw tightened as it gave it another go.

They went through the litany of usual questions. Arthur contently reported the mall had gone well, except for a couple of teenagers who'd given him grief at the start. ("Nothing serious. They were just kids.") Her nine-to-five had been quite low-key, she explained, and had allowed her to catch-up on a backlog of paperwork. ("With the new judge, we keep having to file motions for correction.") But when he asked about this evening, she mused and tapped her fingertips on the counter. Horny, annoyed at her thwarted plan, yet nevertheless itching to seduce him

Water streamed as he turned the faucet's handle, followed by his satisfied hum. He tidied up, then washed to his elbows. Grabbed the nearby dish towel and pivoted on his heel to face her. "What is it?" he asked at her lack of response. He wiped his hands a little harder. "I thought you'd be glad I'm already here."

Seeking to allay his concern, she scooted next to him with a gentle nudge. "You know I am. You've been running through my head all day." She scrunched her nose. "I just had this idea for a romantic evening and wanted to surprise you."

"Oh." Pink colored his chiseled cheekbones and his eyes softened. "You still could. I'd like that." Ardor sparked anew in her belly. Unfurled as he leaned into her, grin cutting across his mouth and straight into her heart. "Would ten minutes be enough?"

Her toes curled. His enthusiasm for her, for them, had a habit of sending electricity up her spine. "Better make it eight," she pronounced.

A sharp nod and a pat to her bottom later, he dashed off. Once the bathroom door shut, Y/N rushed to rummage in his workbag, delighted when she found her prize. She scurried to the stereo and put on one of her soul records. Adjusted the volume to a suggestion instead of distraction. Though the genre wasn't his favorite, it never failed to induce the swivel of his hips. Unbuttoning, unzipping, she made her way to the bedroom. Yanked off her tan skirt and jacquard sweater before carelessly tossing them in the nearby chair.

She'd just gotten settled on the foot of the bed when Arthur sauntered in. Clad in his white briefs and wrinkled socks. "That was five," she said and wadded her pantyhose to hurl at him.

He dodged it easily, stepping forward to gaze at her with hooded eyes, their clear green darkened with need. He licked his lips. "I think it was four." Without further preamble, he knelt between her legs. Scrambling up the bed, she kicked subtly against his hold on her calves. Bit her lip on a giggle as he crawled over her lap to smother her with kisses. She rested on the headboard and nabbed his red and gold Carnival tie from under her pillow.

He quirked a dark brow. "What, you want me to wear it?"

Before any reservation could resurface, she smoothed the broad neck of the tie over her eyes and secured it loosely at her temple. Hesitation floated through the air. Threatened to pierce the veil of desire that enveloped her. She wondered what he was waiting for. If he was wearing that wolfish grin he saved for the bedroom. Or if a modicum of anxiety had spawned. She had sprung this on him without prior discussion. The muffled music from the living room switched to the next song. She attempted to peek under the bottom of the makeshift blindfold, tried to make out more than a vague shadow in the muted light.

But then he sunk into her. Wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pressed her into the mattress. "If you're uncomfortable, tell me," he murmured into her mouth. "Please."

The implication of his request, albeit more loving than licentious, wracked her with want. She couldn't halt her shudder. Blindly, she reached to cup his face. "I trust you," she promised. To both him and herself.

His round nose dragged down the underside of her jaw. "Where'd you get this idea?"

The caress of his smile on the crook of her neck caused a delicious heaviness to settle in her center. "A pamphlet."

"On what?" He tugged at the knot between her ample breasts. Fondled her through the thin satin. "How to make your husband high-strung?"

She carefully skimmed the rigid bulge in his briefs with her knee. "It was actually on how to loosen him up," she retorted. He always loved it when she paraphrased one of his jokes.

Every hushed kiss, every whisper of him against her flesh was magnified. Forced her to concentrate solely on him, to pay attention to each move he made. His humid, hot breath teased her nipple, prompted it to pebble with a twinge. When she released an embarrassingly desperate whimper, he snorted lightly and slipped his palm to the middle of her back. Following his lead, she arched into him. His soft curls brushed her as he laved her areola, swirled his tongue around it, her skin coming alive at the contact. Weathered hands that had so eagerly learned how to touch her groped her neglected breast, rolled its peak between slender, nimble fingers. She fisted the pillow, tipped her head, and grasped his shoulder with a cry. "Arthur..."

Getting her going usually wasn't difficult. Especially when she'd been thinking about making love for an inappropriate number of office hours. But the suspense of not seeing where he'd next pet her, of every caress being a discovery, had her core already pulsing for him. The intrigue was a treat. The best case she'd ever worked on. His strokes walked a path to every clue.

His fingertips skimmed her inner thighs. Groaning, he hooked them under the waistband of her bikini, tugged until she lifted her rear. He pulled them off hastily. With a gentle pressure, he encouraged her to open herself to him. She did so gladly, splaying her legs without a hint of self-consciousness. The relatively cool temperature of the room hit her hot, swollen folds and she quivered.

Then there was an odd sensation at her clit. Scratchy. Rough like a canvas. And was that a corner? After a few seconds it was clear it wasn't doing it for her. And she didn't think Arthur was trying to wipe away her slick. Reaching down, she found a twisted bedsheet in his fist. She was relieved he hadn't run to the kitchen for ice.

"Not good?" he asked.

She softened the blow. "You feel better."

The pad of his thumb trailed over her patch of springy hair, a faint tease that sent a dizzying current racing through her limbs. She strove towards him but he didn't oblige. Rather, he took her hand and placed it on her labia. Guided her to dip within her inner lips. A short moan left her, at the sensation and the sound of his increasingly labored breathing, tinged by his deep voice. "You look like sex," he blurted.

Laughing, she halted. Whenever something brazen spilled from his mouth, however left-footed, she adored it. She clasped his sides. "What does that mean?"

"If I'd seen you in a magazine," he started, moving to settle over and straddle her. His hard-on grazed her abdomen, leaving a damp trail of his arousal in its wake. Even as she wondered when he'd taken off his underwear, her muscles tensed and she gasped. Playful pecks met her cleavage. "You'd be pasted on every page of my journal."

Her reply slipped out before discretion could take hold. "We better buy a Polaroid." A stitch of reluctance before she added, "Just keep them in your desk."

He uncurled her fingers and pressed her palm to his chest. "Touch me," he whispered, pleaded. Her pulse quickened. With an unhurried deliberation, he guided her over the peaks and valleys of his body. The lean pectorals she loved to nuzzle after a weary day. The freckled indent of his sternum. Downward, to the slightly loose skin around his navel, then the soft, toned curve of his abdomen.

Unable to resist, she stretched to chart the ridge of muscle leading to his groin. "You make me so wet."

He let out a bashful giggle, edged with excitement. The instant he rasped his next words against her forehead, she knew he was doing his damnedest to rival her. He pushed her hand to his erection. "You make me so hard."

She followed the bulging vein from base to tip, encircled him with a firm grip. The vibration of his harsh grunt rumbled through her and he jerked forward. Released her wrist to stroke her vulva and flick back and forth along her aching nub. Focusing on the satiny feel of his flesh, the heaviness of his length, she felt petite. Feminine. Powerful. Her hand glided between his legs, cupped the sensitive skin with care. His practiced rhythm faltered. The elbow beside her ear trembled.

While he was a captivating visual, one she missed, her imagination was determined to compensate for her lack of sight. Breathless moans spun her fantasies. Perspiration tickled her nose, woodsy and sweet, conjuring memories of his taste in her mouth. Then all at once he was inside her, going down on her, sucking at her while fucking into her. Impossible feats that nevertheless caused a fever in her brain. "Oh, god," she mewled. Her wanton writhing hastened. She ground against his thigh. "I want your cock in me."

He took hold of himself as she held herself open. The blunt tip of him slid just inside her entrance, a drop when she needed an ocean. She grabbed his hips and thrust upward, hissing as he stretched her completely. "You're fucking tight," he uttered through clenched teeth.

She smoothed her palms over his back, memorized each notch of his ribs. The odd angle of his distended shoulder. The strong tendons at the nape of his neck. He crushed her closer, until her mouth bumped his clavicle. She nibbled lightly, licked the salty sheen of sweat from its hollow, drawing her name from his lips and rapid bucks of his pelvis. "Fuck me," she said, a command and an appeal.

A creak came from above. She followed his taut arm to find he'd clutched the headboard. It occurred to her, then, that her inability to see had been liberating for him. Enough to let go of his inhibitions, to give voice to the bawdy, wonderful things he'd said, to not worry about his appearance.

She reached to swipe her clit steadily, relentlessly. Tears pricked her eyes as she became weightless. Her frame seized, and she came with a choked cry. She sniffled and laughed into his neck, overwhelmed by him. The way he made love to her as if he sought to erase her earlier trials and replace them with the present.

His throaty, punctuated groans, his fingernails digging into her ass divulged his approaching release. She ran her foot along his calf, relished in his body as its angles pressed into her. He balanced himself on his knees, snapping into her at an erratic pace. Then all at once he moaned sharply and went rigid, cock twitching. She cradled the back of his head while his essence marked her walls, closed her eyes when he sprawled on top of her.

Raking her hands through his loose waves, she swallowed thickly. Although she'd always enjoyed sex, exploring this way hadn't been conceivable with anyone else. Allowing that match to light, allowing herself to fan that flame had been unthinkable. She'd felt inadequate. Unable to live up to others' demands, especially her own. There'd been too many boxes to check. Revealing herself in that way would have been a demonstration of trust she wasn't quite ready for.

Being an established woman on equal footing with her partner wasn't something she'd believed possible. She'd been content to go without and find meaning through her work. Arthur had helped her augment that. She could be tough as old leather or delicate as gossamer without concern he'd see her differently. If expectations were left unmet, their easy discussions and compromises promised they'd never become resentments. They supported each other - authentically and as themselves.

For the first time, she knew she was loved for who she truly was. And she wouldn't have to change to keep it.

Choppy panting gradually ceased, replaced by leisurely, happy sighs. He skimmed her flank, then the curve of her hip. She tickled his midriff gently, only stopping when he reclaimed her lips and slid his tongue against hers. Tenderly, he loosened the knot at her temple. She blinked at the orange, evening light invading her eyes. When his came into focus, they were still dilated, a tad sleepy. And so full of affection her breath caught.

Cheek propped on the heel of his hand, he raised his eyebrows. "How was it?"

"You have to ask?" she chuckled, swatting his backside.

A stray lock tumbled towards her as he bent closer. "I wanna hear it."

"Wonderful." Her thighs tightened, keeping him within her. "What I've been craving all day."

His smile was a slow build, equal parts shy and deservedly smug. Then he stared at his tie. "I- I don't know if I'll ever be able to wear that again."

She snorted and looped it around his neck, secured it with a half-Windsor knot. "You're a professional, Mr. Fleck. You'll manage."

He rolled to her left and yanked open the nightstand drawer to riffle through its contents. "What else is in the pamphlet?"

"Hey!" She batted him half-heartedly, boosted herself on her elbow, and spooned him. "What if I had a surprise hidden in there?"

Undeterred, he huffed. "It wouldn't beat this."

"Patricia told me about it." He stilled and slanted his gaze her way. "I can get a copy."

At first, Y/N assumed he'd contradict her. That he wanted to keep their escapades private. But once a few seconds had passed, Arthur acquiesced with a smirk and snatched a nearby tissue. Wiped himself off and tossed it in the woven wastebasket. He reclined beside her, hands folded behind his head. "Okay. Just don't give away my whole act."

~~~~~

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[neshai-esper]

Seth: Phallus of Set, God of Sexuality

"I am Horus, my father Osiris, who seizes the phallus of Seth for you with his hand"

Finger and phallus seem to be interchangeable. We surmise that it can be said that the finger of Seth lights up the eye of Horus, because it is the phallus of Seth, that is thought of. Seth's phallus emits fire. Not only the open conflict, the homosexual play too is from the beginning of a violent nature. He who looses the finger or seizes the phallus, puts an end to the ascendancy of Seth. Elsewhere there is mention of the theft of seed. At the same time, it must be admitted that this attack on the part of Seth ultimately led to the appearance of the eye of Horus. Thus one can say: the finger or the phallus causes the eye to see or illuminates it. The familiar hieroglyph of the wd3t might be an eye overflowing with moisture or light. In the sacrificial liturgies we find the longing for and the belief in the restoration of peace and harmony. The lector-priest who says he is Thoth, recalls discordance that was overcome:

“The distress that causes confusion, has been driven away, and all that gods in harmony. I have given Horus his eye, placed the wd3t-eye in the correct position. I have given Seth his testicles, so that the two lords content through the work of my hands.”

In the "ritual of Amenophis I" the offerings made are called "eyes" and "testicles":

"come to these offerings . . . I know the sky, I know the earth, I know Horus, I know Seth. Horus is appeased with his eyes, Seth is appeased with his testicles. I am Thoth, who reconciles the gods, who makes the offerings in their correct form."

Horus, and no explicit mention is made of the testicles. Now the wd3t-eye in itself presupposes an integration of contrasts and a certain harmony between Horus and Seth. Such an integration, however, implies that Seth the privateer and outsider, shall be of service to others. Offerings the testicles to Seth is apparently a risky business. There seems to be some hazard attached to establishing a harmony in which Seth is so positively concerned that the testicles are independently stressed besides the eye.

Apparently it is no historical accident that the symbols "eye" and "testicles", light and sexuality, are paired in this way in Egypt. Elsewhere too, where no historical link whatever with the Egyptian religion can be pointed out, light and sexuality are opposed to each other. According to a Tibetan myth mankind had originally no sexual desires. They bore the light within themselves and were radiant. When the sexual instinct awoke, the sexual organs originated, but the light in man was extinguished and Sun and Moon appeared in the sky. A Tibetan monk added that originally mankind propagated themselves throught contemplation and light and that physical contact and sexual union was a phenomenon of degeneration.

We are strucky by the fact that in Egyptian mythology also the light has diminished, the eye of Horus has become small owing to the homosexual relations of Horus and Seth, and that here too the light is hidden in the semen. The moon comes forth out of Seth, who has devoured the seed of Horus. Naturally there are great differences between Tibetan and the Egyptian religion. An Egyptian priest would not judge sexuality to be a phenomenon of degeneration.

Even that sexuality, which in its symbol of the testicles of Seth is shown to be by no means confined to heterosexuality, does not remain in conflict with the light. Horus and Seth light and sexuality, are reconciled. In the sacrifice eye and testicles, light and semen can be joined. Indeed, according to the Egyptian concept of life they must be joined. Such is also evident from passages not taken from sacrifical texts.

“Aten: Thy rays penetrate into the ocean. Thou dost cause the seed in women to take shape, and make moisture into men."

[...] the testicles of Seth were not regarded as a symbol of political power only. The impotent man can turn to Seth in his distress.

It is not by chance that dead man who desires sexual pleasure in the hereafter, identifies himself successively with Baba, the god of the phallus in erection, and with Seth:

“My phallus is Baba. I am Seth.“

Kristensen called the testicles of Seth a fertility symbol. Now it is worth while to examine the nature of this fertility symbolised by the testicles of Seth. It would seem to us that everything is called fertility in earlier works of religious history-and that is a good deal-is not summarised in the symbol of the testicles. Van der Leeuw's view, that it was thought fertility would cease because if the mutilation of Seth, is not supported by texts. An interesting remark of Anthes, "the destruction of the testicles of Seth may recall the sterility of the desert", also fails to find comfirmation in the texts. More recently, however, Zandee has tried to show by means of a great number of texts that Seth was a fertility god. Yet the texts he adduces prove no more that Seth has greath strenght, and particularly great sexual strenght. It is true the rain, which Seth was lord of, promotes the growth of plants. Yet in Egypt vegetation and the fertility of the soil is not dependt on rain, but on the inundation of the Nile. Seth is called a bull, but in this comparison he is not a paragon of fertility.

[...] We hesitate to call Seth a god of fertility, for, precisely, his boundless energy is not productive. He is the voluptuary who is tricked, for his sexual power is taken from him. One might object that the testicles are offered to him. The sacrifice of the testicles to Seth, however, never takes place separately, as far as can be ascertained, but in conjunction, with the eye of Horus. This means that eye and testicles are sacrificed to a double-god. [...] A man who is ill or dead may, in extreme need, have recourse to Seth, and identify himself with him, but Seth is not the ideal of fertility. Even lacking the support of the notorious unpublished erotic papyrus of Turin, it must be garanted in a general way to Yoyotte, who gives various examples, that Egyptian eroticism is not summed up in fertility symbolism. The points mentioned above, Seth's homosexuality and the fact that he was credited with practices of abortion, demonstate that Seth is a god of sexuality which is not canalised into fertility. The aspect of sexual life which finds expression in marriage is not connected with Seth but with other gods.

Seth's sexuality cannot be equated with fertility, yet we must take heed not to mark it down as homosexuality only. He experiences heterosexual desire towards the goddes, Isis. His feelings are not returned. He is so badly deceived by Isis, that he complains in tears to Re, perhaps this passage cannot be held to constitute convincing evidence of heterosexuality as an alternative choice. The sexuality of Seth is irregular. The Sethian man is beloved of women "through the greatness of his loving them".

Seth: God of Confusion by. H. te Velde; pg excerpt (50, 51, 52, 54, 55)

ll Note: I try to get better understanding about the topic, and many books are at my (so our/your) service, but because it is easy to misunderstand Him and things connected to Him, I decided (at several requests) to share some parts of the books I’m reading in in the hope that these might help you to get better look as well.

[sandsofoneiros]

The Senator

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the canon characters. However, those OCs belong to me. Will fight for them. This is the first part of the series and I know this isn't a lot but it'll grow as I write the other parts.

Warning: Sort of angsty. There's mentions of a panic/anxiety attack. Sensory overload.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x OFC. (established friendship. they also hooked up before.)

Word count: 1780

I didn't tag anyone because I wasn't sure if anyone would want to be since this isn't a long part. So, let me know if you want to be tagged. This does follow after the Insomnia series that isn't really complete but you don't have to read it to read this. I also was lazy and linked the dress she was wearing. So, don't judge me.

Fingers trailed over the dress that was hung up. It was magnificent. She expected nothing less from her mother and aunt. If only her mom were here to see the gown that she had started all those years ago. Her bottom lip quivered as her eyes continued to follow the patterns of her dress. She couldn’t believe this was happening. It wasn’t long ago that she had fought on Exegol alongside the other members of the Resistance. Her soul ached at the memory. They had lost that day. She recognizes the fear that she felt, and it had lessened none since she came back to Naboo. Her place was here now, she would fight from here now. Leaving the Resistance hadn’t been easy and was met with many protests from a few parties. However, they came around when she asserted her concerns about her home planet and the rest of the galaxy.

“A soldier turned senator. Never dreamed I would see the day.” The familiar voice of Kaydel caused Ro to spin around. She couldn’t believe that the other woman was here, given with how busy the Resistance was. It had been hard to keep in contact with them, and she feared it would become harder. It was rumored that Kylo and the Final Order had set their sights on Naboo.

��Kaydel! You made it!” The tears openly fell, and she rushed to embrace her best friend. It had been months since they had seen each other. She sniffled slightly as she held onto the other. Kaydel was one of her connections to the Resistance. The other one hadn’t spoken to her since she had left. That one had hurt the most.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world! You look well.”

Kaydel had pulled back from their hug and looked Ro over. Ro had to praise the ladies that had taken all morning preparing her hair and makeup. It wasn’t a lot, but it masked the dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. Coming home was wonderful, but sleep still eluded her. She hadn’t had a restful sleep in quite some time. She had avoided falling asleep. Too much took place in her dreams. They reiterated too many memories. Night after night of waking up from the horrors, she had relied on caf instead of sleep. It had grown into a routine. It was easier than facing the root of the problem.

“Thank you. It took the entire staff to make me this beautiful.”

Ro giggled before fiddling with the sash of her robe. The pit of tummy was stirring with excitement now that her best friend was here. The ceremony didn’t seem to be too bad now. She wouldn’t be alone. However, there was a question that rested at the back of her mind, but she did her best to ignore it.

“Go ahead. I know you want to ask about him.”

Ro bit her cheek. Nothing ever went past Kaydel Connix. She had been under General Organa and picked up all that she could. She even styled her hair like the former General, but all of them had. It was a way to honor Leia. It still hurt that they had lost her, and especially during this time. They needed her now more than ever, but she was gone. She had given them all the tools that they needed, but they all worried if they could do it. Sighing, she glanced back to her dress. Did she truly need to ask about General Dameron? Did she even have that right anymore? Things had changed now, and she wasn’t part of the Resistance anymore. Their time was over, or that’s what she told herself each night. Still, those nights and stolen hours were close to her heart.

“Has he jumped in an x-wing and blown anything up lately?”

This caused both the women to giggle as they made their way back towards the fore room. She wanted to spend some free time catching up with Kaydel. The ceremony was a few hours away, and she needed to settle her nerves. Sitting on the sectional couch, Ro waited to hear what her friend had to say.

“Well, we tried putting him at a desk, but you know Poe. He’s more of a man of action. He can’t remain still. He’s been flying to all the bases and checking in with them. Doing his finest to vex the Final Order. He’s tired. . . .”

That sounded like Poe. He was constantly moving. The pilot never knew when to stop, notably with saving the galaxy. He was constantly the one for the job. No one else could do it. Those moments where she roamed the base waiting on him to return from whatever mission he had gone on, the nightmares after being captured by the First Order, and the headaches that he neglected. It constantly drove his mind and body past the point of exhaustion. A never-ending cycle.

“Sounds like him.”

What more was there to say? Poe wouldn’t be here tonight, and she realized that. He was somewhere else, fighting. He was fighting for the galaxy and he didn’t have the time for some celebration, even if it was for her. They had merely been a fling. A means of releasing tension and stress during such a troublesome time. Although Ro couldn’t help that she had fallen for him. It had happened before she could even stop herself. It was difficult to identify when she had fallen for the pilot but one thing remained; she wasn’t over those feelings. She thought of him each day and night. Aurora would stare at the stars and wonder if he was flying up there. It was a dream that he might even be here tonight. Yet, there was nothing wrong with wishing.

“How are you and Thalia doing? I know the long distance has made her miss you more.”

Ro smirked as she teased her about the relationship she had with her little sister. She never witnessed a more loving pair. They supported one another. Thalia had remained in the Resistance to support Kaydel. Upon learning that Ro would be a Senator of Naboo, Thalia had come back to support her sister. She had even applied to be Ro’s assistant. Kaydel had supported the decision, but was adjusting to the distance. Thalia had picked up the position with no trouble and had Ro on the right track. Never overwhelming her with meetings and making sure she actually had breaks. She had been the one in charge of sending the message about her ceremony.

“Well, she made sure that I didn’t leave the room this morning until she said.”

A small piece of Ro envied that. Ro listened as Kaydel filled her in on all the details about Resistance projects. Projects that she would try to help with funding. She informed her that Finn and Rose would arrive later. Rey was training for when she had to face Kylo again. But Ro had little faith in the Jedi anymore. She had insisted there was good in that man, Ro had never heard such bantha shit in her life but held her tongue. That was Leia and Han’s son, but there was no light. Nothing could persuade Ro otherwise.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

“Stop messing with your hair, Senator.” The youthful queen, Seraphina, teased as she slid her arm through Ro’s. The queen had just turned fifteen, and Ro couldn’t imagine how she was handling all this. Her hands kept fumbling with the curls that they had styled her burgundy waves into. This night was for her and she had done her best to speak to everyone that Thalia told her would be important. However, the queen had swept her around the room and introduced her to virtually everyone. Ro thought Seraphina thought of her as an older sister. She had plenty of practice with Thalia.

“Forgive me, m’lady. Nerves.” Ro spoke before peering around the room. Hoping to catch the sight of dark curls or see a dazzling smile. Instead, she watched people dancing and chatting amongst each other. Even in this crowded room with some of her friends, she felt more lonely than usual.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you. One of the other senators has shown interest. His name is Ignis. I think you might be close in age. I wouldn’t get too comfortable with him. He’s sly.” Seraphina spoke as she gave a nod to the man that Ro assumed was Ignis. He was tall and lean with golden blond hair that was long and braided over his shoulder. She had recalled meeting him when she had first met with the Queen. He and the others had interviewed her for what seemed like hours.

Ro let out an unsteady breath as she thought of being in that room and having to answer so many questions. Her chest felt stiff, and the music was only getting louder. Everything was growing louder. Her breathing was becoming strained, and she barely could excuse herself from Seraphina. Her vision was blurring. Everything was moving in slow motion and she felt sick to her stomach. She needed to leave this ball room! Tears were building up as she pressed past everyone, but it only brought her to another sea of bodies. She just needed out!

Bursting through a set of doors, she made her way to the balcony and felt her skin prickle at the coolness of the air. The noise from the party was dull now, and she thought she could breathe again. A curse slipped from her lips as she collected herself.

“Five things you can see, Ro. One, the moon, Two, the garden below the balcony. Three, the waterfalls. Four, the lights of the city.” Before she could speak the last number, someone cut her off.

“Five, Poe Dameron.”

The voice made her spin around and emerging from the shadows was in fact General Poe Dameron. His arms spread wide, and it took her no time before she was rushing into his arms. The collision caused him to take a step back before he wrapped his arms around her tightly. His hand cradling the back of her head as he held her tight to him, scared if he let go she would run away.

“You’re here. You’re actually here.”

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world, babe.”

[simsadventures]

Only Mine: Chapter 9: Spending the Night

Summary: You spend the night at Bucky’s mansion. While the night is full of passion and feelings, the next morning isn’t as great as you or Bucky would hope for.

Warnings: so much fluff, like I can’t, smut (MUST BE 18+ TO READ THE PART BETWEEN WARNINGS, you know the drill), more fluff, teeny tiny bits of angst, swearing

Word Count: 5383

A/N: I know I haven’t updated in a while, and for that reason, I’ve decided to make this chapter extra long, you know, to make it up to you all. Hope you’ll enjoy this domestic-bliss-kind-of chapter, and let me know what you thought! Feedback is always appreciated :) xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

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Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off you the whole night. Ever since he brought you to his home, he was nervous. Or maybe he just feared you wouldn’t like it there and you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore. And he couldn’t bear the thought of that. So, every time you laughed or smiled at something, he showed you in the house, a small smile appeared on his face as well.

When he asked Magda when the food will be ready, she answered him happily, raising an eyebrow at him, showing thumbs up nonchalantly. Bucky shook his head and kissed her cheek. She has been with his family for a long time, and because his parents were long gone, he saw Magda as a mother figure. And although she couldn’t pester him as much as she’d like sometimes, she still could yell pretty loudly. And at those moments, Bucky felt like 10-year old again. It always took him good 5 minutes before he realised that he no longer had to be sorry for what he did.

But that was one of Magda’s talents- always making him feel sad if he had disappointed her, or done something to have sadden her. So her being supportive of you in the house made him hopeful.

Everything seemed good and dandy, but then something switched inside you. It was a small detail, and if Bucky didn’t spend as much time with you as he did, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. But it was the way your shoulders slouched a little, the small pout appearing on your beautiful mouth, and the wrinkle right above your nose- barely visible, but still there.

It was right after you met Bob and Brock. He knew that the two men looked dangerous and not really as friendly as Sam and Steve, but they always did what Bucky wanted and never complained. He could see the way their eyes roamed your body, and he would have a serious talk with them tomorrow, but he knew they were harmless. At least to you.

It was only after dinner that he saw you relax a little. He had to fight himself the whole evening not to drag you into the first empty room/closet, whatever, and fuck you senseless. He was almost drooling every time he looked at you for more than 2 seconds. He couldn’t believe his luck in attaining you.

The dress left little to the imagination, but Bucky still wanted to see you out of it. And when you whispered to him that you wanted him to show you who you belonged to, he lost it. Bucky felt dizzy and elated at the same time, thinking about finally having you after such a long day.

His hands roamed your body, caressing every inch of your exposed skin. But he wanted to feel more. He bid you sit up, and when you did his fingers immediately found the zipper on the backside of your dress. He nipped at your jaw and collarbone and slid the dress, torturously slowly down your shoulders.

The view that suddenly appeared in front of him left him speechless. He thought that the best thing was your dress, but what was hidden behind them left his cock straining against his pants painfully.

You laid back on the mattress, letting Bucky pull the dress off of you completely, and you bit your index finger seductively. But could have creamed his pants then and there. You literally looked like his wet dream.

Red flimsy lingerie, which was barely there because he could very much see your perky nipples and could also make out the slit on your pussy. He groaned out loud, wanting nothing more than to rip it off of you. But, at the same time, he wanted to see this set on you again, so he had to be careful. He just didn’t know how long he could keep this carefulness on his mind, while you were looking like a goddess of sex.

He knew you could see the look on his face, the look that was saying how much he actually enjoyed seeing you in your attire, and how much he enjoyed being with you in general. But he didn’t care. Because for the first time in his life, he felt like he could actually trust you with everything. With his own life, if necessary.

Something woke him from his thoughts, and he realised you were still on his bed, but now you weren’t laying on it but kneeling.

“Changed your mind and now you want to lay back and talk? We can do that, James, if you want to,” you said, still smiling, but unlike a few seconds, when you were the seductress herself, this smile was full of warmth.

“I just thought about how lucky I was to have stumbled upon you, my dear. And you’re proving my point right now. And even though I love talking to you, there are one or two things I can think of that I’d do rather than talking.”

Warning: smut starting

He was smirking as he said it and you giggled, but cocked your brow and let your hand slip under his shirt. You could feel the muscles of his abdomen constricting under your touch, and you could see that Bucky’s eyes got darker with lust once again.

You didn’t know how, but in a blink of an eye, you were laying on your back again, your thighs falling apart, giving Bucky the access he so desperately wanted. He all but jumped at you and when his lips touched yours, you were a puddle in his arms. The kiss was slow and sensual, no rushing anywhere. Your tongues danced together in a passionate dance, letting each other know just how much you appreciated the closeness you shared.

Bucky’s still clothed lower half was rutting against you, giving you a sweet pressure on your clit even through so many layers. You moaned silently into Bucky’s mouth, and he smirked. He all but thrust his hips into yours, and the pressure almost arose you from the bed. You were squirming under him, trying to both get away from him and get more of the pressure.

“James, stop teasing me,” you said breathlessly when he started to nip at your jaw and your neck, still very much clothed. You wanted to feel his skin against yours. And judging from the slow motions Bucky had you knew you had to take matters into your own hands.

You tugged on the hem of his shirt with so much fervour Bucky had little left to do than to actually strip out of it. He was sure that if he didn’t do it, you would rip the shirt open just to feel his chest. The thought made him both snicker and be more turned on than he already way.

When his naked chest touched your barely clothed nipples, you moaned out loud. The little friction the bra offered was soon gone as Bucky wanted to repay the deeds and he pulled the bra away from your breasts, latching his mouth on one of them, while his fingers played with the other. He alternated between sucking and biting, leaving you a moaning mess underneath him.

You barely realised that you were in a house full of men at the moment and that there was a possibility of them hearing every sound leaving your mouth, but as you felt Bucky descending down your body, leaving a wet trail behind him, you lost all interest on the rest of the house.

There was only then and there, with Bucky having his way with you.

Bucky could get enough of the sounds you were making, just for him. He’s never been the guy to take too much time in pleasuring women. Sure, he did it, but he was more interested in the girl going down on him. But with you? Oh, that was an entirely another story. He loved the taste of your skin, and if he could, he would always be tasting you, day and night.

When he reached your panties, he smiled to himself. This was the best part. He connected his mouth with your clit through the fabric, nibbling lightly sending shivers down your spine. He pushed your legs even wider apart to give himself the space he needed to make you feel like a queen. Because that’s exactly what you were; his queen.

When he thought you had enough of his teasing, he pulled the red beauty down your legs, revealing his favourite place on Earth. Your pussy was glistening with your wetness, almost calling for Bucky to take it. And he did.

He dived right in, tasting you and moaning when he did. He giggled a little when he felt your back arching from the bed and your legs spasming a little. The vibration obviously making you feel even better because a string of curses left your lips.

Bucky alternated between sucking on your clit and penetrating you with his tongue, going as deep as he could. To make you orgasm faster, he pushed two of his fingers inside you in one thrust. He knew you were wet enough to take his cock, but he wanted to climax before he even slid inside you.

Scissoring his fingers, he opened you up even more, and when he slid knuckles deep, he could hear you taking in the ragged breath, telling him that he reached the blessed spot. He latched on your clit, pulsing his fingers in and out of you until he felt your legs squeezing him between your legs and the release slowly trickling around his fingers. He pulled them out and pushed your legs up and to your chest, diving in your hole once again, eating out of you like you were the most delicious meal Bucky’s ever had.

He flickered your clit just for the fun of it and saw you trying to get away from his touch. He kissed your pussy before he made his way upwards to kiss you properly. You were still breathing heavily from the cosmic orgasm he has given you.

You tried to reach his pants and tried to push yourself up to repay the favour, but Bucky pushed you back gently, shaking his head and smirking at you.

“As much as I love you sucking me off, doll, all I need right now is to be inside you and fuck you to sleep.”

Before you could protest, Bucky was standing naked in front of you. His cock standing proudly against his abdomen, telling you that he enjoyed his latest activity almost as much as you did.

You naturally thought that Bucky would lay on top of you, finally sliding home, but he surprised you by laying next to you, on his back.

“I want you to ride me, Y/N.”

You smiled brightly because you knew how difficult it was for Bucky to give up control, and you riding him was making him powerless, he told you once. And you wanted it so bad you didn’t even comment on this fact, but you straddled his lap quickly before he changed his mind.

Before you grabbed his cock, you kissed him, sweetly and slowly, trying to show him that he didn’t need to be afraid of anything. Not with you.

You pumped him in your hand a few times before you took him tightly in your hand and lined him up with your entrance. You let the tip of his cock slid back and forth, touching your clit in the process. You both moaned, and before Bucky knew what was happening, you let him slip right inside you helping it with sitting slowly down on him.

This time, Bucky moaned much louder, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. You pressed your hands on his chest for support, and after you felt your pussy unclenching around him, you started to move. You alternated between up-and-down movement and slow circles, grinding against his pelvic bone, giving your clit the needed attention.

To your surprise, Bucky moved underneath you, and for a hot second, you thought he would turn the two of you so that he could take you the way he liked the most. But he only sat up, looking you deep in the eye as he did so, kissing you breathless. The kiss was sensual, making your skin tingle with excitement.

While you were sitting down on his dick, he thrust up, and you moaned into his ear. Bucky grabbed your waist for leverage, and the dance of your thrusts started. It was the most intimate moment you have ever had with Bucky, and you couldn’t get enough. You looked into his hooded eyes, and you saw the adoration swimming there. And that was your undoing.

You took in a breath, closing your eyes and bitting Bucky’s shoulder, your pussy spasming and clenching Bucky’s cock, trying to milk him of all he had to give you.

Bucky followed you soon after, not being able to handle your tight, velvety pussy any longer. He came with a grunt, frowning in the process, but a blissful look appearing on his face seconds later.

You could feel his come prickling out of you, but you couldn’t care less. Bucky grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him, kissing you sweetly.

He laid you both down, his softening cock still inside you. You hummed as you closed your eyes, snuggling closer to Bucky.

Warning ending.

“Thank you for showing me this place, James. It’s gorgeous, and I enjoyed myself tonight.”

He kissed your closed eyelids, resting his head on top of yours. He was overjoyed that he made you happy by showing you his home. He was glad you didn’t turn around and sprint out of there, knowing there was a dungeon in his house, or because you met his childish friends. You both fell asleep like that, limbs intertwined, breathing in each other’s scent, happy as can be.

—-

You woke up, feeling sated and happy, but only until you realised that you were slightly cold as well. The kind of coldness that told you that you were in bed alone. You opened your eyes quickly, blinked few times trying to take in the room you were at. At first, a shock ran through you, because you didn’t recognise it, but then you sleepy brain kicked in, and you realised that you were in Bucky’s mansion.

You smiled to yourself, pictures of last night playing in your head. But then you frowned because the cold sheets were proof enough that you were indeed alone in the room. You sighed and got up, even though you wanted nothing more than to snuggle back into the sheets and fall asleep again. You grabbed your bag and put on the clothes you brought from your apartment. You quickly washed your face and brushed your teeth, tried to make something with your ruffled hair and the only option there was to put them in a messy high bun.

You then decided to go and find Bucky. You knew which quarters you were definitely not stepping your foot in, and so there was only one place you could go and look for him.

You descended the stairs, going straight to the kitchen. It was still quite early in the morning, and so you were not surprised that you found only Magda in there. She probably heard you coming in, and she turned around to give you a warm smile.

“Good morning, Miss Y/L/N. Slept well? What can I make you for breakfast?”

You returned the smile and stepped inside the kitchen. “Good morning, Magda. Please, call me Y/N, I would hate to be so formal with you.”

She nodded and put her hands in front of her, waiting for you to tell her what he should make you.

“Oh, and I’m actually not that hungry, I’m just looking for Bucky. I woke up, and he wasn’t there,” you said in a hushed voice.

“James is in the gym with Samuel and Steven. But I think you should eat something, my dear. Good breakfast is the best way to start a day.”

“Have Bucky already had his? I thought we could eat together, actually.” You were now blushing, feeling like you were acting like a silly teenager, wanting to eat with your beloved. Jesus. You had to roll your eyes at yourself inwardly.

She chuckled and stepped closer to you. She put a hand on your shoulder, and it made you look up at her.

“He hasn’t, actually. I think he will be glad if you go and fetch him, sweetheart. And before you go, I know it’s not my place, but I want to tell you that ever since he met you, he’s a changed man. I’ve known him since he was a wee little brat, and so you can trust me when I say you make him a better man. He will probably always be the mobster his father taught him to be, but I can see his edges growing a little softer, in the best way possible. So, whatever you’re doing, don’t stop, please.”

Your vision blurred slightly, and you realised tears were almost spilling out of your eyes. You didn’t have any reply to Magda, so you just pulled her into a hug and held her for the longest time. You could see she cared deeply for Bucky, and her telling you all that, that was a big thing, and you were immensely thankful to her.

“Thank you, Magda, it means more than you’ll ever know!”

“Oh, no tears, my dear! Pretty girls like you shouldn’t cry over some silly words of an old shag like myself! Please! Now go and get the boys, I’ll prepare something yummy for all of you!”

She patted your shoulder affectionately and sent you on your way.

You went down the corridor, revelling in the feeling of being good for Bucky. When you reached the gym, you stopped in your tracks. All three men were punching huge punching bags, all three of them shirtless. But you were sure that even if there was Adonis himself, shirtless, your eyes would still find Bucky and wouldn’t let him out of your sight.

You knew that body like the back of your hand, and still, you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Your mind wandered back to the night before, only for a gruff voice to end your daydream.

“Enjoying the show?” Someone said from behind you, and when you turned around, your stomach dropped. It was one of the guys from yesterday. Brock. He had that sly smirk on his face again, and you truly wished you could wipe it off somehow.

“Yeah, yeah, I am.” You said curtly and turned around to watch Bucky’s muscles clench and unclench as he trained, still unaware of your presence.

“I bet I could give you a better show. What do you say? How about we get lost for a bit, and I’ll give you the ride of your life?”

You frowned and crossed your arms on your chest.

“Excuse me? You’re really not getting it, are you? I’m not interested, nor will I ever be. Even if I wasn’t dating your fucking boss, I wouldn’t want “the ride of my life” with you, asshole. So how ’bout you mind your own fucking business, and leave me be?”

You scoffed and tried to turn around, only for a hand to stop you, landing on your shoulder, squeezing tightly.

“You’re just another pussy, sweetheart, and you’d be stupid to think the boss will keep you around for long. You might have survived the month, but he’ll get tired of you soon enough. And you’ll come begging me for what I’m offering, you b-“

“Rumlow!” Bucky’s voice boomed through the gym. Brock’s hand immediately left your body, and his body turned rigid. Even though he tried to hide it, you could see that he was indeed afraid of Bucky. Suit him well, you thought to yourself and took a step from him.

“The hell is happening here?”

“We were just talking, boss, nothing else,” Brock said, and you had to roll your eyes.

“Uh-huh. Go and train before I fucking scrape your eyes out for even looking at her.” Bucky growled as he got closer, and Brock didn’t wait for anything else and ran into the gym, not daring to look around.

You smiled and looked at Bucky, who was now scowling at you.

“And what the hell are you doing here? Why aren’t you in the bedroom? Huh?”

Your brows shot to your hairline. He might have been a fucking mafia boss, but you weren’t one of his men.

“Don’t you take this tone with me, James!” You said taking a step towards him. You could see confusion written all over his face over the fact that you weren’t afraid of him. Not even a little. “I woke up alone, in your house, and I went to look for my man. I bumped into Magda who told me to get you all for breakfast because, apparently, you went to train without eating anything. So I came here and watched you for a second before that asshole started talking to me. So, the blame’s on you. If you wanted me to stay in your room, you shouldn’t have left me there, all alone.” You scoffed and walked away.

Truth be said, Brock’s words still played in your head. What if he was right? What if you were just another pussy to Bucky, and he would throw you away the second he saw someone more interesting, or prettier, or skinnier, or whatever.

When you walked in the kitchen, you saw that the adjoining room was a dining room, so without a word to Magda, who was now frowning at your sad face, you went and sat to the table.

Bucky watched you leave, hating himself for even thinking to be mad at you. It really wasn’t your fault, and he could see that the conversation between you and Rumlow was very one-sided. Bucky saw very well that you weren’t feeling comfortable around Rumlow, and he made a mental note to keep an eye on his man. Nobody would make you feel less, and definitely not someone Bucky expected to protect you if he couldn’t.

“Sam, Steve, c’mon. Magda’s making breakfast, training’s over,” Bucky yelled at his friends, but didn’t wait to see if they heard him or if they followed him. He strode towards the kitchen, ready to apologise to you.

But before he could do so, a hand slapping his chest stopped him.

“What did you do to that poor girl? She went to the gym all happy and giddy to see you, and she came back looking like someone punched her in the face. What did you do, boy?” Magda had her hands on her waist, looking like the God of revenge.

“You know me, I’m an ass. But Imma apologise to her, I promise. Just let me go, and I make it better.”  

Magda nodded curtly and let Bucky walk around her to go to you. And true to Magda’s words, you really looked like someone took your favourite toy.

“Doll, I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t mean it, but when I saw you and Rumlow together there, I kind of lost it. You’re mine and I-“

“Am I? Am I yours, Bucky? Maybe right now, sure. But for how long? When are you gonna realise that I’m not enough and you’ll dump me just like you did with all those girls before?”

You weren’t crying, but Bucky saw that you weren’t far from it. He could hear Steve and Sam coming into the room, and he turned away to gesture to them that they needed to leave the room. Immediately. They both looked confused at Bucky but followed his orders nevertheless.

“Where is this coming from, Y/N? I thought you knew you weren’t like any of those girls. Not for me, anyway. I thought we were in a good place, baby, so, what happened, huh?”

His tone was much softer than when he talked to you in the gym, and the first tear slipped out of your eye and rolled down your cheek.

“It’s just that, I like you Bucky. Like a lot. And I don’t even want to imagine not having you by my side. But you never really were into long-term relationships, and I’m terrified of the moment you’ll realise this is not something you want. That you want to be free again, or that you want to have a girl who won’t make scenes when she’s and at you, or-“

Bucky’s hand on your mouth stopped you from talking. You were now fully crying and sobbing, all the thoughts you repressed some time ago resurfacing again, just because of one asshole.

“I really don’t know where this is coming from, but let me tell you one thing. Yeah, I don’t do relationships. But ever since I met you I want nothing else than to be with you non-stop. I don’t want freedom. Fuck freedom. I want you, with all your scenes, and crying watching rom-coms, and giggling when I say something stupid. I want it all, ok? I’m sorry that I’m not showing you enough just how much I care about you. I will, I promise I’ll tell you every day just how much you mean to me. Just please, please, baby, don’t cry and for the love of God, don’t leave me.”

You looked at the man kneeling in front of you, and you couldn’t help but feel bad about your outburst. You never meant to make him feel bad, and you definitely didn’t want him to think that you were going anywhere.

You hugged him, letting your fingers slid into his fluffy hair.

“I’m not going anywhere, James. I promise that as long as you want me here, I’ll be right here. I’m just worried you won’t want me here after a while.”

Bucky kissed you, desperate that you’d think he would ever let you go.

“Well, bad news, love. You’re stuck with me for a long time, then. ‘Cause I’m not letting you leave. I think you’ll beg me soon, but nope. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and that’s a promise, ok? Will you finally tell me how did the thought even enter your mind today?”

You looked down, blushing and disappointed you let someone like Brock Rumlow enter your mind and let you be hysterical over something that was obviously not happening.

“When Rumlow talked to me, he said something about how I’m just another pussy and that you’ll get rid of me soon enough, and my stupid self overreacted. I’m sorry, James. I shouldn’t be so stupid.”

Bucky shook his head and tried to stay as calm as he could. He wanted to reassure you that he wasn’t going to leave you, and after that was done, he would kill Rumlow. Who did he think he was talking shit to you?

You laid your hand on his cheek, and he instinctively leaned into your touch. Bucky had no idea how you did that, some hidden talent, or superpower, or something like that, but every time you touched him, he calmed down, and all he focused on was you.

“How about we won’t let him ruin more of our day than he already has? Let’s have breakfast with the boys, who I’m sure are in the next room, listening intently to what we’re saying. And then we’ll see, huh?”

After the comment with Sam and Steve, the two of them walked into the room, smiling and winking at you.

Magda brought the breakfast a few seconds later, all the men taking their place beside the table. Magda made a little out of everything. There were avocado toasts, bacon and eggs, granola, yoghurt, and a whole bowl of fruits.

When all of you put the food on your plates, the bickering started.

“So, Y/N, tell us. Is he really as good in bed as he pretends to be?” Sam asked with a smirk, putting bacon in his mouth.

You almost choked on a piece of granola because of him, trying to laugh him off, but he was pretty adamant.

“How about we didn’t talk about my sex life during breakfast, huh? I think there are better topics than that.” Bucky growled into his plate, and you put your hand on his thigh, reassuring him that you were just fine.

Unlike with Brock, Sam and Steve were a lovable duo, and you enjoyed spending the morning with them, listening to stories about Bucky when they were younger.

When you all finished eating, Steve turned to you. “Did Bucky show you the back yard of this place? It’s insane!”

You gasped and hit Bucky playfully. “No! No, he didn’t.” You turned to Bucky with a raised brow. “Care to show me this insanity, good sir?”

Bucky snickered at the name and stood up, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“Look at him, Steve. Our boy is all grown up now. Holding hands and all.” Sam hollered, and it earned him a jab to his ribs from Bucky and a playful slap across the top of his head from Steve. You all laughed and walked towards the huge French windows leading towards the backyard.

When you stepped in, your breath hitched in your throat. It was beautiful. You would bet that it was as big as any gold course, with a little woods in one corner, small lake right next to it. You could also see the enormous swimming pool on the left side of the property. Everything was a little wild, but oh so pretty.

What you could also see where two dogs running to you. One of them looked like a Pit Bull terrier, with brown and white spots. The other was slightly smaller, but you guessed also a Pit Bull, just the brown of his fur was lighter than the other one. You have always loved dogs, so you took a step to get closer to them, but Bucky’s hand stopped you.

“They are not too fond of strangers, Y/N. If I were you I would-“

But you didn’t listen to him and took the step anyway, and in that exact moment, the dogs were in front of you. They were both barking, but it didn’t make you fear them.

“Hi, pretty boys. Are you good doggos, huh? Who’s a good boy?” You asked in your sweetest voice, which you only ever used for dogs and cats.

To the boys’ utter surprise, the dogs started wiggling their tails, whining and the ran to you to lick your hands and let you scratch them all over.

You crouched to their level, letting them lick your face, and you giggled out loud when they bumped into each other, trying to get closer to you.

“Uh, unbelievable. You some dog whisperer or something? They won’t even let us touch them this way,” Sam said, obviously confused.

“What are their names?” You asked still, scratching them.

“The bigger one is Groot, and the smaller but scarier is Rocket. They are something like our guard dogs.” Bucky almost whispered, still not over the fact his scary dogs were acting like puppies around you, showing you their bellies and wiggling their tails like crazy.

“Well, hi Groot, hi, Rocket! I already love you both! C’mon, let’s find a stick I can fetch you, huh?” You said, and without looking at Bucky, you walked into the backyard, with the dogs following you as if they have been doing it their whole lives.

“Well, Y/N is something else. Hell, even I don’t have enough courage to pet them, man, and I’ve known them since they were puppies.” Steve thought out loud, and Sam and Bucky couldn’t but agree.

Bucky watched you smiling freely, enjoying yourself with his dogs, throwing the stick, and when the dogs wouldn’t move, you ran towards the stick and showed them what you wanted them to do.

“She really is something else, man.” Bucky mused, a smile appearing on his face.

/Next Chapter >

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[damianwaynerocks]

Tim Drake & The Good Samaritan

hi i wrote something on ao3 so here it is

Description: Tim Drake tries to kill himself, whenever a therapist just so happens to stumble upon him. Tim opens up to her and realizes that maybe he's worth more than he thinks.

Warning: Suicide attempt, depression

dedicating this to @super-sons-a-bitches bc what a supportive mutual

_

He was done.

Tim Drake was done.

He'd known for a while what was true and what was not. Was he a good son? Not true. Was he simply a placeholder between Jason and Damian? True. Did anybody truly love him? Not true. Was he simply a burden? True.

Did he deserve to be alive? Definitely not true.

Tonight had been the last straw.

It had been him, Damian and Dick. They were going to bust a human trafficking operation. Tim had been paying attention, he would swear that up and down, but it wasn't enough. He had accidentally kicked a rock, and the traffickers noticed right as they started to pull into Gotham Harbor. With a yell of several crew members, the ship turned back around, into the open sea.

Where the brothers could not get them.

Damian was furious. "You incompetent fice!" he had snarled, "We almost had them! We were going to save fifty women and children, Drake, fifty!"

"You should've been more careful," Dick added, his arms crossed, "You scared them off." Dick never scolded like this. He only did it whenever he was truly upset.

And it was Tim's fault.

"I'm sorry!" he said, Dick clenched his jaw.

"Go home, Red Robin," he ordered. Tim stepped back.

"Good riddance, we'll be much better off without you, Drake," Damian sneered.

We'll be much better off without you.

Those were the words ringing in Tim's ears as he swung from building to building. The wind was whistling through his hair, and usually, it invigorated Tim.

But not tonight.

Tonight, it just reminded him of what he didn't deserve.

All he did was mess things up. He'd messed things up with Stephanie. He'd messed up not only this mission but countless missions beforehand. He'd even messed up his goddamn immune system, now that he didn't have a spleen.

Tim knew he wasn't enough. He wasn't enough to make his father, Jack Drake, proud of him. He wasn't enough to make his other father, Bruce Wayne, proud of him either. He wasn't good enough to be Robin, either. Dick had made that clear whenever he'd ripped the title away from him as soon as he laid eyes on Damian, even after he had tried to kill Tim.

Dick probably wished that Damian had succeeded, Tim thought, because Dick would have his Robin, and nobody would have to deal with Tim.

Tim decided at that moment that he was going to take it upon himself to finish what Damian hadn't been able to do.

He was going to kill himself.

Tim landed on the roof of an apartment building. He took out his earpiece, which doubled as a tracking device, throwing it on the ground and stomping on it. If he was going to die, he at least wanted to do it without Damian's voice in his ear.

How to do it? Tim thought. He knew some heroes kept cyanide pills on them in case they were ever captured, but Bruce had refused to allow that. Tim could jump off of the roof, but he was worried that he'd lose his nerve and grapple to safety before he could reach the ground.

There was only one way that he could think of.

Tim pulled off his gloves one at a time, letting them land on the ground. He took a Batarang, razor-sharp, out of his utility belt, and held it to his wrist. He took a deep breath, excited. He would finally be free. He would be free from the pain, from the knowledge that he was worthless. Better yet, his family would be free of him.

We'll be much better off without you.

With a small smile, Tim started to slide the blade across his wris-

"No!"

Tim whirled around, now poised to throw the Batarang. Hey, just because Tim was going to die, didn't mean he was going to let someone else die first. His eyes slid around the rooftop, looking for danger, but he only saw a woman.

She looked to be around Bruce's age, but there was something about her that was completely different than Bruce; her eyes had feeling in them.

"Please don't do it, Red Robin," the woman urged, "Please. Please stay."

"No," Tim replied stiffly. The woman took a deep breath.

"Okay," she said slowly, "But will you please have a cup of tea with me first? It isn't every day I get to meet a hero.

A hero. She thought he was a hero.

But she was wrong.

Before he could stop himself, he had thrown himself in her arms. She wrapped them around him, holding him tightly.

Tim gripped the lady's shoulders as hard as he dared- God, he didn't even know her name and he was crying on her shoulder -as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently. Tim shakes his head, choking back another sob.

"I don't want to think about it anymore," he croaked. The woman nodded.

"Okay," she said, "Then are you any good at geometry?"

Tim sniffed, then replied, "Yeah." The woman smiled.

"Would you mind helping my son, then? He's a freshman at Southwest High, and he's having trouble with his homework right now. And I think you could really help him."

You could really help him.

Tim nodded, shakily stepping back from the woman. She smiled warmly, grasping his hand as she led him off of the roof and down the stairs. "My name's Emira," she introduced herself, "But you can call me Emma. All of my friends do."

Friend.

"My name's-" he broke off, unsure of what he should say. Emma seemed to understand his hesitation.

"You don't have to tell me your real name," she assured him, "How about I call you Red?" Tim smiled weakly, and Emma took that to mean he agreed. "Alright, Red, here's the door." she fished a key out of her pocket, and opened the door to her apartment, Tim following.

The first thing he noticed was the Cross. There was a portrait of Jesus Christ on the Cross sitting above their table.

The table which had a young boy, around Damian's age, sitting at it, his brows scrunched in concentration.

"Hey, Danny!" Emma said, flashing her son a brilliant smile, "I found you a tutor!"

"Mom, I don't need a-" Danny stopped talking as he turned around, his jaw dropped. "Red Robin!?" he squeaked, "You're my favorite hero! And you're in my house!" he jumped up, smiling so wide it was almost unsettling, "You're the coolest! Holy crap!"

You're the coolest.

"Hi, Danny!" Tim greeted, putting on the smile he used for paparazzi.  "It's nice to meet you! So your mom says you need help with geometry?"

It took ten minutes, but Emma and Tim finally wrangled Danny to the table, where Tim was now helping him.

"See, you just gotta remember SohCahToa," Tim explained, "It's the easiest way to remember sine, cosine, and tangent."

Danny stuck his tongue out slightly in a way that reminded him of Damian. Tim's heart sank at the realization, all of his positive feelings sank with it.

We'll be much better off without you.

"Thanks, Red Robin!" Danny said excitedly after he'd finished his assignment and Tim had double-checked it, making sure that all of the answers were correct.

"Okay, Danny," Emma spoke up from where she'd been silently watching the two, "It's eleven. Time for bed."

"But Mom Red Robin is here-"

"You know what else is here? A big test tomorrow. You need your sleep."

Danny sighed, before looking at Tim and fishing his phone out of his pocket. "Do you mind if we take a picture? My friends will never believe I met the coolest of the Bat People!"

The coolest of the Bat People.

"Of course, Danny!" Tim replied, ruffling the kid's hair. After five minutes of multiple selfies on Snapchat, Danny gave Tim a hug, which Tim returned without hesitation.

"Goodnight!" Danny chirped and walked to what Tim presumed to be his bedroom.

After hearing the door shut, Emma turned to the hero. "Now, how do you like your tea?"

"Earl Gray, please."

As Emma set the kettle on the stove, she turned back to Tim. "He adores you," she said, referring to her son, "He wasn't lying. You mean so much to him."

You mean so much to him.

Tim sighed, putting his head in his hands. "Yeah, well, he's the only one then," he muttered. Emma waited for him to continue, and when he didn't, she spoke.

"I'm a therapist, you know," she stated, "So I can't tell anybody anything you say. HIPPA violation, jail time, huge fine and all that."

"This isn't an official session, so it doesn't apply."

Emma shrugged. "Maybe not legally, but if anybody gets wind of me telling anybody anything someone tells me in confidence, my clients will stop trusting me and stop coming, So my point's still there."

Tim bit his lip, looking up. This woman didn't know who he was, and judging from the average apartment, she had no connections to Bruce, which meant she wouldn't tell him- not that he'd care, of course, but still. Besides, it isn't like he'd ever see her again. "Maybe... maybe it wouldn't hurt."

Emma smiled warmly. "I promise, it won't," she turned back to the kettle as it whistled, and she poured the tea into two cups. Walking over to the table, she handed one to Tim, before sitting down herself. "Can I ask what led up to tonight?"

Tim looked down at his tea, not meeting her eyes. "I messed up bad tonight," he whispered, "Real bad."

"What do you think you did?"

"I-" Tim swallowed a gulp, "Nightwing and Robin and I were going to bust a human trafficking ring. Their ship was about to pull into the harbor, but I wasn't being careful enough. I knew they had motion detectors around the area, but I still wasn't paying attention enough not to kick a rock," He ran a hand through his hair, "And of course they saw, and they got away. And it was my fault."

"Who told you that it was your fault?"

"Nightwing and Robin."

Emma reached across the table to clasp his left hand in her right. "Tell me, Red, has Nightwing or Robin ever messed up a mission?"

Tim paused. There was one time where Dick was arguing with Jason, and Dick pushed Jason into the warehouse they were staking out, ruining any chance at catching a serial rapist for months. And then there was the time where Damian had been too hasty and let a serial killer get away because he refused to listen for Nightwing's signal. "Yeah, a few times," Tim finally said.

"See?" Emma said with another one of her warm smiles, "They aren't perfect either. So why do you have to be?"

They aren't perfect either.

"Because!" Tim groaned, "Batman chose them. He wanted them to be apart of the hero business. Me? I forced him to make me Robin. Nobody chose me. I wasn't wanted!"

"How old were you when you became Robin?"

"Like, eleven."

"Do you honestly think that Batman couldn't have simply wiped an eleven-year old's brain and sent him home if he didn't see something special in you?"

See something special in you.

Tim took a sip of his tea. "I... I guess not. But still! The Robin before me had just... quit. Batman probably just used me as a distraction from the pain of it. I was just a placeholder."

Emma took a sip of her own tea, thinking. "A placeholder? Because there's a new Robin?"

"Yes," Tim confirmed, "Exactly. I was Robin for a while, but as soon as Batman and Nightwing found someone else who had already been trained, who was Batman's... nephew," he paused, "They got rid of me! They made me stop being Robin! Nightwing retired, the other one quit, but me? I didn't have a choice!"

"And why do you think that-"

"And the worst part!?" Tim interrupted her, "This new kid? He tried to kill me! He had a sword and he was trying to kill me because he thought he deserved the title just because he was Batman's nephew! And he never got in trouble for it! They rewarded him with what he wanted!" he stopped nervously. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you." Emma waved her hand dismissively.

"Don't worry about it," she paused she took a sip of her tea, "Do you think there could be any possible reason as to why they made him Robin?"

Tim snorted. "Yeah, I know exactly why. They liked him better than me. He was better than me at fighting. He wasn't as scared as I was at first," he laughed bitterly, "Honestly, Emma? I think the reason they rewarded him was because he had the guts to do what the others were too apprehensive to do; get rid of me."

"Can I tell you what I think might have had something to do with it?" Emma asked, and Tim nodded his permission. "It sounds like this new Robin has a lot of rage. Do you think that maybe Batman and Nightwing knew that he needed an outlet for that and that the safest way to do that might be if they could keep an eye on him?"

"I... guess," Tim admitted begrudgingly, "But still! They didn't punish him or anything!"

"How are you so sure? Did you see what happened after?"

Tim bit his lip again. "I mean, not really? I left whenever Nightwing told me I couldn't be Robin anymore." he shook his head. "Even if maybe Nightwing didn't see any other way, that doesn't explain why they treat me like shit now."

"How so?" Emma asked, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Like, I'll be gone on a mission for weeks and when I get back, they hadn't even noticed I was gone!" Tim counted off the reasons on his fingers, "Or when it's clear I'm upset, nobody bothers to ask! And nobody ever reprimands Robin for all the terrible things to me! And all Batman does it tell me what I do wrong!"

"What things does Robin say to you?"

"Oh, you know," Tim rolled his eyes, "That I'm useless. That I'm slow. I’m abysmal. Just today, like an hour ago, he said that everyone would be better off if I was gone. I hate that he has this much power over me, but his words won't leave my head; we'll be much better off without you."

"Well, I can tell you right now that Danny wouldn't be," Emma said, "Because if he had failed that assignment, he would've gotten detention, and I wouldn't have time to pick up his new inhaler."

"Danny has asthma?" Tim asked with a frown. Emma nodded.

"Yes, but it's okay now because I'll be able to get the medicine. Now, back to you. Do you think that the reason Robin is so mean to you is that he's insecure?"

"Robin? Insecure?" Tim snorted, "As if. He's the most arrogant person I know."

"The most insecure people are almost always the most arrogant. Is there anything he would have to be insecure about? Maybe that... he's intimidated by you?"

That made Tim laugh out loud. Damian? Intimidated by Tim? Never. "Definitely not."

"Are you sure? Because it sounds like he just wants to prove that he's just as good as you," Emma countered, "Or maybe- not saying that it's your fault because you definitely don't deserve to be treated like that-"

You don't deserve to be treated like that.

"Maybe you haven't tried to show him that you don't want to be enemies?"

Tim took a sip of his tea. "I mean, yeah, I don't want our relationship to be like this. I'd love to be close to him. I was so excited when I first heard about him- before I met him, obviously -because I was finally getting a younger brother."

"Have you ever let him know that?"

"I guess not," Tim said with a frown, "But it doesn't really matter. He won't care. None of them will, even if they did know I'm hurting."

"Why don't you try?" Emma offered, "It couldn't hurt, right?"

"Yeah, except then they'll think I'm even weaker than they thought. They'll think I'm pathetic, and then Batman will make me stop being Red Robin, too." His grip around his cup tightened. "And then they'd kick me out. And I live with Batman, Emma. I don't have a place to go."

"You could come here," Emma offered, "I really don't think they'd kick you out, but if you're right, you are absolutely welcome here. I promise. You're wonderful company, Red."

You're wonderful company.

Tim sighed. "Thanks, that means a lot, but you don't have to lie," his bottom lip trembled, "I know I'm worthless. I don't matter. All I do is screw up."

The pair were silent for a minute, the only noise being Tim's tears falling into his cup of tea. Emma was the first one to break the silence.

"Say, do you happen to be the first Robin that wore pants?"

Tim sniffled. "Yeah." Emma's face broke into another warm smile.

"Well, that Robin saved my life. Two men were dragging me into an alley, whenever you stopped them. Without Batman, I might add."

Tim blinked. "Without Batman?" he whispered.

Emma nodded. "Without Batman. All on your own, Red. If it weren't for you, I'd probably be dead, and Danny would be an orphan."

Tim smiled weakly. "It wasn't a problem, really."

"I know it wasn't, because that's what you do. You save people," she gave him another reassuring squeeze. "Now, Red, have you ever been in a position where Batman or Nightwing saved you?"

That's what you do. You save people.

"Yeah," Tim answered, once again not meeting her eyes, "I was locked in a warehouse. A bomb was strapped to me, about to go off. Batman came in and- and I've never seen him like that. So... a mess," he paused, "I haven't thought about that in a while. I guess that means he cares."

"That definitely means he cares," Emma corrected him. Tim smiled, but it was replaced by a frown as he began to sob again.

"Maybe he did then, but now- now he has his new Robin. He doesn't care, none of them do," he blinked back tears, "I don't have anything to look forward to. My days are filled with insults and complaints. There's nothing good." His hands shaking, he took another sip of his Earl Gray.

"Then look forward to this," Emma said, "Every week. Eat dinner with Danny and I, and then when he goes to bed we can drink tea and talk some. And if you ever, and I mean ever, need a place to crash, you can always come here."

If Tim thought he'd run out of tears before, he was wrong. He started crying again. Nobody had been so nice, so warm to him, in years.

Emma got up and enveloped him in another hug. "Will you promise me something, Red?" she whispered, and at Tim's nod, she continued. "Promise me you'll tell your family how you feel, okay? And promise me you'll come back and tell me next week. And if you need something from me between then and now, promise me that you'll come, okay?"

"I promise," Tim agreed, sobbing into her shirt.

The next thirty minutes were spent with Tim wrapped up in Emma's arm, still in full Red Robin uniform minus the gloves, watching Star Wars: The Phantom Menace. Tim hadn't been so at peace in as long as he could remember. His mom had always been distant, and Catwoman wasn't exactly a mother figure, so honestly? Being curled up in Emma was the closest he'd ever gotten to feeling a mother's love.

He would go back to the Manor after the movie, he told himself. He would tell them how he felt. He would try to mend his relationship with Damian. But first, he was going to soak in the feeling of a mother's embrace.

He was still nervous about it, but little did he know. Little did he know that Dick would break down crying and hug him, whispering apology after apology into his ear. Little did he know that Bruce would be riddled with guilt because how could he not have noticed that his son was hurting and would tell him he loved him so much. Little did he know that Damian, although he didn't show how much he regretted his harsh words, would shake Tim's hand and agree to try. Little did he know that every Thursday after he would have dinner and tea with Emma and Danny, to the point that he would reveal his secret identity to the family and make sure that Danny was enrolled at Gotham Academy. Little did he know that it wouldn't take long for Emma to start seeing him as another son, and she would not be scared to tell him how much she loved him and how proud of him she was.

Tim would find out these things later. But for now?

Tim just let himself sink into a mother's embrace.

[stanskzseungmin]

SCB ~ Shifting Tides

Mafia! + Gangster! AU

Gangster! Changbin x F! Gangster! Reader x Mentioned! Woojin x Mentioned! Chan x Mentioned! Lee Know

Genre: Angst

Trigger Warnings: Drugs, Alcohol, Non Graphic Sexual Content, Slightly Graphic Depictions of Violence, Death, Rape, Self Harm, Kidnapping, Torture

Word Count: 8.5k

A/N: #NotProofread #WeDyingLikeMEN

A/N 2: Also kinda slow burn, because I’m not good at pacing lmao.

A/N 3: Title kinda doesn’t relate, but if you know, you know. I can’t wait for the next season.

A/N 4 (I’ll shut up after this dw): I did not like how it turned out because I hella rushed the ending. I wanted to get this beefy boy done and over with so… sorry if it wasn’t that great.

In life, there are limits. There are boundaries, fine lines that should never be crossed. But in a selfish world, the selfish succeeds. They thrive within the blurred lines that have been smudged and smeared to a gray area between black and white. However, is black and white really so different? Is it simply one is good and one is bad?

The color black can produce feelings of emptiness, gloom, sadness and rebellion. The color black is also affiliated with animosity, malicious intent and evil. Black can also symbolize fear or the unknown. In mainstream media, the bad guy is usually depicted donning black clothing and the good guy is in white. But is white as virtuous as it seems?

White is a visually loud color. It is hard to miss. White can be blinding and can cause headaches. It is also affiliated with coldness and loneliness. White could also be an emotional detachment or a complete cleansing and purge.

But what they both have in common, is to never judge a book by its cover.

It was a typical Friday night for you. Dark nights, crowded rooms packed with people, blaring music and flashing lights. You were feeling particularly randy that night. Boosted with liquid confidence, you adjust your wayyyy too short body hugging white dress. The dress seemed to hang dangerously low on your bust and is riding high up your thighs, leaving your rack on full display and your undergarment is barely peeking out. Your dress was riddled with many gems, rhinestones and glitter that almost made it appear as if you were glowing under the many lights of the bustling club.

Giggling to yourself, you drank the amber color liquid from your glass. You hummed pleasantly from the strong sweet rambunctious flavor and the light burning down your throat. Your head was swimming from the light buzz you were feeling as you let yourself go on the dancefloor raising your glass. 

It was one of those nights where you could feel the pent up frustration residing over you like an elephant keeping you pinned down under its large foot. You needed release and what’s a better way to release pent up stress other than sex? As you were swaying your hips sensually to the flow of the song, your eyes were searching for a physically attractive man that could make you forget the maladies of your past week. Your heart swelled with pride from the several men eyeing you like a piece of candy with their bottom lip captured between their teeth. You recognized a select few, but you were sworn to only affiliating yourself to each man once. Commitment wasn’t your style, you had too much to lose. You’d rather let whatever drunken feelings dissipate by morning’s light.

You recognized a cute faced honey brown haired male. He sat in a booth by himself with distant eyes that glanced at different points of interests of the club. You couldn’t remember his name, Woo.. Woo-something, not that you cared enough to remember. Sex with him was pleasantly surprising. You were expecting a bashful innocent boy judging from his face, but he was a sex god that packed quite a punch below the belt. Your eyes nearly rolled out of your sockets seeing him in all his glory. He really fucked you dumb with his magnum dick.

Another person you recognized was a guy with crispy blond hair. Black seemed to be a natural color for him; the dark leather complimented his pale skin perfectly. You couldn’t really put a finger on anything remotely close to his name. You only remember the thick Australian accent he had. His doesn’t compare to the size of the first, but him being vocal in bed made up for it. He wasn’t much of a moaner, more of a power trip dirty talker. His accent made it all the more worth it. You could still hear his sultry “Babygirl” being whispered in your ear and it sent chills down your spine.

The last guy you recognized was the blue haired performer on the club stage. He wore a skimpy outfit: a long sleeved crop top and a matching black booty shorts. The way he danced around that pole was so fluid, you wondered if he even had any bones. You only remembered his name because of how dumb it was. What kind of name was Lee Know anyway? Initially, you absolutely refused to moan out his dumb name, but how he used his stick when he dicked you down was jaw dropping. It’s probably because of his damn dancer hips.

You were currently being courted by this much older guy who reeks of alcohol, but you had a much higher standard. Your eyes caught a glimpse of this dark guy. He sat next to the Aussie. His body was facing you on the stool. His legs were wide open practically inviting you in between them, but his upper body was twisted and turned to face the same direction as the Aussie who was sitting with his back facing towards you. You rebuffed the older man who had his hands on your hips and is licking your neck, walking out of his grasp without sparing him a second glance. You stood in between the man dressed in full black’s legs and leaned forward, resting your hands on his thighs making sure to show off your rack. The male quickly whipped his upper body to face you with wide eyes. 

“Damn, babygirl,” the Aussie noticed your presence as well and gave a quick slap on your ass.

“Not tonight, baby boy,” you smirked with your eyes still glued to the handsome man before you.

The Aussie huffed as turned away taking another swig of his drink. You eyed the man before you. His dark hair was delicately tucked under his black cap. He wore a tight black tee that accentuates his broad and tone chest. He also had a leather jacket slung over one of his legs.

“Do you have a weapons license? Because look at these guns,” you chuckled feeling his broad muscles on his thick arms. 

The man scoffed with a small smile obviously amused by your attempts at flirting. 

“Not bad,” he smirked. Your ears buzzed hearing his raspy and rough voice. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Changbin chuckled reaching behind and roughly grabbed your thighs and pulled you onto his lap. You teased him a bit by grinding your clothed heat against his thigh.

“So your place or mine, handsome?” you inquired, biting your lip and running a finger along his fly. 

“Mine, it’s closer,” he whispered kissing along your neck.

You hummed in delight. “Shall we be off then?”

Changbin nodded softly, putting his hands on your hips and lifted you up slowly. He slapped the Aussie’s shoulder to signify that he was leaving. In an act of chivalry, he led you out of the bustling club with a hand on the small of your back and pushing away any drunk guys who’s trying to grab at you. Once you both were outside and the door closed behind you. The loud music transitioned to muffled noise. You shivered when you felt the cool breeze. It seemed as if a storm was coming in. Changbin then decadently draped his leather jacket over your exposed shoulders.

“So chivalry isn’t dead,” you chuckled.

“I’m not as bad as I look,” Changbin smirked outstretching an arm, pointing the direction of his apartment.

“I haven’t seen you around. You new to this area?”

“No, I actually frequent the club every week. You’re there every time,” Changbin chuckled, pulling out a cigarette and placing it within his lips. He offered the box to you with a cig protruding out. 

“And you’ve done nothing about it? I’m not that alluring to you?” you smirked accepting his cigarette and placing it between your lips as well. You both leaned forward so the ends touch. Changbin covered the connection with his hand as he lit both cigs simultaneously. 

He took one long drag of the cig and exhaling out the smoke. “I don’t take advantage of women.”

“How quaint.”

~

Once the doors have closed, all bets were off. Changbin has pinned you against his door as lips are met in a heated kiss with clashing teeth. You immediately shrugged off your (his) jacket, letting the leather material fall to the floor. Your hands flew to his belt and began loosening the material as he hiked up your already too short dress to get full access to your bottom.

“Are you gonna lead me to a bed or are you going to fuck me on this doorway, handsome?” you smirked, pulling away momentarily to catch a breath. He let out a guttural growl before hoisting you in his arms with his hands supporting your knees.

You both collapsed on the sheets as he pulled up the cover to drape over both your sweaty bodies.

“I never did catch your name,” he turned to face you, resting his head in his hand.

“Y/N,” you spoke out. “What about you, handsome?”

“SpearB,” he spoke out pridefully.

“Oh, so you’re CB97’s guy?” you smirked looking deep into his eyes.

His expression fell as his gaze darkened.

“You…know about us?” Changbin growled out threateningly.

“Only by name, it’s nice to put a face to it though,” you giggled patting his cheek softly. You sat up, swinging your legs off the edge of the bed and stood up, exposing your naked back in all of its glory to him. You bent down to slide on your party dress.

“Well, I shall be off. Thanks for the wild night, B,” you winked at him and tossed him your lace panty. He effortlessly caught it with his free hand. “A gift for you.”

Needless to say, you’ve caught Changbin’s attention. You were a total enigma that he desperately wanted to solve. It was icing on the cake that you were easy on the eyes as well.

“Chan hyung, do you think you can find out who that girl is?” Changbin asked leaning over Chan’s shoulder.

“Who do you think I am? CB97 is the best hacker in the underground,” Chan chuckled running his fingers through his blond hair and taking a long drag of his blunt. “Was she a good fuck?”

Changbin chuckled, “you had her before. How could you hold back this valuable information?”

“I never knew you were interested! Here, I got her,” Chan gestured Changbin to gaze at his laptop screen.

“Ally or enemy?” Changbin’s lips quirked upward gazing at the stunning picture of you.

“Amicable,” Chan clarified. 

Changbin hummed in response. “I want her. There’s something about her that’s so alluring. She’s like a puzzle box that I desperately want to solve.”

“Careful, mate. Every lovely rose has its own thorns,” Chan warned.

“It’ll be fine. She has no fixed affiliation with a specific gang, she could join ours as my girl,” Changbin smirked, the air filled with his hubris.

“Alright. It seems her day cover is a barista job at Yellow Wood Cafe. You can take bus 4419 there.”

~

It had been almost 2 months since you last saw Changbin. Of course you knew who he was. His actual name, his face and who he was affiliated with, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you saw him around. CB97 was a true mystery though. As far as you knew, he was never seen in public and several other gangs and mafias in the area tried to gather as much info on the man, but couldn’t even get a face, not even a name. 

You pulled your long hair into a high ponytail as you tie on your apron over your modest white dress shirt and black pencil skirt. It was early morning and you were the only one running the morning shift. Your coworkers would usually trickle in one by one about an hour to half before noon. There was also not that many customers, just the usual regulars. The second you see them walk in, you would get straight to work fixing up their drinks. As you served an elderly man his coffee, the hanging door bell rang as you were pouring the elderly man milk in his coffee.

“Welcome to Yellow Wood Caf…e,” you trailed off seeing the man standing in the doorway. His dark locks was slicked up exposing his forehead and showed off his intricate face. He wore clothing similar to what he had on when you saw him in the club: tight black shirt tucked into his dark jeans with fingerless leather gloves. The only thing different is that he was a very loose and worn black cotton vest. With his smirking face, it was Seo “SpearB” Changbin himself.

“For one,” he stated with his sultry voice.

“Anywhere you like,” you smiled with a plastic smile as you gestured to all the empty seats. You followed him to a corner table in the sun as he sat down in the wooden chair. You placed a menu on the table in front of him.

“No need,” he waved at the menu. “I just want coffee as dark as my soul.”

“So coffee with extra cream and sugar and a hefty amount of milk?”

Changbin spluttered choking on his saliva. “I am dark.”

“Sure,” you smirked as you walked away to pour a glass of dark coffee. 

You delicately placed the glass cup before him as you took the seat in front of him.

“Why are you here?” you frowned.

“What’s wrong with going to a cafe for coffee?” he smiled innocently.

“I don’t think you’re here for coffee,” you crossed your arms at his remark.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he responded coyly.

“Of course not,” you remarked sarcastically.

“Alright, you got me,” he brought up his hands up in surrender. “I’m just here for the barista.”

“No,” you stated with finality as you left your seat.

Changbin however didn’t let that phase him. Everyday that week, Changbin frequented your cafe, coming in at the same time, ordering the same drink and sitting in the same corner table. Every single time, he wore black clothing. If you didn’t know better, you would assume he wore the exact same clothing every single time.

“You’re not going to give up, aren’t you?” you snapped, pouring him his drink.

“Please, just join my bed and lay by my side,” Changbin smirked darkly.

You huffed. “Straight to the point, huh? Fine. I’ll meet you at your apartment tonight.”

Changbin internally cheered and threw up an imaginary fist in victory. His heart and stomach did flips within him, but externally, he was calm and collected as he took another sip of his coffee.

As promised, you did show up to his apartment late at night. It was around 10 when you finally arrived. Changbin sat around anxious twiddling his thumbs fearing that you had stood him up. In reality, you were caught up in work because the café was understaffed. A few of your coworkers were feverish and never showed. You showed up still in uniform.

By the time you and Changbin had gone a couple of rounds, it was well past midnight and a storm was brewing. Lightning flashed as rain lightly pattered the window.

“Why don’t you stay the night?” Changbin offered. “A storm looks as if it’s going to come in.”

You sighed sitting up on his bed. Changbin tossed you one of his hoodies that was discarded on the ground. 

“Your hoodie smells like shit,” you laughed sliding it over your naked body. You weren’t necessarily lying. The material reeked of alcohol, drugs and sex.

Changbin snorted sliding on a pair of black boxers.

“Might as well. I’ve already broken many rules staying here,” you sighed jumping back on his bed.

“What do you mean?” Changbin asked. 

“I don’t sleep with guys twice and look at us now going for round 2.”

“I’m flattered. Settling with just one dick isn’t your style?” Changbin chuckled.

“Commitment isn’t my style. I don’t want to catch feelings,” you frowned looking off to the side, unable to face him.

“Why is that?” Changbin asked concerned. His voice was laced with worry and his tone suggested that he was genuinely interested. You internally rolled your eyes at your thoughts.

“You could only be betrayed if you trust. You could only be heartbroken if you love. To experience pain, you had to feel. I don’t want to go through that again…” you trailed off. 

“Is this why you’re not tied with any gangs?” Changbin asked softly.

“Yes. I don’t trust people. They always end up leaving one way or another or using me.”

“I won’t leave you,” Changbin blurted out without thinking. You glared at the man after hearing his words. Even though Changbin hadn’t meant to say it, he meant it. He genuinely wanted to get to know you better.

“How can I trust you? You’re just a gangster at the end of the day,” you spat.

“Have you ever heard the saying ‘there is more honor among thieves than diplomats?’” Changbin started. “You and I both know that it holds water.”

You scoffed. He wasn’t technically wrong. Many of the gangs run on social solidarity and a sense of a brotherhood. Many people thrive on the fact that you can do stuff with your “brothers”: drink with your brothers, do drugs with your brothers, etc. It’s a way of escaping life. You, however, favor the physical relationships that would disappear by morning’s light. You let out a loud groan, thinking long and hard about Changbin’s proposal. 

“Many people have hurt you. I won’t be one of them. I refuse to be a statistic.”

You stared deep within Changbin’s soul through his eyes. He seemed unphased and determined against your steel will. Not wanting to deal with his determination, you changed the subject.

“A drink isn’t going to cut it. You got any drugs?” You swung your legs over the edge of the bed as you waltzed out of his room with Changbin following suit. 

“Uhh..  yea. What are you hoping for?” Changbin asked pulling out ziplock bags of drugs and setting it on the table before you. “I have a fair bit of weed and a few that will definitely fuck you up.”

“You don’t really seem like the type to do drugs,” you chuckled.

“I’m not. Just mainly weed and only then, I don’t do it much. You’re not the type to do drugs either.”

“Got me there. I’m actually planning to grab and go,” you jested lightheartedly, eliciting a laugh from him.

“Wow [by 3RACHA]. Going to make some bank off of drugs that’s not even yours. Shady.”

You laughed wholeheartedly in return.

“So,” you started off.

“So?” Changbin called off heading towards his mini fridge and grabbing two beers, handing one towards you.

“So you’ve gotten your gain. What is mine?” you asked with a hint of mischievousness laced in your voice, taking a small sip of your beer.

“You know this all underground stuff with gangs, killings, alcohol, drugs and shit. You can’t leave once you’re caught up with this shit. It just… takes control of your life. Your life isn’t yours anymore. Ya feel me?”

“Yea… I feel you,” you nodded. “Is this why you’ve never given out your actual name?”

“It’s sacred to me. It’s the only part of me I have left.”

~

Being alone in these sorts of dealings is way less than ideal, especially when you’re basically flying solo. You had no gang to watch over you and no family or friends to rely on. A price to pay in order to protect yourself. You would rather die alone, than die heartbroken.

Your day job did little to support you. You never would’ve predicted you would even end up in the life you’re in now. You felt pressured by the world, ready to give up. You found a way to relieve those built up tensions by many many one night stands. However, this has caused you a bit  of trouble since you unintentionally riled up underground crime lords who are spoiled rotten that they can not take no for an answer and stuck with the “if I can’t have you, no one can” kind of schtick. So you learned to survive and bounce around various protections but without actually getting involved. 

You were currently commissioned by one of the resident local gangs who needed your aid to ensure a highly important deal is a success. You were never told the details, just that it had to be passed. All you were told is that you were to meet up with your client's… client and trade the briefcase you’re provided with with theirs with the instructions to never look inside either of the briefcases. Your payment? Protection from those who want you gone before, during and after the deal. Afterwards, you would basically be set free as vulnerable as a deer caught in headlights until you find another job to do.

You fiddled with the hem of your black skin tight leather dress as another finger twisted and curled a strand of your hair. The briefcase was rested snugly by your feet as you leaned your body against the wall.

“Y/N?” a voice whispered out to you in the shadows.

“SpearB? Are you… the client?" 

"No… I’m the messenger. I didn’t think you were one of them,” Changbin set down his briefcase and crossed his arms.

“I’m the same as you, a messenger as well. I was hired to make sure this…whatever this is, is a success.”

“… I see.” Changbin paused. “You don’t need to do this you know? Hopping from job to job. One day you’re going to run into a gang who will see your job hopping as disloyalty. And you know what happens to people who are disloyal. You could come with us, with me.”

“I already said no, SpearB. I only agreed to try out…whatever we are. Don’t make this any harder for me and give me your damn briefcase!” You outreached your hand suggesting Changbin to just hand over his briefcase.

He sighed. “On one condition.”

“What?” you growled out. 

“Do jobs for CB97.”

“Sure, I’m going to do jobs for an enigma,” you grumbled reaching for the briefcase with Changbin lifting it above his head out of your reach. 

“Please,” Changbin whispered softly.

“Fine,” you gave in after a pause and handed him your briefcase and he handed you his. 

“You’re going to go back to your client right? Let me come with you,” Changbin walked forward and grasping your wrist gently.  

“No-”

“Please, I know who your guy is. He’s dangerous. I’m just a messenger, he probably won’t know who I am,” Changbin pressed. “I promised I wouldn’t leave you.”

You let out a loud defeated sigh.

~

“You were followed?” your client, growled out eyeing the dark male behind you.

“Hakuna your-tatas, babe. He’s with me,” you rolled your eyes, scoffing softly before proceeding to place your (Changbin’s) briefcase on the table.

“But you work alone…” your client eyed you warily, and carefully grabbed a hold of the briefcase with high precaution.

“You seem to know me. Clearly not well enough,” you waltzed over to Changbin with a slight swagger to your hips and grabbed his lower jaw. Your fingers pressed into the soft flesh of his cheeks and squishing them up. You chuckled internally at Changbin’s expression when you did that.

“He’s my baby boy, my boy toy. Surely, a pimp like you can understand,” you responded cheekily, yet carefully trying not to rile up your client. “Look at him being a good boy. Standing there silent, waiting for mommy to finish her job." 

You squished his cheeks even more until his lips scrunched up into an expression similar to a fish. You got up to your toes and gave him a light kiss to his lips. Needless to say, the glare Changbin shot towards you was priceless.

"Rigghhhttttt….” your client coughed out, feeling slightly awkward about the situation. He turned the briefcase towards him and began undoing the clasps. You slowly closed the gap between you and the client. You leaned forward slowly, the sounds of distress from your leather dress due to the stretch broke through the silence. Your pressed your palms onto the cool metal of the table and slowly spread your arms. Your client glanced up at you and down to your exposed cleavage. While he was distracted, Changbin circled around the room slowly, pretending to seem interested to the many dust unsettling from the ceiling. You eyed Changbin curiously. You confused glare burned through him. You were sure Changbin could feel your gaze boring into him due to him stiffing up momentarily.

“I did what you asked. I got your pretty briefcase. May I get going now? I promised my baby boy there a wild night,” you smirked, wanting nothing more to do with this man. You only cared about your payment for rent.

Your client snapped out of his daze of ogling over your cleavage. He cleared his throat and regained his composure.

“Of course, if this deal actually went through. You would get your payment,” he replied, carefully unclasping the briefcase. You hummed pleasantly in relief from him finally getting to the point.

“What the fuck?” your client seethed.

“Is something the matter, hand-” you were cut off by your client grasping your neck harshly. His large fingers wrapped around the delicate flesh most likely leaving bruises as he cut off your air supply.

“You bitch,” he spat at you. Flecks of saliva flew to your face as you attempted to pry his hand off of you. “You gave me a false briefcase, didn’t you. This shit is empty-”

“Let her go.” A soft click of a gun echoed through the air. Your client’s eyes widened at the realization that a gun was pressed to the back of his head. He slowly released your neck and raised his arms up. You stumbled backwards hacking and gasping for air.

“What?” your client’s voice was breathless. “Who?-”

“SpearB. Ring a bell? She didn’t swap your damn case. It was empty to begin with. Her orders were only to swap the case and bring it back and to never look at the contents.”

Your gaze darkened at Changbin’s words as you raised your head to glare at him. How did he know what your actual orders was?

Feeling a pair of eyes burning through him, Changbin glanced at you with an apologetic look.

“B? What the fuck?” You gritted out through clenched teeth.

A hesitation. A moment of weakness. That was all the client needed. Changbin eased up slightly to apologize. The client easily grabbed ahold of Changbin’s armed hand and twisted it behind his back trying wretch the weapon out of his hand. With hands quicker than the eye, the tables were quickly turned and it is now Changbin at gunpoint with his own gun. 

“SpearB? So you’re part of 3RACHA? I didn’t think 3RACHA cared about anyone other than yourselves? Only using everyone to benefit yourselves. Like that little lady over there-”

A shot. A singular shot rang out that had Changbin jumping in shock wide eyed. Ugly screams echoed throughout the small walls as red dripped down to the floor, splashing onto Changbin as well. The client quickly cowered back into the corner, dropping the gun in the process. His hands flew up to cup his now missing lower jaw, the mandible bouncing pathetically on the ground in between Changbin’s feet.

“Holy. Shit.” Changbin exasperated jumping away from the bloody jaw. He looked up to you shocked, yet in awe wielding a S&W revolver, a thin wispy smoke came from the barrel.

You quickly pointed your gun at Changbin who brought his hands up in surprise.

“Don’t shoot,” Changbin stated calmly yet alarmed. 

“Get out, B,” he nodded, bending down to grab his gun quickly and headed towards the door. 

“After you,” he gestured to the door politely.

The client’s howls of pain can be heard echoing down the alleyway once the door has been opened. Changbin quickly shut him up with a singular bullet in between his eyes and closing the door behind him. 

The second the door closes, you swung your leg backwards at an arn in an attempt to roundhouse kick him. Changbin reacts by blocking the hit with his forearm. His other hand instinctively grabbed at your ankle. You attempted to catch you balance by shifting your weight from your other foot to your palms pressing against the cold asphalt.

“Nice moves,” Changbin smirked, letting out a sultry chuckle. You huffed in annoyance.

“I was wondering where did you manage to hide that big boy?” He asked referring to the gun.

“Ever heard of a prison purse?” you retorted.

“Jesus Christ, that was a lot of heat woman.”

“So?”

Changbin backed off with both hands in the air, dropping your leg in the process.

“Whatever,” you growled crawling forwards to jump back on your feet. “How did you know what’s my mission?”

“My mission was to basically off the guy, but you’ve already got that covered,” Changbin crossed his arms ignoring your question.

“So you were using me?”

“No I-” he tried to interject, but you didn’t give him the chance. 

“Just save it, B,” you stormed off, feeling betrayed and used.

~

It’s been a week after that incident. The both of you end up in the same club you’ve met, but never again frequented afterwards. On opposite sides of the club, you were drinking and partying on the dance floor, grinding on random men trying to ease the heavy feeling in your heart. Changbin was at the bar chugging down cup after cup of the hard liquor with a blunt between two fingers. Your mind was swimming in alcohol, but the only thing you can think of was how much you fucking missed Changbin and seeing his back turned to you at the bar only emphasized those feelings.

You slumped down next to him on the stool and he turned to look at you with wide eyes. You noticed the blunt in his hands and frowned and a pang of pain bubbled in your chest.

“I thought you didn’t do drugs…” you whispered out.

“It’s just weed,” Changbin scoffed.

You both turned away from each other, both suddenly finding their glass cups very interesting.

“I’m sorry,” the pair confessed simultaneously.

“Wait what?” Changbin breathed out looking at you bewildered.

“Why are you sorry?” You squeaked out, surprised.

“For using you…” Changbin confesses looking down and slumping his shoulders. “It wasn’t that I meant to use you, it was just the cards I was dealt. I hadn’t expected you to be the man’s hired bargainer. I was under the impression that he would show up himself due to the utmost importance of this trade.”

“Yes… I completely understand that. It wasn’t your fault, you were just doing your job. That’s why I wanted to apologize… I was being unfair to you…” you trailed off. “I missed you, Changbin-”

You tried to stop yourself, but it was already too late. The damage was done. Changbin visibly stiffened up. His drunken brain sobered up to the sound of his own name.

“W-Wait, B,” you stammered.

Suddenly, it is as if the world disappeared around Changbin. The blaring music and bass faded away to muffles in his ears. His heartbeat echoed loudly in his ears. He felt small and helpless. Alone in this dark world with a singular light shining directly at him.

“B?” you whimpered out, your fingers grazing his muscles lightly. “SpearB… I- I didn’t mean-”

Changbin swiftly backhands you without a second thought. Your eyes were wide as your head turned from the force of the impact. Your cheek was red and stinging but it was nothing compared to guilt eating away at your soul. He then storms off, leaving a heartbroken you behind.

“Han!” Changbin called out to his junior. Changbin’s booming voice tearing through the club bass made his junior jump and choke on the smoke from the bong he was ripping. “Give me some of the heavy shit.”

Han coughed, trying to catch his breath. “Are you sure, hyung? I thought you didn’t do drugs?”

“I just need to get blasted right now,” Changbin eyed the various items on the table: several bags of probably meth and cocaine as well as several syringes of heroin plus the bong sitting on his lap.

“I gave you a blunt earlier?”

“For fuck’s sake, Jisung, just give me some crack cocaine or some shit.” Changbin snapped sitting opposite of Han in the booth, and pulling out a credit card. Jisung sighed and slid a ziplock bag filled with white powder in front of him. Changbin grabbed a hold of the plastic and dumped a generous amount directly on the table. He used his credit card to separate the powder into several lines.

“You got a bill?”

“What happened to all your money?” his junior going at it again with his bong. 

“I drank it,” Changbin replied seriously.

“I don’t think you should be doing drugs with alcohol.”

“I don’t need a lecture, Han,” Changbin grumbled leaning forward, plugging up a nostril, snorting up a line. Changbin sighed in content. A euphoric feeling washed over his body, turning his brain into putty.

Everybody in this club probably have done drugs at least once, mainly weed, but it’s a drug nonetheless. Some kept at it. His junior, Han “J.One” Jisung, has prob hit every one at least once. Some didn’t like how the after effects outweighed the euphoric effects and dropped it entirely like his senior,  Bang “CB97” Chan. But besides this, everyone has their drug, the drug that will just click and consume their entire body and soul.

Unfortunately for Changbin. It was cocaine. His alcohol intake hastened effects of the drug and he found the feeling to be addicting and euphoric. He felt as if he was on Cloud 9 and in heaven. 

And he couldn’t stop.

~

“Hey,” a voice called out. “Hey!”

You jolted awake at the hand shaking your shoulder gently. You winced at the pounding headache you had. You looked up recognizing the pale man with crispy blond hair.

“Sorry to wake you up, but do you know where SpearB is?” he asked. You can pick out his ear candy Australian accent.

Right. You remember where you were. You tried to find Changbin after he stormed off at the club after him giving you a nasty blow on your cheek, but to no success. You lost him within the crowd of clubbers and there were too many men trying to lay their hands on you. So you went to his apartment and fell asleep at his door waiting for his return.

“Is SpearB not with you?” the blond asked.

“N-no?” you stuttered. “He never came home?”

“Shit,” the blond breathed out, running a hand through his hair. “That was not the answer I wanted to hear.”

“What is it…?” You tried to remember the Aussie’s name, but nothing came to mind.

“CB97,” he responded, leaning against the wall and throwing his head back. His skull bounced off the wall lightly as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. You gasped, eyeing the blond in front of you.

CB97? THE CB97? An enigma in the underground and one of the most powerful men to top it off? And you’ve slept with him and then you’ve slept with one of his guys and deeply hurt him. Your mouth gaped open as all that ran in your mind was that you were thoroughly fucked and not by a dick.

“Relax. I have no quarrel with you,” he responded, smiling softly to show that he has no ill intentions. What he said next made your racing heart drop straight down to your stomach.

“SpearB is missing.”

~

Changbin awoke in a cold sweat. His head was throbbing. Everything felt cold. He felt cold, yet his body was burning up. Sweat was running down his temples and his back in streams causing his shirt to stick to his skin uncomfortably. Changbin was sobbing, tears were running down his face. It felt as if there were a million fire ants crawling beneath his skin, nipping and gnawing at his flesh as the symptoms of withdrawal hit him hard and fast.

Changbin squirmed and thrashed only to quickly realize that he was in a chair with his arms and legs bound and chained at the wrists and ankles. His heart was hammering in his chest not necessarily from the fear of being bound and imprisoned, more so from the side effects of his withdrawals as he screwed his eyes shut.

“Good morning, sunshine,” a voice called out. Changbin peeked at the figure in front of him. He was stood in the dark with a singular hanging light over Changbin. Changbin could barely make out the blurry figure; all he got was that he was dressed in all black with a hood, mask and sunglasses.

“What do you want?” Changbin rasped out, his throat was dry and it felt like he was swallowing pins and needles when he swallowed in attempt to moisturize his throat.

“You should know what I’m looking for,” the man chuckled. “Tell me who are the rest of 3RACHA.”

“No.” Changbin responded firmly without hesitation. A loud crack ran through the air not even a second later. Changbin’s head was thrown to the side, eyes wide and a split cheek.

“I’d suggest you make this easier on yourself and just give me the names,” the man growled sliding on black latex gloves.

It’s been a daze. Changbin had no idea how much time has passed. His face was battered and bruised and blood was running down his nose in streams staining his lips and teeth red as he has a constant metallic taste on his lips. He’s currently sitting in isolation alone in the dark with the light off. The room was soundproof with no windows so Changbin hadn’t the slightest what is going on outside or even where he was. His entire body was burning up and trembling profusely from his drug withdrawals and his stomach constricted painfully yearning for food.

Soon a door opened and the familiar man walked in closing the door behind him.

“Care to talk now?” 

“No,” the man’s response was a swift kick to Changbin’s torso causing him to double forward to cough and wheeze.

“So, how was it in isolation? Are you thirsty? Does your back hurt from being slouched over for too long?”

Changbin could only merely glare.

“Here, let me help.”

The man carefully unbounded the straps on Changbin’s wrists and ankles and proceeded to drag him out by his forearm. He didn’t take him very far, just the next room over. The next room was as bare as the one he was in, save for a singular table in the center along with hanging LED lights that were currently off.

“Get on,” the man commanded. Changbin reluctantly complied due to the piercing pain in his legs. Changbin lied flat on the cool metal table as the man strapped him down once more.

“Aren’t I so generous? You must be tired sitting in the dark all day long,” his tone was apathetic as he turned to leave and flicked the light switch on. Changbin winced at the harsh light shining directly to his face as he screwed his eyes shut. Suddenly, he heard a rattling of a chain and the sound of a metal trap door opening. Before he can fully comprehend what was happening, his nose and mouth were suddenly flooded with water. Changbin gasped and sputtered after the first wave. Before he could fully recover, a second wave came in and it kept coming. 

“Do you want to talk now?” the man’s voice played through an intercom.

“Fuck. You.” 

“Wrong answer.”

Changbin got waterboarded once more.

~

“I gotta say. You’re pretty impressive. Your resilience and determination would be awe inspiring if not annoying,” the man started, forcing a taser into Changbin’s chest. Changbin was now strapped back to his original chair after the man failed at breaking him with the use of waterboarding.

“Since you don’t want to talk about the other members of 3RACHA. Let’s talk about you,” the man started, walking circles around Changbin. 

“You’ve always been on your own. Taking control of your own life. Never bowing down to anyone or anything, but somehow the great SpearB was managed to be tamed and now you’re under the command of CB97. CB97,” the man chuckled speaking out that code name. “CB97. Ever the enigma. Managed to strap down one of the finest underground hitman, SpearB and one other. So much influence and power, yet no one can touch him. Not even a name or a face have come to light.”

Changbin eyed the man with pure hatred and disgust.

“But it seems CB97 isn’t the way to go here. How about that girl who has no affiliation in the underground?”

Changbin’s breath hitched. The man smiled wickedly. “Jackpot.”

~

“How long has it been since he’s been missing?” you asked pacing back and forth in the dark room. 

“A little over a week now. J.One is out there hustling for as much info as he can get,” CB97 informed. “A part of me was hoping he just went away for a little while and then reappear.”

“It’s all my fault,” you blurted out. “I always end up sleeping my way into a fucked up position.”

“I’m not blaming you and neither would SpearB.”

“What makes you say that for certain?”

“Because he loves you.”

~

Howls of pain ripped through Changbin’s throat, his throat now as red and raw and the pulsating flesh on his fingers.

“Did you really think she cared for you?” the man growled, wrenching off another fingernail with pliers.

“You don’t know anything about her,” Changbin growled out.

“Probably not, but she knows you. Seo Changbin is it not?”

“How did you-”

“What do you think?” the man smirked, turning away and pulling out an unknown syringe, giving it a light press and flicking it to get rid of oxygen bubbles.

“No. Not-” Changbin was cut off by the man injecting the strange liquid into his arm.

“Seo Changbin. August 11, 1999.”

“Shut up! Shut up!” Changbin’s vision was getting blurry as his head was turning to mush.

“Do you still believe that that girl is innocent? She only does what she does to benefit herself. Why do you think she has no affiliations? Why do you think she’s been keeping the fact that she knows your real name from you?”

Changbin’s head slumped forward in defeat.

“Now… tell me their names or I can bring her to you so you can watch her break.”

~

“You can’t be serious, Changbin? Even now you refuse to speak even with that drug I’ve injected and a knife deeply embedded in your thigh?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Changbin spat his blood at the man.

“I’ve had enough of you!”

“How ironic,” Changbin chuckled. “You’re trying to break me, but you’re the one breaking.”

Changbin couldn’t see the man’s face, but he could imagine the scowl he’s wearing and dilated eyes. The man growled and pulled out the knife. Changbin bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He wouldn’t give his captor the final satisfaction of hearing his cry. The man brought the blade to Changbin’s neck, prompting him to bring his head up to glare at the man.

Before the man could do any damage, a muffled explosion went off in the background. The room shook slightly as dust unsettled from the ceiling. The door was busted open and in comes in CB97 and J.One, both wielding guns.

“Y/N,” CB97 called out. “SpearB out of here. We’ll take care of this mess.”

You appeared behind pair, nodding softly and rushed towards Changbin who passed out. His body finally shutting down after seeing the familiar faces, knowing that he was being saved.

~

Changbin wakes up some time later. His lips were chapped as he panted for air through his dry throat. Changbin’s eyes were bloodshot and heavy bags decorated his eyes. His head snapped up feeling a light pressure on his thigh.

“How are you feeling, B?” you asked softly, bandaging up his thigh.

“You.”

“B?-”

“Did you think you can take advantage of me? Just use me for your own benefit?”

“SpearB, please-” 

Changbin cut you off by flipping both your positions.

“What’s wrong? You take advantage of men by sleeping with them and seducing them? Look, I’m in just my boxers.”

“SpearB, stop. You were drugged, just go to sleep and we’ll talk-”

Changbin shut you up with a harsh slap.

“Talk? Just like how you talked to that guy who kidnapped me?” Changbin growled pulling your shorts and panties in one fell swoop.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried placing a hand on his chest to get him to slow down. Changbin very quickly pinned both your wrists above your head with a single hand, the other running up your (his) hoodie raking his fingers over your bare flesh. 

“Quiet and take it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to obey him. You let out a shaky exhale when you felt a sharp pressure from down below. You winced once he began snapping his hips against yours without giving you any time to adjust.

“Did you really think you could take advantage of me like that? How does it feel now when the shoes on the other foot?”

“No, please. Just listen- Aah!” he cut you off with a particularly hard thrust. “P-please, that’s not how I truly feel about you. I meant what I said back at the club.” 

“Yeah? Then how do you feel?” he growled out.

“I would die for you.”

“Then perish.” Changbin’s eyes darkened as it bored into your soul. He pulled out of your throbbing heat as it pulsated lightly with pain. His sharp gaze looked at you expectantly as you sat up and curl into yourself feeling so exposed and little under his gaze.

You gasp out, nodding solemnly. You delicately pulled out a pocket knife from your discarded shorts you kept on you for self defense. You start just below your jawbone to the left and began slicing, blood is pouring out as the stainless steel blade sliced through skin, flesh and muscle like butter. The sight of the brilliant red liquid spewing out sobers up Changbin a bit. Changbin stops her by grabbing her wrist preventing further damage.

“Why did you stop me?” you seethed, tears pouring down your face.

“Because I didn’t think you were actually going to do it!” He snaps, gritting his teeth together. His breath fanned over your face, his eyes red and bloodshot.

“Let me go, Changbin,” you sniffled, forgetting why you were in this position in the first place.

The sound of his name escaping your lips fueled the burning rage within him. Memories of the club played through his mind like a broken record. The breathy sound of his name escaping your lips mixed in with the loud blaring bass of the club and the chatter of the surrounding clubbers. He finally realized the humiliation of having that last thing he held sacred been outed to the world, leaving him feeling small and vulnerable like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP,” he shouts like a mantra. “Don’t say that name like you OWN ME!”

You tried to back up and crawl away, but the throbbing pain in your nether regions and your putty legs made it difficult.

“B… SpearB, I’m sorry,” you sobbed out.

“JUST SHUT UP!” He very quickly overpowered you and bringing you down flush to the ground with his weight. 

“Just shut your whore mouth!” At this point, all Changbin saw was red. His large hands quickly wrapped around your small neck. Tears were dripping from his ducts, the droplets landing on your cheeks. You gasped and gurgled as you clawed his wrists to get him to let go. Crimson red began dotting at his wrists from where your nails broke skin as it slowly rolled down and joined the crimson fluid that was gushing through his fingers from your neck.

“Just shut up,” he sniffled, his voice cracking and breaking at the last word. Your eyes were blown out as tears free flowed down your temples soaking you messed locks. Drool was also dribbling out of the corner of your mouth.  

Suddenly black dots began appearing within both your visions for you from oxygen deprivation and for changbin from the side effects finally kicking in. Darkness finally enveloped the pair and Changbin slumped over your body as the light from your eyes faded and you took your final breath.

Daybreak broke, CB97 and J.One found their way into Changbin’s apartment.

CB97 very quickly notices a very naked Changbin and a semi naked you on the floor. He quickly rushed forward pulling Changbin off of you and attempted to shake him awake. J.One carefully pulled down the material of your (Changbin’s) hoodie to cover yourself and pressed his fingers against your neck hoping to find a pulse. He looked up at CB97 and shook his head.

Changbin wakes up in a slight daze, trying to get a footing of what happened last night. His head was throbbing as he blinked multiple times trying to get rid of the blurriness. What was discerning to him was how he could not for the life of him remember anything that happened after he passed out in that chair. Soon his vision focused on the blank stare of your body beside him.

“Y/N?” he whispered out. 

“Y/n? Y/N!” he struggled out of CB97’s grip and shoved J.One aside, sending his junior flying backwards straight on his ass.

Changbin tries waking Y/N up by shaking her shoulders vigorously but to no avail. Quickly Changbin pressed an ear to her chest.

“She isn’t breathing!” Changbin sobbed. “Save her!” 

CB97 and J.One attempt to pry him off you.

“Changbin stop! She’s gone.”

Changbin got out of their grip and rush over to you, cradling you softly in his arms as if you were made of glass.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry Y/N…” 

All CB97 and J.One could do was watch their friend in pity.

[feelineuphoric]

SEA Games 2019: PHL VS VIE Volleyball Women's Opener, A Review

In this blog, I will be analyzing the game. The court dimensions, equipment, basic skills, technical and tactical skills for each team, rules of the game, and the people officiating the sport.

Southeast Asian Games also known as Sea Games is a biennial multi-sport event involving participants from all the current 11 countries of Southeast Asia which are Brunei, Myanmar, Cambodia, Timor-Leste, Indonesia, Laos, Malaysia, Philippines, Singapore, Thailand and Vietnam. The games is under regulation of the Southeast Asian Games Federation with supervision by the International Olympic Committee and the Olympic Council of Asia.

What this blog will be focused on is the Volleyball Women’s Opener between Philippines vs Vietnam which was so intense and exciting to watch considering that both the teams have the strong will in not losing. 

Court Dimensions

The game was held on December 3, 2019 at the PhilSports arena in Pasig City which the court has 9 meters or 29 feet wide by 30 meters or 60 feet long, divided by a center line into two equal areas. Moreover, there is also a 3 meters or 10 feet line to identify the front and the back. Lastly, a tightly stretched net is placed across the court precisely above the center line’s middle wherein the game’s official net height is 2.2 meters or 7.4 feet.

Equipment

Ball

Knee Pads

Ankle Braces

Volleyball Shoes

Volleyball Duffle Bag

Forearm Pads

Basic Skills

There are six basic skills in Volleyball which are serving, passing, setting, attacking, blocking, and digging.

Serving is used to put the ball in play.  The action is done with arm swing that sends the ball over the net into the opponent's court.

Passing is used to receive the ball from your opponents, as in service, or as a technique to accurately control the ball in a way that eliminates lifting or carrying the ball.  The fundamental action of passing is to rebound the ball off of the forearms (which are held together tightly with the palms and thumbs positioned together) from a slightly squatted and balanced position.  

Setting is used to receive a teammate's pass in order that the play may continue by passing the ball overhead to an attacker.  the fundamental action of setting is to contact the ball with the finger pads momentarily at the forehead and following through with arms fully extended to the hitting target.  

Attacking is used to put the ball into the opponent's court in order to earn a point or side out.  The fundamental action of attacking incorporates a quick approach followed by a strong, full arm swing, and follow-thru. You can use attacks such as spiking and feints.

Blocking is used to stop the ball from crossing the net as a result of an opponent's attack. A block is effective if it immediately places the ball back into the opponent's court or if it temporarily slows down the ball in order for a defender to make a dig. The fundamental action of blocking is to stand facing the net with feet shoulder width apart, arms nearly extended above the head, ready to jump above the net to deflect the ball back into the opponent's court.

Digging is used to receive the opponent's attack. The key skills are digging and sprawling. The dig resembles a forearm pass from a low ready position and is used more for balls that are hit near the defender. The sprawl is a result of an attempted dig for a ball that is hit further away from the defender and resembles a dive.  

 Technical and Tactical Skills

Philippines:

The technical and tactical skills that the Philippines team mostly used are attacks such as spikes and feints which resulted with them winning the first round. The team has a strong sense of connecting with each other in order to let the ball stay up in the air until they earn points. Moreover, they did a lot of using a member to become a decoy in order to focus the other team on that person as they think she is going to spike.

Vietnam:

The technical and tactical skills that the Vietnam team are focused on attacking and diving in order to pick the ball up into the air. They also did a lot of blocking and I can say that their blocking is intense, they blocked the Philippines team a lot, however, the other team still managed to stop the ball from falling to the ground. Since they mostly focused on attacking, they lay he ball on places that are left unguarded which made them score a lot.

 Rules of the Game

Only 6 players on the floor at any given time: 3 in the front row and 3 in the back row.

There is a maximum of 3 hits per side.

Points are made on every serve for the winning team of rally (rally-point scoring).

Players may not hit the ball twice in succession (a block is not considered a hit).

Ball may be played off the net during a volley and on a serve.

A ball hitting a boundary line is in.

A ball is out if it hits an antennae, the floor completely outside the court, any of the net or cables outside the antennae, the referee stand or pole, or the ceiling above a non-playable area.

It is legal to contact the ball with any part of a player’s body.

It is illegal to catch, hold or throw the ball.

A player cannot block or attack a serve from on or inside the 10-foot line.

After the serve, front-line players may switch positions at the net.

Matches are made up of sets; the number depends on level of play.

3-set matches are two sets to 25 points and a third set to 15. Each set must be won by two points. The winner is the first team to win two sets.

5-set matches are four sets to 25 points and a fifth set to 15. The team must win by 2 points unless tournament rules dictate otherwise. The first team to win three sets is the winner.

 How to Officiate the Sport

Volleyball officials have a number of different responsibilities, and they must keep a watchful eye on every point for the duration of the match. Two people form an officiating team for each match, with one acting as the head referee who stands on the referee stand, while the other is "down" referee assisting with monitoring substitutions and plays at the net.

The referee of the game were Leung Yin Yan and Agung Purwantoro which respectively are the 1st referee and the 2nd referee or the assistant referee. Both can be seen parallel with each other on the court, the 2nd referee assisting Leung Yin Yan who is the one that held the authority and is responsible for officially recognizing the team requests, timeouts, substitutions, and in communicating with the coaches while Agung Purwantoro’s job in assisting Leung Yin Yan is by being in charge of the timeouts, substitutions, and the actions of the scorekeeper.

The first referee, aka the first official aka the 'up" referee starts the match, judges each play and calls the technical fouls, assigns points and sideouts as they occur to each qualifying team and also makes the final decision on questionable plays. He or she is called the "up" referee because they climb up and call the game from an elevated volleyball stand. The first referee watches the blockers for net touches, calls the double hits, lifts, technical fouls, timeouts and starts each play with a whistle blow to each server.

The second referee is across from the first referee on the opposite side of the net officiating the game from the ground. The second referee, one of the volleyball officials, sometimes known as the "down" referee assists and supports the first referee mainly by calling fouls that occur under the net. They also watch players on team benches who are in the warm up area, controls and helps monitor  both team's timeouts, communicates with  the scorer at the score table.

The scorer operates their functions from a table, the scorer's table which is located behind the second referee. Before the match begins the scorer registers the numbers on jerseys and each team's lineup in the score book and lineup sheets and then gets the signatures of the captains and coaches. During the match they do a lot of things such as recording the points of both teams, their timeouts, and substitutions called, record yellow cards, and more. After the game, they record the final results.

The linesmen judge whether a volleyball has landed inside or outside of the sidelines or service lines and to call any block touches. Depending on what type of game is being played, there are two or four linesmen that stand on only two or all four corners of the volleyball court. When there are two official linesmen one stands at the corner where the sideline and the service line meet on one side and the other linesman stands in the same place on the opposing team's side. In official games, the linesmen will have a flag in their hands, if not, then they will make their calls using their arms.

Moreover, Referees need to know the signals for substitutions, illegal contact and fault. They also need to know how to signal whether the ball landed in or out of play. Officials are expected to make the correct call in a convincing matter almost immediately after each play ends.

You can watch the whole video at https://youtu.be/Gm4kGC_d-i8

Bibliography:

Basic Volleyball Rules and Terminology. (n.d.). Retrieved February 11, 2021, from The Art of Teaching Volleyball: https://www.theartofcoachingvolleyball.com/basic-volleyball-rules-and-terminology/

Volleyball Equipment List. (n.d.). Retrieved February 11, 2021, from Rookie Road: https://www.rookieroad.com/volleyball/equipment-list/

Volleyball Court Dimensions, Size, Diagram. (n.d.). Retrieved February 11, 2021, from Sports Feel Good Stories: https://www.sportsfeelgoodstories.com/volleyball-court-dimensions-size-diagram/

Six Basic Skills of Volleyball. (n.d.). Retrieved February 11, 2021, from Mr. Flo Volleyball Training: https://sites.google.com/a/frco.k12.va.us/fcvball/skills

[unikornu]

Alright! Finally got time again to shoot you some questions for the ask meme. For Lucy: A1, 2, 9, 14, 24. B1, 13, 16. C3, 4, 6. D2, 3. E2, 4. F2, 5, 10. G2. H1, 6, 8. I1. L2, 4, 9. Also for Harrison, finally someone who can use the K questions... K1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10?

Hell yeah long post coming and i’m so happy with the K section,

Lucy: 

A1. What of the Meyers-Briggs personality types they most fit into? INFP, ENFT, et cetera…

I actually took a test thinking how she would answer and i think i got it perfectly right. I wouldn’t pick it better just by reading all of them i think. She came out as Turbulent Entrepreneur (ESTP-T) which feels ok. “ Rules were made to be broken” - hell they were. Also “ If Entrepreneurs aren’t careful though, they may get too caught in the moment, take things too far, and run roughshod over more sensitive people, or forget to take care of their own health and safety.“

Judging by her action and the way of living she is like that. Going all the way, having hard time just by staying idle and ohh yee taking things too far without thinking of consequences. Like chasing an enemy and realizing she left her support far in the back and then dealing with difficulties by herself. Constantly going careless in combat, forgetting her own safety, thinking she will make it anyway but it comes back biting her in the ass. 

Also she is not smart but she can see minor hidden things, be it while cracking some password on terminal or spotting who in the crowd wants to stab her in the back just by the change of their face expression so she might be stupid but still outsmart some folks and mechanics out there and that fits with the nature of the job she had before the war. 

A2. What alignment are they? Chaotic neutral, lawful evil, et cetera…

I never played DnD games and so on so this one is hard but Neutral Evil - she is aware of her being on the bad side of a coin and is willing to do whatever it takes to make her wishes come true even if it means killing someone but she still have some self restrains and won’t go against the allies she is currently working with and friends she made on the way and of course innocent creatures. She has some base etiquette rules and isn't rotten to the bone but when she wants something nothing will stop her no matter the cost as long as it doesn’t strike her out of the game of harms current company. She is bad but not for sake of doing evil shit or proving something but just to do what she wants and get what she wants even if blood will spill. 

A9. Does your OC make a lot of excuses? For themselves? Others? 

She will sure make a lot of excuses for herself after fucking shit up or going way too ahead in combat. But only for herself. She is the type of pointing finger at others while tugging and biting her tongue just not to admit she wronged someone or something and avoid too many questions or yelling at. 

A14. Is your character empathetic?

Despite being a bitch she is empathetic. But might show it a bit differently...like in a page i wrote for Halloween with that bunny mask. She didn’t chop that man only because he grabbed her ass but because he was using many other women poor financial situation just to have some easy sexy time and she did feel bad for them so...her empathy stroke in a solution of killing him instead of only knocking him out and caging. If someone would harass Lizzie or...i dunno Hector, someone she considers slightly weaker at standing up for themselves and is in her “social” circle or society part then she will show empathy by stabbing those who bother them with a fork in a eye, a bit extreme but that’s how she understands empathy. Someone is chaining and kicking a dog at settlement? She will chain that man onto the bridge and let him hang and die slowly and take a dog in Pack care. Gage complains that his gun got broken in a fight and can sense some sadness, she will run for a stealing caps heist to buy new one. So...she feels empathy but her answer to it can be...well unusual, brutal and extreme.

A24. What are some of your OC’s biggest personal obstacles? This could be emotional, physical, social… Are they aware of it? Are they trying to overcome it?

Type of question i hope i understood correctly :)) 

Fear of failing to deliver is her biggest personal obstacle. She was always scared, since childhood to fail at meeting certain expectations, be in it school for her mother who would change her mind bazillion times due to mental illness, then Harrison and fear of his eventual punishment mixed with mental abuse if she doesn’t carry her mission to the end, with Ian it was fear of failing at being the good loving partner due to her secrets and then comes whole town of raiders with Gage on top who have expectations of her and promise of certain small paradise if she delivers but...these fears always pushes her into actions more than she has to and it exhaust her mentally and can sometimes prove deadly, ending up in injuries that could have been avoided. She is aware of this but because it carried through her whole life its unavoidable. 

Also she doesn’t interact much with a friendly society groups because even if she knows she is bad its not something she actually likes to hear. Coming to a small town just with intentions to have a drink and imagining that people will only show her a pistol barrel and tell her to fuck off because she is from within raider circle fills her with doubt so strong she just tends to avoid this kind of meetings.

How was the saying: “Don't tell a psychopath they're a psychopath, it upsets them” and she will get deeply upset. 

B1. Do they believe you have to give respect to get it, or get respect to give it?

Get respect to give it. She doesn’t trust that people will respect her back if she puts effort so she won’t show respect even to great president of whatever wastes because she also doesn’t care if someone respect her but if they pull a hand out first she will shake it back. Her life is too risky and careless to think about gaining someone’s respect first. 

B13. Do they have a large or small group of friends?

If she would consider all nuka town her friends then its big but...nope, small group. Its mostly Gage (even if they are partners they can be friends too), Lizzie, William, well...Mags too and along with that Mason later on once she gets his loyality and a few traders from which she keep connections with Maddox, Chip and Shelbie. From Far Harbor for sure Allan would be easy to gain as a friend. Longfellow is just a friend grandad <3. Harrison cannot be questioned, too scary to reject him. From Commonwealth i can’t yet get idea where she could get the best friend circle. Well aside from that whatever other oc’s out there who accept her bitchiness and way of being :)) but i don’t think she would make many friends out there, she is...well plain simple and dangerous.

B16. Does your OC like to be the center of attention or more in the mix?

Definitely in the center of attention, since she couldn’t be back then. Now that crime and killing is fully legal and there is no police chase other than some disgusted by her behavior minutemen she can be a in the center of a show and she likes it. A circus ring leader, hell yeah...well raiders can be clowns too from time to time. And let’s not start with parties and free time. She’s the first to get up on table to dance. It gets her a bit to realize things she can get away with but once she does she only misses there is no spotlight at the end of the fight, shining on her.

C3. Is it important for them to be with people (socially, intimately, whatever) whose major ideological tenets align with their own?

Major indeloghit....tents what? Good lord, i swear i’m too stupid for these kind of words but good i keep the dictionary close to me, right in the next tab.

Big yes. It’s not many people like her out there and she doesn’t want to flip her coin back to being good and peaceful towards rules of the world, she simply isn’t able to mentally change back anymore so in order to keep feeling like she still has a hole to belong to she needs to spend time with people like her to also boost her confidence that she isn’t the only one with broken mind out there seeking completion of her wishes through darker path. And knowing so isn’t leaving her in fear she will need to change her ways of life. 

C4. Do they consider themselves superior or more important than anyone else? Lesser?

No. Even is she is the Overboss she rather rejects that title and prefers to be just a business partner with Gage. She doesn’t seek and need to feel important or superior, she only wants to feel useful around people she decided to blend in with and have a purpose, nothing else. The fact that she can strike orders around doesn’t fill her heart nor mind with some higher importance or value above other. Also she doesn’t considers her enemies lesser even knowing her skills, its just bad approach that can easily get one killed and she prefers stays on a same line with others. Be it friends or foes.

C6. What do they do when they see someone asking for money or food? If they ignore them, why? If they help, how so?

Depends in what state that person is, she was the liar herself so she can spot one if its an actual person in need or just lazy poor soul. She will usually tho just toss a few caps and walk away without listening or hearing more from that person. She doesn’t want to struggle with a morality remaining deep in her brain if she did right or not so she will just deal with it fast and walk away, telling them to fuck off if they will follow her. These kind of people are like those annoying reminders in a shape of beggar poking her and making think if she still has some pure humanity left so...she wants to be just done with that part. But animal coming up to her is a different deal, here humanity will always strike unless its a seagull stealing her meal, then her humanity part will shrink and there will be a rock thrown in the air after that birb, as a survival contest. 

D2. Do they believe in an afterlife?

She never gave it a longer thought. She cares about here and now but if she would meet someone knowledgeable in that topic she would be willing to open her ears for few minutes longer and put the knife down. She doesn’t rejects religious topics as long as someone is not brushing a saint books or whatever right in her face. She has an open mind on more than just a mortal topics mostly because of Harrison. 

D3. How comfortable are they with the idea of death?

She wasn’t scared of death before the bombs and when wandering through wasteland because she just didn’t care for her life and maybe that’s what made her most effective but this changed once she realized she can finally live a life she secretly wanted but was restricted before. Her strong desire of finally rejecting the dying part is what caused certain being to finally break away from her ;> well i wrote about it in last page so yassss

E2. Which of the nine types of intelligence is your OC strongest in? Weakest? (Linguistic, existential, naturalist, et cetera)

The strongest is surely the Bodily-Kinesthetic Intelligence, she was trained to the bone and with her careless nature she is mostly depended on her physical skills and putting them into perfect timing. Even if she got a bit rusty after bombs the return of Harrison will bring her back into the right gears of phasing like speed and combat thinking. 

Weakest could be probably the Intra-personal Intelligence mostly because even if she understand her actions she isn’t very good at analyzing it any deeper other than “i want that man’s money cus i want that”, i guess....i could describe it like that. I cant really get any deeper or more detailed into this because there is for sure one thing i share with Lucy....we are simple minded simpletons but..i might be a bigger one :)))

E4. Did they enjoy school if they went to it?

At the beginning she didn’t enjoy any school as other students would consider her a weirdo because of her mother which would sometimes show up, uncalled at school and act really weird but later when she decided to stand up for herself after meeting Harrison as a kid ....others in school didn’t enjoy that change as much as she became seen as a pretty bully girl being overly extreme into serving “justice”. The only classes she enjoyed tho were gym and biology ones as she wasn’t scared to cut a frog but others seeing her just chopping it like a piece of ham could...weighted on her reputation. Also she always joined like a sport/cheerleader groups to have less problems with teachers as it was bringing school good reputation and she was fairly flexible and with high stamina so it was also easy for her. So from being bullied she became popular bully girl of sort. She got hooked on law later on because she wanted indeed to serve some justice, in a peaceful manner at start. So all in all she didn’t enjoy school at start but then she didn’t mind it as she took business in her hands, a bit over the edge but well...bully with some feelings eh? I don’t have many details as to what exact type of school she would go but another reason she would enjoy sitting at school once she became the one in charge is to spend less time at home with her confusing mother so she would be staying late for some extra gym trainings, sweating her emotions off.

F2. What’s their ideal home look like? Where is it?

In Porter’s rough, dirty yet soft heart stuffed in his sweaty smelly top.

She can call Fizztop an ideal home of sort. The weather in Nuka World strikes her preferences and even since she was strolling with Harrison from time to time there before the war she just loved that place and beside the first deadly visit there they made a good memories there, father and daughter like. She prefers her home to be placed inside the town as she hates sleeping in open spaces even if its a single house on top of a hill. She just feels too lonely and insecure. It’s weird to say that but she feels safer to sleep in a town filled with raiders than alone in the wild.  

F5. How handy are they? Can they fix appliances, cars, cabinets, et cetera?

Fairly handy but on a level of fixing a broken car mirror with a duck tape or just gluing shit together hoping it will hold long enough before it breaks again. If she would fix a door handle it would most probably end up upside down on the other side of the door. And if shit breaks again...she will just shrug and glue it same way again or at least add one more layer of duck tape. Sometimes she will try to convince herself she knows what wire to put where when it comes to electric appliances but she only knows cars and car still ain’t a toaster so....electric shortage and fizzy hair incoming. She needed a manual on shoving a cable inside a robot so yeah. But when it comes to fixing clothes she is as good as with cars. Even if some parts can be similar like in car engine of sort she still has hard time to connect the dots if seeing something like half similar. So give her a broken car/truck/any clothing she will swing a wrench or needle and fix that shit in no time but hand her a tv pilot or spoken toaster and she will just look at it and ponder..deeply.  

F10. Do they engage in any of the arts? How good do you intend them to be? Would they agree they are?

Arts...with her only painting comes to my mind but not like painting a landscape but more things like a car painting, pack faces and more abstract stuff which she learned again in Sapphire club with Rosey due to many events that were having certain themes so they needed to do body paints and so on.

I don’t know if dancing is any kind of art but i can imagine her discovering that pole dance but on a level of these sport like competitions. Lucy is flexible and has enough strength to try to perform this kind of stuff since from already school times she was doing a lot of gym and sport in general.

As to how good she would be at these probably not like perfectly good to very details because even she doesn’t have need to be horribly good. Needs to be good enough to just make her happy and she doesn’t have high standards in these topics. I dunno why i found that question slightly tricky....

G2. Who makes up your OC’s family, at least the more important members to them?

The only family she had was her mother since her father left once he could no longer bear with her mental issues and bringing stranger men to house and then getting pregnant with her. I didn’t build up yet like a bigger family tree but..yeah it was just her mother and her most of the time. 

H1. What is your OC’s orientation, romantic and/or sexual? Has it ever been a source of stress for them? Have they always been pretty sure of their orientation?

She is 100% heterosexual when it comes to her orientation both romantic and sexual. She can flirt with same sex but that would only include situations when she needs to finish her job or reach some other goal, no feelings involved whatsoever. 

H6. Has your OC ever cheated on anyone or been cheated on?

She didn’t catch Ian neither Gage to cheat on her. She tends to flirt with other men like William but wouldn’t take it as far as to sleep with him or do it on purpose to hurt her partner feelings so...she doesn’t cheat. She still has SOME backbone. 

H8. What’s your OC’s idea of a perfect date?

She doesn’t have high needs when it comes to perfect date topic. As long as it involves alone time together without additional crowd and some beer she doesn’t care if they sit in a fancy bar or on some building stairs. Perfect date is any that includes relaxed talk, joking, alcohol and a happy ending in bed together. Extra points for bringing her nicely cut flower. Despite being bully, killer and involved with raiders she was looking at late evenings at these white/grey romantic movies where couples were just doing simple things, walking late night together and so on, so her perfect date ain’t complicated. 

I1. What are their favorite kinds of flavors– Sweet, salty, sour, spicy, creamy, et cetera?

As long as its not slimey and gooey like she’s okay. If something of mentioned above would slip into her food she will just puke it out instantly. She prefers salty and sweet tho as her pre-war diet was mostly like so. Salted hard boiled eggs with grilled tatos topped with pinch of salt again and then 200 years old cotton candy for dessert or potato crisps. She eats meat too but like fried till its crunchy. 

L2. What do you consider the biggest themes in your character, if any?

Brain error so i hope i understood this right:

Leaning into the evil side of the society fully confident it’s the only and last right choice to achieve true happiness and satisfy the already croocked mind. 

L4. Would you hang out with your OC if you could?

In my real life probably yes but even i would be slightly nervous around her because she tends to bend towards very extreme solutions if some problems would arise or someone would make me angry (due to her empathy) but in fallout universe hell yeah, i’m just not sure i would be in a physical capability to keep up with her but i wouldn’t mind to get a legendary cane..along with it...But yeah, i would like to hang out for a beer and see her beat some stupid folks and maybe give a her a friendly hug to remind her she isn’t that bad and she will be fine....and apologize for burning her hands lol. If she would find out i’m her creator..oh boy, i’m sure she would beat me with my own cane over the head. 

L9. How did you come up with your OC?

I had different OC design before but she was actually just a general good joking hero, she even had a brother but that got lost later on and that male oc was left just for MMO’s as an additional character. Then a lot of things happened in my life and because i was gaming since early childhood like Norton times and..the pixelated Blizzard Blackthorne it also affected my rpg and game choices in general, like whole way of thinking since gaming was and is big part of my life. I was curious what would happen if i take my oc through the mental change grinder and push it to the edge, towards losing the patience for justice systems and add a pinch of evil mixed with some trauma to give her some reason to choose that path. And there she is. Her face features didn’t change much, neither body type and so on but her mentality is hell of a different and i just...love her. She isn’t perfect, neither that horribly bad but i’m very pleased with how she came out. I threw a glove and was done with playing hero at some point because of life experiences and she came out of my cauldron as a best way to peacefully calm down. As for Harrison he was suppose to be just a small mention in pre-war diary but for some reason my brain pushed it forward and i really don’t mind him as an extra OC. Besides Lucy needs someone to watch over her. 

Allllrighty, Harrison time:

K1. Does your OC have to keep their paranormal aspect (PA) a secret from general society? If so, how? I.e., they can’t discuss their abilities, they have to hide a tail, they have an alter-ego, et cetera. What would happen if society found out about it?

Yes, he has to hide his powers. He is one of a kind and experiment never got finished so his powers are something no one seen before. I’m sure that lab is still buried somewhere near Sanctuary deep in forests containing old data and so on but the place got abandoned and no one found it yet. I can imagine tho that the cryo vault could have been like a last remaining section cut off from the rest as it also was touching a subject of immortality...i mean..a way of not aging. Usually the green smoke will always rise from his body and eyes at times so he prefers to hide his face under the hat and keep fully covered body with that long brown coat and thick gloves. Also he doesn’t look very friendly so it helps him keep folks at distance before they notice something unusual. I can’t imagine how people would react if they knew about his powers but they for sure would be just wary and scared i think. And all in all he has a synth skeleton so more hate from most of the Commonwealth population. He also needs to keep his emotions at check as his powers are driven by a strong sense of desire so if he would really really want to harm someone he would have harder time at controlling his powers before they snap. That’s why he is always so...stoic and calm.     

K3. Does your OC have any friends who know about their PA? Any enemies?

Lucy suspected before and she has a memory from childhood, then she finds out herself on a go and Gage also knows because he was present during the event. Later on she tells Lizzie and Chip Morse because she needs help to repair his synth broken body due to how the...separation came out. Harrison doesn’t tell anyone else unless its necessary. The only enemy out there would be the lead scientist if he somehow survived the bombs and is still out there, looking for him. 

Also...i didn’t mean to make it like that but its just how it came out due to most...common and fast thought design. That lead scientist had grey hair and wore a black mask on half of his face....and that would make the air even more rotten between...someone particular out there :)) 

K5. Does your OC feel isolated or unrelatable due to the experience their PA brings with it? If so, how do they deal with it?

He does feel lonely since he is too afraid to meet new people or even spend too much time in a bar. He would mostly stick to lone table in a corner, being too afraid on not controlling his powers if his mind and emotions lose breaks. He was a family man, not perfect father but still, getting that taken away and changing your life 180 degrees can sometimes upset him and the only way to cool down is just to stick to people he can trust which is Lucy and her gang. Its his only family now. He doesn’t push away the idea of trying again, meeting a woman, making a family, being a better father but is just too scared of that. Also he doesn’t need much sleep as normal person so...this doesn’t help him either.   

K6. Does their PA cause issues in daily life? I.e., if they’re inhuman in a human universe and they can’t go to a doctor or risk the doctor realizing they are not human, super abilities with physical drawbacks, they don’t have control of their abilities and must keep to themselves, et cetera… If so, how do they feel about it?

It causes him a lot of issues. Despite hot weather he still needs to keep his clothes on to not reveal the power radiating from him. His hat always in crowds, even inside the buildings to not risk shining with his eyes too much. Shades can help tho at times. But people might find it weird, accuse him of being another synth and attack him and that would cause more problems because if he snaps people will see his powers. He needs to keep his head low all the time and just act as a shady dangerous mercenary, out of unnecessary questions and troubles.

K7.Does your OC’s PA affect their dietary habits so that they are unusual or problematic by their society’s standards?

Even if he actually doesn’t need to eat he still will because he isn’t fully synth but just himself in a form of soul trapped in such a body. His eating habits are still the same as they were but..he might overdo his craving at times...eating like a kilograms of food just because he remembered it was his favorite and he wants it now and he will feel the taste and satisfaction but because his stomach isn’t human he doesn’t feel when he is full so....yeah. Eating whole cart of cotton candy at one go. It might feel weird to people who don’t know him but he is a big man so they might assume it’s maybe because of his size...and just being freaking hungry.

K8. What are some routines, if any, of self-care that your OC must engage in that are not typical of their society? I.e., having to file their teeth, maintaining magical rituals, drinking blood…

He needs to meditate like a lot to keep his powers better contained and controlled since they sync with his mindset.. Sometimes he will do it for hours, be it standing, siting, he will just disconnect and meditate.

K9. Does your OC have knowledge that they can’t share with the rest of their world that could improve it if it didn’t cause chaos? I.e., a character from the future knowing about technology not yet invented, but they can’t reveal themselves by sharing it

He is the only one knowing the location of the lab but he keeps that knowledge only to Lucy. He can’t imagine what could happen if they would create armies of....entities like him. Being able to inject soul from body to body could solve a lot of health like issues and give a hell of disabled people new chance but you can never know what direction this could go. 

K10. Would your OC give up their PA if they could? Why or why not?

Even if it ruined his life he wouldn’t give it up. He lost his family not because of who she became but because he was fucking irresponsible by taking his son to work and killing them both. His wife was furious and refused to take him home again even if she was freshly pregnant that time. His powers allowed him to protect her anyway without her knowledge and because he is at age he is, these powers still keep him as a extremely dangerous man able to fight. Even if giving it up could give him a better chance of starting a family again he prefers to be able to protect these that are still left in his life than failing or die trying. So he is over the grief and learned to live with how he is, accepting his powers and putting them to good use. 

[steviejayneblogs]

Awkward First Dates Witnessed By Staff.

Blogs By STEVIE JAYNE

6 Minute Read

If you think the staff didn’t notice your awkward interactions, you're mistaken. First Dates, we've all been on at least one.

They can be arranged to be anywhere. But now with access to social media at the tips of our fingers. We can meet people online without having ever met them in person before. Think about it, our parents use to walk down the street or attend an event. They would see someone they liked and exchange information to meet again. They exchanged information based on that first great interaction/moment.

Our generation, we exchange info before actually meeting them (wild). So, first dates typically happen somewhere with people around for that safety factor and a nice balance of distraction, to level out any quiet awkward moments. So over your dating app, you organised your date at a cafe or restaurant bar. Here are some stories of witnessed awkward dates by the Stevie Jayne Staff that have worked in hospitality before. Enjoy!

Claire, 25.

He arrived First and was clearly very nervous. He fidgeted back and forth between his phone and tapping the table. When she arrived, he stood up to hug her. He accidentally caught his foot between the table and chair. In the process, he knocks over the water bottle and glasses. Water spilling everywhere, all before she had even said a word to him. They stood there in silence as I wiped the table down. He was very polite and asked her what she would like to order? As he would go to the counter and pay. She told him and it was a very lengthy order filled with requirements. The panic on his face, as he said yep, ok, and walked to the counter. Poor guy, he didn't remember the order and was so worried about getting it wrong. He ran over to her again reluctantly, to confirm her order. Judging by his face, he would have been so nervous that nothing was going in. He came to the counter for the second time. Now, staff are now crowding around the counter to ears drop on the panic. I offered to help. I walked over to her, confirmed her order, and processed it through the register. I don't think he recovered from that moment on during the rest of the date. It was very cringy worthy.

Jess, 34.

They arrived together. He was super attractive and tall. As I came over to take their order, he stated his beverage and pointed to her, and said I'm assuming you've got this right? followed by a wink. She blushed, paused for a moment before continuing with her drink order. As I walked away, He continued, “Considering you’ve totally catfished me. You mars-well pay for me for coming and sticking around”.

In case you were wondering, she did pay for it in the end. It does suck, that It's seen as unprofessional to give life advice to my customers.

Sunshine, 27.

There are soooo many that I have witnessed. From the girl that couldn't stop saying the word “like” 6 times in every sentence. Or the guy that fell off the deck because he kept swinging in his chair. Which pushed him closer to the edge (Don't worry only a 3-foot drop). Or the guy that tried to pay for the bill, his card declined 3 times and on his other card (That one was really bad).

But the one that takes the cake, that stands out to me. Was when a woman was waiting for her date to arrive. She looked lovely! Somehow you could tell it had been a long time since she had been back on the dating merry-go-round. Her date arrives and he's equally as lovely. But then! He gets up to go to the bathroom and another man appears and sits in his chair. She was clearly upset by his presence. After offering water to tables nearby, I find out that this new guy is her ex. My heart is racing for her. Her date will come back to another guy in his sit and who knows what drama will unfold.

So I decided to assist her. I came over and asked her if she would like another seat for her extra guest to join? She said no. Then I turned to her ex, I requested that he calmly lower his voice, as our other customers are trying to enjoy the atmosphere. If he wasn't intending to dine at the cafe or lower his tone, I’d have to ask him to leave. I walked away and he continued yelling at her, causing a scene. I walked back over, stood by, and said, “Sir, you may leave now”. He left just as her date was arriving back to the table. He saw the whole thing and it was so sad to watch, as I polished the cutlery.

Blake, 23.

I made these smoothies for the table that was clearly having a first date. They were getting along, nerves were obvious but nothing too interesting. Time goes by, and a customer notifies me about the toilets, they didn't give me much detail. In hospitality, we have to stock and clean the toilets. I collected some toilet rolls and walked over to the unisex toilet. We have one toilet and there is usually a line of two-three people waiting. But as I walked over, the smell of poo was so strong! I see brown splashes on the pebble walkway that leads to the bathroom and it continues at random. Everyone has their noses covered and there is a line of six people. Some leave unable to hear and smell the scene any longer. I knock on the stall door and ask if the customer is alright. He clearly has food poisoning. It was so bad, I needed assistance from other staff to clean it up with a hose. Long story short, he was the guy on the date. I had to tell his date, that he had food poisoning and that we were taking care of the bill, and to not wait on him. She patiently waited 30minutes and left after that. Poor fella. He had to call a family member to bring a spare set of pants and underwear. It was that bad.

We all know someone that has their fair share of date horror stories. Next time, ask your friend that has worked in hospitality. They have horrific requests, cringe-worthy interactions with customers, and overhear everything. We won't list where these dates happened or the customer's names because you know privacy. But the people listed are the waiters/waitresses that experienced these moments. Laughter is good for the soul, so we hope you enjoy these. Also, It’s good to reflect on the topic. We're all human and experience nerves on the first dates. There are many variables that can occur and kindness is key. Happy Dating!

Author: Sunshine Zandt

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[project-ohagi]

Hayato Yamagata x Reader - Soulmate AU {Haikyuu!!}

[Soulmate AU: Wherein you have the first words your soulmate ever speak to you, written on your wrist].

Trigger Warning: Self-Harm.

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Although the day was long, the evening seemed longer - significantly so.

Volleyball practice had ended a while earlier, yet here he was, remaining in the building to run some errands. The dormitories weren't far, so it wasn't as if actually minded. Glancing down at his wrist, a solemn sigh passed his lips. Gentle fingers traced the inscription: the first words his soulmate would ever orate to him, the words fated to spark an inevitable romance, which would blossom and blossom. Despite currently being unfamiliar with his predestined partner, his heart soared at the very thought of them. He knew, instinctively, that no matter their appearance, to him, they would present the most beautiful divinity.

Their aura would be unmatched in compassion towards himself and others - this was Hayato's sole expectation. Besides that, he couldn't care less. His heart thundered with the determination to shower them the utmost love and affection. He would treat them as a god, a goddess, a mixture of the two, or some genderless celestial. Whatever their manifestation, he would love them, both passionately and unconditionally.

However, the phrase engraved into his wrist was quite unsettling.

'No, please don't touch that!'

Without context, it sent insuppressible shivers all the way down his spine. Obviously, worry consumed him - it always did. He couldn't comprehend the truth of the message. Yet...an ache tugged so violently at his heartstrings. Those words bled pain, desperation. If they, his future, needed help in any way, then with his fiercest conviction, he wished to bestow it upon them. He wanted to find them, to cradle their frame tightly, close to his chest, so that his raging heartbeat could echo in their ears, acting as the proof of his love. He desired nothing more than this, and to witness the majesty of their smile. It made him giddy, like a young child arresting its parents' attention.

...Until his mind played back the phrase, droning on in miserable notes, as an amalgamation of all the world's depressing songs.

His yearning for the information of what agonised you so greatly was causing slight mishaps in his daily life. You had yet to physically enter the scrapbook of his life, but he could almost feel your energy...fragments of your pain. It was suffocating, sometimes. But still, he didn't completely understand. Meeting you, at this point, was absolutely imperative; he figured that it could potentially be the difference between life and death. Another abysmal thought began to plague his already-throbbing mind - what could you be referring to? What would cause such wretched words to tumble from your lips, and would they be in retaliation to a forceful act on his end? He really hoped that wasn't so. If he traumatised you to the extent at which your very vocals trembled, then, soulmate or no, surely your heart wouldn't ever allow itself to love him.

That imagining was a cursed reel, and he vowed never to replay it. Besides, there couldn't have been any point to worrying so tirelessly, when you were still yet-to-be-discovered. Hayato could hazard a guess that, at the least, you weren't in his class, and, perhaps some mystical connection might have compelled you towards each other, if you ever passed in the halls. Therefore, he decided that either you simply didn't occupy a space in the third year, or you didn't attend Shiratorizawa, period.

Although his brain favoured the latter, his heart pounded for the former, since it would obviously make finding you so much easier. Hayato had been raised to place faith in his gut instinct, and right now, his gut seemed to produce two words: foreign and danger. He was unsure whether this meant that you were of a different lineage, or that you attended another school, and consequently would be alien to him.

But, danger...

...There was no doubt - you were in a precarious situation, or on the losing side of a violent, bloody battle. He prayed for your eternal safety, day in and day out. You would forever arrest his unconditional support, no matter the circumstance.

Shaking off these depressing pictures was difficult, but necessary, because torturing himself over them during your omission from his life, would only affect his health and grades on a greater scale. Hayato trudged around the building, finding the papers and other things he needed, and prepared to head back to his dormitory. So much of his mental energy had been wiped out already, and he was exhausted. Lying down on his lovely, soft bed sounded blissful.

Instead, mere moments after falling, he registered that what he was kneeling atop wasn't a bed, but in fact...a girl?

Embarrassment permeated his very core. He never achieved much with women, mainly due to his sharp glares (yes, the unintentional ones - perhaps he had the masculine equivalent of resting bitch face), but this was just...oh my lord, why? He refrained from punching himself, only since terror had gripped your features, and he didn't wish to disturb you any further. He scrambled to his feet, apologising profusely, and reaching out a hand, to help you up. Those almost-feral, chocolate eyes ghosted over you, and in an instant, he was transfixed. You adorned the regular, Shiratorizawa uniform, but it appeared to be slightly larger than you needed. Your sleeves were very long, he noted, and he couldn't see your wrists at all. Luscious, (h/c) locks swept across your face, partially shielding your (e/c) orbs from view.

"Eh...are you alright? Can you stand?" His genuine concern captivated you, but you were panicked, tears welling up amongst the glittering constellations.

When you failed to respond, he started rubbing his neck, in an effort to soothe his nerves. This was a situation unlike any other (he was often a lot more careful of his surroundings), but his aid seemed to offend you, for some reason, so what could he actually do? The waterfall, which dripped from your eyes, was something he desired to wipe away. He detested this - watching you suffer in relative silence. Why weren't you letting him help? Couldn't you speak? Was something about his actions, his words, so wrong? After a minute or two of deliberation, he decided to perch himself on the floor, in front of you.

"Do you need somebody to talk to? Should I go and find a teacher?"

The words remained lodged in your throat, slowly suffocating you.

You squirmed uncomfortably, every movement revealing slightly more skin, although you didn't appear to notice. Hayato's eyes travelled to your wrists, now exposed, and his blood ran cold. His compassionate nature kicked into overdrive, and he immediately locked on to your arm. Meek sounds of discomfort rolled off your tongue, as the knife-inflicted wounds seared with pain. He was speechless, left gawking at your arms, specifically the one he had grabbed. Despite his concern, he proceeded to squeeze your wrist (albeit, absentmindedly - he was far too focused on the actual cuts). His fingers moved closer to them, as his mind scrambled desperately for any trace of logic.

Fear widened your eyes, causing you to whisper-yell, "No, please don't touch that!"

Hayato's mind ceased its constant rotations.

His eyes graced your own, partly in astonishment, partly in worry. He remembered all his previous musings with great sobriety - he was right to be concerned for your safety. Although, it hadn't ever truly crossed his thoughts, that you could have been your own arch-nemesis. That was just...it was awful, the fact that you felt such hopelessness, to rely upon a knife to release the agony. The deadly war in which you were engaged...it was against yourself, and that knowledge hurt immensely. He wished to place gentle kisses along all those beautiful, yet disheartening battle scars.

They were beautiful, he affirmed, because they were a part of you. They had been carved on to your flesh, and in spite of their secrecy, you owned them. With enough time and care, they could be removed, but they were a testament to your survival. You had lived, through everything which tried to kill you, and that made you strong - stronger than him, by far.

With determination, he maintained the eye-contact.

"You can talk to me, about anything. I'm not going to judge you. Everyone feels pain - people just cope differently."

"You - You're not disgusted? Scared?" Your voice quivered, emotions spilling to the surface.

"No, of course not. Those scars are yours, and you're beautiful. I'm not scared of them - I love them, like I love you."

This boy, he was honestly too sweet. Someone of your position, your weak constitution, didn't deserve he who behaved so admirably. He possessed a strength with which you could never compete. He was everything you had ever wished for in life. But...you couldn't keep him, and he couldn't keep you.

Not in this lifetime.

Before the illusion vanished, before it was too late and regret began to fester, you smiled, as brightly as possible. You wanted to leave him with something positive, if only for a mere second. Hayato mirrored your expression, ears burning crimson with the inclusion of your little "I love you too.". A question danced on the tip of his tongue, but he was never allowed to pose it.

"Hey, Hayato! What're you doing over here?" Said male turned, meeting the perplexed gaze of a certain, infamous red-head.

"Tendou?" He muttered, equally as confused. "I'm helping someone I bumped into."

A strange look came upon the boy's face.

"Well, did she run away before I got here? I didn't see anyone!"

The chocolate-orbed one paused, asking, "No...she's right her-"

Although, when he tried to glimpse your divinity once more, he found nothing but an empty spot. There was no indication that you had ever been in the general area, but he hadn't noticed you leave. Tendou surely would have seen you...?

Was madness consuming him?

[thebiasrekkers]

Edge of Forever [BTS Space!AU]

BTS Space!AU [ ♧ ✪ ✿ ☆ ❂ ☾✘ ] “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.” The stage is set and the stars are the guide for the lost souls that have congregated to one point. A fixed constant in the universe for others to discover and fulfill their wishes but will it come to ruin for others?

Pairings: BTS X OC (s) Genre: BTS Space!AU Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language

AO3

AN: I’m so glad you all like this series! Graphics and all! There’s more to come so please be patient! Please give all of the works here love and feel free to message us!

Chapter 16- Absolute Zero

"You're looking at an absolute zero I'm not the devil but I won't be your hero"

“Miss? Miss, please wake up!”

The man shook Nyala’s shoulder for another time, hoping against everything that she could hear him. He had happened to walk by her when they attacked, coming at her from all sides. She had a split second to defend herself but she was outnumbered and while he came to her assistance, it wasn’t long before she had passed out from the injuries. He was only a doctor, not a warrior and all he had on him was his jacket as well as his other tools. He didn’t come to Izanami to fight, only making a house call to a certain patient.

He didn’t even want to be there in the first place, preferring his life of solitude and little kids that always asked him for candy. Now he was faced with pirate scum as they closed in on the both of them. However, there were two people that came to their rescue and judging by the looks on their faces--they knew the person that was now lying on the cold hard ground. He crouched even closer to her when the fighting began and the others started to close in on them. All he heard was the crackle of electricity and the sound of heavy objects hitting the ground. He shifted his body from shielding her to trying to actively treat her, her head that had the thick liquid oozing out.

He knew he had a few supplies in his bag but nothing substantial unless they were to get to his temporary home.

The man looked up quickly, alarmed that there was a pirate right on him. He tried to jerk himself away from the grasping hands but he heard a sizzling sound, one that sounded like it was being shot off. He turned around, sensing someone behind him and saw that there was one of the two males behind him with a tiny gun in one of his hands. Legs braced and arm still extended with the gun still smoking, the man’s eyes went wide as he looked at the other before shaking himself to get back to what he was doing.

Yoongi wasn’t sure if he had enough guns for that particular fight and Jimin was doing more than he thought he could. He already knew that Jimin had been enhanced but he never realized to what extent. Even with the both of them, however, there was the worry that he wouldn’t be able to hold out against them. He kicked one in the face before pressing the derringer to the forehead of the offender and shot him point-blank. He had to take drastic measures, ones that he hadn’t used in a very long time.

Placing the guns back into his jacket, Yoongi opened his mind to the ones that were there. Jimin was in a rage that Nyala had been hurt, blaming himself for it happening. The man was worried that he wouldn’t be able to stop the bleeding and the pirates were after the bounty that Nyala posed. How they even found out was to be something he dug into later but for the moment, Yoongi saw red--the color of the pirates’ minds and he held onto them. Using his psionic abilities, he reached into each of the enemy’s skulls to take control. One by one he felt them fall under his grip, all 9 of them thinking that they had accomplished what they came there to do. That the alleyway was empty and they could stay still, talking to each other about their success. He impaired their minds and quite suddenly they all became very still, confusing Jimin. He was about to attack another one when they all fell down at the same time. Yoongi grunted, his eyes had turned all the way black and not just the irises either. He stood as still as they did as he held them there, imposing his will upon them. The younger man jogged up to Yoongi and was about to question him when Jimin noticed his eyes.

He turned away from the elder and started to talk to Kibeth in his earpiece. Finding out that the other group was at least 10 minutes away, he had to take a breath as not to lose his temper again. The other man was still attending to Nyala when Jimin trotted over to figure out what happened. He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as he reached out to her, placing a hand on her hip and shaking her.

“I need to get her back to my home. I have everything there that I can treat her with but I can’t do it here. They came out of nowhere and I happened to be passing by when it occurred ...” The man gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw working as he bit back the frustrations, “I couldn’t even help either.”

Jimin placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled, grateful that he was even there. He relayed the location of the man’s home, on the left side of the city. It was nearer to the ruins and they wouldn’t be bothered there, they hoped. Or even, if they could even get out there in the first place. Yoongi was starting to sweat with the effort of keeping the others on the ground, muscles tensed from the effort. They had at least three more minutes and several of the guys were twitching, a signal that he was slowly losing control over them.

Yoongi thought about outright killing them but that would cause even more problems for them if there were more bodies there than what they’ve already done. On the other side, there would be less people chasing after them and give them more time to do what they needed to do. He fought with that thought, the merciful side of him coming out. He even thought about erasing their memories or giving them some sort of amnesia to give them another life. But when the rest of them pulled up in a car they had rented and ready to fight, he realized that these people couldn’t live. Jungkook gently placed a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, his thoughts suddenly invading his concentration.

Several of the men started to get up, groggy from what happened but Yoongi knew what it was that Jungkook was saying. Once he lifted his hand, Jungkook gestured to the man and Nyala so while the rest of them got the pair into the car--he reasserted himself into their minds again. All of the men raised their guns to their heads and pulled the trigger, killing all of them instantly.

With the connection severed, Yoongi fell to the ground as exhaustion hit him harder than any of them ever did. He didn’t realize that Vairuit stayed out of the car, her hands helping him up. He felt something wet at his nose and after wiping it, discovered that it was his blue blood as it turned darker as it was exposed to the oxygen. The car roared off with everyone but Jungkook, Vairuit and Yoongi towards the temporary home of the doctor. Vairuit attended to Yoongi while Jungkook looked around for another form of transportation. He couldn’t quite keep up with Vairuit but he could at least carry Yoongi with him on another vehicle. As he went off to find one, she kept her arms around him as she supported him and walked him away from the scene. She craned her head to look at the scene behind them but he grunted, making her turn her attention to him.

“No. Don’t look.”

It was a simple request but he didn’t want anyone to see what it was that he could do. Not even the ones that were used to fighting and possibly killing, Yoongi didn’t want them to see him as one of them. As one of them , a killer with no sense of mercy or humanity like the pirates. He wouldn’t become one of them, even if he had his own fair share of blood on his hands. Indirectly or directly, even he wasn’t exempt from the ravages of space and wars. Sure, he funded and exploited such times but even he wasn’t without some sort of compassion. He wouldn’t become his family or akin to something like the pirates.

He would even the playing field for them all and protect them.

Jungkook came back with a motorcycle, something that he could find in that short amount of time. Vairuit helped him onto the vehicle, her hands lingering on his back and on Jungkook’s arm. She was beside herself that she couldn’t help when she was needed, frustrated that things were going that way. Yoongi could barely keep his head up, leaning on Jungkook who looked back at her. He had a sympathetic look on his face, knowing full well what it was that he was going through. After all, his past spoke volumes about how unbothered he was about the scene. His eyes lingered on Variuit before starting up the engine. He drove off, speeding to catch up with the other vehicle.

She gave one last look at the scene before sprinting off after them. Being one of her kind, she could endure long runs, sprints and other things that normal beings couldn’t. Her race was designed to be warriors with as little weaknesses as possible. However, that didn’t stop them from happening--just like with the others. Yoongi wasn’t a killer and she knew it but circumstances warranted it. As hard and commandeering as she could be, her heart hurt for him now as she understood him a little more. The pirates were all to blame for everyone’s misery and it was high time that they got their just desserts.

When she ran off, she didn’t notice someone standing on one of the rooftops. A man stared down at them, frowning. He took out a device and started to punch things in, fingers going as fast as lightning. Several drones appeared and started to follow them in the direction they went, towards the ruins of the city. He watched them on his device before making his move, his earrings tinkling in the wind as he moved. He would catch up to them soon enough.

[rockthingsbymeg]

You’re the jackpot I never played to get

Pairing: Dom!Roger x Sub!OC!Brooklyn

Info: SMUT (read only if you feel comfortable!), cursing, language, dom-sub dynamics, unprotected sex (be safe guys!), dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), masturbation, light (?) breeding kink, car sex. 4410 words.

A/N: Hey there! I’ve literally dissapeared from here, I know, but now I’m back (at least I hope… I swear I’m going to try). I’ll be posting mostly stuff from Roger Taylor from Queen because this man is someting else completly… I mean it… English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes. I wanted to thank @cherries-n-rocknroll for beta-reading and helping me edit this, it truly meant a lot! Anyways, I think that’s all I wanted to say.

—————

The first time they saw her was right after a recording session. The four men walked out of the studio, and standing by a black Ferrari - the same one that had dropped Roger earlier that day - stood a beautiful woman. Her long, brown hair waved with the breeze; her eyes were covered by a pair of dark sunglasses, but they assumed she was looking at them, judging by the position of her head. A cigarette rested on her lips, a stain of dark lipstick on the orange part as she took her last puff, throwing it on a nearby trash can.

“See you tomorrow!” Roger spoke mindlessly at his friends, a smirk adorning his lips as he made his way to the woman.

Brooklyn. That was her name, Roger absolutely loved it. He had loved how it rolled of her lips the first time they met and he still loved it to this day. Brooklyn. It fitted her so well, like it was made just for her. It had exactly the right amount of mystery to it, yet still feeling somewhat soft. It felt comforting when he heard it, when he said it. Brooklyn. His Brooklyn.

A smirk formed on her lips as well, her arms - before folded over her chest - now rested by her sides. She wore a pair of jean shorts that allowed everyone to see her long, tanned legs. The top half of her body was covered by a floral shirt that Brian recognized as Roger’s, neatly tucked inside the shorts but still a bit loose, not hiding the shape of her breasts.

As the blonde approached her, she removed the glasses, her turquoise eyes shining under the sunlight as she looked at Roger. The smirk subsided, giving place to a sweet smile. His hands moved to rest on her waist, flushing their bodies together in a fluid motion and planting a kiss on her cheek. Her smile widened, arms moving up and around his neck bringing him in for a quick peck on the lips before giving another one on his cheek. She handed him the keys and walked over to the passenger’s side, both getting inside the car and leaving behind three very dumbfounded boys.

“I’d never seen Roger be that sweet!” Freddie commented with a shocked expression. “And I’ve known that bitch for years!” He spoke even louder looking between Brian and John, waiting for a reaction from them both.

“I’ve known him for even longer and I can’t remember him being like that near a girl.“ Brian had his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, eyes still on the spot where the car had been. “He looked so-” he began but Freddie ended the sentence for him.

“-in love…“ it came out nearly as a whisper. And at that, the realization hit Fred like a ton of bricks. “Never thought I’d live to see the day Roger Taylor was in love.”​ he laughed and began his walk to his friend’s cars.

John rolled his eyes at Freddie as both he and Brian began to walk behind him. “Whoever listens to you will think he doesn’t have a heart”.

Freddie looked at the man “You know that’s not how I meant it!” He waved his hand at John “It’s just- tell me, when was the last time you saw Roger looking at a woman like she isn’t a piece of meat made for him to shag?” he turned around and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I get what you’re saying,” John explained himself “But all I’m saying is that maybe, this time, he doesn’t look at her like that. And you sound like you’re judging him, instead of supporting. And for all we know, she could be just a shag that he plans on keeping for more than a day.“ He shrugged as they made it to their cars. “Anyways, see you tomorrow!” John spoke one last time before getting in his car. Brian and Freddie looked at him as he left, and then at each other.

“Roger never mentioned her to you?” Freddie asked his mate, eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“No.” Brian answered simply, trying to think of Roger speaking to him recently about any girl. “He started to go out less times during the last few months but…” he trailed off, connecting that with the fact that it had been a while since he saw Roger with girls at parties or after gigs.

“Do you think he’d hide her from us?” Freddie asked, more like he was thinking aloud.

“Well, I would if I knew you’d start asking this many questions.“ Brian teased him, and Freddie flipped him the bird. “Look, Fred, if it is indeed something serious, he’ll end up telling us. And you know it!” They stopped by Brian’s car.

“I know, I know. But I’m curious. And I bet you’re too.“ He gave Brian a pointed look, as well as a pointed finger.

“See you tomorrow Fred!” Brian chuckled, getting into his car, listening to Freddie complaining about something before the noise became muffled outside the doors. Probably about the fact that his cab still hadn’t gotten there to drive him to wherever he said he had to go.

[…]

While the boys had been chatting in the parking lot, Roger had been making his way back to her home. The trip was longer than if they went to his, but it didn’t bother him the slightest as he casted glances at Brooklyn, who had her bare feet on the leather seat of her car, looking at Roger throughout the ride.

“Your mates seemed a bit confused back there.“ She commented with her velvet voice echoing in the silent car. “Not used to see you being so lovely to a lady?” she smirked, well aware of his reputation.

Roger smirked her way before looking back at the road. “They know I can be a little nicer than usual around women if that’s what it takes to get into their pants.” He answered simply, coming to a stop on a red light. “It just tends to happen after a couple drinks and not when I’m completely sober,“ He looked back at her, bringing his hand to rub the soft skin of her thigh.

“I see. Roger Taylor needs to keep up the look of a lady’s man, and not a goofy lover.” She opened her legs, allowing his hand to trail to the inside of her thigh. The tone she used was light and funny, but deep down Roger knew she actually meant what she said.

“I promised you,“ He looked seriously at her, squeezing her flesh between his fingers in a reassuring way. “I don’t need to keep up any looks, and I won’t if that makes you feel uncomfortable.” He began to drive again as the light changed to green, eyes focusing back on the road but returning to hers at every chance he got “I want you to feel comfortable around me, to trust me. And if dropping my lady’s man is what it takes, then I’ll do it.” He squeezed her flesh again, shooting her a heart-warming smile.

An enormous smile spread across her face, making the skin near her eyes wrinkle. “I love you,“ She spoke in a lower and sweeter tone, getting Roger to look at her with the most love-struck gaze ever.

With a smile as wide as hers he answered “I love you too angel.” He removed his hand, focusing back on the road, feeling her eyes in the side of his body.

After only a few seconds of silence, Brooklyn spoke again. “As sweet as all of this was, I have to admit something.“ Roger glanced at her, curious. “I’m soaking wet because you placed your hand on my thigh.” They both chuckled, Roger looking at her with a devious grin.

“You have two options baby girl,” He smirked, eyes back on the road. “Either you wait until we get home or you open up those shorts and begin the work yourself.“ He spoke casually, making her whine by his side.

With her eyes glued to Roger’s profile, her hand smoothly snaked down her shorts, not even bothering to open them. And her fingers immediately found her clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles around it.

“Tell me what you’re doing baby girl,” He groaned glancing briefly at her.

“I'm…I’m rubbing slowly around my clit s-sir…” She whined, feeling her back arch off of the seat.

“Are you teasing yourself? Want to last longer for me?” He spoke, his voice raspy just the way he knew she liked it.

“Y-yes sir,” She moaned, looking at him “Can I please touch my clit sir? I promise I won’t cum.“ She begged, stopping her hands for a bit, not wanting to tease herself any further unless he made her.

“Talk with me baby, tell me what you’re imagining.” He growled, looking at her as they stopped for another red light. The last one before they got home.

“Okay sir,” she began, taking a deep breath and stroking her clit tentatively “I’m not imagining anything sir, I’m remembering last night.“ She smiled and so did he, bringing his lips to hers in a slow kiss. “You made me so full. Your cock felt so big and so good inside me. And you knew all the right places to hit, just like every other time.” She moaned, speeding her movements as her legs began to tremble. “And I was remembering how much you came. God Roger, it was so, so much…” She trailed off. Usually, he would say something about this. They had a rule, Roger was sir​ for her. But he completely lost himself in all the pleasure shown by her eyes.

At this point, Roger was rock hard in his briefs, wanting nothing more than to make her feel as good as he did last night. He had decided to make it the best, as it was the first time they had sex after deciding not to use any condoms or pills. They were ready for whatever came in their future.  

He could see how much she wanted to cum, how much she was holding back just to satisfy him. With a kind smile and one last kiss, he spoke again: “You can cum if you want to baby girl.” He returned his attention to the road, speeding up more than he probably should just to get home faster. “I wanna see your panties soaked when we get home.“ He grunted, readjusting in his seat as he heard a moaned chuckle escape her lips.

“That’s going to be hard Rog…” She smirked at him, fingers stroking her as fast as she possibly could, a muffled, wet noise echoing trough the car.

“What? Why?” He glanced at her through the corner of his eyes, eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m not wearing any…” She moaned, smirking when she saw him bite his lip.

“You’re going to be the death of me” He breathed out, feeling his cock twitch at her words. His eyes met hers briefly and that made did trick for her: she came loudly, legs trembling, heels digging into her seat and hips thrusting up to meet her hand. Her head had fallen back, eyes nearly closed as she didn’t tear her gaze away from Rog.

He tried his best to focus on the road, but he couldn’t help glancing at her every five seconds or so, watching her pleasuring herself to a breaking point all while looking at him. And her noises, oh​ lord​, the noises were the most sinful and beautiful thing he’d ever heard and it nearly made him cum in his pants.

She could see him tense up, breathing labored and ragged as she came down from her high. She pulled her fingers from her clit, raising them to his lips and he sucked on them, humming at her taste. Without a warning he stopped the car and turned to her, kissing her fiercely and reaching his hand down her shorts, wanting to taste her again.

She didn’t even notice they were at her place already, except for when she pulled away from the kiss and caught a glimpse of Mrs. Williams looking at her with a face of utter disgust; she’d have to be blind not to realize where Roger had his hands and that woman was far​ ​ from being blind.

At the slurping noise Roger made while sucking her fingers she turned to him with her cheeks flushed, holding back her laughter. “What?” He asked with his eyebrows furrowed, eyes moving to the spot where hers previously looked, seeing the woman with her eyes on them. “I think she likes what she sees baby girl” he chuckled, kissing her on the lips one last time. “But this is a private show, only for me and you to enjoy, so how about we get inside?” He smirked at her, moving to get out of the car, not really bothered if Brooklyn’s neighbor saw how hard he was or how fucked up Brooklyn looked.

The girl followed behind, closing the car behind herself and walking to Roger, intertwining her fingers with his and leading him inside her house. As soon as Roger closed the door behind himself, her hands flew to her -​ more like his - shirt and pulled it out of her shorts, undoing the buttons slowly and maintaining eye contact with Roger as he took a step closer to her. His left hand came to rest on her waist while his right one came to her chin, lifting her head just a little up and planting his lips on hers. He didn’t move for a few seconds until he felt her hands sliding over his middle, holding him close. Her eyes gradually closed, and her breath finally began to slow down. Only then Roger began to move his lips. He knew she melted whenever he kissed her like this, and he could feel her relaxing into his touch. Her head tilted to the side, Roger mimicked it, and soon the kiss deepened, but didn’t speed up.

His rough and yet delicate hands moved to her front, slowly undoing the last few buttons of the shirt until he was able to feel the skin of her stomach freely. His hands rested on her sides, thumbs gently stroking her ribs and the bottom of her bralette-covered breasts, sighing deeply against her lips. He pulled her a bit closer, more firmly, before they both parted their lips, still allowing them to brush together.

“I​ love it when you kiss me like that…​” she spoke in a low voice against his lips, a smile wide across her face while they both kept their eyes closed

“I​ love you,​” he breathed out, not daring to open his eyes as his hands squeezed her more firmly, like she was a dream about to fade away from his memory.

“I love you too,” she breathed out with a wide smile.

His lips pecked hers once before he moved his mouth to her neck, trailing hot, wet, open-mouthed kissed on her skin until he reached her collarbone. His hands reached for the waistline of her shorts and undid the button, letting the demin slide down a bit. Roger looked down at the wet patch on her clothes, looking back up at her eyes and brushing his lips against hers like he was going to dive in for a kiss, instead just teasing.

“You’ve​ made a mess all over your clothes baby,​” he whispered, pushing her shorts all the way down to the floor and kneeling in front of her, a look of sheer love and admiration in his eyes. His hands trailed up her legs, stroking her skin as she looked down at him, her breathing getting heavier by the second as her hand reached to tangle itself in his hair.

The look in his eyes asked for permission, and as she nodded, he placed a single kiss over her clit, smiling as a small and weak whimper left her lips. His tongue darted out, moving between her folds and making her moan. Waves of pleasure made her shock violently, hand tugging his hair because she felt like she was going to collapse like a corpse on the ground at any moment if he kept up his work. And that seemed exactly his plan. His eyes had closed, face relaxed while he skillfully worked his tongue against her wet cunt, delighted by her salty taste. And the simple sight made her knees grow weaker, making her reach a hand to the railing of the stairs besides them, looking for extra support. It would probably make her arm go numb, but in that moment, she didn’t care.

Roger looked up at her through his long lashes with a smile spreading across his face. He placed a kiss on her clit again and then got up on his feet, bringing her closer by the waist “I think it’s better if you lay down, don’t you?” He smirked, picking her up effortlessly and walking to her bedroom.

By now, most of her stuff was gone. Some boxes rested on the corner, filled with the last piles of clothes and some old decoration she wanted to bring along with her to their new flat, way closer to Roger’s studio and way bigger. Enough for him, her, and the little one - or ones - they hoped to have. He placed her on top of the bed, stopping for a minute to admire her: her hair fell around her perfeclty, creating almost a sea of dark brown waves; her pupils were blown wide with lust, the brown nearly gone and replaced by their black; her chest, adorned by the black, lacy bralette she wore moved up and down in quick moves and, lastly, her legs were spread for him, wetness glistening under the afternoon glow. She was with​ no shadow of a doubt the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And she was his; she wanted to be his. It made his chest clench in the most delicious way possible, and a smile break across his face again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked shyly, grabbing his hand and pulling him to rest on his fours on top of her, noses bumping together while their lips brushed.

“Because you’re beautiful” he looked down at her with his endearing love-struck gaze, mixed slightly with his lust-blown pupils as well. As much as the tent in his jeans was uncomfortable, he could not bring himself to stop looking at her the way he was now.

She chuckled before pressing a kiss to his lips “I love you a lot Roger. And you’re beautiful too, and that’s why if you don’t get down there again I’ll be extremely​ frustrated!” She stated and he laughed aloud at that.

He kissed her lips again, pulling away to wink at her. “Aye, Aye Captain” he joked, leaving a trail of wet kisses down her body. First on the column of her neck, then between her breasts, then right above her belly button, and then her hip bone. The last one was placed on her clit, followed by his tongue pressing flatly against it and his lips wrapped around it, sucking her into his mouth with a wet noise.

“Fuck Rog…” her voice echoed inside the room and inside his head. “You’re so good to me.” she moaned again, her hand trailing down to his hair and the other one gripping the bed sheets.

He hummed happily against her, hands wrapping around her thighs to stop them from closing around his head. He alternated between sucking her nub and fucking her with his tongue, rolling it around her walls and feeling her clench at the feeling. The overstimulation from the first orgasm made this second one build a lot quicker, and as much ​as he loved​ having her cumming with his tongue, he knew she didn’t love overstimulation that much. He stopped and brought his mouth back to hers, kissing her deeply and slowly.

“You gonna fill me up Rog?” she moaned against his lips, earning a groan from the back of his throat as he rutted against her.

“Yeah baby girl,” he moaned, pressing harder against her.

“Yeah? Gonna give me your babies? Get me all knocked up, looking big and beautiful only for you?” she moaned, and that, along with the talking, made Roger nearly loose it.

“Fuck Brook… How do you want it baby girl? Tell me how you want me to fill you up.“ He breathed out, getting on his knees and doing a quick work of his clothes.

Instead of answering she turned around, laying with her ass on the air and in full display for him. She heard more shuffling before she felt the tip of his cock run through her folds, gathering the slickness before pulling away.

“Show me you can take my cock,” he asked and by the tone of his voice, she could picture his hand moving languidly over his length.

Without so much as flinch, she dipped two fingers inside herself, soon followed by a third one and, as quick as they were in they were out. Just to show Rog she’d take him easily. He pressed his cock against her hole again. And this time, he pushed inside, her walls clenching violently as she moaned loudly, eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“So warm and so wet…” Roger moaned, hands moving to her body as he stroked the skin of her waist. “Can I move?” He asked between ragged breaths and as she nodded he pulled back, before pushing back in, causing another moan to roll out from both their mouths.

He started slow, with deep and harsh thrusts, filling her up to the brim. But, as the pleasure became too much, and the pleas more consistent, his pace built up. His unflinching rhythm skills making her roll her eyes to the back of her head with a series of curse words leaving her mouth as she began to push back into him. She wanted to praise him more, to ask for his cum, but her brain could no longer function with how much pleasure she was feeling. And soon enough, she was nearing another orgasm.

“Roger please…” she begged, her right hand moving to rest on top of his one, squeezing and bringing it to her clit “I’m gonna cum…” her voice was shallow and, as he leaned on top of her to have a better access to her clit, his mouth pressed itself against her ear, his grunts now being the only thing she could focus on.

“It’s alright baby girl… Cum all over my cock, show me how good I make you feel.“ He moaned out, feeling the familiar coil on his stomach getting tighter and tighter and his thrusts getting sloppier.

He flicked his finger over her clit in rapid moves, pressuring just right and, as his free hand moved to pull her left tit out of her bra and kneed it between his fingers. That did it, she was sent over the edge as a loud cry of pleasure echoed the room. Her body shook against him, hips pushing back against him and away from him with force, walls pulsing violently around his cock until he too came with a loud moan by her ear. His hands squeezed her body tight against his and he buried his cock balls deep into her, loads of cum shooting inside her body with every stutter of his hips.

The one move they made was to collapse sideways on her bed, bodies sweaty and warm against each other. Roger kept his arms around her, by her stomach, not bothering to pull out, he just wanted to feel her every time she clenched. “That was really​ good.” She breathed out, followed by a light laugh coming from them both.

“Yeah,“ he simply spoke, still trying to calm his breath. “But let’s face it: it always is with us.” His tone was playful and smug, and it perfectly accompanied the smirk on his lips.

She wrestled a bit until she was able to turn around in his grasp, a smile glued to her face as her hand began to push his sweaty hair out of his face.

He was thinking about something, she could see it by the look in his eyes, but before she could ask, he began to speak. “I want to host a little dinner so you can meet them.” He said while pulling her closer and rolling onto his back, letting her rest on top of him.

“The band?” She asked and he nodded “Are you sure?” her voice held insecurities that Roger already knew about and it made him hug her tight against him.

“You’re the most important person in my life,” he began, voice low and sweet by her ear. “They’ve been part of very important things in my life and I want them to know that I’m with you, that I love you, that I plan on spending every moment I can with you and every other sappy thing you can think of…” he smiled widely at her. “I know you think they won’t like you but can you please tell me, what’s not to like?” She lifted her head and rested her chin on his chest, meeting his eyes “You’re funny, generous, empathic, caring, sarcastic, hot as fuck, beautiful… You’re the jackpot I never played to get. The only reason I could ever think for not wanting them to meet you is because I still think you could get so much better than me and I’m afraid they’re that person.” He spoke with his voice breaking at the end, hands cupping her flaming cheeks as he peppered kisses across her forehead. “You’re the love of my life baby.” He smiled down at her.

She could feel her cheeks hurting due to the wideness of her smile. “I won’t ever leave you. Never baby. Not for one of your bandmates, not​ for anyone else.” she stroked his hair, tangling one of her hands in his. “You’re it for me. Don’t ever forget that!” She kissed him, letting go of his hand as he snaked his arms around her and pulled her in for a deep kiss.

[birdlord]

Everything I Watched in 2019

Movies

The number in parentheses is year of release, asterisks denote a re-watch, and titles in bold are my favourite watches of the year. 

01 The Death of Stalin (17) does a neat trick of building goodwill for Steve Buscemi’s Krushchev, then brutally pays that off in the last few minutes. 

02 Sorry to Bother You (18)

03 Support the Girls (18)

04 Paddington (14)*

05 Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (16)

06 Eighth Grade (18) probably the most terrifying movie I watched all year, if you didn’t watch it through your fingers, who even are you?

07 Morvern Callar (02) much less bleak than the book, but then, nearly anything would be

08 The Favourite (18) revolting and beautiful. 

09 Columbus (17) a really lovely movie about architecture and parent-child relationships.

10 Bring it On (00)*

11 The Land of Steady Habits (18) feels wackier than your average Holofcener, but still a good watch. 

12 Spotlight (15) i was really bowled over by this, and wasn’t expecting to be. Workmanlike filmmaking, but an extraordinary story, well-told.

13 The Killing of a Sacred Deer (17) Barry Keoghan is a blank, but somehow compelling screen presence. This one has an ending that made me bark with laughter.

14 Legends of the Fall (94)

15 Moneyball (11)* if you don’t feel like watching anything in particular, you can always watch Moneyball

16 If Beale St Could Talk (18) very beautiful, but I failed to connect with it on any other level. 

17 For Keeps (88)

18 Abducted in Plain Sight (17)

19 Oscar Shorts (Animated) (18) the offerings were very sappy this year, but the winner was decent! Lots of Toronto content (weird). 

20 Oscar Shorts (Live Action) (18) *unquestionably* the worst one of these won ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

21 Velvet Buzzsaw (19)

22 Vice (18) ugh

23 Friends with Money (06)

24 Can You Ever Forgive Me (18)

25 Bohemian Rhapsody (18) haha what. was. that.

26 Mars Attacks (96)*

27 Paddington 2 (18)

28 Buffy the Vampire Slayer (92)*

29 Shoplifters (18)

30 Blindspotting (18) jacked Ethan Embry in a supporting role?! Whither? Howso? Wherefore?

31 Witness (85)

32 Harry & the Hendersons (87)*

33 The Matrix (99)*

34 T2 Trainspotting (17)

35 Blockers (18)

36 The Slums of Beverly Hills (98)

37 Can’t Hardly Wait (98)*

38 Avengers: Infinity War (18)

39 Iron Man II (10)

40 Isle of Dogs (18)

41 Chinatown (74)*

42 To Live & Die in LA (85)

43 Age of Innocence (93) Daniel Day-Lewis manages to make Newland Archer compelling, where in the novel he’s...the worst?!

44 Shopgirl (05)*

45 The House (17) didn’t sustain all the way through, but then, that’s how mainstream comedies often go. 

46 The Beguiled (17)

47 Badlands (73)*

48 Poetic Justice (93)

49 The Empire Strikes Back (80)*

50 Calibre (18)

51 The Kindergarten Teacher (18)

52 Hounds of Love (17) a nice little Aussie thriller, set in the 80s

53 Kicking & Screaming (95)*

54 Octopussy (83)*

55 Jaws (79)*

56 Lover Come Back (61)

57 Frenzy (72)

58 Always Be My Maybe (19)

59 Certain Women (16) took a while to get to this one, but it’s as great as they say it is. 

60 Baby Driver (17) all flash, little substance.

61 Sneakers (92)

62 Roadhouse (87)*

63 Bull Durham (88)*

64 Ghostbusters (84)*

65 Booksmart (19) I think this will improve on multiple viewings, though I loved the soundtrack and the mix of characters. 

66 Hereditary (18)

67 Rebecca (40) George Sanders as Rebecca’s cousin is BRILLIANT

68 Vertigo (58)*

69 The Dead Don’t Die (19)

70 Crawl (19)

71 Dazed & Confused (93)* If you don’t watch this once a summer, what is wrong with you?

72 Jackie Brown (97)

73 Talk Radio (88)

74 The Guilty (18)

75 Killing Heydrich (17)

76 Lady Bird (17)*

77 Billy Elliot (00)*

78 White House Down (13)* Channing Potatum saves the White House!

79 The Film Worker (17)

80 Whitney (18)

81 Mascot (16)

82 Apocalypse Now (79)* technically I’d only seen the Redux version from the early 2000s, so the regular cut is new to me. 

83 Apollo 13 (95)*

84 Psycho 2 (83) the twist is very guessable, but there are a couple of nice-looking scenes.

85 Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (04)*

86 The Bodyguard (92)*

87 Murder Mystery (19)

88 Wildlife (18)

89 The Stepford Wives (75)*

90 Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (71)*

91 The Natural (84)

92 The Other Boleyn Girl (08)

93 Speed (94)*

94 Opera (87)

95 That’s my Boy (12) haha what?!

96 The Big Short (15)

97 Elizabeth the Golden Age (07)

98 The Glass Castle (17) when I read the book, I genuinely thought it was fiction, it’s so insane. 

99 Dawn of the Dead (78)*

100 All About Eve (50) lady on lady violence is a special thing

101 La La Land (16)

102 Morning Glory (10) remember Rachel McAdams?

103 Casino (95)*

104 Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (06)

105 Pet Sematary (19)

106 Clue (85)*

107 Her Smell (18) amazing soundtrack and the songs were well-chosen. Heartbreaking musical moment in the final act. 

108 Bobby Sands: 66 Days (16)

109 She’s Gotta Have it (86)

110 Good Morning (59)

111 Hustlers (19) I didn’t connect with this as much as the reviews led me to believe I might. 

112 Nocturnal Animals (16)

113 Kill Bill Vol 1 (03) I’d only ever seen the second one before, being a non-Tarantino completionist.

114 Fried Green Tomatoes (91)* I watch this more than anticipated...

115 Steel Magnolias (89)

116 Notting Hill (99)*

117 A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (19) the tiny city models were inspired!

118 National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (89)*

119 Let It Snow (19)

120 Frozen (13)

121 The Irishman (19) most interesting as a sort of pastiche/reckoning on the part of Scorsese about his other gangster films. Really outmoded view of unions. Definitely could have been edited down if anyone were able to come to it without undue reverence, but I did love the bit about the fish.

122 Girls Trip (17) actual plot is beside the point. 

123 About a Boy (02)* I always think of this as the “vomit and sweaters” movie, anyone else?

124 Animal House (78)*

DOCUMENTARY : FICTION - 4:120

THEATRE : HOME - 9:115

TV Series

01 Russian Doll - I think I would have enjoyed this more if it hadn’t been bingeable - would have made a nice week-by-week discussion sort of show. I loved to watch the changes between re-ups of our major characters, and I think the actual plotting would reward re-watches. 

02 Catastrophe S4 - A satisfying ending to an excellent show, with very charismatic leads (and deeply weird supporting characters). Had to write around Carrie Fisher’s death, and I’m sure did a better job of it than Star Wars did. 

03 Friends from College S2 - More of the same, which is what I was after. A show like cotton candy (but with more infidelity). 

04 High Maintenance S3 - A lot more of this season took place outside of New York City, which was a great change of pace. And a great deal more information about The Guy and his own life; both difficulties and successes included. 

05 Losers - This was a great little docuseries on Netflix that I didn’t hear a lot of people talking about - it’s about sports losses, but unusual sports ie curling, figure skating and the like. You’d think it would get repetitive, being as it’s always about recovering after loss, but it doesn’t! I wish they would make another season….

06 Shrill - a tight six episode dramedy about an alt-weekly journalist in the Pacific Northwest, based on Lindy West’s memoir of the same name. John Cameron Mitchell as her boss (based on Dan Savage) stands out of the ensemble cast, as does Annie’s roommate played by a British standup Lolly Adefope.

07 Broad City S5 - I haven’t always kept up with Broad City, but I came back to it for its final season, and thought it did a good job of setting its characters up for big changes in their lives. 

08 I Think You Should Leave - It’s easy to assume that all sketch comedy is terrible and always will be, but then you see this, and throw your TV out the window (due to all the laffs)

09 Fleabag S2 - Everything you’ve heard is true, this season is goddamn hilarious and ridiculously sexy. A huge step up from the first season, which was already pretty fantastic and incisive. 

10 Fosse/Verdon - Musicals are not particularly my bag, so I’m sure there was a lot that I missed in terms of references, but the lead performances ably carried me through all of the time jumps and various performances. 

11 Stranger Things S3 - Say it after me: d-i-m-i-n-i-s-h-i-n-g r-e-t-u-r-n-s! Maya Hawke kills it, though. 

12 Big Little Lies S2 - Unnecessary, and (if possible) even sillier than the first season.

13 Lorena - Part of the ongoing quest to rehabilitate the maligned women of the 1990s, this gave me tons of context that I had no idea about at the time, due to being a dumb kid. 

14 Glow S3 - I felt like I was losing steam on this series this year, but episodes like the camping ep kept me coming back. A great ensemble, though some unusual character choices (like a certain kiss *cough*) took me out of it by times. 

15 Lodge 49 S1-3 - I’d kept hearing about this show, so I finally sought it out. I can’t say it was amazingly compelling (I almost dropped it after the first season) but it’s definitely an oddball of a show, slipping from setpiece to setpiece with little regard for logic. For me, a background show. 

16 Chernobyl - This show really gave me the Bad Feeling, humans were definitely A Mistake.

17 On Becoming a God in Central Florida - Kiki in a trashy mode, not as infinitely appealing as the version she pulled off in the second season of Fargo, but scrappy and industrious nonetheless.

18 Show Me a Hero - I’d put off watching this for years, it felt like it was going to be too dull (housing policy in Yonkers?) but it’s great, and larded up with Bruce Springsteen songs, obvs.

19 Great British Bake Off S9-S10 - I’d also held off on watching this for a long time, out of loyalty to Mel, Sue, and Mary Berry. But I needed some comfort viewing towards the end of the summer, and the new hosts and judge do an able job, although the show’s tropes are feeling a bit well-worn at this point. 

20 Righteous Gemstones S1 - A rollicking ride for sure, with a great cast. Your mileage/patience with Danny McBride may vary, so keep that in mind, naturally. 

21 This Way Up S1 - A small show starring the fabulous Aisling Bea, about mental health and families and some nice comic physical acting. Oh, and in case you were watching The Crown and crushing on Tobias Menzies’ version of Prince Phillip, he plays a hot dad love interest in this, which gives you all the Tobias you’re looking for, without the PP racisms. 

22 The Crown S3 - This is the first season of the big cast switchover, and I thought it stuck reasonably well, once we were in it an episode or two. This season concentrated even less on Elizabeth herself, preferring her sister, husband, and (newly!) her children.

[witch-of-letters]

Our Work Is Never Done, Part 1/2 (Ezio Auditore x Reader)

Word Count: 4073

Summary: You are a Spanish Master Assassin who has accepted the contract to kill a low-ranked Templar in Rome. Ezio decides to lend you a hand, but even that doesn’t prevent the mission from going south.

Author’s Note #1: I’m really trying to break the ice mountain called ‘Writer’s Block’, so writing this fic and posting it is the first step to doing so. The plot is rather random, but it worked for me as it wasn’t that difficult to think through (my brain has difficulties with writing short stories though, lol, so that’s why I decided to divide the one-shot into two parts for easier reading).

Please note that there are rather negative references to the Christian religion, and the Reader is described as a fervent atheist. My work is purely fictional and is not meant to offend anyone. So without any further ado, relax, sit back, and enjoy reading this fic!

Author’s Note #2: Translations are at the end. Cursive - thoughts/emphasis/Italian. Bold cursive - places/Spanish

Feedback and comments are much appreciated ;3!

Chapter 2

     “Come forth and browse my wares! Fabrics from all over the Mediterranean sea!”  

     “Jewels! Buy some jewels! Necklace for a lady, a ring for a man!”  

     “Freshly baked pastries! Straight from the oven!”  

   Perched on the roof of a building, you watched as the merchants tried to turn people’s attention to their wares. Some of them took notice and approached the stalls, others simply ignored all the shouting, preferring to only look and move on. If it weren’t for the fact that you were on a mission, you would definitely buy some kind of trinket (courtesy of being paid handsomely for completing the contracts).

 For once, your target was an actual Templar rather than a sleazy and greedy noble, or some other little villain. Normally you preferred to leave them to the assassins of lower ranks, finding that while ridding towns and cities from evil was all good, your skills were still wasted on rabble. You weren’t named a Master Assassin for nothing.

 Soon enough, your target, Antonio Vello dei Campo, walked around the market, seemingly disinterested in what the merchants were offering. He even turned down a gently spoken offer of a generous discount by a woman, whom you saw attracting people with her beauty and charm. Judging by the bulky men at his sides, he was being escorted by them, very likely for protection from attackers. They glared at anyone who stared too long at their master. A pathetic attempt at intimidation, but it was enough to make the folk turn their eyes away.

 You contemplated your options of attack. Usually, the contractors didn’t care enough to specify in which fashion the intended target had to be killed, leaving only the small description on a parchment. Antonio wasn’t that important of a Templar. Sure, he had a lot of connections in both Italy and France alike (most of them made through arranged marriages with his family members), but he didn’t care enough to further all of his Order’s goals, making him a rather untrusted member among his comrades. That is why your reward would only be some 1500 florins. A big disappointment for you.

 As he moved further into the market, you stood up to follow his party, using your Eagle Vision to keep track of him (something that only your closest friends and family knew - especially the Auditores). And while you were more silent and stealthier than La Volpe himself, you still prayed to whoever was above, that no guards would spot you on the roofs. They were annoying enough to be a huge nuisance to the assassins.

 Getting rid of his bodyguards would be an easy feat as you often come across such brutes in your travels. You knew all their weaknesses, and no matter what kind of armour they wore, they would always fall by your blade. But then again, you couldn’t just underestimate them. Such behaviour can often prove to be fatal when one isn’t careful.

 Continuing to keep an eye on him, you quickly and carefully moved across the roofs. From the sidelines, it looked like a graceful dance, with the way you moved your limbs. Your friends and comrades loved to point that out, much to your embarrassment. You knew that you were very skilled, of course, but you were not the one to brag about it, and that’s what Ezio loved about you.

 *****

 Unbeknownst to you, his heart always clenched at the mere mention of your name, finding out one night after fighting the traitors within the Spanish Brotherhood that he had fallen in love with you. At that moment, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts go back to Cristina, his first love. He had long ago let her go, as he couldn’t be with her while avenging the deaths of his father and brothers. He even beat up, or rather tried to talk sense into her fiancé to be a good and loving husband to her, for Dios’ sake! But when he thought about you, he knew he would do things for you so much more than that. Aside from you being very skilled and humble, he loved your divine beauty - the way sun shone down upon you, putting your auburn locks ‘on fire’; your freckles that dotted your cheeks and forehead; and your athletic figure, putting all the other girls to shame (with the exception of Claudia, of course). He loved how you were able to speak many languages besides your mother tongue with the greatest of ease. He loved how kind and caring you were to children. He loved how you aided him in searching for eagle feathers for his mother. And he loved how passionate you were about changing the world for the better. He loved everything about you, but even he had his own insecurities.

 For one, he knew that he had a reputation of a womanizer (something he was never actually proud of), and he didn’t want you to think that you would be just a ‘fling’ to him. For two, you had rarely reciprocated his attempts at flirting with you. While you had mentioned that you were very bad at flirting with men and women alike, he could never have imagined that you would be so oblivious when it was being directed at you instead. For three, he was afraid of being rejected. You were his best friend and he was yours, but even that couldn’t assure him that you wouldn’t tell him ‘no’ if he were to confess his feelings. He was a grown man, but with you, he felt like a shy little boy twiddling his fingers.

 Despite Maria being in a catatonic state for a long period of time, it didn’t stop her from being observant. She saw how much attention her second-born gave to you, always looking directly you with a gleam in his eyes that she could only describe as ‘being in love’. After you gave her the eagle feathers to complete Petruccio’s collection, she was immensely grateful for your support, already thinking of you as her second daughter. She could only pray that Ezio would man up and buy a ring for you.

 To Claudia, you were a complete stranger at first. You were a foreigner and an assassin on top of that. You were glad that Ezio had spoken to her about you, believing that face-to-face introduction would go easier that way. It did, of course, just not as warmly as you had envisioned. She wasn’t rude to you, but she still held herself with pride and a certain coldness you had a rather hard time shaking off. But after many attempts at befriending her, Claudia finally caved in, surprised that you were so relentless. From then on, she became your second confidant - someone, with whom you could speak about your growing feeling towards her brother. Boy, was she glad to start making future plans for your eventual wedding (as Ezio had confided in her about his feelings for you too). She wouldn’t, of course, dare to say such a thing out loud. Well, only to her mother, that is.

 Mario, oh Mario, was more than very welcoming. When he first saw you, he immediately went for a hug which you returned wholeheartedly. He was glad that Ezio was making friends while travelling (and he secretly hoped that you would keep him from falling over the edge with his vengeance). When he brought Ezio to his study for a talk, he told him that you were a keeper and that he shouldn’t let you slip through his fingers. He even mentioned he would be glad to attend your wedding, making Ezio choke on his water in surprise. You didn’t forget to tell him how much you loved his uncle’s joviality. After all, you did need someone to lift up your spirits after botched missions, or whenever one of your friends/allies was killed.

 Everyone around you saw that you were meant to be together. Where he was hot-headed, you were calm. Where you were shy, he was confident. You completed each other. You were soulmates.

 *****

 Antonio didn’t stop walking until they reached Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore. The square in front of it was large, and far too open for your liking. You did not want to kill him in public, even though it was easier to do. Thankfully though, he entered the church. You would have to wear a perfect disguise...as a pilgrim.

 “It is a good day, is it not?” Ezio’s voice brought you out of your thoughts, effectively stopping you from proceeding with the mission.

 “Ezio! What are you doing here?! I’m on a mission!” you spoke with clear irritation. You hated being interrupted like that. He got the clue though.

 “Mi dispiace, Y/N. I didn’t realize.”

 “No, you didn’t,” you glanced at him,” but my target is in that church. Have to go inside and finish him off.” You didn’t care if you sounded rude, crude, or bloodthirsty. It was just a part of the job, and you didn’t care how you worded your sentences.

 Ezio squinted his eyes at the building, ”You need any help? I’m available.”

 “Of course you are,” you huffed, but without any malice whatsoever. You couldn’t stay mad at him for long. “Come along.” Before Ezio could respond, however, you were already scaling down the wall. Once you reached the ground, the two of you split up, so that you wouldn’t garner the attention of the guards positioned in small groups around the square.

 Avoiding them on any other day is fairly easy, but today, they seemed to be on high alert, eyes trained on people like hawks’ are trained on their prey. As far as you knew, there were no important celebrations planned today nor was the church being closed off for the visit of some nameless ruler within Italy. So to remain unseen, you had to blend in within the bustling crowd of people. Thankfully, no one seemed to care about a suspicious-looking hooded person walking around them (much to your - and Ezio’s - initial confusion at the people not recognizing the assassins moving right next to them, as you were quite     sure that wearing a hood in public was the most recognizable of all assassins’ trademarks).

 Despite you hailing from Spain and training under the hand of the then-leader, Benedicto, La Volpe was the one to teach you how to remain unseen in the crowd. While he himself never gave out any of his secrets, you still pointed them out, much to his shock and surprise, having never expected to be so translucent in his actions (at least in front of you anyway). You even knew his real name, which he pleaded you not to reveal it to anyone. You understood him. Very few people did.  

 From the corner of your eye, you spotted Ezio, calmly moving forward like he was just a regular person enjoying his day. You admired that about him - how he never seemed to be nervous or indecisive when he was on a mission, and sometimes, you wished you could be the same (as many of your former friends and comrades have pointed out how tense and serious-looking you were when working for your Order - you simply did not take the duties of an assassin as a joking matter). And while neither of you were great thinkers like Leonardo, you still had that certain air of wisdom around you, having seen things that most people would never see in their lifetime. Knowledge was power, and both of you recognized it. Your shared experience within the Brotherhood was what made you two unique in a way - you understood what being a real assassin entailed, and how much one had to sacrifice for the sake of others.

 Only a few moments later, you arrived at the east entrance of the church, walking into shadows. To blend in with the pilgrims, you had to shed your assassin robes for a dress or remain in your own pair of breeches and a white shirt (which were quite form-fitting and would most certainly attract the attention of men inside the building).

 “What next, uccellino?” you heard from beside you.

 “Get me a new dress, for one. I want to get inside but not by sneaking.”

 Ezio placed his hand under his chin in thought and hummed, “I see. Perhaps we can ask a servant for a spare change of clothes for us both.”

 You had to suppress a laugh at the thought of Ezio looking like he wanted to pray to the God he didn’t believe in. He narrowed his eyes at you, “What is it?”

 “Nada. Nada. It’s just that I have a hard time with picturing you as a devoted pilgrim wanting to do all that stuff with drinking ‘Jesus’ blood’, ‘eating a piece of his flesh’, and making a cross in front of yourself.” To think, any other religious person would strike you down for that comment alone. You really don’t care about that though.

 “So you’re saying that I don’t have the looks of a pious man?” his eyes were glaring at you, but his voice was teasing.

“No, you don’t have the ‘looks’ of a pious man, you have the ‘looks’ of a handsome asesino,” you retorted.

 “You think I’m handsome?”

 He was, but you didn’t dare to admit that out loud, so instead, you just walked inside the church to find a servant, leaving your enamoured friend behind.

 Soon enough, you spotted a young girl (perhaps of the age of twelve) carrying a crate full of candles. Before she could walk out of the room, you jumped in front of her, making her shriek in surprise. You quickly put your hand on her mouth while making a ‘be quiet’ gesture.

 “Promise me you won’t scream,” you told her. The poor thing looked frightened, wanting to run away the moment you released her. Ezio was watching from the corner, unseen.

 The girl looked around frantically, trying to see if she had an escape route or if she could grab anything to help her push you off of her. Grabbing her chin with your free hand, you forced her to pay attention to you.

 Looking her right in the eyes, you repeated, “Can you promise me that you won’t scream? I am not going to harm you, little one.” The girl gave you a single nod, no glimpse of a lie in her hazel eyes. You released her.

 “Di cosa hai bisogno da me?” she spoke.

 “We want some regular clothes for us both,” you gestured at yourself and Ezio. At the sight of him, the girl's eyes widened. He wasn’t that tall of a man but he still looked intimidating with his dark robes and Altaïr’s armour on.

 The girl motioned with her hand to follow her downstairs to the lower level of the church. ‘Servants’ quarters. Of course!’ you remarked, mentally cursing yourself for not thinking of those before. Yes...you and logic were not as good friends as anyone else might think. That didn’t stop you from being very skilled in other areas though.

 Without breaking your quick strides across the long hall, you glanced around from beneath your hood, noticing that not one soul was inside. It was a bit strange but not overly so since it was almost noon and they were most likely just performing their daily duties. Ezio, on the other hand, did not feel at ease at all. While he has never seen anything like that before, he knew that children could be used for sinister purposes as well as any grown-up, mostly for leading men and women into ambushes by lying; playing on their innocence to charm their way into people’s hearts, or even getting paid for killing their hirers for killing their enemies (and even that was a rare case). Dread was twisting his gut.

 No sooner than his chain of thought had ended, did they arrive in a well-lit room with a lot of big cupboards.

 The girl approached one of them, pressing her hand on the wooden door, “I vestiti di cui hai bisogno sono qui, signora.”

 You took a look inside. There were plenty of simple shirts and breeches. Even a couple of brown-coloured dresses. Good enough for you both. With no further thought, you grabbed a pair of each, tossing one to Ezio. You did hope they would fit him, or else, they would tightly cling to his physique...distracting you. Walking into an adjacent room, you redressed quickly, and neatly folded you assassin robes before hiding them in an empty chest.

 “Are you ready?” you heard Ezio asking.

 “Si. Let’s get going.” You walked a few steps before suddenly pausing in the doorway, “Wait a moment. Where’s the girl?!”

 Ezio looked around. Indeed, the girl had vanished, probably the moment you started taking off your robes. His heart clenched at the thought of her running upstairs to rat them out, but he had to remain focused on your task. Come what may, you two would have to improvise if it came to Antonio being alerted of your presence.

 Sighing, you continued walking back to the stairs while subtly checking if your blades hadn’t fallen off of you. The Bells signalling the start of a mass were already being rung. When you reached the ground floor again, you saw a sea of standing men and women before you, neither your target nor his bodyguards in sight. Even by briefly activating your Eagle Vision you couldn’t spot them.

 “Fuck,” you quietly swore under your breath, already getting frustrated at how your mission was proceeding. Ezio noticed the brief furrow of your brows, not enjoying the sight of a frown on your beautiful face in the slightest. Even he tried using his special sight, but like you, he had no luck. Was this Antonio that slippery of a bastard?

 You pulled Ezio in the middle of the huge room and made the sign of a cross on your chests. It felt absolutely distasteful to you, for you did not believe in ‘God’. If he ever existed, why hasn’t he shown his face? Did he think of you ‘mortals’ as too inferior to actually see it? You never believed in all that bullshit the church was propagating and its priests were spewing, and yet, you couldn’t deny that people needed something to believe in, even if it was a ‘nobody’ above your heads.

 The head-priest started with a simple ‘Preghiamo’, before reciting the prayers. People around you murmured along, some of them with heads bowed, others were keeping their eyes on the man and their hands clasped together. You acted as the latter, not daring to miss Antonio. After a few minutes though, you started to fidget, just waiting to dash forward and out of the stuffy room. At the end of each passage, everyone murmured ‘Amen’.

 You jolted a bit when a rough hand was placed on your shoulder.

 “Calmati, amore,” Ezio whispered, attempting to calm you down with his smooth baritone voice. It helped, but you turned your head to the side to prevent him from seeing you blush at his use of the word. The man had too much power over you already.

 “We need to get going, Ezio,” you whispered back. “We’ve been here for some time already and we still haven’t spotted him. My guess is that he’s still within these halls, as I haven’t heard the guards opening the big door.” With that you swiftly moved away from him, gently weaving through the throng of people until you reached the entrance to the side passage leading further into the church. Ezio was right on your heels.

 “I can’t wait to get out of this dress! Ugh!” you pulled at your scratchy collar. “But unfortunately, we don’t have enough time to change our clothes.”

 “I rather like seeing you in one. You wear them too rarely.”

 “I am a woman, but in our line of work, they’re simply impractical. They’re good whenever I need a disguise but they simply won’t do for assassinating people...or escaping enemies.”

 “True.”

 “There,” you pointed at the stone rafters above, ”we climb them, get a better view of this place. Before you get that thought inside your mind though,” you waved your your finger at him, “do not look up.” You immediately started scaling the wall, not being that mindful of your dress, of course.

 Now, while Ezio once loved looking up the skirts of women, he dropped doing that the moment he realized he was in love with you, the thought of it suddenly becoming disgusting to him. He wouldn’t dare to allow such indignity to happen. Not from himself. Not from anyone. Instead of retorting back, he kept silent and followed you up to the rafters. He too wished he had his assassin robes on. No good would come out of it if you two got spotted by either the priests or Antonio’s entourage.

 “Shhh, be silent for a moment.” You listened closely to all the sounds around you.

     The water dropping onto the stone ground below.  

     The murmurs of the praying pilgrims behind you.  

     The sound of someone unsheathing their sword -  

 “Wait! Did you hear it?!” you inquired urgently, stopping Ezio from moving altogether.

 “The sound is coming from over there,” he pointed at a small but heavy-looking door at the far east corner.

 “Then let’s get to it.”

 Thankfully, that part of the church was empty of the priests and the servants, making it easy to sneak around. You doubted that Antonio’s room had more than one door, but even then, you could be wrong, as the door could lead into basement instead. Normally, you would do some reconnaissance in order to plan ahead and keep the chance of a failure to a minimum, but now, you’d have to improvise.

 “We have to go inside through that door. I see no other ways to enter the room.”

 Ezio cast a glance at his steel gauntlet, the hidden blade ready to be sprung out at any moment. You readied your own.

 With a quick inhale, you opened the heavy door with force...only to find Antonio lying in the pool of his own blood. Your eyes widened at the sight. You and Ezio arrived too late, but you had to keep your head cool and eyes focused.

 Turning him over, you saw the wound in the centre of his chest, dark red blood staining his overcoat.

 “Stabbed through the heart. What a painful way to go…,” you murmured quietly as you closed the man’s eyes with your hand. Ezio put a hand on your shoulder.

 “It’s not your fault, Y/N.”

 “No, it isn’t, but it doesn’t make me feel any better about it,” you paused, looking at Antonio’s corpse again. “Did his guards kill him?”

 “Possibly, since I don’t see them in here.”

 “Ah, then I guess that his ignorance of his superiors’ orders has finally caught up to him. He never was a ‘good’ Templar. Still, he could’ve told us at least something, but now, he’s dead and his lips are forever sealed. I’ll have to tell Mario about this.” Before you could leave though, Ezio pulled you into his embrace which you gladly returned. No words were spoken between you because they weren’t needed. They were unnecessary.

 Suddenly, the heavy door closed behind you with a loud screech. You ran towards it, trying to pull at the handle, but it didn’t budge in the slightest.

 “¡Maldición! ¡Estamos atrapados!” you shouted angrily. Ezio knew enough Spanish to understand what you meant, and he couldn’t help but be angry himself (something that hasn’t happened a lot in the past few years). You saw some kind of smoke coming from under the door.

 “Are they starting a fire behind it?!” You were not comfortable with the thought of being burned alive, even if it was beside the man you loved.

 “I don’t know, but...wait, do you smell it?”

 “Smell what?”

 “Something sweet and...calming.”

 Indeed, when you inhaled the air, it had a whiff of sweet vanilla and jasmine, almost instantly calming you down. Something wasn’t right though as your eyelids kept getting heavier and heavier, and all of your senses became dull. The last thing you heard before your mind shut down completely was a confused     ‘What-’.

Translations (Spanish):

Dios - God

Nada - Nothing

¡Maldición! ¡Estamos atrapados! - Damn it! We’re trapped!

Asesino - assassin (male)

Translations (Italian):

uccellino - little bird

Calmati, amore - Calm down, love

Mi dispiace - I’m sorry

Di cosa hai bisogno da me? - What do you want from me?

I vestiti di cui hai bisogno sono qui, signora. - The clothes you need are here, lady

Preghiamo - Let us pray

Tagging: @sassenach-on-the-rocks // @marshmallow--3 // @assassins-and-hidden-blades // @bangtansugababy // @imagines-of-the-creed // @kittitt // @kisstheassassins // @iceboundstar // @unreadpoppy // @ass-sass-sin-o // @one-who-hunts-eagles // @deejayers // @lefrenchfrye // @mavriarch // @theswordofeden // @mindadarksight // @undertastic-dork // @storminwomanform // @fanfic-reblog-central

[spirit-of-the-void]

Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter 22

Author’s Notes: I think I’m gonna have to get a new laptop, cause damn this one gave me way too many issues making this chapter

Chapter 22

V stirred as soon as Dante’s name was mentioned, opening his tired orbs and sitting up in your lap.

He still looked awful, dark circles under his eyes and body stiff, wobbly as he pulled himself to his feet. You helped him as best you could with your tendrils, giving him one last pulse of energy as he took your hand and gave it a squeeze.

His smile was so exhausted, but his eyes were soft for you.

Until...he turned, heading out of the van just as the devil hunter of the hour came sauntering back up. That driven look was back again, god damn it. Wherever Dante was concerned V seemed to have tunnel vision, which made absolutely no sense considering he didn’t seem to like or trust him. Why was V so convinced Dante could fix things? There was so much you were missing, but you had no clue how to ask for it. Dante’s words earlier kept coming back to your mind—before he stabbed himself with the sword.

A demonic power was awakened in my once, when Vergil lovingly jammed this through my chest.

Who was Vergil? And why was that name still bugging you? What you had seen at the mansion left a foul taste in your mouth, a sense of foreboding. You had long grown used to listening to what your body had to say. But this...wasn't Foresight. Something deep and dark, in your subconscious and refusing to shut up.

Maybe it was just your brain trying to connect any dots that it could find, but this person definitely felt relevant. Why would Dante mention them, standing in the rain in that place you knew was relevant to V? Your head was spinning, scrambling to pick up the pieces laid out for you. It had never occurred to you, but there was no way V was his real name, was it? Shortened, a nickname, his chosen name. V was...pretty close to Vergil. Could he really be that person, who supposedly stabbed Dante with that sword?

But...why hide it? What the hell was going on?

You didn’t get the chance to dwell on it long, following V as he practically lurched out of the van. Sure enough, Dante was approaching, his gait as confident as ever. He didn’t have a scratch on him, but his hair and shirt were soaked with blood, drying fast. Everyone seemed to have gathered out there, waiting for him to speak when no one really seemed to know what to do.

All you could seem to do was quiet your racing thoughts, helping V sit down on a piece of debris and plopping down next to him. Nico seemed awed by Dante’s presence, staring at him like a little kid looking at their favorite celebrity for the first time. You had no earthly idea what that was about, but you figured you would get your answer eventually.

“Well,” Commented Lady, walking up to Dante with a smile, “Look like no one’s worse for wear.”

You threw her a raised brow as she swept her gaze over the poet. Your expression stated your disbelief without you even opening your mouth. By no worse for wear, you hoped to god she didn’t mean V. Who was still crumbling and weak.

The short haired woman gave you an V an apologetic smile, patting your head as she slid by.

“Well...almost no one.” Lady mumbled, brushing past Dante and Trish as they walked up to you and the poet.  

Dante looked a bit annoyed behind that usual smile, tired if anything. You were surprised, the demon hunter didn’t seem the type to be easily worn out by anything. Though it seemed he had gone toe to toe with Urizen, only this time he walked away unscathed. That fancy demon form must have helped if that was the case. It made you a bit annoyed that Dante walked in and took care of everything on his own, not seeming to need Nero at all. The poor kid was watching, leaning against the van and rolling one shoulder as he sized up Dante.

In retrospect...if Dante looked annoyed, then maybe things didn’t work out with Urizen after all?

Dante’s words all but confirmed it, his tone accusatory as he addressed V, “Hey, where did that garbage God go? What is Urizen after?”

Urizen was no longer at the top of the tree? You felt everyone turn their eyes to your poor, crumbling lover. His head was down, hair shielding his face as he griped the handle of his cane tightly. On his left, you could see his tired expression, the faintest hint of exasperation in his eyes whenever Dante spoke. You couldn’t blame him—Dante seemed oblivious to his condition, either that or he didn’t really care. But...that didn’t feel right either.

“He’s at the top,” V replied, tone low and as smooth as he could manage, “Of the Qliphoth.”

Trish stepped closer, her tone a lot firmer and clearer as she took up the reigns of explaining instead of V. You were grateful for that.

“It’s the other way around, Dante,” She replied, her eyes steady and serious as Dante turned his attention on her instead, “This is the lowest level of the Qliphoth’s upper echelon. Human blood is the source of demons’ power—the fruit born through the Qliphoth is even more dense than the blood that created it. Its power is unparalleled.”

She crossed her arms, eyes shifting between V’s uncomfortable form and Dante’s standing figure, “Even the almighty Mundus used it to become king of the Underworld. V told me everything.”

Dante smirked lightly, wearing an expression that spoke of boredom and lack of caring. Like the explanation was of little consequence. Meanwhile you were blinking in surprise, hearing only once of the fruit but not knowing of how much weight it held—such a thing didn’t exist in the Void. You knew not of who Mundus was, but judging by her story he was of great significance. Quite a few of the things mentioned by her were never explained to you by V, which was admittedly a bit hurtful. Why would he go out of his way to tell these things to Trish, to tell her everything, when there was so much you didn’t know yourself?  

You looked at V in worry, but he wasn’t staring at you. Hell, you doubted he was staring at anything at all. His gaze held a faraway look, only increasing your concern.

“Yeah, well, that’s a lovely story and all, but...as long as we know where to find him.” Dante shrugged it off, strolling forward with intent to bounce again, no doubt.  

You saw V shake his head lightly in exasperation, letting out a sigh so quiet and exhausted. You brushed off your hurt, taking one of his hands and giving it a light squeeze of support. You didn’t know everything, but you knew Dante leaving again was a terrible idea. From what you could gather, the tree was growing in reverse—the top was where the roots were, gathering nourishment and blood and channeling it below, where the “top” of the tree would bear a fruit. Something holding the blood essence of so many innocent humans, granting the one who devoured it immeasurable power. That was all Urizen was after it would seem...power.  

But...why? He already seemed so strong, so unbelievably stacked he took on several of the world’s strongest demon hunters and won. Why was he determined to get this all-powerful fruit, if he was already considered a God?

You were about to open your mouth and tell Dante to stop and wait, wanting more explanations from him. From anyone, really. But Nico practically bounced into his path, looking as if she was waiting for the exact moment his attention wasn’t occupied.

“Whoa! You...are the infamous Dante...!” She exclaimed, voice sounding both nervous and excited as he met her gaze. Like a child meeting their lifelong hero. Nico cleared her throat, looking away a bit awkwardly and shuffling her feet, “Um...I’m Nicoletta Goldstein. Sound familiar?”

She laughed shakily, voice stammering and unsteady. Christ, you had never seen Nico anything but boisterous and confident, this was such a shocking change to you. She stuck a hand out, shaking Dante’s firmly and enthusiastically. You wished you could see Dante’s face, to see his reaction at the very least considering he hadn’t uttered a peep. You didn’t know what to make out of Nico’s excitement either, to be honest. But...it was cute in a way, seeing her so happy.

“My grandmother is Nell Goldstein,” Nico continued in her explanation, pulling her hand away and nervously pointing to the weapons strapped to Dante’s belt, “The Gunsmith that made all your fancy weapons that you got...strapped...back there.”

She seemed like she wanted to see said weapons, tone both awkward and hopeful as she peeked at Dante’s face.

He pulled them out, quietly humoring her as he griped two pistols in his hands. One black, one white—you could make out the barest glimpse of a women's’ portraits on the hilts before they were out of sight.

“Yeah, there she is!” Nico exclaimed, obviously pleased as she pointed at the pistol hilt. So it was her grandmother in the picture? You looked at V, like he would somehow have the answers. But he had closed his eyes, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the handle of his cane.

Fuck, he looked so tired. You were going to suggest he lie down a bit more, but he shuffled a bit closer to you. Your poet leaned to the side, resting his head on your shoulder and letting out a quiet grunt. Wow, cue several arrows piercing your already aching heart—V was slaying you when he did stuff like that.

You smiled lightly, leaning your head against his and ignoring the curious stares from Lady, Trish, and Nero. You were surprised V was displaying affection so publicly as well, but in that moment, he didn’t seem to care. Griffon and Shadow had long grown used to the two of you touching, the bird sitting behind you both and preening his feathers. Shadow opted for plopping on your feet, eyeing the excited mechanic and the demon hunter talking to her.

Meanwhile, Dante let out a musing sound, looking down at the guns then back at Nico a few times. Examining her expectant, waiting face.

“You don’t much look like her...” He replied, tone a bit skeptical based on where his thoughts ended. You wanted to sigh—that was not the kindest answer to give to the clearly excited mechanic, but whatever.

Nico grunted, making a bit of a face while Dante returned his weapons to where they had been before.

“Yeah, I got my looks from my Daddy,” She replied, tone a bit sullen at the mention of her father, “That’s about all I got from him.”

Christ, did everyone here have family issues? You wanted to hug Nico so badly, to give her the love her father had clearly skimped out on. Hell, you were seconds away from whisking everyone in the room away somewhere safe, somewhere where they could be loved and not have to worry about terrible family, or lack of family for that matter. It occurred to you in that moment that you knew very little about Dante and his life outside of demon hunting. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he was as lonely and screwed up as the rest of you.

“B...but based on his research, I-I-I manages to cobble this—” Nico stammered, pulling something out from behind her back.

It... looked like a cowboy hat? You blinked, raising a brow and feeling a weird sensation as you examined it. White, with a black cord sewn with demonic spikes wrapped around the top. Did...it have eyes? Your Void ability didn’t know what to make of it, that was for sure.

“Um...it...it...” Nico mumbled, trying to gather her thoughts before she landed on, “Consider it a gift...! In honor of us finally meeting...!" She cleared her throat a bit as Dante took the hat, her tone a bit nervous as she added, “Meeting.”

Poor Nico, she looked so nervous. You knew without a doubt whatever that hat was, it had to be something incredible. She wouldn’t seem so anxious for Dante’s reaction otherwise. You hoped to god his reaction was good, or else you’d have to step in and slap him again. Nico was your friend and for her to cobble anything together for someone it had to be a big deal, a work of art. The daggers you gave her were still your prized possession, working wonders in battle.

Dante examined the hat for a few seconds, quiet and musing it before he flipped it onto his head. Whatever you were expecting his reaction to be, you weren't even close.

You blinked, seeing what looked to be a red scarf materialize from the hat now that it was worn, wrapped around Dante’s neck. The demon hunter began to dance in the next instant, making you feel like you were witnessing a fucking auditory hallucination. Were those lights and music? The how and why didn’t seem to matter given everything you had seen from the man before. Provided how Nero taunted, super over-exaggerated and extra, seeing such a display was not surprising when you put your head into it a bit. You recognized those dance moves too—he was definitely mimicking a particular singer with moves like that.

He was a good enough dancer, at least. Sliding his way across the Qliphoth floor like it was nothing. It didn’t make the scene any less bizarre, your expression fluctuating somewhere between shock, awe, and exhaustion watching him. You would admit, seeing such a goofy display in the middle of some of the more stressful moments of your life was a bit...relaxing. Albeit cringy, like watching your weird uncle dance at a Christmas party after everyone begged him not to. He was a strange man, that was for certain. Rocking his hips and making over the top noises on top of it all. You fought the urge to put a hand to your head, like you were somehow imagining the whole scene in your state of worry and anxiety.

But nope. It was still happening.

Trish and Lady seemed absolutely unfazed by his display, both stone-faced and bored as they waited for him to finish. This seemed to be in the norm for them, those who had known Dante a long time. That was both comforting and baffling.

Again, you couldn’t get a read on the demon hunter at all, no matter how much you tried.

As for V...he showed only slight reaction to the outlandish display, his head on your shoulder and hand entwined with yours. You heard him inhale slowly, very slowly, before releasing a very quiet sound. One of exasperation, pain, akin to a groan but closer to a sigh. Your eyes darted to his expression, seeing something half way between exhaustion and... acceptance. He didn’t look shocked by Dante's actions either, more so mortified than anything else. And very tired.

You fully agreed with the sentiment.

Dante finished his display with a flourish, like it was a big performance and the Qliphoth was his stage. Nico was the only one who seemed jazzed, cheering and clapping like it was the best thing she had seen. Well, she most certainly got the validation she sought, in the form of Dante at his most dorkish. You could be happy for her on that end of the spectrum at least. At the other...well. You wished she wouldn’t encourage such a display again; it was just far too much to handle at that moment.

“I’ll take that.” Dante said to her with a smirk, taking off the hat and the scarf disappearing like it had never been there. He tucked it into his coat, but you had no clue where the fuck it went after that. Did he strap it to his belt?

He turned, starting to walk away again before he was stopped--by Nero this time. The boy walked past you, coat on once more and looking a little less worse for wear as he approached the older demon hunter.

“Dante,” He said, tone firm and brow furrowed, making the man in question half turn his head in response, “I’m gonna go too.”

Judging by that look on Dante’s face, this wasn’t going to go well. You exchanged a look with V, you giving him a meaningful stare before you pulled away and rose to your feet. Nero had that look again, his “I’ve got something to prove and I’m mad about it” stare. Dante was just as not, if more stubborn, and you knew neither would compromise.

Further confirmed when Dante replied, "Why don't you sit this one out?"

“Oh, and let you call me ‘dead weight’ again?” Nero glared, annoyance practically dripping from his tone, “No thanks.”

Ahhh, it was finally confirmed. As you suspected, the older man was in fact the one who called Nero that. No wonder he was so bent out of shape about it.

“I’ve got all the power I need,” Nero insisted, his words insistent like he was trying to convince the devil hunter as he lifted his bright, shiny new metal arm. You could see it in his eyes, that need to prove himself. A need for acceptance, and it made you ache on his behalf, “Right here...!”

Dante let out a light sigh, face taking on a more serious feeling as he met Nero’s sharp gaze, “You don’t understand. It’s not what I mean—”

He paused, mouth open almost like he was going to explain, but he firmly shut it again. You saw hesitation flicker through his expression, almost missed. But your eyes were ever searching. He was definitely hiding something too, like he was trying to protect Nero. You couldn’t imagine what, but he seemed determined not to let Nero anywhere near Urizen. Not to fight him, not for anything. Was it because the demon had ripped off his arm? But that didn’t make sense.

Nero scowled in annoyance at Dante’s tone, shoulders tensing as indignation took its place in his features. He looked like he was squaring up to argue more, but the sound of V’s familiar, smooth voice behind you cut him off.

“Let him go, Dante,” He said firmly, making you and the two men turn to look at him. He pulled himself to his feet with the help of his cane, turning to level his jade eyes on the arguing demon hunters, “Time is a luxury that we can no longer afford.”

It was a reminder—he was running out of time. They all were. It was a race now, to get down the tree before the fruit ripened, allowing Urizen to devour it.  

“We must chase after him, post-haste.” V continued, walking slowly toward them with you shadowing his steps. Ready to help him if needed, to wrap your tendrils around his crumbling body.

Dante looked a tad displeased, regarding the frail man with an expression close to exasperation as he sighed, “What, does that mean you’re going too?” The idea seemed less than stellar to him, which you could understand. Hell, if there was any way to fix this that didn’t involve Urizen and the tree you’d be dragging V out of it already. His mission be damned. Yours too.

V was slightly hunched over, staring at Dante from under a curtain of his ebony hair. He was quite the sight, lips and face lined with cracks and dark circles under his eyes. But that driven look was there, further punctuated by his words.

“I have a duty to see this through.” He said, tone implying he would not be swayed in the slightest. You stepped up beside him, meeting Dante’s gaze with a firm one of your own. You didn’t have to add that where V went you followed, his needs were your own.

Dante made a face, one that hinted at aggravation before it slipped into one more akin to his personality. He made a “Huh” expression, shrugging his shoulders a bit like he was brushing the whole matter off. Of little consequence, it would seem. There was a bit of respect there too, like V’s words had struck a cord with Dante, one he could appreciate. To be honest, you were grasping at straws, trying to keep up with Dante’s strange way of approaching things. It wasn’t going well.

“Well, that’s all you had to say, Mr. Poetry,” He replied, turning again and gesturing with a flick of his fingers at the men next to you, “I’m gonna go my way, and you guys can go yours. Let’s just say that’s the best for the cause.”

He gave a little finger salute, ready to jump down into the crevasse below.

Are you fucking serious? Annoyance and exasperation burst inside you, like a dam cracking and waiting to fall apart.

You practically bristled at his words, that stupid mindset he had, finally speaking up in an annoyed tone, “Are you kidding me? Splitting up again?”

You were getting tired of it. Of not knowing anything, of people hiding things, of all the bullshit. You were irritable now, dealing with the prospect of Dante going off on his own again.

All the men paused, staring at you with surprise as you continued, eyes staring hard at Dante’s face, “This isn’t a race or a game. And this stubborn, macho bullshit is going to get someone killed—if you all don’t pull your heads out of your asses and learn to work together nothing will be done.”

Dante smiled, much to your shock. It didn’t make you feel better, and it certainly wasn’t welcome when you were so annoyed at him.

“Your Priestess has some fire in her there, V,” Dante observed, tone low and bemused, “Some of us might get burned.”

You scowled, especially not liking his constant use of the term “priestess” for you. Like you were some quiet, temple worshiping maiden for a half-baked god. You were formulating a comeback, but V didn’t seem pleased by his words either.

“There is truth in her fire,” He replied, narrowing his eyes on the devil hunter and his tone a low purr, “I am not her keeper. She is free to speak how she chooses, especially when she’s made a fair point.”

Dante sighed at that, scratching the back of his head, “So you agree with her?” He leveled his gaze on you, smile slipping away as he addressed you fully now, “There are things at play here you don’t get, kid. You’re just gonna have to trust me—focus on doing what you gotta do, and I’ll do what I have to do.”

Trish, Lady, and Nico hovered nearby, seeming unsure of what to say. You knew they trusted Dante’s judgement, but...You couldn't. Not yet.

You crossed your arms, frowning as you replied in a skeptical tone, “You make me cry then expect me to trust you?”

Well, that certainly got the girl’s attention.  

They both flanked you in an instant, Lady cradling your head to her chest and forcing V to step away a bit in surprise. Nico on your right, taking up the task on hugging you from the other side. You blinked, unsure of what the hell was going on until Lady spoke.

“Are you for real, Dante?” Lady narrowed her eyes, looking incredibly threatening as she stared down the now surprised devil hunter, “You made her cry?!”

Uh-oh. They had gone into protective mode.

“Uh...” Dante mumbled, voice more hesitant than you had ever heard it. Honestly, he couldn’t lie.  

“Isn’t she going through enough?” Nico piped up in her southern drawl, brow furrowed in disappointment and a hint of hard, flat disgust. You were touched—Nico's love for you trumped her idolization of Dante, which was very sweet. Validating.

Dante held up his hands, jaw going slack in awe now he faced the wrath of two protective women. So that’s where Dante’s area of expertise ended? He looked like a deer caught in some headlights, unable to formulate any sort of reply to defend himself as Lady continued to chastise him. V and Nero took a couple careful steps back, not wanting to put themselves between the girls and the other male at the moment. Nero looked a bit smug, all things considered. Like seeing Dante get yelled at please him. V, too, seemed amused by it all, even through his pain and suffering.  

Trish leaned against the van, letting out a low chuckle when Dante tossed her a pleading stare.

“Don’t look at me like that,” She huffed, examining her nails as she turned away, “You’re on your own there. Shouldn’t walk around making girls cry, Dante.”  

You almost laughed, almost.

“You’re lucky there’s a demon to kill,” Lady pointed a finger in Dante’s face, making him take a step back and blink, “Otherwise I’d kick your ass. Did he apologize, Y/N?”

Her way of speaking implied that, based on your answer, she might wring an apology out of Dante physically.

But you didn’t want to waste any more time, replying in a voice muffled by her chest, "He did. I think.” He did in his own way, but it still didn’t make the fact that he picked apart your vulnerabilities to gauge your intentions any less okay.

“Can we please get back to the task at hand?” Dante sighed heavily, looking thoroughly uncomfortable as he turned away, quickly hopping down into the pit below. Back to business, it would seem. If he was going, you and the others needed to head out too. Sadly. You wished there was a way to bring Lady, Trish, and Nico down with you, but...you imagined Nico would find her way down somehow.  

Lady let out a sound of annoyance, releasing you with a loud, exaggerated kiss to the forehead.

“Next time he’s a jackass, you let me know,” She said firmly, holding your head in her hands, “He has a habit of speaking without using his dumb man brain.”

Nico let out a snort, eyeing Nero with an expression of mirth as she added, “Boy, ain’t that the trend around here?”

Nero rolled his eyes, shaking his head and leaping down into the pit himself before an argument could start. Nico cupped her hands over her mouth, yelling down after him, “Don’t do anythin’ stupid, psycho...! You’d better come back in one piece...!”

Was that a groan, fading fast as Nero fell down to the area below? A laugh threatened to bubble up at the absurdity of it all. It was very obvious that was Nico’s way of saying she cared, telling Nero to come back safely. You smiled at the girls, pulling them all in for a quick, last hug before setting out. You would carry this feeling, this warmth, the support—you would hold it close to you as you traveled to where the fruit would emerge, like a lifeline through the stress. You could feel V watching you, but you didn’t dare look at his expression, afraid to see that guilt again.

“Thanks guys,” You murmured, squeezing them a bit before pulling back, “Wish me luck. I know we will see you at some point along the way.”

Nico nodded, patting you on the back as she replied, “Sure will. I gotta show you the fancy shit I’ve been cookin’ up with your crystal at some point, right?”  

You smiled and nodded, taking a step back and threading your fingers with V’s.

Lady looked between you both, worried as she said sternly, “Be safe, you too. Call if you can find a phone.”

“Same to you.” You replied, smiling softly as you looked between them. You had grown to care about both of the women so much, they were kinder to you than you could ever hope and full of so much loving energy. There was a pang in your heart, hoping to god once the mission was done that you’d be able to see more of them.

You gaze locked with Trish for a moment, the woman staring at you with something akin to regret, maybe even guilt. Or...maybe it was foreboding? There was a knowing glint in her eyes, arms still crossed and blond hair tucked over one shoulder. She gave you a hard, meaningful stare in return, one of warning, before she turned and headed into the van. She never spoke, but that look said a lot—it told you to stay on your toes, stay wary. That whatever V was hiding was more than he would let on, bigger than he let on. Something Trish wanted to tell you, but couldn’t.

You needed to be prepared for whatever happens.

You squeezed V’s hand, turning your gaze away to look at him for a brief moment. He still looked tired, but filled with that determination from the first moment you met him. It was both his blessing and his curse, that desire to press forward and fix what he decided were his mistakes. Frustrating, but respectable.

You didn’t want to fear what was to come, not yet, but you would be ready. So, you summoned your tendrils and jumped, you and the poet plunging into the glowing red abyss below. You hear Lady and Nico call their goodbyes down to you, echoing and fading as you fell. You knew splitting up was a bad idea, not on your top ten list of things that ever worked out in any capacity, but...well, you would do your best.

You made sure to cast Feather Fall on you and the poet to make for a safe, easy landing at the very least.

V was a bit quiet when the ground finally rose up to meet you, your tendrils stabilizing his form and your own. Griffon swooped by, circling around and landing on your shoulders as always while Shadow kept close to V. You felt anxious and full of foreboding, watching the poet roll his shoulders and start walking forward with the help of his cane. You didn't want to hesitate, not sure of what to say despite how much the need to talk was clawing at your throat. There was so much to ask. Too much. About Dante, about V, about Urizen...everything. But now wasn’t the time, not when things were so close to being fixed.

Vergil’s name and mysterious tie to everything that was going on would not leave you. But...your mouth refused to open, like it was trapped shut.

Instead you walked in time with V, Foresight creeping up to alert you of enemies ahead. Because of course, there would have to be fighting now that everyone had gone their own way. The thought made you glum, sullen. Even Nero, who you were hoping would come your way seemed determined to move along by himself. Maybe it was something Dante said, convincing him that this was something he needed to do alone? Either way, you weren’t pleased.

There was something else too, a pain in your neck that wouldn’t go away. Right on the nape, a stubborn sensation of your muscles being pressed on. It made you frown, constantly rubbing that spot but it soothed nothing. It felt akin to someone holding their hand on the back of your neck, squeezing to the point of just slight pain. You rarely pulled a muscle, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do so. It was of little consequence, but it was a nagging sensation that left you just a tad bit sullener. It got to the point that you kept jostling Griffon doing it, so he settled to the other side of your shoulder to give you space. The off-setting weight only hindered you a little bit.

“Expect fighting ahead,” You told V, giving his arm a light squeeze and trying to keep your expression calm. Steady. You needed to be steady, “Are you up for it? I can go ahead and clear the path for us.”

You were more than willing to take on some lower level demons by yourself.

V turned his gaze to you, jade orbs flickering with several emotions as he seemed to look over your expression. You resisted the urge to look away, feeling a tad bit guilty about being so unhappy. It certainly wasn’t fair to V. especially when he was dying.

“No,” He told you, slipping his fingers into your hair lightly to stroke it back. You closed your eyes at the contact, relief pouring through you at even a little affection, “You must be close to exerting after all you have done today.”

You opened your mouth to disagree when it clicked with your brain. He was wrong, and that in itself...was wrong.  

You felt completely fine.

You were nowhere close to exerting, power still swirling comfortably and muscles feeling fairly normal. Too normal, incorrect for how much power you had mustered for recent events. In between healing V, summoning food, teleporting them all...you should have been running on empty, but the sensation was nowhere to be found. You blinked, mouth half open as you stared at V's confused gaze. You could only imagine what was going through his mind at your silence, your shifting expressions. You echoed that confusion, and flung it right back at him. Hell, you had no earthly idea why you weren't a heaping puddle of pain on the floor at that moment, there was no way you had extended your reach that far yet.

“I...” You whispered, eyes staring forward as your scrambled brain tried to do some quick math, “I’m...not? Why am I not...?”

V lifted his cane, slipping it under your chin to tilt your head toward him again. He looked concern, eyes meeting yours seriously as he cupped your cheek.

“Sparrow?" He questioned, the concern mimicked by Griffon as the bird stuck his face by yours.

“You okay there, toots?” He said, tone a bit worried and feathers shaking out when your silence persisted a few more moments, “You tryin’ to convince us that you’re not worn out after all that flashy shit? I don’t buy it.”

“No,” You whispered in reply, lifting your hands to stare at them and tone incredibly lost, “By all accounts, you’re right. I should be well past my limit. But...I’m not. I’m not anywhere close, and that makes no sense.”

Nothing makes sense.

Griffon and V exchanged a look, V taking one of the hands you were gazing at in his own and squeezing gently. It grounded you in reality a bit, brain drifting in and out of focus as you tried to piece things together. Senses on alert, straining for whatever you thought could be the cause of everything. It occurred to you that there was a faint sound in the air, one you didn’t tune into before being so god damn distracted by everything. A faint humming, almost like a whispering.

Close to what you heard in the Void, but muted like it was under water. It seemed so obviously present now, loud compared to when you weren’t focusing on it.  

That was a sound you knew very well.

You released V’s hands, shock in your expression and heart hammering as you started feeling around on yourself, searching for the source. Griffon squawked in alarm, hovering of your shoulder while you frantically searched until your fingers caught onto something hanging off the back of your belt. You froze, breath caught in your throat as your fingers threaded around the familiar shape, pulling it forward so you could stare at it. Even knowing what it was, still seeing it made your mind blank out, fuzzy as you tried to comprehend exactly where it had come from.

It was a Rune.

It fit into your hand, the shape all too familiar and etched with the mark of your Deity. Made of whale bone and metal, an artifact crafted by worshipers from the world closest to the Void, the most in tune with it. They now served his purpose, ingrained with the power he held and used as a tool to grant abilities and strengths to his followers. You had used them before, on rare occasions, but...you yourself were granted with the Void’s power. Those who used runes were generally those who were still human, but granted his abilities via blessing.

You...weren’t the same. You were molded by the Void, inhaling it in your lungs until it shaped you into a being beyond human. Closer to the Deity in that regard, a priestess instead of a follower.

But it was here now, in your hand. Where had it come from? You didn’t pick it up, but it had been looped to your belt by a leather cord. Your eyes were dazed as you looked at it, the weight of it in your hand instilling a confused sense of urgency. Was that the reason why you hadn’t exerted yet? The rune was boosting your abilities, the echoing traces of your Deity granting you an extra blessing.

But...that would mean he had been here. He had attached it to you, given you a gift instead of making you find it at a shrine. The problem was that it didn’t feel like a gift at all, especially not in the way it was presented to you. No conversation, no guidance, just silence and the cold press of the rune’s shape into your palm. Your heart was pounding so fast, fingers beginning to tremble as that sense of foreboding returned, and the guilt. Your Deity...he wouldn’t have given this to you unless he wanted to help, right? This was meant to aid you, but it still felt wrong. You shouldn’t feel this way after being given a gift by your master, but your gut was clenching and the power of the Void swirling ominously.

It didn’t make any sense. Was your Deity upset with you or not?

“What the fuck is that?” Griffon’s loud squawk snapped you out of your racing thoughts, making you flinch and fingers clench around the rune so hard your knuckles were white.

V immediately clasped his hands over yours, hesitantly so as they grazed over the surface of the rune. You blinked, breath catching as you looked up and saw a mixture of confusion and wariness in his gaze.

“Its...” You whispered, eyes flickering down to the object in your hand as you swallowed softly, “It’s a rune...an object cobbled in the name of my Deity that grants bonus abilities to its user.”

V touched his crumbling fingers to it, brow furrowing at whatever he felt. You had long grown used to the ominous sensation runes brought, but V...you could tell he was unsettled.

Someone crafted this rune with the blood of innocents and putrid whale oil.  

Your mouth opened, babbling a bit to try and cope with the worry creeping up your spine as you continued, “I’ve heard stories of children who used to put these under their pillows for good luck, but always had nightmares instead. They’re...fused with Void essence and generally serve those who have either been blessed by my Deity, or those who seek to be blessed by him. Conjuring tools, worshiping crafts, cursed items made by cursed hands to...to....”

“Y/N,” V murmured, capturing your face in his hand to tilt it up. He could sense your growing sense of unease, the lack of control inside of you, “Where did you acquire it?”

Your heart was pounding in your ears, eyes closing a bit as you took a few measured breaths.

“I didn’t,” You practically whimpered in reply, fingers squeezing the rune tightly again, “He had to have placed it upon me, at some point. How did I...how did I not notice? He never does things like this, never in this way. It doesn’t make sense.”

When did he give it to you? How long were you walking around with it strapped to your belt?

V didn’t miss the distress in your tone, tucking some hair behind your hair as he murmured in a honeyed tone, “Breathe, dearest. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. We are in the final stretch of our journey...maybe your Deity sought to aid you in some way?”

You wanted it to be that easy, wished for it to be that easy. But you knew better, knew how he functioned. So many missions doing the same thing, the same cycle, only to change it now? It wasn’t in his nature to suddenly lose consistency.

But...you were wasting V’s time here worrying about it, each moment precious and needed to reach the goal you sought. You had to swallow this feeling too, and accept things for what they appeared to be. This item was helping you, extending your powers to something far higher than you were supposed to be at when you needed it so desperately. It was a gift, you told yourself. A blessing. You wouldn’t accept anything less.

You couldn’t afford to keep thinking about it.

“Maybe.” You mumbled in response, but your tone conveyed no hint of conviction. You slipped the rune back onto your belt, trying to ignore the low sound it made as you turned away from V.  

You were just happy they couldn’t hear it.

V still seemed worried about you, reaching out for your hand and grasping it as firmly as he was able. As for Griffon and Shadow...both were following behind, the bird quiet and just as worried as the poet. It was understandable, at the very least.  

You closed your eyes, counting your breaths and leading V and the familiars forward to the next area. With this rune, you were the strongest person in the group at the moment. You had a poet to protect, and a goal to reach. You just wished that the sense of dread would cease, that your heart would slow and everything was guaranteed to work out.  

But more than anything, you wished that aching sensation on the nape of your neck would just fucking go away.

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Tagged: @nightshadow4713 @slightlylunatic @silentwhispofhope @just-call-me-no-name @efiicitia @raven-huntress