#I foresee the big numbers once he’s build

[marukissnack]

….I spent more primogems for Wriothesley than I could like to admit.

[potteresque-ire]

Can you talk more about the usage of the word "wife" to talk about men in the BL context? I've noticed it in BJYX (particularly with GG), in the (English translations) of MDZS, and then it came up in your recent posts about Danmei-101 (which were super helpful btw) with articles connecting the "little fresh meat" type to fans calling an actor "wife." My initial reaction as a westerner is like "this is very problematic," but I think I'm missing a lot of language/cultural context. Any thoughts?

Hello! First of all, for those who’re interested, here’s a link to the referred posts. Under the cut is arguably the 4th post of the series. As usual, I apologise for the length!

(Topics: seme and uke; more about “leftover women”; roster of feminisation terms; Daji, Bao Si & the origin of BJYX; roster of beautiful, ancient Chinese men; Chairman Mao (not part of the roster) ...)

[TW: feminisation of men]

In the traditional BL characterisation, the M/M (double male) lead pairing is essentially a cis-het relationship in disguise, in which one of the M leads is viewed as the “wife” by the creator and audience. This lead often possesses some of the features of the traditional, stereotypical female, but retaining his male appearance. 

In BL terms, the “wife” is the “uke”. “Seme” and “uke” are the respective roles taken by the two male leads, and designated by the creator of the material. Literally, “seme” (攻め) means the dominant, the attacking / aggressive partner in the relationship and “uke” (受け), the passive / recipient (of actions) partner who tends to follow the seme’s lead. The terms themselves do not have any sexual / gender context.  However, as male and female are viewed as aggressive and passive by their traditional social roles, and the attacker and recipient by their traditional sexual roles respectively, BL fandoms have long assigned uke, the passive, sexual “bottom”, as the “woman”, the “wife”. 

Danmei has kept this “semi” and uke” tradition from BL, taking the kanji of the Japanese terms for designation ~ 攻 (”attack” is therefore the “husband”, and 受 (”receive”), the “wife”. The designations are often specified in the introduction / summary of Danmei works as warning / enticement. For MDZS, for example, MXTX wrote:

高貴冷豔悶騷 攻 × 邪魅狂狷風騷 受

高貴冷豔悶騷 攻 = noble, coolly beautiful and boring seme (referring to LWJ)  邪魅狂狷風騷 受 = devilishly charming, wild, and flirty uke (referring to WWX) 

The traditional, stereotypical female traits given to the “uke”, the “wife” in Danmei and their associated fanworks range from their personality to behaviour to even biological functions. Those who have read the sex scenes in MDZS may be aware of their lack of mention of lube, while WWX was written as getting (very) wet from fluids from his colon (腸道) ~ implying that his colon, much like a vagina, was supplying the necessarily lubrication for sex. This is obviously biologically inaccurate; however, Danmei is exempt from having to be realistic by its original Tanbi definition. The genre’s primary audience is cishet females, and sex scenes such as this one aren’t aiming for realism. Rather, the primary goal of these sex scenes is to generate fantasy, and the purpose of the biologically female functions in one of the leads (WWX) is to ease the readers into imagining themselves as the one engaging in the sex.

Indeed, these practices of assigning as males and female the M/M sexual top and bottom, of emphasising of who is the top and who is the bottom, have been falling out of favour in Western slash fandoms ~ I joined fandom about 15 years ago, and top and bottom designations in slash pairings (and fights about them) were much more common than it is now.  The generally more open, more progressive environments in which Western fandomers are immersed in probably have something to do with it: they transfer their RL knowledge, their views on biology, on different social into their fandom works and discourses. 

I’d venture to say this: in the English-speaking fandoms, fandom values and mainstream values are converging. “Cancel culture” reflects an attempt to enforce RL values in the fictional worlds in fandom. Fandom culture is slowly, but surely, leaving its subculture status and becoming part of mainstream culture. 

I’d hesitate to call c-Danmei fandoms backward compared to Western slash for this reason. There’s little hope for Danmei to converge with China’s mainstream culture in the short term ~ the necessity of replacing Danmei with Dangai in visual media already reflects that. Danmei is and will likely remain subculture in the foreseeable future, and subcultures, at heart, are protests against the mainstream. Unless China and the West define “mainstream” very similarly (and they don’t), it is difficult to compare the “progressiveness”—and its dark side, the “problematic-ness”—of the protests, which are shaped by what they’re protesting against. The “shaper” in this scenario, the mainstream values and culture, are also far more forceful under China’s authoritarian government than they are in the free(-er) world. 

Danmei, therefore, necessarily takes on a different form in China than BL or slash outside China. As a creative pursuit, it serves to fulfil psychological needs that are reflective of its surrounding culture and sociopolitical environment. The genre’s “problematic” / out of place aspects in the eyes of Western fandoms are therefore, like all other aspects of the genre, tailor-made by its millions of fans to be comforting / cathartic for the unique culture and sociopolitical background it and they find themselves in. 

I briefly detoured to talk about the Chinese government’s campaign to pressure young, educated Chinese women into matrimony and motherhood in the post for this reason, as it is an example of how, despite Western fandoms’ progressiveness, they may be inadequate, distant for c-Danmei fans. Again, this article is a short and a ... morbidly-entertaining read on what has been said about China’s “leftover women” (剩女) — women who are unmarried and over 27-years-old). I talked about it, because “Women should enter marriage and parenthood in their late 20s” may no longer a mainstream value in many Western societies, but where it still is, it exerts a strong influence on how women view romance, and by extension, how they interact with romantic fiction, including Danmei.

In China, this influence is made even stronger by the fact that Chinese tradition  places a strong emphasis on education and holds a conservative attitude towards romance and sex. Dating while studying therefore remains discouraged in many Chinese families. University-educated Chinese women therefore have an extremely short time frame — between graduation (~23 years old) and their 27th birthday — to find “the right one” and get married, before they are labelled as “leftovers” and deemed undesirable. (Saving) face being an important aspect in Chinese culture introduces yet another layer of pressure: traditionally, women who don’t get married by the age agreed by social norms have been viewed as failures of upbringing, in that the unmarried women’s parents not having taught/trained their daughters well. Filial, unmarried women therefore try to get married “on time” just to avoid bringing shame to their family.

The outcome is this: despite the strong women characters we may see in Chinese visual media, many young Chinese women nowadays do not expect themselves to be able to marry for love. Below, I offer a “book jacket summary” of a popular internet novel in China, which shows how the associated despair also affects cis-het fictional romance. Book reviews praise this novel for being “boring”: the man and woman leads are both common working class people, the “you-and-I”’s; the mundaneness of them trying build their careers and their love life is lit by one shining light: he loves her and she loves him. 

Written in her POV, this summary reflects, perhaps, the disquiet felt by many contemporary Chinese women university graduates:

曾經以為，自己這輩子都等不到了—— 世界這麼大，我又走得這麼慢，要是遇不到良人要怎麼辦？早過了「全球三十幾億男人，中國七億男人，天涯何處無芳草」的猖狂歲月，越來越清楚，循規蹈矩的生活中，我們能熟悉進而深交的異性實在太有限了，有限到我都做好了「接受他人的牽線，找個適合的男人慢慢煨熟，再平淡無奇地進入婚姻」的準備，卻在生命意外的拐彎處迎來自己的另一半。

I once thought, my wait will never come to fruition for the rest of my life — the world is so big, I’m so slow in treading it, what if I’ll never meet the one? I’ve long passed the wild days of thinking “3 billion men exist on Earth, 0.7 of which are Chinese. There is plenty more fish in the sea.” I’m seeing, with increasing clarity, that in our disciplined lives, the number of opposite-sex we can get to know, and get to know well, is so limited. It’s so limited that I’m prepared to accept someone’s matchmaking, find a suitable man and slowly, slowly, warm up to him, and then, to enter marriage with without excitement, without wonder. But then, an accidental turn in my life welcomes in my other half.

— Oath of Love (餘生，請多指教) (Yes, this is the novel Gg’d upcoming drama is based on.) 

Heteronormativity is, of course, very real in China. However, that hasn’t exempted Chinese women, even its large cis-het population, from having their freedom to pursue their true love taken away from them. Even for cis-het relationships, being able to marry for love has become a fantasy —a fantasy scorned by the state. Remember this quote from Article O3 in the original post? 

耽改故事大多远离现���，有些年轻受众却将其与生活混为一谈，产生不以结婚和繁衍为目的才是真爱之类的偏颇认知。

Most Dangai stories are far removed from reality; some young audience nonetheless mix them up with real life, develop biased understanding such as “only love that doesn’t treat matrimony and reproduction as destinations is true love”. 

I didn’t focus on it in the previous posts, in an effort to keep the discussion on topic. But why did the op-ed piece pick this as an example of fantasy-that-shouldn’t-be-mixed-up-with-real-life, in the middle of a discussion about perceived femininity of men that actually has little to do with matrimony and reproduction? 

Because the whole point behind the state’s “leftover women” campaign is precisely to get women to treat matrimony and reproduction as destinations, not beautiful sceneries that happen along the way. And they’re the state’s destination as more children = higher birth rate that leads to higher future productivity. The article is therefore calling out Danmei for challenging this “mainstream value”.

Therefore, while the statement True love doesn’t treat matrimony and reproduction as destinations may be trite for many of us while it may be a point few, if any, English-speaking fandoms may pay attention to, to the mainstream culture Danmei lives in, to the mainstream values dictated by the state, it is borderline subversive.

As much as Danmei may appear “tame” for its emphasis on beauty and romance, for it to have stood for so long, so firmly against China’s (very) forceful mainstream culture, the genre is also fundamentally rebellious.  Remember: Danmei has little hope of converging with China’s mainstream unless it “sells its soul” and removes its homoerotic elements. 

With rebelliousness, too, comes a bit of tongue-in-cheek.

And so, when c-Danmei fans, most of whom being cishet women who interact with the genre by its traditional BL definition, call one of the leads 老婆 (wife), it can and often take on a different flavour. As said before, it can be less about feminizing the lead than about identifying with the lead. The nickname 老婆 (wife) can be less about being disrespectful and more about humorously expressing an aspiration—the aspiration to have a husband who truly loves them, who they do want to get married and have babies with but out of freedom and not obligation.

Admittedly, I had been confused, and bothered by these “can-be”s myself. Just because there are alternate reasons for the feminisation to happen doesn’t mean the feminisation itself is excusable. But why the feminisation of M/M leads doesn’t sound as awful to me in Chinese as in English? How can calling a self-identified man 老婆 (wife) get away with not sounding being predominantly disrespectful to my ears, when I would’ve frowned at the same thing said in my vicinity in English?

I had an old hypothesis: when I was little, it was common to hear people calling acquaintances in Chinese by their unflattering traits:  “Deaf-Eared Chan” (Mr Chan, who’s deaf), “Fat Old Woman Lan” (Ah-Lan, who’s an overweight woman) etc—and the acquaintances were perfectly at ease with such identifications, even introducing themselves to strangers that way. Comparatively speaking then, 老婆 (wife) is harmless, even endearing. 

老婆, which literally means “old old-lady” (implying wife = the woman one gets old with), first became popularised as a colloquial, casual way of calling “wife” in Hong Kong and its Cantonese dialect, despite the term itself being about 1,500 years old. As older generations of Chinese were usually very shy about talking about their love lives, those who couldn’t help themselves and regularly spoke of their 老婆 tended to be those who loved their wives in my memory. 老婆, as a term, probably became endearing to me that way. 

Maybe this is why the feminisation of M/M leads didn’t sound so bad to me?

This hypothesis was inadequate, however. This custom of identifying people by their (unflattering) traits has been diminishing in Hong Kong and China, for similar reasons it has been considered inappropriate in the West.

Also, 老婆 (wife) is not the only term used for / associated with feminisation. I’ve tried to limit the discussion to Danmei, the fictional genre; now, I’ll jump to its associated RPS genre, and specifically, the YiZhan fandoms. The purpose of this jump: with real people involved, feminisation’s effect is potentially more harmful, more acute. Easier to feel. 

YiZhan fans predominantly entered the fandoms through The Untamed, and they’ve also transferred Danmei’s  “seme”/“uke” customs into YiZhan. There are, therefore, three c-YiZhan fandoms:

博君一肖 (BJYX): seme Dd, uke Gg 戰山為王 (ZSWW): seme Gg, uke Dd 連瑣反應 (LSFY): riba Gg and Dd. Riba = “reversible”, and unlike “seme” and “uke”, is a frequently-used term in the Japanese gay community. 

BJYX is by far the largest of the three, likely due to Gg having played WWX, the “uke” in MDZS / TU. I’ll therefore focus on this fandom, ie. Gg is the “uke”, the “wife”.

For Gg alone, I’ve seen him being also referred to by YiZhan fans as (and this is far from a complete list):

* 姐姐 (sister) * 嫂子 (wife of elder brother; Dd being the elder brother implied) * 妃妃 (based on the very first YiZhan CP name, 太妃糖 Toffee Candy, a portmanteau of sorts from Dd being the 太子 “prince” of his management company and Gg being the prince’s wife, 太子妃. 糖 = “candy”. 太妃 sounds like toffee in English and has been used as the latter’s Chinese translation.) * 美人 (beauty, as in 肖美人 “Beauty Xiao”) * Daji 妲己 (as in 肖妲己, “Daji Xiao”). 

The last one needs historical context, which will also become important for explaining the new hypothesis I have.

Daji was a consort who lived three thousand years ago, whose beauty was blamed for the fall of the Shang dynasty. Gg (and men sharing similar traits, who are exceptionally rare) has been compared to Daji 妲己 for his alternatively innocent, alternatively seductive beauty ~ the kind of beauty that, in Chinese historical texts and folk lores, lead to the fall of kingdoms when possessed by the king’s beloved woman. This kind of “I-get-to-ruin-her-virginity”, “she’s a slut in MY bedroom” beauty is, of course, a stereotypical fantasy for many (cis-het) men, which included the authors of these historical texts and folklores. However, it also contained some truth: the purity / innocence, the image of a virgin, was required for an ancient woman to be chosen as a consort; the seduction, meanwhile, helped her to become the top consort, and monopolise the attention of kings and emperors who often had hundreds of wives ~ wives who often put each other in danger to eliminate competition. 

Nowadays, women of tremendous beauty are still referred to by the Chinese idiom 傾國傾城, literally, ”falling countries, falling cities”. The beauty is also implied to be natural, expressed in a can’t-help-itself way, perhaps reflecting the fact that the ancient beauties on which this idiom has been used couldn’t possibly have plastic surgeries, and most of them didn’t meet a good end ~ that they had to pay a price for their beauty, and often, with their lowly status as women, as consorts, they didn’t get to choose whether they wanted to pay this price or not. This adjective is considered to be very flattering. Gg’s famous smile from the Thailand Fanmeet has been described, praised as 傾城一笑: “a smile that topples a city”.

I’m explaining Daji and 傾國傾城 because the Chinese idiom 博君一笑 “doing anything to get a smile from you”, from which the ship’s name BJYX 博君一肖  was derived (笑 and 肖 are both pronounced “xiao”), is connected to yet another of such dynasty-falling beauty, Bao Si 褒姒. Like Daji before her, Bao Si was blamed for the end of the Zhou Dynasty in 771 BC. 

The legend went like this: Bao Si was melancholic, and to get her to smile, her king lit warning beacons and got his nobles to rush in from the nearby vassal states with their armies to come and rescue him, despite not being in actual danger. The nobles, in their haste, looked so frantic and dishevelled that Bao Si found it funny and smiled. Longing to see more of the smile of his favourite woman, the king would fool his nobles again and again, until his nobles no longer heeded the warning beacons when an actual rebellion came. 

What the king did has been described as 博紅顏一笑, with 紅顏 (”red/flushed face”) meaning a beautiful woman, referring to Bao Si. Replace 紅顏 with the respectful “you”, 君, we get 博君一笑. If one searches the origin of the phrase 博 [fill_in_the_blank]一笑 online, Bao Si’s story shows up.

The “anything” in ”doing anything to get a smile from you” in 博君一笑, therefore, is not any favour, but something as momentous as giving away one’s own kingdom. c-turtles have remarked, to their amusement and admittedly mine, that “king”, in Chinese, is written as 王, which is Dd’s surname, and very occasionally, they jokingly compare him to the hopeless kings who’d give away everything for their love. Much like 傾國傾城 has become a flattering idiom despite the negative reputations of Daji and Bao Si for their “men-ruining ways”, 博君一笑 has become a flattering phrase, emphasising on the devotion and love rather than the ... stupidity behind the smile-inducing acts. 

(Bao Si’s story, BTW, was a lie made up by historians who also lived later but also thousands of years ago, to absolve the uselessness of the king. Warning beacons didn’t exist at her time.)  

Gg is arguably feminized even in his CP’s name. Gg’s feminisation is everywhere. 

And here comes my confession time ~ I’ve been amused by most of the feminisation terms above. 肖妲己 (”Daji Xiao”) captures my imagination, and I remain quite partial to the CP name BJYX. Somehow, there’s something ... somewhat forgivable when the feminisation is based on Gg’s beauty, especially in the context of the historical Danmei / Dangai setting of MDZS/TU ~ something that, while doesn’t cancel, dampens the “problematic-ness” of the gender mis-identification.

What, exactly, is this something?

Here’s my new hypothesis, and hopefully I’ll manage to explain it well ~

The hypothesis is this: the unisex beauty standard for historical Chinese men and women, which is also breathtakingly similar to the modern beauty standard for Chinese women, makes feminisation in the context of Danmei (especially historical Danmei) flattering, and easier to accept.

What defined beauty in historical Chinese men? If I am to create a classically beautiful Chinese man for my new historical Danmei, how would I describe him based on what I’ve read, my cultural knowledge?

Here’s a list:

* Skin fair and smooth as white jade * Thin, even frail; narrow/slanted shoulders; tall * Dark irises and bright, starry eyes * Not too dense, neat eyebrows that are shaped like swords ~ pointed slightly upwards from the center towards the sides of the face * Depending on the dynasty, nice makeup.

Imagine these traits. How “macho” are they? How much do they fit the ideal Chinese masculine beauty advertised by Chinese government, which looks like below?

Propaganda poster, 1969. The caption says “Defeat Imperialist US! Defeat Social Imperialism!” The book’s name is “Quotations from Mao Zedong”. (Source)

Where did that list of traits I’ve written com from? Fair like jade, frail ... why are they so far from the ... “macho”ness of the men in the poster? 

What has Chinese history said about its beautiful men? 

Wei Jie (衛玠 286-312 BCE), one of the four most beautiful ancient Chinese men (古代四大美男) recorded in Chinese history famously passed away when fans of his beauty gathered and formed a wall around him, blocking his way. History recorded Wei as being frail with chronic illness, and was only 27 years old when he died. Arguably the first historical account of “crazy fans killing their idol”, this incident left the idiom 看殺衛玠 ~ “Wei Jie being watched to death.” ~ a not very “macho” way to die at all.

潘安 (Pan An; 247-300 BCE), another one of the four most beautiful ancient Chinese men, also had hoards of fangirls, who threw fruits and flowers at him whenever he ventured outside. The Chinese idiom 擲果盈車 “thrown fruit filling a cart” was based on Pan and ... his fandom, and denotes such scenarios of men being so beautiful that women openly displayed their affections for them. 

Meanwhile, when Pan went out with his equally beautiful male friend, 夏侯湛 Xiahou Zhan, folks around them called them 連璧 ~ two connected pieces of perfect jade. Chinese Jade is white, smooth, faintly glowing in light, so delicate that it gives the impression of being somewhat transparent.

Aren’t Wei Jie and Pan An reminiscent of modern day Chinese idols, the “effeminate” “Little Fresh Meat”s (小鲜肉) so panned by Article O3? Their stories, BTW, also elucidated the historical reference in LWJ’s description of being jade-like in MDZS, and in WWX and LWJ being thrown pippas along the Gusu river bank. 

Danmei, therefore, didn’t create a trend of androgynous beauty in men as much as it has borrowed the ancient, traditional definition of masculine Chinese beauty ~ the beauty that was more feminine than masculine by modern standards.  

[Perhaps, CPs should be renamed 連璧 (”two connected pieces of perfect jade”) as a reminder of the aesthetics’ historical roots.]

Someone may exclaim now: But. But!! Yet another one of the four most beautiful ancient Chinese men, 高長恭 (Gao Changgong, 541-573 BCE), far better known by his title, 蘭陵王 (”the Prince of Lanling”), was a famous general. He had to be “macho”, right?

... As it turns out, not at all. Historical texts have described Gao as “貌柔心壮，音容兼美” (”soft in looks and strong at heart, beautiful face and voice”), “白美類婦人” (”fair and beautiful as a woman”), “貌若婦人” (”face like a woman”). Legends have it that The Prince of Lanling’s beauty was so soft, so lacking in authority that he had to wear a savage mask to get his soldiers to listen to his command (and win) on the battlefield (《樂府雜錄》: 以其顏貌無威，每入陣即著面具，後乃百戰百勝).

This should be emphasised: Gao’s explicitly feminine descriptions were recorded in historical texts as arguments *for* his beauty. Authors of these texts, therefore, didn’t view the feminisation as insult. In fact, they used the feminisation to drive the point home, to convince their readers that men like the Prince of Lanling were truly, absolutely good looking.

Being beautiful like a women was therefore high praise for men in, at least, significant periods in Chinese history ~ periods long and important enough for these records to survive until today. Beauty, and so it goes, had once been largely free of distinctions between the masculine and feminine.

One more example of an image of an ancient Chinese male beauty being similar to its female counterpart, because the history nerd in me finds this fun. 

何晏 (He Yan, ?-249 BCE) lived in the Wei Jin era (between 2nd to 4th century), during which makeup was really en vogue. Known for his beauty, he was also famous for his love of grooming himself. The emperor, convinced that He Yan’s very fair skin was from the powder he was wearing, gave He Yan some very hot foods to eat in the middle of the summer. He Yan began to sweat, had to wipe himself with his sleeves and in the process, revealed to the emperor that his fair beauty was 100% natural ~ his skin glowed even more with the cosmetics removed (《世說新語·容止第十四》: 何平叔美姿儀，面至白。魏明帝疑其傅粉，正夏月，與熱湯餅。既啖，大汗出，以朱衣自拭，色轉皎然). His kick-cosmetics’-ass fairness won him the nickname 傅粉何郎 (”powder-wearing Mr He”).

Not only would He Yan very likely be mistaken as a woman if this scene is transferred to a modern setting, but this scene can very well fit inside a Danmei story of the 21st century and is very, very likely to get axed by the Chinese censorship board for its visualisation. 

[Important observation from this anecdote: the emperor was totally into this trend too.]

The adjectives and phrases used above to describe these beautiful ancient Chinese men ~ 貌柔, 音容兼美, 白美, 美姿儀, 皎然 ~ have all become pretty much reserved for describing beauty in women nowadays. Beauty standards in ancient China were, as mentioned before, had gone through significantly long periods in which they were largely genderless. The character for beauty 美 (also in Danmei, 耽美) used to have little to no gender association. Free of gender associations as well were the names of many flowers. The characters for orchid (蘭) and lotus (蓮), for example, were commonly found in men’s names as late as the Republican era (early 20th century), but are now almost exclusively found in women’s names. Both orchid and lotus have historically been used to indicate 君子 (junzi, roughly, “gentlemen”), which have always been men. MDZS also has an example of a man named after a flower: Jin Ling’s courtesy name, given to him by WWX,  was 如蘭 (”like an orchid”). 

A related question may be this: why does ancient China associate beauty with fairness, with softness, with frailty? Likely, because Confucianist philosophy and customs put a heavy emphasis on scholarship ~ and scholars have mostly consisted of soft-spoken, not muscular, not working-under-the-sun type of men. More importantly, Confucianist scholars also occupied powerful government positions. Being, and looking like a Confucianist scholar was therefore associated with status. Indeed, it’s very difficult to look like jade when one was a farmer or a soldier, for example, who constantly had to toil under the sun, whose skin was constantly being dried and roughened by the elements. Having what are viewed as “macho” beauty traits as in the poster above ~ tanned skin, bulging muscles, bony structures (which also take away the jade’s smoothness) ~ were associated with hard labour, poverty and famine.

Along that line, 手無縛雞之力 (“hands without the strength to restrain a chicken”) has long been a phrase used to describe ancient scholars and students, and without scorn or derision. Love stories of old, which often centred around scholars were, accordingly, largely devoid of the plot lines of husbands physically protecting the wives, performing the equivalent of climbing up castle walls and fighting dragons etc. Instead, the faithful husbands wrote poems, combed their wife’s hair, traced their wife’s eyebrows with cosmetics (畫眉)...all activities that didn’t require much physical strength, and many of which are considered “feminine” nowadays.

Were there periods in Chinese history in which more ... sporty men and women were appreciated? Yes. the Tang dynasty, for example, and the Yuan and Qing dynasties. The Tang dynasty, as a very powerful, very open era in Chinese history, was known for its relations to the West (via the Silk Road). The Yuan and Qing dynasties, meanwhile, were established by Mongolians and Manchus respectively, who, as non-Han people, had not been under the influence of Confucian culture and grew up on horsebacks, rather than in schools.

The idea that beautiful Chinese men should have “macho” attributes was, therefore, largely a consequence of non-Han-Chinese influence, especially after early 20th century. That was when the characters for beauty (美), orchid (蘭), lotus (蓮) etc began their ... feminisation. The Chinese Communist Party (CCP), which started its reign of the country starting 1949, also has foreign roots, being a derivative of the Soviets, and its portrayal of ideal men has been based on the party’s ideology, painting them as members of the People’s Liberation Army (Chinese army) and its two major proletariat classes, farmers and industrial workers ~ all occupations that are “macho” in their aesthetics, but held at very poor esteem in ancient Chinese societies. All occupations that, to this day, may be hailed as noble by Chinese women, but not really deemed attractive by them.

Beauty, being an instinct, is perhaps much more resistant to propaganda.

If anything, the three terms Article O3 used to describe “effeminate” men ~ 奶油小生 “cream young men” (popularised in 1980s) , 花美男 “flowery beautiful men” (early 2000s), 小鲜肉 “little fresh meat” (coined in 2014 and still popular now) ~ only informs me how incredibly consistent the modern Chinese women’s view of ideal male beauty has been. It’s the same beauty the Chinese Communist Party has called feminine. It’s the same beauty found in Danmei. It’s the same beauty that, when witnessed in men in ancient China, was so revered that historians recorded it for their descendants to remember. It doesn’t mean there aren’t any women who appreciate the "macho” type ~ it’s just that, the appreciation for the non-macho type has never really gone out of fashion, never really changed. The only thing that is really changing is the name of the type, the name’s positive or negative connotations.

(Personally, I’m far more uncomfortable with the name “Little fresh meat” (小鲜肉) than 老婆 (wife). I find it much more insulting.)

Anyway, what I’d like to say is this: feminisation in Danmei ~ a genre that, by definition, is hyper-focused on aesthetics ~ may not be as "problematic” in Chinese as it is in English, because the Chinese tradition didn’t make that much of a differentiation between masculine and feminine beauty. Once again, this isn’t to say such mis-gendering isn’t disrespectful; it’s just that, perhaps, it is less disrespectful because Chinese still retains a cultural memory in which equating a beautiful man to a beautiful woman was the utmost flattery. 

I must put a disclaimer here: I cannot vouch for this being true for the general Chinese population. This is something that is buried deep enough inside me that it took a lot of thought for me to tease out, to articulate. More importantly, while I grow up in a Chinese-speaking environment, I’ve never lived inside China. My history knowledge, while isn’t shabby, hasn’t been filtered through the state education system.

I’d also like to point out as well, along this line of thought, that in *certain* (definitely not all) aspects, Chinese society isn’t as sexist as the West. While historically, China has periods of extreme sexism against women, with the final dynasties of Ming and Qing being examples, I must (reluctantly) acknowledge Chairman Mao for significantly lifting the status of women during his rule. Here’s a famous quote of his from 1955:

婦女能頂半邊天 Women can lift half the skies

The first marriage code, passed in 1950, outlawed forced marriages, polygamy, and ensured equal rights between husband and wife.  For the first time in centuries, women were encouraged to go outside of their homes and work. Men resisted at first, wanting to keep their wives at home; women who did work were judged poorly for their performance and given less than 50% of men’s wage, which further fuelled the men’s resistance. Mao said the above quote after a commune in Guizhou introduced the “same-work-same-wage” system to increase its productivity, and he asked for the same system to to be replicated across the country. (Source)

When Chairman Mao wanted something, it happened. Today, Chinese women’s contribution to the country’s GDP remains among the highest in the world.  They make up more than half of the country’s top-scoring students. They’re the dominant gender in universities, in the ranks of local employees of international corporations in the Shanghai and Beijing central business districts—among the most sought after jobs in the country. While the inequality between men and women in the workplace is no where near wiped out — stories about women having to sleep with higher-ups to climb the career ladder, or even get their PhDs are not unheard of, and the central rulership of the Chinese Communist Party has been famously short of women — the leap in women’s rights has been significant over the past century, perhaps because of how little rights there had been before ~ at the start of the 20th century, most Chinese women from relatively well-to-do families still practised foot-binding, in which their feet were literally crushed during childhood in the name of beauty, of status symbol. They couldn’t even walk properly.

Perhaps, the contemporary Chinese women’s economic contribution makes the sexism they encounter in their lives, from the lack of reproductive rights to the “leftover women” label, even harder to swallow. It makes their fantasies fly to even higher, more defiant heights. The popularity of Dangai right now is pretty much driven by women, as acknowledged by Article O3. Young women, especially, female fans who people have dismissed as “immature”, “crazy”, are responsible for the threat the Chinese government is feeling now by the genre.

This is no small feat. While the Chinese government complains about the “effeminate” men from Danmei / Dangai, its propaganda has been heavily reliant on stars who have risen to popularity to these genres. The film Dd is currently shooting, Chinese Peacekeeping Force (維和部隊), also stars Huang Jingyu (黄景瑜), and Zhang Zhehan (張哲瀚) ~ the three actors having shot to fame from The Untamed (Dangai), Addicted (Danmei), and Word of Honour (Dangai) respectively.  Zhang, in particular, played the “uke” role in Word of Honour and has also been called 老婆 (wife) by his fans. The quote in Article O3, “Ten years as a tough man known by none; one day as a beauty known by all” was also implicitly referring to him.

Perhaps, the government will eventually realise that millennia-old standards of beauty are difficult to bend, and by extension, what is considered appropriate gender expression of Chinese men and women. 

In the metas I’ve posted, therefore, I’ve hesitated in using terms such as homophobia, sexism, and ageism etc, opting instead to make long-winded explanations that essentially amount to these terms (thank you everyone who’s reading for your patience!). Because while the consequence is similar—certain fraction of the populations are subjected to systemic discrimination, abuse, given less rights, treated as inferior etc—these words, in English, also come with their own context, their own assumptions that may not apply to the situation. It reminds me of what Leo Tolstoy wrote in Anna Karenina,

“All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”

Discrimination in each country, each culture is humiliating, unhappy in its own way. Both sexism and homophobia are rampant in China, but as their roots are different from those of the West, the ways they manifest are different, and so must the paths to their dissolution. I’ve also hesitated on calling out individual behaviours or confronting individuals for this reason. i-Danmei fandoms are where i-fans and c-fans meet, where English-speaking doesn’t guarantee a non-Chinese sociopolitical background (there may be students from China, for example; I’m also ... not entirely Western), and I find it difficult to articulate appropriate, convincing arguments without knowing individual backgrounds.

Frankly, I’m not sure if I’ve done the right thing. Because I do hope feminisation will soon fade into extinction, especially in i-Danmei fandoms that, if they continue to prosper on international platforms, may eventually split from c-Danmei fandoms along the cultural (not language) line due to the vast differences in environmental constraints. My hope is especially true when real people are involved, and c-fandoms, I’d like to note, are not unaware of the issues surrounding feminisation ~ it has already been explicitly forbidden in BJYX’s supertopic on Weibo. 

At the same time, I’ve spent so many words above to try to explain why beauty can *sometimes* lurk behind such feminisations. Please allow me to end this post with one example of feminisation that I deeply dislike—and I’ve seen it used by fans on Gg as well—is 綠茶 (”green tea”), from 綠茶婊 (”green tea whore”) that means women who look pure / innocent but are, deep down, promiscuous / lustful. In some ways, its meaning isn’t so different from Daji 妲己, the consort blamed for the fall of the Shang dynasty. However, to me at least, the flattery in the feminisation is gone, perhaps because of the character “whore” (婊), because the term originated in 2013 from a notorious sex party rather than from a legendary beauty so maligned that The Investiture of the Gods (封神演義), the seminal Chinese fiction written ~2,600 years after Daji’s death, re-imagined her as a malevolent fox spirit (狐狸精) that many still remembers her as today.

Ah, to be caught between two cultures. :)

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 6

Positive

Cult girl and Hannibal find a way to turn a life-altering mistake to their favor.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: accidental pregnancy, discussion of abortion, adoption, slight emetophobia

Another week passed and the 'hangover' didn't subside. Then a third week passed, so you had to give up the façade and just admit you were sick. Hannibal was smugly concerned, but not alarmed. It paid to have a doctor for a fiancé. Studying could be done from bed and you needed to be in perfect working order to burn down your grandmother's country club and fully enjoy it.

Hannibal wasn't so much of a hypochondriac that he denied you affection while bed-ridden. That, or he didn't believe what you had was contagious. Whatever it was.

It wasn't until you woke up late, just days before the start of the new semester, that you discovered. You hobbled blindly to the bathroom to take your medicine. You were fully prepared to drop to your knees and vomit in the toilet and you wanted nothing more than to return to bed and slip back into sweet unconsciousness. Not even microdosing meth could keep you awake.

You slid your birth control packet out of its sleeve. You were halfway through the green placebo pills, so you were sure that didn't help how miserable you felt. This period sure had a hell of a build-up.

That's when a number caught your eye.

It was a number you weren't even previously aware existed. A date on your birth control packet. Dated three months prior.

You weren't lucid enough to comprehend what it meant, but once it hit you, you spit the pill into the sink.

Expired. You thought. How the fuck do pills expire?

No. No. No. No.

"[F/N]?" Hannibal said. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." You called back. "I... just need to take a shower."

You turned the faucet on. It was a bad lie and he would figure it out eventually, but you couldn't involve him. Not yet. You needed a minute alone to think.

You found the pregnancy test you stashed under the sink all those years ago. You double-checked the lock, then began the test. There was no romantic or even palatable way to describe the process of peeing on a stick, quietly as possible, to avoid your frankly terrifying fiancé's notice. Once it was done, you wrapped the still-loading test in toilet paper and shoved it back under the sink.

You had no idea how long it would take to give you a result. Or if waiting four years to use it would give you a false result. There was so much you didn't know.

You jumped into the shower and washed up, trying to push all thoughts of panic out of your head. It didn't work. You went right into bury-the-body mode. A fall down the stairs could best pass for an accident, but had the unintended consequences of severe bodily harm. You wondered if those special herbal teas actually worked and where you'd find one. Or, instead of investing in gimmicky, pseudo-scientific abortion teas or throwing yourself down a flight of stairs, you could just talk to him.

You sat on the bathroom floor in a towel for what felt like hours, holding the mummified pregnancy test between your fingers. It took all your strength to rip through the tissue paper and confirm what you already knew.

A big, obnoxious pink plus sign. Almost like it was rubbing it in.

Your head was screaming just talk to him. He was your goddamn fiancé. The man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. But you couldn't tell him. Not after what he said at the country club.

"Hannibal?" You called out, voice weak. "Can you come here, please?"

He opened the bathroom door to find you huddled against the sink wearing nothing but a towel. It was a sight that would make anyone freak out.

"My god, [F/N]." He took a knee beside you. "Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?"

You gestured to the pregnancy test at your side. You hugged your knees into your chest and waited for him to process everything.

He looked at you with an unreadable expression. "I thought you were on birth control?"

You covered your face with your hands. "I did too. Nobody told me that the pills actually expire."

Then came the question that you were dreading.

"What do you want to do?"

That was why you were hesitant to tell him. Not because he would try to make a decision for you, but because he wouldn't.

"I don't know." You blurted out. "What do you want to do?"

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. "You know I can't tell you that. You need to decide for yourself."

"That's what I was afraid you were going to say." You threw your head back in exasperation. "I'm just asking for a little direction. You said you definitely wanted to have kids-"

"Not like this." He cut you off. "Not when it would derail your entire career.” 

“Look, you know I was on the fence about having kids at all.” You rambled, just trying to collect your thoughts. “But then you described what you wanted for us and it just sounded so nice.” 

“Darling, I am begging you,” He pressed his fingers to his temples. “Please, decide for yourself and only yourself.” 

“I’m trying!” You objected. “I just need a second to think.” 

“Don’t think, just answer.” He implored. “What do you want to do?” 

“I want to get an abortion.” You blurted out before slapping your hand over your mouth. 

“Was that really so hard to say?” Hannibal asked, voice broken with relief. Relief of what, you couldn’t place. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him. “It was, a little.” 

“Why?” He tilted his head curiously. “And please don’t say it was because of me.” 

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, hiding your face again. “I just learned I was pregnant, like, five minutes ago. I shouldn’t be expected to make a choice this massive without at least ten minutes to think about it.” 

“Do you really want to get an abortion?” He asked. 

Your voice wobbled with uncertainty. “No... yes?” 

“I see.” He said, as if this were just a point of academic curiosity that didn’t involve him whatsoever. “Is there a part of you, no matter how small, that wants to see the pregnancy to term?” 

“Well, yeah. Thus the basis of my uncertainty.” You threw your hands up. “But I also know it’s insanely unrealistic to think I could just speedrun my last two years of school and however long it takes to establish a career just to get to the domestic bliss.”

“You would do good to not expect motherhood to be a blissful retirement plan, love." Hannibal gently scorned. "Parenting takes just as much commitment as your studies. Likely more."

"I know." You bashed your palms against your forehead. "I said it was unrealistic, didn't I? Look, I just don't foresee any worthwhile outcomes if I carry this pregnancy to term. Even to put it up for adoption just seems selfish. Why bring a kid into the world just to set them up for a shitty life?"

Hannibal paused, and looked off into the distance pensively.

"If you could forgive me a hypothetical," He began. "What if we could guarantee them a wonderful life?"

"Are we talking philosophy, or do you have an actual suggestion?" You probed.

"A bit of both, depending on where your mind takes you." He smirked as if he were about to say something very clever. "What if Beatrice [L/N]'s estate made sure our child had a safe, comfortable upbringing? With a weighty college trust fund in their name, naturally."

You couldn't tell if this was brilliant or insane. It all depended on how 'hypothetical' the whole situation really was. Either way, you were interested.

"Go on." You urged, letting the idea slither into your mind.

"There's nothing in the will that specifically states we must raise the child ourselves." He recounted. "Only that it must be of blood descent."

You hadn't considered that, but it made sense once you heard it out loud. Your grandmother had many skills to make her a sharp manipulator, but her inattention to detail was always her downfall.

“Forty-five million extra dollars in the bank would be nice.” You said. You were humoring him at first, but when you said it out loud, it rang true. 

“Forty-five is drops in the bucket compared to what we can get from her property.” He added. “The house and the golf course.” 

You put your hand on your chin, actually, seriously considering it. You were on the precipice of inheriting more money than you could possibly spend in one lifetime. Money that could make so many problems go away overnight. Money you could hand out to anyone you wanted to, just to make their lives a little easier. You pictured yourself giving waitstaff six-figure tips, or handing a hundred dollar bill to someone asking for change on the street. You could erase your best friend's college debt as a birthday present. Get Hannibal a proper gift. All with money you bled out of your abusers.

It was divine justice. All at the price of nine months of your life.

"So..." Your voice trailed off. "We just need to keep this thing alive for the next nine months..."

"We can find an adoptive family in that time." Hannibal nodded along. "And we can set up a college fund for the child to be given to them on their 18th birthday."

"And we could make the adoption open, in case the child ever wants to meet us." You said.

"Right." He agreed. "Allowing the option for an adoptee to meet their biological parents is much better for their mental health and adjustment."

You covered your mouth with your hand, only to hide your excitement. "I take it back, I'm starting to see a positive outcome."

[honeypiehotchner]

Looking Too Closely (Bucky x Fem!Stark!Reader) -- part three

I did not expect to get so invested in this damn fic but here I am :))

Summary: The one in which Tony invites you to the “family dinner” but you sleep through it. Also, the “Father Test,” as Tony calls it.

Warnings: angst (what’s new?), talk of food/eating (so sorry, I should’ve tagged this a lot sooner!), medical stuffs (needles, blood being drawn)

A few hours pass by slowly as you doze, floating in between sleep and consciousness, both places completely unsoothing to you.

You wake abruptly when FRIDAY’s voice echoes throughout the room. “Do Not Disturb overridden by Tony Stark.”

With a groan, you sit up, listening to Tony knock — though surprised that he even does.

“Come in,” you sigh.

The door swings open and Tony opens his mouth to speak, but stops when he sees you on the floor. “What…” He glances between you and the bed, giving you an incredulous look. “What’s wrong with the perfectly new bed I gave you?”

“The least of your concerns should be that I’m taking a nap on the floor,” you deadpan. “What do you want?”

“Dinner will be ready in a few,” he says, still looking at you all concerned. “We have a family dinner once a week to...build rapport.”

You raise an eyebrow.

He continues. “You live here now, so...you’re invited. Wanda and Pepper will be there. Bucky, too.” Tony pauses. “Bucky didn’t bother you earlier, did he?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, good.”

“You bothered me, Tony.”

“Right,” Tony nods. “Sorry about that. I shouldn’t have brought that stuff up. I should’ve just been happy that you’re okay.” He pauses again, like he’s having trouble putting all the words together. “I am, by the way. Glad you’re okay. I’m sorry you went through that.”

“Thanks,” you say slowly. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

Tony offers a half-smile, half-grimace, because what you don’t know is that he has FRIDAY currently working on a full, extensive background check on your mom. And you, but your mom is top priority. Ever since the conversation in MedBay earlier, he’s been worried. For your safety — both past, present, and future. But he’s also worried about who you really are — and the worst worry of all is that you might not even know.

“Anyway, dinner in a few,” he says. “Nothing fancy. Come as you are, all that bullshit.”

You snicker at his reference.

He tries not to think of it as too much of a win. “Oh and,” he points to the bed, “it really is new. No one’s slept in it before you. And you can adjust the settings on it — softness, heating, cooling, all that. Just,” he pauses again. “FRIDAY, will you show Y/N the control panel?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

Your eyes widen when a hologram appears next to the bed, projected onto the wall. There, all the settings — and many more — that Tony mentioned are shown.

“When you get it set where you like, FRIDAY can save it for you,” he explains. “Just for whenever you feel like sleeping in a bed again. I guess.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, looking over at him. “Really, thank you, Tony.”

“No problem, munchkin.” He smiles fully this time as he leaves, closing your door. And to your surprise, he activates Do Not Disturb again.

Food is the last thing on your mind, so instead you head over to the hologram on the wall.

You spend the next hour and a half fixing the settings. Once you get it just right, though, you lie down and you sleep.

Soundly. For five hours.

+++

When you wake again, you’re confused and disoriented to find yourself sleeping in a bed. But you love that your back, shoulders, and hips aren’t screaming in pain for once.

One glance out the window tells you that you’ve definitely missed the dinner Tony invited you to, but you don’t care all that much. You’ve met everyone individually. You didn’t really need or want to go to a big dinner. It seemed pointless.

But, unfortunately, you are hungry, so you drag yourself out of bed to go to the kitchen in search of something resembling food.

One glance at the clock in the hall tells you it’s just past midnight, so you relax even more, knowing you won’t encounter anyone.

Or at least, you hoped.

There, leaned against the kitchen counter, straight up guzzling a glass of water, is Bucky.

At least it’s him, you think.

Bucky smiles gently when he sees you coming. “Hey.”

You offer a slight nod and a quiet “Hey” in return, going straight to the fridge.

“Oh, the plate in there is yours,” he says. “Top shelf.”

You look up and spot it, your eyes widening as you grab it. Did they eat monstrous portions here or something? It must weigh five pounds or something crazy.

As if reading your mind, Bucky says, “Sorry there’s so much. I think Tony went overboard.”

You blink down at the food. Tony made you a plate? You expected Pepper to do it, if anyone. Quite frankly, you weren’t expecting it at all. You figured they wouldn’t even notice your absence.

Bucky wordlessly steps to the side, giving you access to the microwave. It even looks expensive, which makes you snort. It’s touchscreen. Of-fucking-course.

“We missed you at dinner,” Bucky says. You didn’t know he liked to talk this much.

“I fell asleep,” you confess with a laugh. “Tony uh, showed me the controls for the bed.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “No more sleeping on the floor for you, then?”

You shrug.

“I sleep on the floor most nights, too,” Bucky continues, taking in a deep breath. “It’s just…”

“Normal,” you finish quietly.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It feels normal.”

You turn back to the microwave, opening the door a second before it beeps. The food is warm enough now, you guess. Where the hell are the forks, though?

After opening two drawers, Bucky realizes what you’re looking for. “Here.” He opens the drawer across from you and pulls out a fork.

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking it from him. “Night.”

He nods and gives a slight wave. “Night.”

+++

The next day, Pepper stops by your room with a ton of clothes, shoes, and a phone.

“Uhm, thanks…”

“I know it’s a lot,” she smiles gently. “And if you don’t like anything, just let me know. Or if I didn’t get anything that you need, let me know, too.” She pauses. “You don’t have to do it now.”

“Okay,” you sigh, trying not to feel overwhelmed, but it’s hard. There’s like...fifteen bags on your bed right now. Not to mention the boxes of shoes that are stacked on the floor. And the new phone, still in the box, that you’re holding in your hand.

Pepper points to the phone. “It should have my number, Tony’s number, and the rest of the Avengers programmed in there. You’ll see one named Happy, that’s just Tony’s assistant, just in case. You don’t have to talk to everyone on there, but they do have your number as well. It’s all a precautionary thing. Oh, and the phone can be tracked.” She pauses, lowering her voice. “Just a heads up. In case Tony goes crazy.”

You smile at that. “Thanks.” As if he hasn’t already gone crazy and driven you closer to insanity, too.

“Speaking of Tony,” she says. “He’s willing to do the paternity test whenever you are.”

“Okay,” you nod. “Is today good?”

Pepper blinks. “I don’t see why not.”

“Okay, just...I’ll put some clothes on first.” You’re still wearing what Wanda gave you.

“Yeah, of course,” she nods. “I’ll let Tony know and whenever you’re ready, you can just ask FRIDAY to take you to the lab.”

“Okay.”

Pepper leaves you be, while you get dressed, and it takes you a lot longer than you were expecting.

There are so many clothes.

After finding something somewhat comfortable (and because you’re tired of looking through the bags), you grab your phone, though it feels foreign having it in your pocket.

“FRIDAY...where is the lab?”

“If you head to the elevator, I’ll take you there.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course, Y/N.”

Following FRIDAY’s orders, you head to the elevator and step inside. The doors close and the elevator begins to move, and when it stops, the doors behind you open.

“Welcome to Mr. Stark’s lab.”

Hesitantly, you step off, and you’re met with blaring music.

“Really?” You scream, and Tony lifts his head. “AC/DC? Really?”

The volume lowers a little while Tony replies. “You know your music. I’m impressed.”

“I’m disappointed,” you say. “I prefer Pink Floyd.”

Tony smirks. ‘Another Brick in the Wall, Pt. 2’ begins to play. You hate that you grin, but you do.

“Much better,” you comment. “Pepper told me to come here?”

He nods. “Right, the Father Test.”

You snort. Of course he calls it that.

“We’ll have to head down to MedBay to do it. I’ll be done in just a second.” He taps something on the screen before looking back up. “Did Pepper give you your phone?”

“Yeah.” You pull the device from your pocket and wave it. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

“I’m not gonna leave you stranded without a phone,” Tony replies. “Also, just for the foreseeable future, don’t leave the Tower without someone. Preferably without me.”

You furrow your eyebrows. You hadn’t thought about leaving and going anywhere until now. “Why?”

“Well, for one, you have an arrest warrant,” he reminds you. “They won’t question it if I’m with you. Which is why it needs to be me — Steve is also fine. But, let’s say, if you left with Bucky, they wouldn’t hesitate to grab both of you.”

“Wasn’t he pardoned or something?”

“Doesn’t mean no one holds a grudge against him.”

You nod. “Right.” Then, you reel back. “So you’re not going to turn me in?”

He shrugs. “I believe you. Even though you won’t tell me who stabbed you.” He taps something else, then drags the screen, and a hologram appears right in front of him.

You roll your eyes. “Because I don’t know who they were. I told you.”

“And I still think you’re lying,” he retorts.

You glare at him through the hologram.

A few more minutes pass where all that fills the silence is Pink Floyd. You’re not complaining, but even Tony’s breathing is grating to your ears.

Once he’s finally finished with whatever the hell he was doing, he heads to the elevator, and you silently follow him.

+++

This time when you enter MedBay, it’s empty, aside from the on-site doctor, Dr. Cho.

“Here for the Father Test,” Tony quips, smirking when Dr. Cho rolls her eyes at him.

You like Dr. Cho already.

“Alright,” she says, putting a pause on what she was doing. “It’s just a simple cheek swab and a little blood.”

“Blood?” You ask. You hate having your blood drawn. Not because of the needle, but because of the idea of your blood being drawn out of your body and used for things you’re unaware of.

It’s creepy.

“Just a small amount,” Dr. Cho assures you with a soft smile. “It acts as a double-check for the paternity test. The cheek swab can give us a general yes or no, but blood is definitive.”

You agree, you just hate it.

First is the cheek swab and Dr. Cho lets you do it, probably sensing your anxiety. She refuses to let Tony do his on his own, but that probably has something to do with how much of a child he is.

Tony gets his blood drawn first, and it is too short for your liking, because once he’s done, Dr. Cho preps you.

Your head is turned the other way while she wipes your skin. Tony moves into your line of vision, and you’re ready to tell him to fuck off before he teases you, but he doesn’t.

He just talks to you.

“Barnes told me you fell asleep yesterday.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Yeah. That’s why I missed dinner. He said you made a plate for me?”

“I did,” Tony nods. “I didn’t want you to go hungry.”

“I could tell,” you snort. “There was enough food on the plate to feed four of me.”

He chuckles. “Did you at least eat?”

“Yeah, I did,” you say. “It was good.”

“Good. How’s the bed?”

“Really good,” you say. “Thanks for showing me the controls and stuff.”

“No problem,” he shrugs. “Nat asked me earlier if you’d like to train with her and Wanda.”

“Train?”

“Yeah, train, workout, whatever you want to call it. Barnes and Rogers usually run if that’s more your speed, Wilson, too, when he’s here.”

“Who’s Wilson?”

“Sam,” Tony fills in. “Falcon.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“He’s in...Louisiana right now, but he should be back here in a few days, so you’ll meet him.” He pauses. “But...stay away from him.”

“Why?”

“He’s...flirty.”

You nearly wheeze. “Are you joking?”

“Nope,” he shakes his head. “I’ve been meaning to say that about Barnes, too. I don’t care if you talk to him. I think it’s good for him — and you. But don’t…” He waves his hands in an ambiguous manner.

“Tony, the absolute last thing on my mind right now is a boyfriend, but even if it was, why would you have any say in it?” You counter.

“Because I know them, and I don’t want them anywhere near you,” he says, like that’s the end of it. “All done, Dr. Cho?”

“All done,” she confirms, and that’s when you feel her pressing a Band-Aid over your skin.

Your head whips around. You didn’t even feel the needle go in or out. What the fuck?

You look back at Tony with a small smile. “Well played.”

“You’re welcome,” he smirks. “Though, I wasn’t kidding.”

You roll your eyes. “Not even Nat or Wanda?”

He looks surprised, but still shakes his head. “Still no.”

“Darn. My plans have been foiled.”

This time when he looks at you, he smiles.

As the two of you are walking to the elevator, he says, “Want to help me in the lab? I’ll let you control the music — just this once.”

You almost say yes, but you’re not really in the mood. “No, thanks though. I really should go through all the clothes Pepper brought me.”

“Ah, right,” he nods. “She told me she went shopping.”

“Yeah…” You exhale. “She went.”

You step onto the elevator after him, and he presses the floors for you and the lab.

“You know, Wanda might help you sort through the clothes if you ask. She might wear whatever you don’t want.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll ask.”

“She’s training right now, though.”

You nod. “Okay. It can wait, I guess.”

Tony rocks on his heels. “I could really use an extra set of hands…”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

He grins. “You still want to control the music?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you play AC/DC the whole time.”

[slutsofren]

Danger Days Chapter 4: The Ghost of You

summary: Somehow Tommy and you managed to convince Joel to stay in Jackson for the night, opting to leave the next morning. Things get just ever so slightly awkward between you and that gruff bastard, but it’s fine, totally fine. You’re really not that flustered already.

warnings: none, maybe a little naked Joel nothing nsfw, maybe a tiny bit of eye-fuckin’ but whose to say, not me!

word count: 3,178

Read on AO3 here

The last twelve or so hours were probably the most eventful of your tenure at Jackson, especially since becoming Maria’s right hand gal. The walls of the small community towered in front of you as the four of you approached. Tommy and yourself taking point in the front while the two strangers to Jackson were quiet behind you, either in awe or unease.

Because the sun was still setting, it was difficult to make out who replied but you think you recognized Marcus’ voice telling the others to open the gate. You looked over your shoulder to talk to Joel and Ellie, “We’ll go to the stables first, drop these boys off then take you to one of the houses. You two can get cleaned up there and we’ll bring you food and supplies.”

“Okay!” Ellie looks excitedly at you and Tommy. Beside her, Joel continues to be wary and alert. He surely trusts his younger brother, but you’re waiting for him to start something with you.

It didn’t take much for the whispering and gossip to start in Jackson. No matter how late in the night there was always a lurker, always somebody looking to stir shit, so when you started seeing more and more of the townsfolk peeping out of windows to look at the two new strangers riding alongside two of their leaders, you sent a silent thank-you to the stars that you didn’t have to linger for the whispering to swirl you.

Just the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

Tommy, who rode in front, began to point out to his brother and the girl various landmarks for the small city. The saloon, the community center, the medical building. Making a not-so-subtle attempt to let his brother know he could stay after you’d all return, live a semi-normal life in Jackson during the apocalypse.

Eventually, you fell behind Joel and Ellie making sure nobody pulled any kind of stunt from the back so you got to watch as the gruff brute shifted on his horse, looking only mildly uncomfortable that he couldn’t keep an eye on you. You wondered how his life was on the outside, how much horror plagued his nights, as it did you and everybody else who had to suffer in similar circumstances. Ellie, on the other hand, looked enthusiastic and much as an ordinary child did, despite the glaring obvious.

Approaching the stable, you pulled yourself out of those lingering thoughts, spotting Cherry and Charlie. Cherry ran up to your small group, excitedly cooing at her babies, grateful for their safe return.

Everybody jumped off their horse, handing the reins to a stablehand nearby and Ellie approached the young woman, “I’m sorry I stole your horse. I won’t do it again.”

Cherry held the horses’ bit in her hand, giving Ellie a stern look which you nearly reprimanded the woman for before she burst into a hearty laughter. “I’d never seen Tommy run so goodman fast in my life,” she howls, “I do forgive you for taking dear Lux but please, don’t do that again.”

Ellie looked down at her feet, giving a bashful promise which elicited another bout of relieved laughter from everyone watching. “Okay, yes, I’m not as young as I used to be, don’t mean I can’t run anymore Cherry,” Tommy smiles. “Anyways, let’s get outta here.”

Once again, your small group fell into silence only to be broken by the occasional point-and-see Tommy was doing as he walked beside you, telling his brother and the girl about Jackson, the little traditions the small community developed such as the movie night that fell on this evening, hoping to entice Ellie into persuading Joel to come back. As he would go on to describe the town and the various jobs everyone pulled, you’d sneak back a look over your shoulder to glance at the man every so often.

Only to catch him staring at you. Damn near every time. 

The four of you pulled up to a two story house at the end of a road, just around the corner from the Jackson cemetery. “Why don’t you two take this house for the night,” Tommy said. “It’s got hot water, firewood, pretty much everything you’d need.”

Ellie groans happily coming up beside you as you kneel to the ground and unzip your backpack. “Here,” you dig out some clothes and hand them to Ellie, “Take a shower first. The clothes might be a little big but something’s better than nothin’.”

Tommy nudges his brother, “We’ll bring you some clothes and some warm food. I think Seth has turkey burgers on the menu tonight.”

“Son of a bitch that sounds good,” you say lightly. It was true, Seth’s turkey burgers were one of the best damned things in Jackson. Even if the old man irritated the daylights out of you most days. 

“I’ll go get the food, you go get them clothes and supplies. Be back here in 30,” Tommy tells you. You gave your friend a mock salute and turned away, walking to the community center.

You chance a glance back behind you, Tommy engrossed in conversation with his brother, Ellie already running up the porch to that tempting fresh shower. As for Joel, as soon as you looked at him, it was almost as if he instinctively knew when your eyes would gaze over him for as soon as you did, his brown eyes met you.

The moment took you by surprise and you tumble slightly, catching yourself after tripping on your own damned two feet. Calm down, can’t you keep your shit together, you chide yourself.

You tried to keep your mind occupied, tried to keep various small tasks in the forefront of your head; it wasn’t really easy considering a gruff man with a husky voice danced behind those thoughts. You barely stopped to say a quick hello to people as you passed, not wanting to give them an opportunity to ask you questions about Joel and Ellie. You saw the community center and pretty much ran the last few feet, wanting to get in and out as soon as possible.

Although you knew the pair for less than a day, it wasn’t hard to pick out a couple spare shirts and tanks for them, hoping they’d fit. Joel was easy, he looked like a man who knew his flannels whereas Ellie was more akin to graphic tees and long sleeve undershirts.Tossing the clothes into a bag, you made your way to the exit.

You shot a thanks of appreciation to Max, the man who practically ran the center, and headed out, making a quick stop to your flat. You tossed out all the dirty clothing from your pack into the laundry basket that laid haphazardly at the foot of your bed and switched it out for fresher and cleaner clothes, restocked on ammunition for your dual guns as well, lastly packing some soon-to-be expired food to eat on the road. A rapid mental check and you figured you were good to head out and left your dear little flat for the foreseeable future.

Feet thumping against the porch, you pounded at the door, calling out. “Tommy?”

When nobody answered you knocked again, “Joel? Ellie?”

Only for silence to respond. 

You check the knob and it gives under your hand and you let yourself in, heading up the stairs to check if anybody was actually here or if Joel skipped town without you. Each room you checked was empty, only pushing your worry to be an accurate assumption when you finally peered into the master bedroom. The door opened with a small creak and you were confronted with the naked and wet image of Joel fuckin’ Miller, clad in nothing but a grey towel around his waist as he sat on the bed.

He looks up at you, watching you watching him. Your breath is stolen away, much like your brain has suddenly malfunctioned. A quick furrow of your brow and you remembered where you were, tossing the bag of clothing at the man and turning to leave, slamming the door shut behind you. Storming down the stairs and aiming for the living room, it wasn’t until you hit the final step that you realized you were holding a breath.

How old am I, you whine. As if I’ve never seen a naked man before.

You plopped down on the sofa groaning, mentally reviewing the sight of Joel sitting on the bed looking frustrated- wet hair and tan skin in all his unfortunate glory. Shaking your head in your hands you sighed, waiting for somebody to come rid you of the ever so obvious embarrassment that loomed over your mind like a cloud when the front door opened to the sounds of Tommy and Ellie talking animatedly about using the rifle to protect Joel some time ago.

Bolting from the seat you took not even a few minutes prior, you met your friend and Ellie, quickly taking the bags from them to do something with your hands rather than ringing your neck out. The two continue talking as they follow you into the kitchen, Ellie going on still on how she’s saved Joel’s life from hunters once upon a time.

Together with Tommy, the two of you set out placemats on the table and served the burgers and fries on plates, letting Ellie finish her story. Thankfully being quiet was usually a quality of yours that served you well as Tommy didn’t pick up anything odd from your demeanor.

As the last plate was set, Joel came down the stairs wearing one of the new flannels you had picked for him. A green number, much like his old one but much less ratty and dirty. You refused to look him in the eye as the food was doled out onto everybody's plates, making sure to give him and Ellie extra fries.

Sitting down at the table with everybody as the four of you dug into the food, Ellie and Joel were quiet as they consumed everything they could which elicited a knowing smile between you and Tommy. It was pretty damned clear they hadn’t eaten anything of substance in quite some time. You were only half done with your own as you got Ellie’s attention, “Hey, kid. Want to finish mine off?”

She looked at you and then to the burger in your hand that you leaned towards her. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Nah, a growing kid like you needs to eat. Take it. I’ll start cleaning up.”

“Ellie,” Joel’s voice hinted at a scold.

You looked at him, “She can eat it. There’s more if either of you want any.” You pushed your plate to the girl and stood, beginning your usual post-meal routine of cleaning up.

“Now you two better not kill each other out there, you hear me,” Tommy started, “Especially you.” He pointed to his brother. You caught out of the corner of your eye Joel tense up, about to argue back.

“Don’t you try to tell me what to do, baby brother,” he emphasizes the ‘baby’.

Tommy put his hands in the air, “I know how you can be, but I also know how she can be.”

This made you cock an eyebrow at him. “Do tell me Tommy Miller, how can I be?”

He stammered for a moment before shrugging, “Hell if I know anymore, you and Maria are gonna be the death of me.”

“Damn right,” you say. You smile and walk over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

As you walk away, you faintly hear Tommy lean over the table and say something to his brother like, “Goddamn Californian girls.”  Which made you throw a rag at his head. He had it comin’.

The trio finished up while you cleaned the kitchen giving your mind some time to go on autopilot, enjoying the opportunity to stay clear of Joel for a moment. You couldn’t figure out what it was, maybe it was that he was one of the first new strangers to come to Jackson. Maybe it was the fact he was the elusive and mysterious older brother to Tommy. Maybe it was just the fact you were fuckin’ horny. Whatever it was was beginning to get on your last nerve and you needed to focus on the task at hand- getting the duo to the University for whatever reason.

Unfortunately you finished sooner than you’d hoped then trotted to the living room and settled on the couch next to Ellie, watching Tommy get the fire going in the fireplace. She shifted in the seat, eager to ask, “So, you’re from California?”

You nodded your head, “Born and raised in the Bay Area.”

“How old were you when the virus hit,” Ellie asked excitedly. “Joel doesn’t like talking about it but it all seems so surreal.”

You shifted in your seat just a bit, feeling all the eyes on you. “I was a little older than you are now, not by much. I was still very much a kid at the time.”

“So what did you do?”

You’re taken back for a moment at the girl's questions. You could tell she meant no harm but you weren’t sure how much you could reveal about yourself to complete strangers, so you compromised with half-truths. At the very least Tommy knew what kind of person you were and you had shit all to prove to Joel.

“Well, after the breakout, I volunteered as a field medic for FEDRA for a few years. I couldn’t take it for much longer so I left. Then, I found the Fireflies, met Tommy there too,” you nodded towards the man.

“And she found her family there,” Tommy interjected. The double innuendo was clear for the two of you.

“He’s right,” you smiled faintly. “Not only did I meet the man who’d become a brother to me,” you jerked your chin towards Tommy and noticed how Joel was trying to pretend he wasn’t listening to you. You continued, “but I found my own brother there along with my uncle.”

Subtlety wasn’t your strong suit but what harm could it do to show that you knew what the hell you were talking about when it came to the militia group.

You sighed heavily recalling some of the darkest moments of your lift. “When the breakout happened, I lost everybody on that first day. The only person who I couldn’t account for was my brother, Regan. Turns out he was able to escape then he joined the Fireflies when they formed.”

“Woah, that’s incredible,” Ellie’s eyes were wide listening to your story. “Was he friends with Marlene?”

“You could say that. Without him, she would have killed me when I approached her in Boston but he vouched for me. His opinion mattered to her.”

“Why,” she asked.

“Hell if I know, hell if I could even guess. Regan was always persuasive, could get anybody to do anything if he wanted,” you said lowly, staring into the fireplace. Your memory swirled with thoughts and worries again, wondering if he was still the same brother you knew or if this world changed him like it did everybody eventually. Sure as shit changed you.

Before any of you knew it, the conversation began to idle down as if they collectively sensed your unease. Soon, Ellie’s head drooped along with her eyelids, coming to lay in your lap as if it was the most normal thing in the world. The silence didn’t stay long until Joel looked at his brother then to you, gesturing between the two of you, “What was that thing you did with your hand? When we were fighting with the hunters?”

“It’s a system we adopted here in Jackson. A bit inspired by the military, a bit from sign language. We developed it to be able to communicate if we needed total silence and it works pretty well, only those of us in Jackson can understand it,” Tommy says proudly.

“I can teach you and Ellie,” you offer. “I’d be good to know if we run into any trouble out there.” You looked down at Ellie, watching as she slept, running your fingers through her hair. She looked peaceful and part of you didn’t want to move, just so she’d get one good night’s sleep but the other argued she’d sleep better in an actual bed.

“Yeah,” Joel mumbled, “Be nice.”

You looked away from the girl in your lap and looked between the two brothers. “I’ll take this one up to bed, you get some rest too,” you told Joel. “See you in the morning, Tommy.”

Rousing the teenager awake, you walked with her to one of the bedrooms and she fell back asleep rather quickly. Seemed to barely be phased by the new scenery. You kicked off your shoes and went down the hall, claiming the last of the spare bedrooms. By the rise of the next morning, the three of you will be headed out to the one place you didn’t think you’d ever see again.

These are the thoughts that plague you until sleep catches up to you only to toss over and see sunlight peeking through the blinds into the room. You let out a small groan, hoping that you didn’t oversleep although what it really felt like was that you didn’t sleep at all and exited the room only to find your new companions talking with Tommy and Maria in the living room.

Maria spotted you as you descended the stairs and she grabbed your hand, pulling you outside. “You sure about this?”

“More than anything.”

She wants to protest, you know she does. Instead she leaves you on the porch to walk down to Cherry who was keeping two horses occupied.

You went back inside, seeing Ellie double checking her backpack, yours beside hers. You grabbed your toothbrush and some paste, trying to make yourself feel clean with running water one last time for a while only to return to Joel speaking softly to his brother.

“You take care of that wife of yours.”

“There’s a place for you here, you know,” Tommy tries to convince his brother to return.

He hesitates a moment, scratching his beard. His Spanish accent comes through the southern twang as he says, “Adios, hermanito.”

Joel looks at you, following you out of the house before mounting onto his horse, Ellie jumping on behind him. Ellie gives Tommy and Maria a small wave before Joel turns the horse around. 

Maria gives you a tight hug before you are able to get on your horse and she whispers, “You better come back or so help me.”

You pull back and give her a parting kiss on her cheek, “Kill Tommy first.” She laughs sadly at the idle threat and you mount up, giving a parting nod to your friends and then to Cherry and pull up next to Joel and Ellie, ready to tackle this next adventure.

[otterbagel]

The Reunion (Part 2) Simon x Reader

Reader makes a rash decision, one that has long lasting consequences.

(Notes: Link to part 1! Hope you enjoy the rest of the story. :) )

The air in the building was tense as you stood in the elevator, watching the numbers slowly rise.

   The police had mostly left by now, all that remained were a few cleanup crews who were, for the most part, still here just to avoid going to their next assignment. Not that you blamed them; this had been quite a scary day.

   Since you weren't in charge of anything big, you hadn't even known anything was going on until the broadcast had nearly finished. You had been… what had you been doing? Vetting some stories you had found to be a bit too mundane for publication. Even though the strange interference had originated from a few floors above you, it took a panicked employee yelling at the TV for you to notice.

   There wasn't much anyone could do; police and security had already been notified. Just watching the skinless android on screen was the most productive thing your team could possibly do.

   And watch they did. A few were visibly jittery, talking about barricading the doors just in case they decided to come down here— although the thought of an android group demanding an entertainment piece be written about their exploits almost got a chuckle out of you— others were more frustrated and annoyed. Older employees trying to figure out how the topmost office was sieged so quietly, annoyed that they might have to stay late, even discussions about who sent the androids.

   Through it all you had remained calm, trying to lead the group as best you could through the confusion.

   The elevator dinged.

   But despite how you tried to compose yourself, you couldn't help but feel a sense of fear… and a deep longing.

    You stepped out, the hallway devoid of any life. The usual guards up here had been knocked out and were probably taking a very long vacation.

   At the very end of the hallway, right before the broadcasting room, stood a couple of human guards; you doubted they would risk using any androids up here for the foreseeable future.

   With the hallway as empty as it was, the guards immediately took notice of you.

   "Hey, what's your business up here?" One asked in a gruff voice.

   You held up your keycard, a passive way of showing your status. "I wanted to get a better look at the room," you pulled out your cellphone, gently shaking it in the air in an attention attracting manner. "Wanted to get some photos too— we don't have any good ones to use for our article on it."

   He appeared to ponder it for a moment before stepping aside, his partner following suit. He gave a nod.

   With a quick stride you entered the room.

   It appeared to have been deep cleaned, no trace of what had occurred. Some furniture had been moved aside, likely for cleaning. 

   Angling some of the less disturbed areas into the view of your phone's camera, you snapped a few quick pictures through the thickness of your throat.

   It felt eerie to be standing here.

   That android had been standing in nearly this exact location just hours ago, demanding rights and freedoms… that sort of talk would have him destroyed.

   And yet… you completely agreed with him.

   Your hands tensed on your phone as you looked to the floor.

   Why couldn't this have happened two years earlier?

   Why couldn't it have happened before that day?

   

   ...It didn't matter. He was far away, and safe from this sort of persecution. Maybe in Canada where no android laws existed… or maybe he was still in the States, just in a rural place and pretending to be human. 

   At least, that's what you told yourself to help you sleep at night.

   You shook the thought away. There was no use thinking about him now. 

   Bringing yourself back to reality, you took a cursory glance around the room. You didn't get to come up here very often, maybe once or twice in the year you had been writing for them.

   With the TV screen off, it was oddly empty looking in here.

   There seemed to be a couple of points of interest: a darkened break room and a stairway to the roof.

   Wasn't the roof where the deviants jumped?

   That would be an interesting photo. You doubted there were many before the incident.

   You climbed the dark stairs, taking in a deep, cold breath before you opened the outside door. 

   Chills ran down your hand and up your arm before you even had the door fully open.

   You let the door shut behind you, as you crossed your arms to ward off the cold. Being this high up made the wind much rougher than you were used to.

   The edge of the building was daunting. You hesitated to even approach it, lest a stray gust of wind send you sailing over. Without those parachutes, the intruders would've never made it back down in one piece.

   The wind was a bit much. You took a few quick pictures before stepping closer to some of the walls. At least it would give some sort of protection.

   There was a loud clanging noise nearby that made your phone fall out of your hands.

   After you got over your moment of frozen alarment, you kneeled down to scoop up your phone, eyes wide and looking for the source.

   Had that been the wind? Wouldn't you have heard it earlier if it was something that continuous and natural?

   You crept around the large, metal ducts. Had to be from one of those.

   There was an entrance to one of the metal compartments. That seemed to be the only place left for anyone to hide.

   A worried thought crossed your mind: had someone been stuck up here during the panic?

   Heading towards the door at a more brave pace, you stood a foot near the entrance with your hand reached for the handle. You paused, your more cautious nature pulling your hand away ever so slightly.

   "H-hello?" You questioned quietly towards the door.

   Silence.

   You exhaled a tense breath, your hand making its way to the metallic door.

   You knocked against it.

   A loud fumbling noise from inside and the clicking of a gun sent you stumbling backwards and into a panic. This had to be a deviant, somehow left behind in the chaos.

   "You don't wanna shoot me," your voice was higher pitched than usual as you fought against the wind and deep seated terror for breath. "The shots will be really loud. People will hear."

   

   "Just," the android's voice was hard to make out, the echo in the compartment distorting his words. "Just go away. Leave me alone. I just want to be left alone."

   After an extra second to make out what he said, you rose to a crawl and sat beside the door. "Why are you still up here?" You questioned. He didn't seem hostile.

   He was quiet for a while. "I was injured," he explained. "I couldn't make the jump. I wanted to see if I could get back down tonight."

   You nodded to yourself in understanding. "So… you're a part of that group of deviants? Are there a lot of them?"

   Things went uncomfortably quiet until he spoke up again. "...why would you like to know?"

   You licked your lips, struggling to verbalize the thoughts you had had bouncing around in your head for two years. "I… was friends with an android," you began wistfully and with a small chuckle. "I was wondering if he was okay, that's all."

   The android went quiet again, the sound of what seemed to be him shuffling around inside to get more comfortable filling the silence. 

   "I… well I find it hard to believe," he remarked softly. "A lot of humans are very cruel… few seem to care about what happens to us."

  ��He was right. It seemed that nobody cared about androids or bonded with them the way you had Simon. You couldn't understand the cruelty they could have towards androids if they did.

   You placed a hand to your chest. "I know that humans are normally cruel," you began. "B-but I honestly cared about him so much. I would've given anything for us to be together. I swear it."

   You stared at the ground while the android thought to himself.

   "I was lucky," the deviant began. "The human I knew was very kind. I had been discarded over and over… and reset every time. I wasn't as useful as other androids."

   You let your head rest against the metal as you listened. 

   "Then… they bought me. I knew I had been reset a lot… and expected they would do it too after they got bored of me…" his voice trailed until it was interrupted by a halfhearted laugh. "But they didn't. They treated me like a person. They… respected me. I felt like I might have had a future with them. A future where I wasn't just an object or a maid, but someone who brought meaning into the world."

   You let his story hang in the air while you thought of your own tale. You could only hope you had made Simon feel the same way.

   "When I… bought him," you felt gross saying it. "I didn't know much about androids. But after spending time with him, I knew he was so much more than what everyone tried to tell me. Just how… how beautiful of a person he was. He had to be more than that. I was excited to see him when I got home, to tell him about my day and to hear about his. He meant everything to me."

   The android's tone was calm. "It sounds like you loved him."

   You smiled to yourself, rubbing your hands together to warm them. "I still do," you responded, before the torrent of regrets washed over you like an unforgiving wave.

   It had been such a dumb mistake. But even the simplest slip-ups can destroy lives.

   You collapsed into sorrowful laughter, covering your face with a tense hand as you tried to hold back your overflowing emotions. "It was so stupid!" You exclaimed, lost in your own thoughts. "I… he needed repairs— his previous people were horrible… if I ever…"

   You shook away the thought to get back on track.

   "He… he needed skin repairs, so I thought it would be okay to go to a Cyberlife repair shop. But I didn't even think about whether they would check who his real 'owners' were," you spat. "When they found out how we had met, they were going to take him away. He had no choice but to run away. We were out of options."

   The android was quiet, but you were too emotional to pay much attention.

   "It was just one mistake! If I had just gone anywhere else… we could still be together." Your sorrow was brief before passion returned to your heart, directing your attention back to the metal door that was separating you and the android. "You have more androids with you, right? You don't have to tell me anything else, I just want to know if he's okay. His name is Simon. Have you met him? Please, tell me you have!"

   Loud, metallic fumbling came from the other side of the door before it flung open. You scuttled backwards in alarm.

   The blonde android nearly collapsed out of the doorway, his arm sliding off the door and onto the ground as held himself up to get a better look at you.

   It was him.

   He appeared troubled, but was fighting off a smile. "How… what are you doing here?" He whispered.

   "S… Si…" you stuttered, unable to get out his name in case it separated you two again.

   You snatched him up into your arms, enveloping him in a tight hug. He fumbled to return the gesture, letting his head rest on one of your shoulders.

   "I… I can't believe it," you sobbed. "It's you! You're here! You're actually h-here!"

   His hands gripped your clothing as if he was worried you would slip away. "But how are you here?" he asked, his voice shaking.

   "I work here now," you choked out through a laugh. "What are the odds?"

   "I can't believe this!" Simon fell into a bout of laughter himself. "I get to see you again!"

   You knew that whatever lied ahead for the androids and humanity, nothing would separate you two again.

[statichvm]

wip meme.

i was tagged by @thanekrios (ty! 💜) to share a wip! you got me thinking about tlou so here’s some scraps of miss maxine tyler.

tagging @jackiesarch @dredgenyoure @queennymeria @chuckhansen @shellibisshe @ma-sulevin @theknifegame @chyrstis @red-nightskies @consumedkings and @faithchel

Denver, Colorado averaged about two inches of rain in the month of May. It was an obscure fact, a random bit of trivia Max wasn’t quite sure why she still remembered from that time she dated an aspiring meteorologist with a penchant for spouting fun facts to break the silence in college. She’d never been one for science. She wasn’t even particularly good with numbers, but as she gazed out the window of the beat up SUV she’d spent the better part of the last week in, it’s all she could think of.

Two fucking inches.

She was entirely sure she’d seen more than two inches this morning alone.

They’d had an early start, shutting down camp and piling into the truck before the sun began to rise. Denver — or what was left of it — revealed itself in the first rays of the morning sun. It didn’t look much different than Pittsburgh or Boston, Max thought, with it’s jagged, bombed out buildings dotting the horizon. She’d never been this far west, not even before the outbreak made travel far too dangerous for leisure trips and vacations.

The rain had started as they hit city limits, a sudden, violent downpour that made the already treacherous roadways virtually impossible. Their group was expected hours ago, something Max knew wouldn’t go unnoticed. Max shifted, turning her gaze to Marlene on her right. Her mouth opened, snapping closed once more as she registered the frown on the other woman’s face. She followed her gaze out the opposite window.

Three corpses lay strewn on the sidewalk, their prone figures barely visible through the deluge. Max slid from her seat, leaning past Marlene and pressing her nose against the glass of the window for a better look. Soggy FEDRA propaganda hung on the wall, torn and battered by the weather. As she took a closer look, Max felt her stomach turn when she spied familiar black arm bands tied around the arms of the victims. The white insignia embroidered on each one was one she’d recognize anywhere.

Fireflies.

Their people.

Max had been briefed on the situation in Denver. They’d seen victories in Salt Lake City and San Francisco, but Denver had proved difficult. The military was dug in, well supplied enough to hold out for the foreseeable future. The usual efforts had been made — bombed checkpoints, kidnapped and tortured officers — but it seemed as though they couldn’t even make a dent.

That’s why they were there, or so Marlene told her mere days before they packed up and left the east coast behind.

*****

Bloody hands pounded the glass, undeterred by Beau’s snarls.

“Fuck,” Max swore, looping a finger on Beau’s harness and giving a sharp tug backwards. “Haven’t cleared this place out by now?”

“Apparently not,” Marlene replied, pressing her lips into a thin line. Max knew that look. She spent a lot of her time actively avoiding that look. Marlene wasn’t any happier about the shoddy security than she was. Behind them, the lone clicker stumbled, struggling to navigate the slippery terrain blind. Max watched as it wandered away, losing interest as quickly as it’d appeared.

Beau settled at her feet, his bared teeth transitioning to his usual puppy dog eyes cast up in her direction. He was a good dog, her companion for more than a year now after she’d found him wandering through the trees just outside of Pittsburgh. He’d been skinny, clearly on his own for a while before she’d stumbled across him. The quick way he’d picked up commands led her to suspect he’d been a FEDRA dog that’d slipped his collar. He’d followed her back to camp, staring up at her with those big brown eyes. She couldn’t say no. Thankfully, neither could Marlene.

[atomicblasphemy]

Blight Industries Board Meeting

I have some thoughts about that EE episode. Being myself I just couldn’t put them out in a sensible fashion, so I put on some crust in my headphones, amped everyone’s cynicism, and here’s the result.

                                                       O: Good evening everyone and welcome to the Blight Industries board meeting of number...            

Ed and Em shoot glances at each other as confused about how they ended up there as when it happened for the first time.            

Al looks longingly at his workshop door.            

Amity glares.            

Am: Mom, can we try to have dinner like a normal family which, according to Merriam-Webster at least, we technically are? For once at least?            

O: That can wait, Mittens. Anyway, I called you all here to announce I shall be making some changes to our company. Namely, I shall change the job titles of the three of you. I’m still CEO, Alador still development, research and, well, the assembly line I suppose. As for you, Emira, Edric, you’re now in charge of security. I don’t want to hear about company secrets leaking out, okay? Mittens, you’re our new marketing department.            

Am: Marketing?            

Em: Seriously, mom?            

Od: Dearests, this is a meeting please use our appropriate titles.            

Ed: No no no no. They have a point. Okay, let me see if I understand your thought process. So, you’re the head of a company, right?            

Od: I don’t like your tone, Edric. But okay, I’ll humor you. Yes I am, go on.            

Ed: And said company essentially sells only guns.            

Od: Mhmm, what’s your point?            

Ed: And you think that the best way to convey that is by using your local annoyed teenage lesbian that half the time looks like she would be rather doing literally anything else? Is that a correct assessment, ma’am?            

Od: Oh, and I suppose you have a better idea?            

Em: Yeah, we do. ANYONE ELSE. We *frantically and repeatedly points her finger from herself to Edric*  could do this, I mean we tried to leak our sister’s journal just a few weeks ago so we clearly know nothing about keeping secrets. You could do it. I mean, no offense, but putting up a show seems to be your only useful skill because if this your idea of how to run a company, we... aaaaand now I’m suddenly starting to realize where we get our decision making incompetence from. Anyway. This guy *points at Alador* could do it if you just made sure to remind him that that’s what’s funding his little research. Heck, you could hire Luz. She’s pretty charismatic and just took a shot at the Emperor himself. I’m sure having someone like that vouching for our products would do wonders for our business. See? That’s how you make a half-decent marketing strategy. Besides, I hear Luz could use the money and I’m sure Mittens would be happy to have her working here.            

Am: Yup, normally I’d have other reasons but honestly I’d just be happy someone else is doing this particular job.            

Al: *woop there goes gravity* Why? I told you this wasn’t the best idea. Besides, we agreed, twice at least, that I would take care of the abominations and you’d be in charge of everything else *leans in closer to whisper conspiratorially to Odalia* I don’t like dealing with them *points at their very loving children*.            

Ed, Em, and Am: HEY!            

Al: *sighs* Listen to your boss, children.            

The children huddle closer, they are the conspiratorial ones now.            

Am: We’re gonna end up broke and starving, aren’t we?            

Em: Yeah, isn’t it weird though? I mean, you’d think they’d have found someone better to... sponsor by now. Apparently that’s not the case. Moreover, why do they, our parents I mean, keeping putting so many resources into product development then? And it’s not even like we’re branching out into new markets, making some groundbreaking products. Nope, just shinier versions of the old stuff.            

Am: Hum... Can either of you teach me how to write a resume?            

Ed: I... uh... was going to ask you the same thing.            

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

Later.            

Em: Okay, let’s recap the recent events, shall we?            

Odalia and Alador were sat side by side in flimsy wooden chair at the factory’s storage area. Their children loomed over them with stern faces.            

Am: First off, you decided to entirely restructure the company, you know, the one with our name in it. And you did so by making all possible wrong choices. Especially putting me as the face and head of marketing.            

Ed: Then, secondly, when you realized that wasn’t working due to Mittens, justifiably I might add, wanting to do pretty much anything else with her time. So you two in a strike of parenting brilliance decide that the best way to deal with all of that was not to, oh I don’t know, hire some specialist or anything like that for the position and let her, and us, be teenagers like any normal parent would do. No, instead you think: “Hey, I’ll double down and alienate the one of my children giving me a hard time from the only people she seems to like.”            

Al: In our defense...            

Em: AND THEN, when one of said people decide to actually do something about, and in a very diplomatic fashion given the circumstances, mind you, you go ahead and try to commit murder in front of a large audience of potential witnesses. Granted, not a particularly morally upstanding audience given the type of products they were trying to buy, but still. Do you have any idea how many people would want a piece of you if you actually hurt the human? You have three of them standing in front of you right now.            

Od: Well, Emira dearest, you can’t argue with the numbers. Tonight’s sale was an astounding success.            

Am: And she still has her poise despite all the failures... Look, the three of us, we’ve been talking. We somehow are also part of the board, right? Moreover, we are, despite all evidence on the contrary, still employs of this company. So we put things through a vote.            

Ed: First off, we’re unionizing. And your first demand is better working conditions...            

Od: I’m not putting apple blood fountains in the factory floors. That’s off the table. I already told this Edric. The abominations take a surprising liking to the stuff.            

Em: We can discuss the specifics later. We have other topics at hand.            

Al: Okay, like what?            

Em: You two are out. Actually just you mom. We still need dad for development of new products and stuff.            

Od: WHAT? You can’t do this.            

Am: Let me rephrase what Emira said: you’re not CEO anymore. She is.            

Al and Od: EMIRA?            

Ed: Yes, Emira. I’ll be in charge of supply and distribution as well as any other duties dad still had besides research and develop. Mom, you’re the new Mittens. I mean, marketing. You’re in charge of marketing now. Just marketing and literally nothing else. I’m sure we won’t regret giving you this much responsibility. And, by the way. One mistake and we’re hiring Luz for the job. AND we’re giving her enough shares to sit at the board.            

Od: *starts chuckling while reaching for a small book in her vest* I can’t say I’m not angry at the three of you, but it is indeed nice to see you trying to take a more active role in the company. But there’s a big flaw to your little coup. You see, according to article 15 of the Blight Industries statute, Alador’s vote, as well as mine...            

Al: I’m voting with them, Odalia.            

Everyone else turns to look at him, wide eyed.            

Al: Look, I’m not ecstatic about this or anything. But at the end of day if Edric is taking half the load off my shoulders then I’ll have the more time in my workshop. And away from them. Odalia, don’t look at me like that, I told you the other day I was wanting us to develop magic powered air fryers. Now I’ll have the time for that. We can tap onto more markets this way, more money.            

Od: ... You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.            

Al: *sighs* How about Mittens, what will she do now?            

Am: Librarian. That’ll be my new job title.            

Al: We have no use for a librarian, Amity. You know that, don’t you?            

Am: I know. I’m not working here anymore. Gary had been telling me for some time about this internship opening. I start Monday. But don’t go thinking I’ll leave the board. I’m keeping my shares and besides, Ed and Em agreed to keep me as an adviser.            

Od: Oh look at our daughter, Alador. Going all out on that daily grind, making the minimum wage. Are you sure you can handle it, Mittens my dear?            

Am: Well, you paid me in passive aggressive comments and threats so far. I consider minimum wage a raise if anything.            

Od: Whatever you say... In any case. I suppose I’ll now be some sort of glorified secretary then.            

Em: What do you mean, mom?            

Od: Oh, right. You weren’t there at the time. We struck a big contract, big enough so we won’t need to worry about marketing for the foreseeable future.            

Em: What? HOW?            

Al: That uhh... That kid, what’s his name again? The new head of the Emperor’s coven. He came in after the sales ended, said we should go around building Frankenstein mercenaries, and that the Emperor would be buying all of our Thanos thingies aaand on top of that the state would fund all our future research.            

Ed and Em: Oh... Oh... Ohh Titan... Didn’t he get ahold of Eda’s portal? Mittens, we have to tell Luz.            

Am: *chuckles* Yeah, good luck with that, Emperor.            

Ed: I... Are you okay? Shouldn’t you be worried?            

Am: Eh... I mean... First things first. Yeah, I know he’s building an army to invade the human realm and yeah, I know we’ll be supplying the weaponry and that I should probably give Luz a heads up. But, you know. That’s pretty stupid of him when you think about it.            

Ed: What?            

Am: I mean, think about it. He is getting a supplier that he knows, for a fact, has a positive connection to his enemies. Meaning it would be in our interest - especially mine, you know, the other Blight with Abomination know how and the one closest to the one human living in the Boiling Isles, as proven today - to put some back doors in all the tech we’ll be selling them. Moreover... Sure humans don’t have magic but they make up for it in other ways. Luz was telling me about her realm the other day and... Well... Let me put it this way: we are not humans, meaning we are not covered by the Geneva convention. Best case scenario once Bellos opens the portal we, not them, become a colony. And humans don’t make a habit of treating their colonies with any decency. So, you know... Anyway. Worst case scenario, they’ll just start pumping napalm, anthrax, mustard gas, and all sorts of fun stuff chemical and biological weapons through the portal. Meaning we’ll die. Painfully. Heck, they can even make good on their anti-nuclear proliferation treaties and just throw it all here and make it go boom. Trust me, that alone will be enough to finish sinking the Titan.            

All the other four Blights look at her wide eyed.            

Am: Eh... But you know, I’ll go and tell Luz and Eda. Fir witchkind’s sake or whatever. So... See you guys later.            

Od: *shaking the shock away from her head* Oh... Quite a hurry to go and see Luz, aren’t we Mittens? *a sly smile forming* I’m sorry... I meant YOUR Luz.            

Ed and Em: Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Damn, missed the joke.            

Al just nods in agreement.            

Am: What are you people talking about?            

Od: Oh, it’s nothing really Mittens, my dear child. It’s just that, you seem to be rather attached to her, aren’t you? In a very weird way, but still.            

Am: Weird? Weird how? You’re talking non-sense.            

Ed: No, Mittens, the lady has a point. I don’t get your thought process tonight either.            

Am: I have no idea what...            

Ed: No, seriously. I mean, no need to beat around the bush here: you have a gargantuan crush on her. That’s plenty obvious to everyone here.            

Am: *blushing* No comments.            

Ed: Whatever, I’ll take that to mean you do. So, you see your crush up on the stage. She’s fighting dad’s Thanos thingy. Which, might I add, was being controlled by him. Seriously, what the hell, dude? Is this a way to meet your potential daughter-in-law? Anyway. She’s potentially in mortal danger. And your first thought is: I’m gonna woo her.            

Am: That’s... not what I thought...            

Em: Yeah, Mittens. Sure. That’s why the first you did was to turn around and start climbing the ladders.            

Am: I... They were fighting up there, I wanted to get to close quarters.            

Em: Nope. Not buying it.            

Ed: We were watching it all unfold Mittens, you started climbing the ladders before, long before, they were up there.            

Am: But... the crowd.            

Ed: Dispersed pretty quickly, and knowing Abomination magic, as you do, you definitely knew Thanos would have that effect.            

Am: I... But... I wanted to fight close quarters... and I wanted... the higher ground.            

Em: So... You are up in the pipes, and by then Luz and Thanos are already back in ground level. So you position yourself in the spot with the best lighting and a means for you to quickly climb down - I swear, I’m certain I saw you double checking to make sure you were positioned just right. Then you take your sweet time pulling your hood back up. And finally, then and only then, you go to Luz’s rescue by using your magic. And you do that before you climb down, meaning your magic has enough range, as we’ve all always known, to be effective without the close  quarters or the higher.            

Ed: Come on, Mittens. Just admit it. You wanted to do a super-hero landing in front of your crush. Come on...            

Am: I... Do you think it worked?            

Everyone, expect for Amity, looks at Alador.            

Al: I dunno, why are you asking me?            

Ed: Because somehow out of all of us you’re the one most likely to pick up that sort of stuff.            

Al: Right, and I’m also the one least likely to care.            

Am: I’M YOUR DAUGHTER.            

Em: *taking a deep breath* Okay, lets pause for a second here. Ed, Mittens. Pat yourselves on the back. Come on, do it. Look, I’ll do it too. *begins  patting her own back in tandem with her siblings’ more tentative display*            

Am: Em... Why are we doing this?            

Em: For not succumbing to drugs and alcohol (shrewd ad campaigns on Twitter aside). *Edric and Amity begin patting their backs more enthusiastically, Emira turns to their parents* You know, you two. You should pat yourselves on the back as well. I mean, sure, we’ll need years of therapy to undo all the damage the emotional neglect the both of you show us has caused so far, but no one can say we don’t get plenty of variety.            

Al: Are you done being passive aggressive, Emira?            

Em: What can I say? I’ve learned from the best. *looks at Odalia, who just rolls her eyes*            

Al: *sighing* As for your previous question. The human seemed to be blushing as well. So my best guess is that Amity’s little... spectacle... did work.            

Od: See? And you dare say it was a bad idea to put her on marketing.            

Am: That’s because I had a reason to care when I was doing all that.            

Od: Ohh right, then what do you suggest I had done to make you care about our, emphasis on our, business.            

Am, Ed and Em in unison: Pay us for our labor.            

Am: I mean, seriously. You guys built a whole business model around Abominations: a.k.a. free labor. Sure you could afford to pay us, a.k.a. self aware creatures that are not (and I’ve checked this) Abominations, something.            

Ed: So... again to recap the day. Mom and dad lost their company, Bellos shot himself square in the foot. Hell, even this new coven head pretty much proved his lack of intelligence gathering competence by doing business with us. Today was a failure on every front. Even Luz when you think about it.            

Em: Luz?            

Ed: Yeah... She trusted... her *points at Odalia*.            

Em: Ohh...            

Od: HEY! I’m still your mother.            

Em: Nominally, maybe. Jury still out on that one. Anyway, that reminds me. I want all our financial books for the past five years i my desk, formerly yours, in two days.            

Am: I think my day was pretty successful. I have reason to believe my crush likes me back and I’ll know what a healthy professional and financial life looks like for the first in these 14 groolling and long years of existence. So things are looking up for me. Anyway... Are we done here?            

Am: I guess so, why?            

Am: Cool. Gonna head out.            

Em: Oh, going to let your Luz know of the Emperor’s plan and bask in her presence.            

Am: Emira, I swear in the Titan’s name that if you ever address her like that in front of her they will never find your body. But yes, that’s the gist of it.            

Em: Fine. Actually, wait up. Lilith is living there now isn’t she? I wanted to talk to her.            

Am: Lilith as in Lilith Clawthorne? Eda’s sister? Former head of the Emperor’s Coven? My former mentor? That Lilith?            

Em: Yup.            

Am: Why, pray tell, do you want to talk to her?            

Em: Wanted to hire her. We need a new accountant.            

Am: And you thought of her because...?            

Em: Lack of options?            

Am: I... You know what, fair enough.            

Ed: Hold up. I’m coming with. I don’t like being around them *points at Odalia and Alador*.            

Am: Sure.            

They leaving. Only Odalia and Alador are left in the room.            

Al: Wow.            

Od: I know.            

Al: Just... wow...            

Od: I know.            

Al: I don’t know how to process any of this. It happened all so fast.            

Od: I know.            

Al: Like... no sense of pacing at all.            

Od: I know, Alador. Titan do I know.            

Al: Almost as if everyone’s words were being written by an extra-dimentional entity that reaaally wanted to rant but didn’t want to put out their opinions in a more reasonable manner, and wasn’t even remotely concerned with making it sound like a normal conversation.            

Od: I know.            

Al: Anyway. We failed as people, didn’t we?            

Od: *sighing* I know.            

[lisinfleur]

When she’s around

The request:

Author’s Notes | I decided to write this one from Ubbe's POV cause I wanted to focus on the changes and the impact of her presence in Ivar's life and someone who's out of a relationship but was present since before the reader's arrival - and knows Ivar as much as an older brother could know - gives the perfect point of view I wanted to this fiction! I hope you like it!

Universe | Vikings

Pairing | Ivar x Reader, Ubbe’s POV

Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon for 5CW7

Words | 1901

⁑ Warnings: Historical inaccuracy.

She came into his life out of nowhere. But she already arrived showing what she was able to do.

"To be honest, the Ragnarsson has spread some good pieces over this table..."

In a matter of moments, she solved a deadlock that was keeping us from determining a plan for our next battle against the Christians through the last three hours. And she did it by clarifying to all of us...

...That Ivar was right...

 "It's a matter of prediction. Foreseeing what your enemy will probably choose to do and set up a trap in each one of his options; prepare yourself for each one of his possible movements. This way, wherever the Christian prince decides to move, we'll catch him. Here, here, or there. He's locked."

 Her fingers sliding through the map, making us all able to see what my little brother's blessed mind had already seen before us, placing little details that would complete his plan and make it practically foolproof... They caught Ivar's eyes pretty more than our attention. They convinced Ivar's heart pretty more than Björn's suspicious mind.

And I didn't let it pass.

She was completing my brother's plan, but I also could see there was a part of her that was causing her lips to curl in a smile whenever he would come to complete her sentences; every time their ideas would sound unison as if they were made to work together.

 "Imma losing an advisor, ain't I?"

 More than that.

Harald lost pretty more than just his advisor or one of his best warriors that day.

He lost her attention. Completely. Because their plan was a huge success, but it was with us that she came to sit and celebrate.

Beside my little brother was where she shared the mead of a victory we didn't expect to see coming so easily. And the gods are witnesses: Sigurd wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for her sweet voice into my little brother's ears; her tender hands over his trembling and tense hands.

 "It doesn't worth the price, Ivar. You're just giving him what he wants. You're losing control and proving him right. A child would throw this ax. But you're not a child... A man wouldn't be affected by such vicious words. So, what are you, Ivar, the Boneless?"

 I saw my brother hearing her low voice more than he ever heard my screams. Her words caused his hand to stop shaking when my speeches were never that effective. Ivar sat down once again and his eyes went from Sigurd into her orbs.

 "I won't let a childish stupidity ruin the victory we conquered today. Nor my plans to take the men who want to fight with me. We'll spread our fingers through these lands and they'll know and fear my name. And then..." his eyes got back into Sigurd's, catching that surprised expression in our brother's face. "Then I'll show you that crawling like a baby I'm better man than you'll ever be with your perfect walking-legs, brother."

 The ax fated to my brother's chest was sunk on the table that evening. And that same night, Ivar called her to come with us.

 "I want you with me. I want your words and your mind by my side. Together we are invincible!"

 But even at that moment, even under his praises, she had humble words full of wisdom.

 "No man is invincible, my prince. No flesh shall live forever. But two similar minds are pretty harder to be beaten than one. And like you, I want to see how much of these lands we can cover with the mantle of your fame."

 They covered the whole place... Wherever my little brother's chariot rode, the lands would somehow become his. In a matter of months, the whole East Anglia was taken. And Ivar's army was now advancing over Mercia. Sigurd stepped back to care for Aelle's lands. I stepped back to care for East Anglia's settlement. Harald stepped back being left with York under his care.

But the two of them along with Hvitserk... They were insatiable.

I saw that woman convincing my little brother that there wouldn't be vengeance bigger over our mother's name than forcing Lagertha to a long and peaceful life...

I watched my little brother smile over Lagertha's funeral boat, watching on the wrinkled face of our mother's murderer the proof she would be nowhere to be found in the halls of the gods to where I saw Ivar carving his way.

But the time came for him to come back even for our homelands. With his claws established and our people spread all over the places he conquered, Ivar came back to take our homelands from the Rus' hands with his iron fist. With our reinforcements - Sigurd's, Harald's, and mine - Ivar came back to take the crown from the prince Rus who dared to attack our homelands and claim the life of our older brother who perished by their army right after being made king of all Norway.

A messenger of our kind invited me with the news of my little brother's marriage...

 "The people of Norway invites with pleasure and joy your highness, king Ubbe from East Anglia, to return to your homelands and celebrate the marriage between king Ivar, the Boneless and his soon to be queen Y/N, the Crow."

 Today my feet were once again touching Kattegat's docks after years away. With a small fleet of my men, along with Sigurd - who had also come to honor our little brother's marriage - and a small part of his men, I arrived my homelands to see the market twice as big than I could remember, cleaner, more full of people with all parts of our kind.

"A deal placed the fisherman in Vestfold and the clean products in our lands to ensure a clean bay. It made our market more attractive, our merchants richer, and increased the number of tents." I've heard Hvitserk's voice - kinda hoarser than I could remember - speaking beside me where he had stopped without my acknowledge. "He made us bigger, brother. He fulfilled his promises. Ivar is known everywhere from Mercia to the ends of Ringerike, where I just came from to celebrate with you." he smiled.

A crown in his head, smaller, possibly something under Ivar's. But something I could see Hvitserk wasn't ashamed of walking around with. We exchanged an embrace before my eyes could run over the place once again.

"Everything changed," I mumbled as Hvitserk was hugging Sigurd before he could look at me once again.

"Biting my own tongue about him, after all," Sigurd mumbled and Hvitserk giggled.

"You better hold your teeth, brother. You might need to have your tongue whole to be bitten when you meet our little brother once again." he boasted.

His words were not enough to prepare me for what I would find inside our great hall. The braces in his legs were completely different from the ones I remember seeing him dressing the first time Ivar stood on his feet in front of my eyes. My little brother's hair was longer, braided tight, well cared. And so were the beard in his face, shorter than mine, but there: something I thought I would never see.

A heavy crown in his head - a huge sign of his power - was something I was already waiting for. However, Y/N's dress held an even bigger surprise for us all. One that made Hvitserk smile cockily over the confirmation of the words he had just spat on Sigurd's face.

"I told you to wait before biting your tongue there, Sigurd... Now I think you have more reasons to swallow it whole, uh?" he mumbled, joking as we followed the gorgeous image of Ivar's queen - belly swollen with his child - approaching to receive us as our brother kept himself sitting on the throne that was once Björn's; our father's, before his.

"King Ubbe, King Sigurd, welcome to Kattegat," she smiled, respectfully saluting us both, ignoring Sigurd's jaw almost dropping down to the ground in front of him.

I, however, felt my lips curling in a proud smile when my eyes crossed with the icy blues looking at us from that higher spot. If someday I had expected to see my little brother in a good situation, those were all my dreams for his life becoming true.

He had the crown he pursued so far, the heir his nightmares told he would never be able to produce, the name many believed he would never build. Ivar's broken legs had taken him further than any of us had reached with our bodies whole and I was proud of what he had conquered. Of him.

But inside I knew behind all that strength, was the anger. I knew behind all that wisdom, was the little man I saw crying inside his room, punching his bed, cursing the gods for his painfully broken bones. Behind the whole curve of that cocky smile Ivar had conquered the right to wear in front of each one of us, was the mark of the tears and sweat I saw rolling down his face since the beginning.

And if someone had helped him to find the right way to where he was standing now, realized, this person was her.

 Y/N, from Vestfold...

 The woman my people had learned to call "The Crow" for, like Huginn and Muninn to Odin, she was the crow cawing in my little brother's ears, whispering wisdom to his troubled mind, teaching him where and how to drive his strength so he could become the huge man I was alive to see in front of my eyes.

She was everything Ivar ever needed by his side. And because of Y/N, I saw my little brother flying higher than my best dreams could plan for him. Ivar has built himself, forged in his own strength, bathed in his own talent. But she was the hammer and the fire; the forge and the hits that turned him into the man he had become.

I held her hand Y/N had offered me in salutation. And there was a tender smile in my eyes. Proud for Ivar. Full of gratitude for her.

"Thank you, Queen Y/N," I said, smiling at her figure with happiness when she landed her hand over the beautiful belly swollen with my nephew or niece to come. "It was never this good to return to my home."

It was never that good to stand in Kattegat's Great Hall and look around to see the whole effort I made when our father was absent had turned into something so majestic.

He wasn't my son, but I was proud as if it was a child of mine with that crown in his head.

He wasn't my doing. And I was happy to see my little brother walking by himself.

Somewhere in Valhalla, our father was toasting for him, lowering his head in shame and apologizing for ever have doubted his strength - such as our brother Sigurd was doing now, shocked by Ivar's ability to prove him wrong.

Somewhere in the halls of the gods, our mother was smiling down telling everyone something I would be happy to hear if I could...

 I know I shouldn't say I told you so... But I told you so.

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[crystaljins]

River lead me home | PREVIEW

Characters: Seokjin x Reader

Word count: ?

Synopsis:  Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Notes: Ok, so at the end of last year, I first watched the movie Abominable, and I got major ALJH vibes. I only planned to write a quick little one-shot about a fun adventure revisiting that universe, and here we are, so many months later, with a huge 8 part fic that spans around 70k words. Big yikes! Anyways, I’ll be dropping the fic soon, but I wanted to a bit of a preview to build a bit of hype because I haven’t posted a full-length fic in over a year now!!! So without any further ado...

POSTING DATE: 27th Sep 2020. Updates weekly

You’ve never really been particularly fearful of getting in trouble with your mother. She has always been a sweet and timid lady, the kind who would let her daughter get away with murder. And you are an adult, even if you don’t act like it, and so it’s not like your mother can do anything other than express her disappointment with your actions. 

Kim Seokjin, on the other hand, can have you quaking in your shoes with just a look. He was your nextdoor neighbour growing up, even before you all fled your home realm. He has since moved out of his parents’ home into his own apartment to pursue his dream as a doctor (and to take home as many lady friends as he likes without his parents’ knowledge), but he is still very much a stern presence in your life, even as one of your closest friends. He likely feels responsible for you, since though the two of you were young when you were driven into the human world, he is three years older. He did once refer to you as something like an untrained puppy, which you guess is very reflective of how he views you. The result of such feelings of responsibility is him trying his best to fulfill all the duties of being your legal guardian despite having no obligation to do so. The effect is him being terrifyingly stern with you, despite him being a calm, good-humoured guy with everyone else he meets.

Which is why, when you wake up in a hospital bed with your leg wrapped in a cast, you know that today is the day Kim Seokjin kills you. If the job interview that you completely messed up isn’t enough motive for him to seek you out, then the fact that you tried to stop a purse snatcher and ended up breaking your leg in the ensuing scuffle after said thief’s motorcycle fell on you most certainly is. 

In your defence, it wasn’t like you could just leave them be! Yes, you had not been back to your home realm once in the thirteen years since you and every other guardian were driven out, but at your core, you like to think you are still a Guardian. And so, as is custom, you cannot turn down a plea for help. And the young woman screaming in distress as a man on a motorcycle drove past and snatched her purse straight off her shoulder had certainly sounded like a plea for help! Really, Jin should be impressed, because the ensuing chase was something straight out of a movie, what with you in hot pursuit on your own bike (the one both your mother and Jin do not know you own). And you totally would have gotten the purse back if it wasn’t for the slight motorcycle crash. You’re not exactly sure what you hit since the events are a little blurry, but whatever it was, it ended up knocking you out and breaking your leg. 

A slight commotion breaks out at the entrance to the room and by the way onlookers swoon, you know that your time on earth is up. For the only person that can stir such a reaction upon entering a room is Kim Seokjin himself. Guardians naturally fit most of the qualifiers of what humans consider attractive, but even by Guardian standards, Jin is ridiculously handsome. Even though you find him boring and the biggest nag to walk the planet, not even you are immune to his disarming good looks. You could probably sense his aura blindfolded and your eyes are always drawn to him in a crowd and so you easily pinpoint him amongst the crowd of onlookers before he spots you. Today is his day off and so he does not wear his usual doctor’s gown. Instead a well fitted button up shirt and trousers highlights the broadness of his shoulders and the elegance of his figure as he strolls through the room as if he owns it. You recognise the style- that particular combination of button up and trousers are his date clothes. Your heart plummets when you recognise the outfit. Jin will be extra irritated about having to check on you in the hospital on his day off. Why did the paramedics have to take you here of all places? You’ve really signed your life away this time.

He pauses to smile at a nurse who passes by and she is immediately dazzled. Though he is no doubt furious with you, and is frequently irritated by your shenanigans, to the rest of the world he is charming and funny and good-tempered. You watch the exchange with curiosity- the nurse laughs at something Jin says and there’s a faint flush to her cheeks. You will probably never have such an exchange with Jin- even if he relaxed enough to make a joke in your presence, it would probably be at your expense. Jin’s taste in women is very obvious- he likes women that match him in beauty, ones that are fantastic at making you feel like a potato in comparison despite your guardian heritage, however unintentionally. Something in you twinges at the thought- you wouldn’t mind having a normal relationship with Jin. One where he smiles at you and makes jokes and actually enjoys your presence. But he’ll probably never view you like that- he’s made it very clear throughout your friendship what you are to him.

The nurse points in your direction and takes Jin’s distraction as an opportunity to trail her gaze appreciatively over his figure, settling on his profile. She must be new to the hospital if this is the first time that she is experiencing what Jin’s coworkers at the hospital describe as the “Jin effect”. Any humans (and most guardians for that matter) who meet him instantly succumb to his charisma and absurdly handsome face and find themselves desperately in love. This nurse is no exception and you decide to utilise the momentary distraction she has provided Jin when she attempts to get his number by attempting to slide off your bed and scurry away.

A tug at the back of your collar has you stiffening. If this were a movie, there would be an uneasy swell of high-tension violin as you turn your head to find Jin has grabbed the back of your shirt to stop your slow escape. He must have utilised a spot of enhanced guardian speed to be able to cross the room so quickly. The violins in your head begin to screech in terror. Jin merely smiles and it is eerily charming. His cheeks puff out and his lips curl in a way that would dazzle the average onlooker but you see the lethal intent in his eyes. You barely manage to hold back a fearful shudder.

“Nurse Jo!” He calls, and his tone is playful and sweet which contrasts directly with the venom in his dark pupils. In their depths you can foresee your death. “It seems one of our patients is trying to escape.”

[samiii-p]

miss temptation (I don’t think you know) 1/?

aka The Maryan Roommate AU no one asked for 🙃 ao3

“You need a home address by next week or I’m writing you up.”

Fuck

Scratching an 'X' over another available apartment listing in the newspaper, Ryan grunts, blacking it out in her frustration. This one was her last true option within her price range and it was about the size of a walk-in closet with a communal bathroom to boot.

And no, just no. God no.

At least the last one had a view. It was a brick wall of the neighboring apartment but one nonetheless.

“You know for someone who needed this job, you sure don’t look the part.”

Sucking her teeth, Ryan glances up from her troubles, spots Luke in his custom three piece suit, grumbles and glances back at the paper where the only options left cost an arm and a leg to stay. Gotham wasn’t cheap by any stretch of the imagination, but selling her organs on a monthly basis just to get by didn’t seem all that appealing either.

“What do you want, Luke?”

“Can’t a guy just stop by?”

“Sure.” Ryan says, flipping the newspaper to the next page, maybe she could find something outside of town. The commute would be hell, but at least she’d have an address and her parole officer would finally get off her back. “I take it that’s not what you’re here for though.”

She hears him harrumph and nothing else. He does it a second later, again … and again.

“Okay, how can I help you?” She asks, sliding her current issues down the counter. Another 18 months in jail won’t hurt, let alone leaving the city in shambles when Batwoman disappears again .

Luke tilts his chin, hard line forming between his brows, a look Ryan has grown accustomed to over the past few weeks. Even though he’s apologized and promised to give her a chance until Kate’s return, there's still a tiny bit of friction lying beneath the surface no matter how much they both try to ignore it.

Reaching into his breast pocket he unearths a photo and slides it across the bar into Ryan’s line of vision. A picture of a black mask, outlined like a skeleton, stares up at her with cold hard eyes. In the corner a coiled snake is drawn with Luke’s handwriting underneath.

Snakebite - fear toxin/mushrooms

“Um, who or what am I looking at?”

He thumps the photo twice. “I was hoping you could tell me. You said you run in similar circles-”

“- ran.”

“As Victor Zsasz, I was hoping you could tell me a little about our friend here.”

“Sorry to tell you this but, no.” She pushes off the bar with a huff, nodding at the photo. “Whoever this person is, is new in town. At least to me.”

“Yeah, well his snakebite is hitting the streets like a plague and no one knows its source. There’s only this photo as a possible supplier but there’s no name, no facial recognition, no origin or leaks, no nothing.”

“So what do we do?”

“You suit up.”

Heat signature enabled, Ryan takes a look around the abandoned building noting two low level street hands Luke identifies as TJ Pillar: 1 to 3 strike for armed robbery and Curtis Armstrong: out on parole for possession.

“Come on, dude.”

She totally gets how uneasy it is to get back on your feet after spending a little over a year incarcerated but at least try to do better.

“What?” Luke asks through the coms, Ryan ignores him, scouting more of the building. It’s been over an hour and nothing. They wouldn’t be here if no one was coming but it’s growing closer to midnight and she has to be back at work at nine.

“Can’t I just bring them in? It’s late.”

“I mean you could, but it’ll be a waste of time. The guys on the street don’t know anything except to wait for the drop here.”

“And we couldn’t call in Gotham PD or the Crows for surveillance because..?”

“Hey, you wanted the job, this is what it entails.”

Behind the mask, Ryan’s eyes roll, mocking this is what the job entails meh meh, like she's a child grounded for the night, which, all things considered…

“Besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do.”

“Okay! Okay!” Over the coms, Ryan hears hushed voices arguing, a muffled ‘no’ then the sound of chairs being switched, Luke’s voice replaced by Mary’s, “heeey, girl. How ya’ doing?”

She smirks, attitude vanishing the moment the heiress speaks. Call it a general preference to all things sans-Luke based but she’d one hundred present rather talk to Mary until the butt crack of dawn instead of Mr. Kate would do it like this and Kate would do it like that. For starters Mary’s a lot nicer. Calmer. Funnier, I mean the girl’s one liners are top tier, bone tickling funny.

And well, she was a hell of a lot prettier too.

“Oh, you know, just pulling an all-nighter right before my day shift.”

A hiss sounds dramatically over the intercoms, the image of Mary’s twisted face pops up and Ryan can almost see the apple of her cheeks bunching and her eyes closing in that cute ass scrunchy face she makes when she’s thinking hard or embarrassed clear as day.

“Don’t worry about it, you can always come in later.”

“You enable her by making exceptions.”

“Luke!”

“What!?”

More muffled noises, a bang and yelp later Mary comes back on. “What I was getting at is that if you want to come in a little bit late, it’s totally fine or we can even change your schedule to mid-day, as your boss and fellow bat accomplice, I would totally understand.”

The corner of Ryan lips quirks up, “you don’t have to do that.”

“I do. We don’t know for sure how long you’ll be out tonight. Coming in afterwards is going to be draining-”

“It’ll be draining for all of us.” Luke yells.

“Shh!”

Unfortunately, Luke has a point. It's not fair on the team if she’s the only one taking the easy way out when they all have lives and responsibilities outside of the cave to adhere to, and a mid-day shift would never work anyway. Mid-day is Officer Steven’s favorite time of day to intrude on Ryan’s life.

“No that’s okay,” Ryan says, “Luke’s right. I have to put on my big girl panties and suck it up like everyone else, besides, I’m going to be too busy selling body parts for an overpriced cardboard box in the foreseeable future or it's a one way ticket back to Black Gate-”

“Wait, what-?”

“Oh, hold up.” An engine alerts Ryan to an incoming vehicle speeding into the warehouse disrupting their conversation. “We got action.”

Censors pick up on a lone body inside, facial recognition scanners kick on and work to identify the driver’s profile as well as the car’s make, model design, vehicle number and license plate number are all shot over to home base for further analysis. She twitches them off once complete just in time to see a window roll down and a hand throw two duffle bags out the window before speeding off.

“Did we get anything?”

A beat passes before Mary’s back on, “Not yet. Gotham PD and the Crows database has no facial identification, Luke’s expanding the search but the car is unmarked, plates false, even the tires vin numbers have been scrubbed. Whoever this person is, really doesn’t want to be found.”

From Ryan’s personal experience, news like that is never good. Someone that deep undercover either has a checkbook large enough to make themselves disappear or an iron grip so ruthless the utter mention of their name is probable cause for permanent removal. This was going to be harder than any of them expected.

“Keep me posted.”

Kicking off the beam she leaps down sticking another perfect grand entrance; hoping the acclaimed symbol printed on her chest will be enough to scare off the bad guys for once.

She is really tired after all.

Unfortunately, Twiddle Dee and Twiddle Dumb both reach for guns, shooting before she can warn them to stand down. And there goes her ‘early’ night. Figures.

“Ya’ll know I’m fucking bullet proof, right?”

Another bullet ricochets off the suit as she takes a step forward. Idiots. Surprisingly they keep at it until the clip clinks, empty, and Ryan comes face to face with Curtis who tries throwing a punch she easily ducks, coming back up to head butt him so hard his knees crumple. His coworker steps up and he’s a bit more of a challenge throwing blow for blow with her until she ducks up under him and comes back with a roundhouse kick to his Adams apple. He clutches his windpipe, now down on one knee she delivers the final blow to the bridge of his nose.

She picks up the bags and hightails it out of there, latching onto a high beam for an easy escape, and heads towards G.C.P.D where she drops the contraband with a note attached of where they can find the assailants tied up and ready for arrest.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re homeless!?”

Ryan wonders if disrupting her day as a civilian was going to become normal protocol for Luke and Mary going forward and on a recurring basis.

“I wouldn’t say homeless.”

“How else would you classify living out of your van down by the docks?”

“Surviving on wheels – ow!” Ryan giggles, rubbing her shoulder and doesn’t know whether to cower or soothe the frustrating scowl rapidly spreading across her friend’s face. “How’d you find out?”

“I had Luke track you after you left last night.”

“Wow, talk about invasion of privacy.”

“And for good reason, why didn’t you say anything?”

Ryan flips an empty glass, dries it out before placing it on the rack and considers how to move the conversation forward, possibly far, far away from this topic all together. The best she comes up with is, “it’s handled.”

Handled ends up being a 200 square feet one room apartment Mary demands to see. The bedroom, kitchen and living room are all one in the same but at least she has her own bathroom. The walls are paper thin, she’s pretty certain the constant dripping sound is coming from the kitchen, one she can easily fix after a YouTube tutorial or two, and a hotter than hell furnace the landlord warns her not to touch when the temperature is anywhere over 60 F unless she enjoys suffocating.

She watches Mary take in the room, the petite brunette moving in a slow swirl on her heels, lip turned down and Ryan just knows it’s not good when they make eye contact.

“Nu-uh.”

“What do you mean nu-uh?” Confused, Ryan watches Mary storm past her and out the door. “Mary! Mary, what does that mean? Mary!?”

Mary breaks her housing contract. When Ryan tries to object she quickly learns that all 5’2 of Mary Hamilton-Kane is nothing to play against and a powerhouse forced to be reckoned with.

… It kind of gets Ryan hot under the collar watching Mary tell her landlord exactly what’s about to happen, and cutting a check like it's nothing in the process.

Assertive has always kinda been her type.

“You’ll be staying here.”

Mary says, showing Ryan around her penthouse in the upper echelon of Gotham City. The apartment is just shy the size of a department store, the lounge being big enough to take up most of the square footage, built in with four bedrooms, one now officially hers, one for guests and another used for office space and three huge bathrooms big enough to house a football team.

“Jesus,” the name slips under her breath as she takes it all in. This place is – is. It’s too much. “I can’t afford this.”

The carpet under her feet probably cost more money than she'll ever see in her lifetime.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking you to pay anything.” Ryan quickly gets shut down as Mary carries on, “until you can save enough money to get back on your feet. It’s the least I can do. Being this city’s vigilante is hard work. The last thing you need to worry about is where you’re going to lay your head at night.”

It makes sense, but still. “I’m not comfortable asking you - I won’t use you.”

“You’re not.” The med student emphasizes. Mary takes the box out of her hands and places it on a dresser. “My home is yours now, bestie. Stay as long as you want to.” And before Ryan can prepare herself, Mary’s arms are snug around her waist and her cover girl smile is beaming up at her.

This is going to be terrible.

It’s worse.

Far worse than Ryan could have ever predicted. Not only is Mary super considerate of her new roommate, but she makes her resources Ryan’s own. She’s never slept so good, ate so well or drank water so delicious for that matter. Until recently she thought water was just water but Mary’s fridge is full of this alkaline stuff straight from the mountains, and Ryan swears she can never look back.

“You want pickles?”

Ryan visibly gulps, sitting on the couch, eyes focused on anything other than Mary prancing around the kitchen in her underwear. Mary’s always been super comfortable in her skin but especially at home when she’s surrounded by her things in her place of peace and why shouldn’t she be, this is her home. Ryan wants her to go about as she normally would, actually prefers if Mary pretended Ryan wasn't there altogether. The last thing she wants is to intrude or take up space but she can only take so much. It’s been nearly a month of coming home to Mary asking how her day was, waking up to Mary smiling at her over homemade breakfast or passing out on the couch cuddled together after another failed movie night. There’s only so much she can take.

What they’re doing is borderline domestic. And Ryan’s too gay for this.

“…pickles?”

“Hmm – what?”

“I asked if you want pickles on your sandwich?”

"Uh, sure."

Handing her a plate, Mary plops down on the couch leaving no space between the two and licks the pad of her thumb, humming pleasantly at the taste.

Ryan bites the inside of her cheek. “So, what are we watching?”

Hopefully something gory, and bloody staring a cis-het white male. Anything to take Ryan’s mind off of Mary Hamilton.

Mary chooses Its Okay Not to be Okay on Netflix and by the end of episode 2 both girls are huddled together, simping hard for all the three leading actors. Mary is obsessed with Kim Soo-Hyun's entire face and Ryan’s pretty sure if Seo Ye-Ji stomped on her in six inch heels and dragged her through the mud, she’d thank her.

At least they can agree Oh Jung-se is a freaking king and is killing his role as Moon Sang Tae.

It's nearly midnight before they start to turn in, cleaning up the little mess they made, Ryan shuts off the lights and walks Mary to her room; the first door to the right.

“Night.”

It kind of feels like a date, which is absurd. She knows. But can you blame her when pillow soft lips press against her cheek and Mary breathes, “sleep tight, Ryan” in her ear. Its stupid. She’s being stupid, and seeing things that arent there. Or maybe she needs to get laid. Whatever she needs to do, Mary can’t be a part of it.

After weeks of failed interrogations the team finally manages to catch a break. A source looking to get out and start over leaks the warehouse location where a scheduled supply of ingredients are due to be shipped in at any day now. Niko of course makes Batwoman promise to protect him at all cost and that means working with the Crows.

“Where’s the shipment being dropped?” Sophie asks.

“Unimportant.”

The lieutenant cocks her head to the side, unsurprised at how this conversation is going. The Bat has never worked well with authority in this town, no matter who dons the emblem.

“The only thing I need is for you to make sure Niko is somewhere safe, undetected.”

“Is he at least willing to stand trial in the event you manage to catch this guy?”

“I think that all depends on if your team can keep him alive. Crow.”

The alley is dark, damp and the chill fogs Sophie’s breath as she sighs. “You're going to get yourself killed. I know you have something against my badge and everything it stands for, but it can do some good if you let it. Now, tell me where the shipment is and I can have my team there as back up in seconds. We can get this drug and these thugs off the street.”

That word makes Ryan's jaw tingle. Thug. Of course a Crow wouldn't understand that sometimes people do bad things to make ends meet, but it doesn't make them bad people. To a Crow they’re all the same and need to be locked away never to see the light of day again. Including her.

“Focus on our informant. If I need you for anything else I know how to find you.” And she’s gone, vanished in a cloud of fog.

“Nice job pissing off potential allies.” Ryan switches her coms off.

The warehouse is guarded heavily by six men up top, double the number at the bottom not including the others unloading trucks full of supplies. Photo analysis identifies them and sends the information to Gotham P.D. before she strikes.

“Hope you’re ready for this. If we’re lucky this can all be over tonight.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Taking it as his cue, Luke hits the lights covering the warehouse in complete darkness. Motion sensors switch on and Batwoman moves into action. The training her team insists she go through pans out as she’s able to take out four guys twice her size in fast compact moves. One guy goes over the railing after she cracks him in the nuts with the steel toe of her boot. His strangled whimper is heard all the way down, but hey, no one ever said this was going to be a fair fight.

The team at the bottom catches on and gun fire immediately follows, running across the bridge Ryan spreads her arms and flies through the air, her red and black cape bellows behind her as she sticks another perfect superhero landing. All at once it seems like twenty people are coming at her from all different angles but as always she's quick on her feet tying a handful of them up by their ankles and running through the rest with a non lethal taser, just enough to subdue until she can contain everyone before she starts asking questions.

“We ain’t telling you shit!”

Another guy spits on her shoe, the red of his blood splattering against her boot and she rolls her eyes. There’s no need to be nasty.

“Look, I’m trying to help you guys out here.” Spotting a pair of boobs in the corner, she course corrects, “and girls - theys? Whatever! I’m trying to help you all out here. This thing,” she holds up a box of snakebite, “is killing the community and while it may bring you all brief satisfaction, financially, what’s it going to do for your futures when you get caught, to your families?”

“Who knew the new edition of the Bat came with such a bleeding heart?”

“Well, she does. So if anyone here is willing to tell me anything that’ll point me in the right direction of your boss, I promise I can protect you, get you somewhere safe.”

From the little the authorities have been able to dig up about this gang, anyone willing to betray their leader either winds up dead or living their last days in a vegetative state. That’s why it’s so important to have Niko, no matter the length it takes to protect him, it was for the sake of Gotham.

“I said-!”

“I heard you the first time,” Ryan says, cutting him off, “And I don’t know what you’re used to but I’m only going to tell you how this is played once. I ask the questions and you give me the answers, if you don’t, have fun rotting in jail or better yet … I can let the little I do know out onto the streets.” She bends down right in front of the man and lifts his rabbit mask, exposing his face. In seconds she knows his name. “I’m sure your boss would love to know who’s ratting him out, huh, Robert Michael Humprey?”

The terror in his eyes says it all.

[jmnjmnjmn]

Eternal beings | Chapter 10

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Human!Reader

Key words: supernatural, vampire, soulmates.

Word count: around 3,000

Warnings: swearing,  sadness, jealousy, mentions of murder

Inspo board

Masterlist

This chapter took a turn while I was writing it today... More of a look into the past so to speak. Please let me know what you guys think of where this is going. I love reading the comments and messages.

The remaining majority of the ride was spent in silence. You looked out the window and Jungkook kept his eyes on the road ahead, glancing your way every so often. Taehyung’s neighbourhood quickly turned into a blur as Jungkook drove. At some point you heard your phone beep and reached into your jacket only to find an empty pocket that reminded you that Jungkook had your phone.

“Could you?” You asked, putting your hand out towards him. He just looked at you and smiled, shaking his head. “Can’t I just check it?” You asked again, growing more irritated. Jungkook sighed and reached into his pocket, but when he pulled out the phone and you reached to take it he took it out of your reach.

“Uh-uh.” He scolded you like a baby and unlocked the phone with a smile. “No passcode? Come on, (Y/N).” He shook his head, looking at the screen. “It’s Jimin. He wishes you luck on our date.” He read out the message with a small chuckle. “That’s what you told him you’re doing?” He asked you, smiling wide and put the phone back in his pocket. You decided to not answer his comment and just looked longingly at birds flying outside, wishing you were there with them and away from the deranged murderer who sat next to you.

Not more than ten minutes passed when Jungkook stopped the car in an alley behind a shopping centre stating that this is the place.

“This is it?” You asked him with a frown on your face.

“Yeah, he works inside.” He said undoing his seatbelt. “We’re a little early, but I think he knew that would happen.” You sunk into your seat at the sound of that statement.

“You mean your fortune telling friend?” You asked skeptically.

“Yes.” He breathed out and got out of the car. You contemplated whether to put up a fight and stay in the car for a moment, but decided upon getting out as well. When you opened the car door Jungkook was already standing outside, offering you a hand to help you out of the car, but you didn’t take it. The last thing you wanted right now was to feel his hand on yours. You eyed the building up and down, it looked normal compared to what you expected, because earlier you just assumed Jungkook would take you to some dark vampire den at the edge of town, but no. He took you to a shopping centre.

You walked beside him through the aisles of closed department stores, looking around at the dark displays. After a minute of walking around Jungkook led you into a grocery store on the ground floor. You assumed that he was hungry and maybe wanted a snack, but that turned out not to be the case. He, and you right behind him, walked straight to the registers and nodded at the person working behind it.

“Is he in?” He asked, reaching out his hand to shake his.

“Yeah, he’s in the back.” The guy answered, shaking Jungkook’s hand. He just nodded and walked towards the door marked “staff only”. You hesitantly walked behind him, slowing down your pace and letting him go ahead. He was strutting down the poorly lit corridor as if he’s been here many times before. He didn’t even look inside the open rooms on his left or right. After a moment he turned around, at that point you were good three or four meters behind him.

“Come on.” He said reaching his hand in your direction, probably for you to take it, but you didn't want to do that. Seeing your reluctance he walked up to you with eagerness in his eyes, grabbed your wrist and pulled you behind him. “Don’t be afraid.” He said as the two of you walked through the halls of the back of the store. “He’s a good guy. I’ve known him for years.” He said describing his fortune telling friend. Somehow Jungkook having a good opinion about the guy didn’t make you feel any better. “Here.” He stopped in front of a door marked with a number six. He reached to push on the handle, but you stopped him.

“Shouldn’t you knock first?” You asked and he just smiled, pushing on the door.

“Hey.” He greeted whoever was inside. Compared to the dark corridor Jungkook dragged you through this room was way nicer. It was some kind of an office or conference room with a big round table in the middle of it and bookcases full of files and boxes by the walls. In the middle of it all, on the opposite side of the table stood a guy about Jungkook’s age, dressed in jeans and white shirt. He was typing something up on his laptop when the two of you walked into the room. He didn’t look up or seem startled at your sudden entrance. After a couple of seconds he closed his laptop and looked at the two of you.

“Hey, Jungkook. (Y/N).” He greeted you both with nods as he packed his things up into his  backpack.

“(Y/N), wanted me to knock.” Jungkook said, smiling at you and putting his hands in his pockets. The other guy chuckled and looked at you.

“I knew you were coming.” He explained. “But thank you for respecting my privacy. Even those who foresee the future want to feel a little normal and have people knock on their door instead of barging in, because you know they’re coming anyway.” He laughed and walked towards the door you just entered through. You furrowed your eyebrows at the weird statement he just made turned around to follow him as Jungkook put his hand on your back to guide you through the door.

“Don’t do that.” You shooed his hand away as you stepped into the dark corridor and he just exhaled sharply and put the hand back in his pocket. The fortune-teller guy glanced back at the two of you and chuckled again, slowing down his pace to walk together with the two of you.

“Oh, we’ve got a long way to go.” He said, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. Jungkook sighed and you just looked at him not knowing what he exactly meant by that. “I’m Hoseok by the way.” He reached his hand to shake yours and you did it, not sensing anything dangerous like you did with one of Yoongi’s friends once before.

“(Y/N).” You said. “But you already know that.” You added letting the annoyance in your tone be heard.

“Yes, Jungkook doesn’t shut up about you.” He said smiling. You glanced at Jungkook who was now looking at his feet. If it weren’t so dark in this corridor you could probably see him blushing right now. “Let’s get coffee on the way.” Hoseok said and pushed open a door to his left.

You walked out not back into the grocery store through which you entered the corridor, but into the depth of the shopping centre. Hoseok led you and Jungkook through the aisles and into a McDonalds where he ordered himself, Jungkook and you a cup of coffee each. With the hot beverages in hand you walked back outside onto the alleyway where Jungkook’s car was parked. You opened your own door getting in mindlessly. At this point you didn’t even remember you were kidnapped in the morning to be taken to a fortune-teller. In the car you took off your jacket and threw it on the backseat next to where Hoseok was sitting. Before getting in Jungkook did the same. As he bundled his black jeans jacket into a ball and threw it on the backseat next to yours you remembered something.

“Can you pass me that?” You said turning around to Hoseok and pointing to your phone peeking out of Jungkook’s jacket’s pocket. He gave you the phone without a word and you quickly unlocked it to set up a passcode and text Jimin back.

“What are you-” Jungkook started as he got inside the car, but stopped himself as he glanced at Hoseok. For some reason he didn’t want him to know he took your phone away earlier.

“I’m setting a passcode.” You said in a stone cold tone, not even bothering to look at the consternated look on his face. “And texting Jimin back.” You added.

“You shouldn’t do that.” He said starting the car up.

“Why?” You asked, opening the messages app. You clicked on Jimin’s contact and noticed there already was a reply under his most recent message. “You answered him for me?” You asked, shooting him a deathly glare. If there was something you really hated it was people messing with your phone.

“I didn’t want him to worry.” He murmured, pulling out of the alley.

“Right.” You hissed and scanned over the message he sent. “Thanks. Can’t wait to tell you all about it. Kissy face emoji.” You read out loud. “Does that sound like something I would say?” You asked more yourself than him, but he answered anyway.

“I don’t know, but it sounds like something I’d definitely like you to say.” He said innocently at which you just rolled your eyes and locked your phone. You saw Jungkook glance nervously at it in your hand once more, before looking into the rearview mirror to check on how Hoseok’s doing. “How are you, dude?” He asked him to break the tense silence that set between the two of you.

They chatted about miscellaneous things like Hoseok’s health insurance and Jungkook’s new couch for the entirety of the ride. You listened in carefully, astonished at how casual Jungkook can be, how he can have an entire life outside of the time he spends stalking you and murdering random men on the street. You were unable to wrap your head around it all.

“Take a right here,” Hoseok’s comment took your focus back towards your surroundings. As Jungkook turned the car you noticed you were back in a familiar part of town. You looked at the buildings surrounding the small parking lot with a thin smile. “And we’re here.” He stated and undid his seatbelt. You did the same and got out of the car with your half empty coffee cup in hand. You stretched your arms and took a sip of the lukewarm drink.

“Where are we going?” You asked the two guys as you looked around.

“Park.” Hoseok said behind your back.

You felt your smile grow a little wider at the sound of that word, because it just happened that you knew the park he was talking about like the back of your hand. You used to walk through it almost every day when you were in high school. Your parent’s apartment was just a block away, your’s and Taehyung’s old school on the other side of all this greenery.

You followed Hoseok and Jungkook through the parking lot to the park’s gate and went ahead of them after crossing it. Your feet carried you through the old paths that were still near and dear to your heart. Looking around you didn’t notice how much everything has changed, you were too busy reminiscing about the past and how beautiful it seemed in your memory now.

You smiled to yourself while walking the same old path you and your friends would take while walking home from school. Your heart grew even warmer at the memory of ditching classes together to hang out by the river that ran through this park. During your high school years the benches near the concrete bridge connecting two sides of the park were the coolest place to hang out for teens in the area. That’s where you met Taehyung for the first time. At the very beginning of high school. Your group of friends joined his group friends for a hangout and you were introduced. Simple as that.

Soon after that you forgot all about Taehyung as you weren’t in the same class and you didn’t have any classes together other than PE. You sometimes saw him on the school grounds or by the river bank, but you were too preoccupied with your own problems to pay more attention to him if any at all. It all changed after a faithfull day at the end of January that same school year.

You were in the middle of zipping up your winter coat when someone bumped into you in the school entry way.

“Sorry.” You said startled. As you looked up you recognized Taehyung. You noticed his cheeks reddened by the cold of winter hidden under a thick beanie and a large scarf. He had a puzzled look on his face which seemed bizarre since he was always heard laughing with his friends in the corridors. Then out of nowhere he grabbed your hand and looked you in the eyes.

“Can you do me a huge favour, (Y/N)?” He asked sincerely.

“What is it?” You asked, starting to feel a little nervous. Taehyung glanced over his shoulder quickly and started whispering.

“Sara won’t leave me alone. She wants to ask me to go to the school dance with her, but I don't want to go with her and…” He breathed in sharply before continuing. “I don’t want to tell her no as well.” You looked at him patronizingly even though he was significantly bigger and taller than you.

“And you want to have someone to shield yourself with when she asks you?” You asked already knowing what his answer will be.

“Please?” He said in a cute tone.

“No.” You pulled your hand out of his and reached to zip up your jacket all the way up.

“Why? Please.” He begged, grabbing onto your zipper to make you stop and reconsider his plea.

“I just-” You shook your head, feeling the heat rising in your body. “I don’t want to.” You hissed at him and pushed his hands away. You zipped your jacket harshly and stomped around him. Of course you wanted to go to the dance with someone, but the way Taehyung asked you didn’t really seem like what you had in mind when you dreamed of your crush asking you out.

“You can’t keep saying no.” He called behind you as you pushed the front door of the school open.

“Yes, I can. And I will.” You said not turning around to face him, afraid he’ll see you blushing.

“(Y/N), please. I won’t stop asking.” He said louder while walking behind you.

“Leave me alone.” You whined as you stepped down the steps and onto the sidewalk in front of the school building.

“Go with me, (Y/N).” He called, slowly catching up to you.

“Oh, no.” You breathed out as you noticed a group of girls chatting in front of the building, Taehyung’s Sara among them.

“There’s no other girl I want to go with other than you.” Taehyung practically yelled after you at this point. You turned on your heel and shot him a deathly glare.

“I see what you’re doing. Stop it.” You whisper-yelled at him as he stopped less than a meter away from you.

“Please.” He smirked stepping closer.

“Taehyung.” You warned him and he took another step, practically closing the gap between the two of you.

“I’m not going to stop.” He said loudly enough so that Sara and her friends could hear him perfectly. “It’s going to take more than you avoiding me to make me stop liking you.” He said

“Oh my god…” You rolled your eyes, feeling both annoyed and flattered with this fake confession.

“I won’t back down until-”

“Okay, okay. I’ll go with you.” You cut him off deciding you’ve heard enough.

“Yay!” He cheered and hugged you tightly. “(Y/N) and Taehyung sitting on a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-Ah!” He started chanting teasingly, so you hit him on the shoulder jokingly.

“Stop it.” You hissed, not wanting to make Sara, who probably really like Taehyung, feel any worse.

“Alright.” He laughed and rubbed his shoulder as if your punch really hurt him. “Where are you headed?” He asked.

“West Estate.” You stated as you glanced at the pack of girls scattering away quickly.

“I live near there. I’ll walk you.” He exclaimed happily, but you couldn't get rid of the weird feeling that you just did something mean. “Honestly, (Y/N)...” Taehyung sighed, putting his arm around you. “Thank you.”

“Why didn’t you want Sara to ask you to go with her so badly?” You asked, slipping out of his embrace.

“For starters I don’t even like her like that, but also my friend likes her. I couldn’t do it to him and this way she’ll think I like you and stop liking me which makes it easier for my friend to do his move.” He explained.

“I see you had this all planned out.” You said, nodding at the complexity of his plan.

“Yes, I only needed a girl for myself.” He smiled at you.

“Was I your first choice?” You asked jokingly.

“Would you be mad if I said no?” He asked, matching your tone.

“Yes.” You chuckled.

“Yes, you were my first choice.” He said, laughing.

Though quick, the walk you had with Taehyung was very fun. You got to know him better and he learned a thing or two about you as well. You were deep in conversation when you realised you just passed your address.

“This is me.” You said, stopping reluctantly in front of the block of flats you lived in.

“Really? I live two streets that way.” He said in true shock. “We have to walk together in the mornings from now on. What do you say?”

“(Y/N)?” Jungkook called your name, but you kept walking deep in thought. “(Y/N)?” He asked again and this time you turned around.

“Hey, remember-” You said with a smile, expecting to see your oldest friend that you walked through this park with so many times. You got so distracted with all the memories this place rekindled in your head that you forgot who you actually came here with today. “Oh.” You stopped yourself, disappointed at the sight of surprised Jungkook and clueless Hoseok, a murderer and a stranger.

“What?” Jungkook asked curiously and matched your pace to walk next to you.

“Nothing.” You said with a heavy feeling of a let down coming down on you.

[libsterslobsters]

Dazed and Confused

Description: Almost a month has past since Bucky and the reader met. Since then, they've had absolutely no contact or communication. What happens when someone decides to make the first move? More importantly: is this a date?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced! reader

(Reader can see shards of the future, understand all languages, and process information abnormally fast)

Warnings: Strong language, mostly fluff, mild angst, two idiots who could really benefit from a lesson in basic communication skills

Author's note: As per usual, the reader is unnamed, but when I'm writing, I refer to her as Violet. Also, Bucky Barnes is a poor lost puppy, and you can pry him from my cold, dead fingers before I'll let you hurt him.

*************************************************

 The text comes when he’s ankle-deep in various pipes and tools (he could call the building’s super to fix the plumbing but with this great new thing called the internet, he figured it would be pretty simple to figure out why every time he takes a shower, the bathroom sink fills with sludge), and his hands are so full, he can’t check it. Besides, Bucky reasons with himself, it’s probably nothing. Nobody texts him unless it’s a wrong number or a telemarketer. In fact, at this point, he’s not even sure why he has a phone.

 It takes a full hour to put everything back together (the youtube tutorials he watched made it all seem much simpler than it is), this time sans dead rat in the elbow fitting (he’s trying not to think too hard about that), and by that time, he’s nearly forgotten about the text. It’s only when he checks the time that he sees the alert on his phone. With a tap, he opens his messages, and as he reads the name attached to the latest one, he nearly drops the phone. It’s her.

 He hasn’t seen the woman who has visions in nearly a month. Never expected to hear from her again, if he’s being honest. But there it is: a message with her listed as the contact. It’s not very long; only four words, actually. “Hey. Are you busy?”

 He quickly types, “Why?” but realizes just as he’s about to hit “send” that it’s probably not the best response, all things considered (especially since he really, really wants to see her again… despite his better judgment). Alright, he needs to concentrate. Possibly, “That depends. What’ve you got in mind?” No. That’s too suggestive. Too flirty. Although he is flirting… sort of… maybe… he hasn’t figured that out yet. Finally, he decides to go with a simple, “No.” There. No way that can be misconstrued or make her uncomfortable (which is the last thing he wants to do). Unless she takes into account that it took him an hour to reply. Dammit. How do you even go about talking to a pretty girl these days? Is there a YouTube video on that?

 Two minutes tick by. Then five. Then fifteen. He’s almost decided she’s not going to respond when his phone chirps again. “Sorry. Got caught up grading a paper.” This time, he’s fast on the draw. “That’s fine.” But not fast enough, because before he can hit send, another message appears. “This may be weird, but would you want to meet up? It’s okay if not. I just don’t know many people, so…” So…? That’s it? Is he supposed to wait for her to finish the thought or come up with a witty reply? How the hell does he do this?

 Finally he comes up with another simple response. “When?” Great. He’s a monosyllabic wonder. It’s been a long time, and he can’t prove it (you know, because everyone who could bear witness to it is either ancient or dead) but he’s fairly certain he used to be better at this whole “talking” thing.

 Less than thirty seconds pass by before there’s another message. “Now.” Now? Now! Okay, yeah, that’s fine. The shower’s fixed, so maybe he can hose off and change clothes fast enough that it won’t cause much of a delay. But he also hasn’t shaved in… when was the last time he shaved? At least he did laundry two days ago, so he has something clean- another ding. “Or, you know, whenever.” followed by… a yellow smiling face with a bead of sweat. What does that mean? Why is the face yellow? Once again, a ding. “What I meant is, I have this afternoon free. If you do too, that would work fine. No pressure.” No, he’s free pretty much for the foreseeable future. He should probably say something back sooner rather than later.

 “Where?” No, that’s too short. “Where would you like to meet?” There. Better. Maybe. When did people stop talking on phones and only… texting? You used to be able to tell where a person stood because you could hear their voice. Now it’s all guesswork. God, he’s old. Definitely too old to be possibly thinking about her like-

 “Wherever is fine. We could do a coffee shop again, or my apartment. Whatever’s most convenient for you.” Ball’s in his court. Um… he’d really rather not be out in public. For now, he’s safe (at least as far as he can tell), but it’s always a gamble, him betting against himself that his simple disguises will work, he won’t be recognized. That leaves… oh boy.

 “Your place, if that’s alright.” That’s forward. Maybe too forward. She offered, but maybe that was just being polite? More importantly, is this a date? No. Can’t be. Possibly. Oh my god, what’s wrong with him?!

 “Sure.” the words are followed by a string of numbers and a street name. “Just give me half an hour to make the place presentable.” Another yellow, sweaty smile. He really needs to look up what that means.

 “Alright. See you then.” He presses another button and the screen goes black. Thirty minutes. What can he do in thirty minutes? As he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror, he makes a decision. Start with getting the sewage off his face.

___________________________________________________________________________________

 “What the hell is the matter with me?” She mutters it to herself as, for the fourth time in ten minutes, she chances her clothes. “This is NOT a date. Not a date.” Just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl… she shakes her head. She needs to get a grip. Now. Because this is definitely not a date. Barnes might be many things, but at all interested in her THAT way is not one of them. How could he be? She’s… weird. And damaged. Not that he’s all there either, but the possibility of this being anything more than a potential friendship? Uh-uh. No way. She doesn’t need to see the future to know that much.

 A knock on her front door makes her jump, immediately hating herself. Why is she nervous? There’s nothing strange about this. People meet up all the time to talk and eat… in one or the other’s apartment… after finding out they both have special abilities. Okay, all of this is pretty strange, especially since it’s her.

 After taking one last glance in the mirror (and smoothing down her hair that’s sticking straight up, thanks to switching out her shirts so many times), she steps out of her bedroom and makes her way towards the door. Not a date, she mentally repeats to herself. No reason to be nervous. Not a date.Then why the hell is she shaking a little? She needs to get a grip. Now.

 Taking a deep breath, she pulls the door open (as it so happens, just as the man on the other side raises his hand to knock again).

 “Hey. You made it.” That sounded almost normal. Not like she’s quaking in her boots.

 “I did.” He’s smiling, so she must not sound as awkward as she feels.

 “Did you find the place okay?” Wow. She sounds like she’s reading from a script. A really boring script at that.

 “Yeah. There’s this thing called GPS now, and…” He trails off. “You probably already know about that.” Great. Now they’re both fish out of water.

 “I do. Super helpful.” It occurs to her that she’s just leaving him standing in the hallway, so she asks, “Would you like to come in?” Oh my god. Her brain. Where is it?

 “Thanks.” He doesn’t make a move, and that’s when she realizes she’s still blocking the doorway. Dumb-ass. Trying not to seem awkward, she walks backwards, promptly running into her kitchen chair.

 “Ouch.” Bucky winces, and she wishes the floor would open up and swallow her.

 “Graceful as an elephant.” She murmurs it under her breath, but a snicker from the man behind her lets her know it’s been heard. Right. Super hearing.

 “That should turn into a nice, purple bruise by tomorrow.”

 “Oh, yeah?” She calls it over her shoulder. “Do you see the future by any chance?”

 “Nah.” He shakes his head, grinning. He has a nice smile. No, she needs to stop thinking like that. Right now. “I’ve just had a lot of experience running into things.”

 They’ve gone so far into the room that they’ve walked straight past the tiny kitchen into the living room. She wasn’t really intending to jump straight into, “Why don’t we sit on the couch, which happens to barely be big enough for two people”, but there’s no way to work, “Let’s retrace our steps into the kitchen” into conversation smoothly, so she takes a seat, scooting as far to one side as she can.

 “I thought super soldiers were supposed to be agile.” Thank god, he’s sitting too.

 “They are, but for around twenty-eight years before that, I was as clumsy as the next person.” Immediately, he freezes. “Not that you’re clumsy-” So maybe she’s not the only one out of practice in the fine art of making friends.

 “No, you had it right. I am.” He still looks a little unsure so, ignoring the little voice in her head screaming, “Don’t do it! You’re coming on too strong!” she leans towards him. “Actually, that new bruise is the latest of at least five others I currently have, and I can’t remember how I got any of them.” Does that make her sound weird? But no, he seems to be rolling with it.

 “Haven’t you ever heard of looking where you’re going?” She goes out on a limb, assuming he’s joking.

 “I’ve heard of the concept, but I’m usually too busy looking ahead, so-”

 “Fair point.”

 There’s a lull in the conversation. It goes on so long, that she blurts out, “Are you allergic to anything?” just to fill the silence.

 “Huh?” He frowns. “Don’t think so. Why?” There actually is a reason, but now that she thinks about it, how would he be allergic to anything? If her frantic googling is correct, whatever Captain America is hopped up on took care of all physical weaknesses, so it’s unlikely Barnes will suffer anaphilactic shock due to something in her kitchen.

 “I cooked, and…” She trails off. “… never mind.”

 “Oh.” Now she really wishes her “power” had something to do with disappearing. “Thanks, um-” he clears his throat. “-was I supposed to bring anything? I thought about flowers, but-” he scratches the back of his neck, and if she had to guess, she’d say he’s nervous too.

 “No, just yourself.”

 “Great, because that’s all I brought.” Splendid. Neither of them know how to hold a conversation.

 Finally, she decides to just come out and say it:

 “I’m not good at this sort of thing.” He looks mildly confused, so she explains, “Talking to people. That is, unless I’m teaching them.”

 “I don’t think I am either.” She starts to ask, “You don’t think?” but reels it in. Apparently, her face must show what she’s thinking, because he continues. “This is the most of it I’ve done in a long time.”

 It’s completely inappropriate, but she laughs.

 “Same for me. Hiding out to avoid capture doesn’t really leave many opportunities to practice your social skills, does it?”

 He chuckles.

 “Not unless I’m doing it wrong.”

 It may be a mistake, but she decides to make a suggestion.

 “You know, I think I heard from someone that there’s this really great solution when two people are in a room together and are out of practice holding a conversation.”

 “What’s that?” At least he doesn’t seem offended.

 “Watching a movie.”

 “Huh.” He nods. “That was the go-to when the cat’s got your tongue back in my day too.” Good, so it’s not a foreign concept. “I’m afraid I don’t know of any theaters around here though, or even what’s playing.”

 “Not a problem.” As she says it, she powers up her laptop “Any preferences? They’ve got pretty much anything if you know where to look.”

 He thinks for a minute, then asks, “Fantasia? Do you think they have that?” It’s an unexpected request; out of all things, the ex-soldier wants to see a Disney movie.

 “I’m sure they do. Give me a second.”  Luckily, it’s on the first service she tries.

 As the opening credits play, she struggles not to laugh at how wide his eyes go.

 “How did you-”

 “It’s on Netflix.” Nothing. He doesn’t know what that is. “It’s a website. I just typed in what I wanted to find, and there it is.”

 The only sound for a few minutes is the swelling music coming from the speakers, then finally, Bucky murmurs,

 “I don’t think I’ve been using the internet to it’s full potential.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

 

 “Really?” Somehow, over the course of the evening, they’ve stopped sitting stiffly next to each other and watching their words. Now she’s turned towards him, a plate balanced on her knees, both of them completely ignoring the movie playing in the background. “A rat in your pipes? Are you serious?”

 He nods.

 “Afraid so.”

 “How the hell did it even get in there?”

 “Beats me. I didn’t ask it.”

 She’s got a great laugh, Bucky thinks to himself. It’s the kind of laugh that makes you want to give into the giggles too.

 “That’s probably for the best. From the sound of things, it wasn’t in any condition to answer your questions.”

 He’s about to shoot back a reply, but then he remembers.

 “That reminds me-” Careful not to elbow her (this sofa is barely a sofa; he’s not complaining though, because now that the ice has been broken, it’s actually kind of nice being close to another person again), he digs his phone out of his pocket and pulls up her texts from earlier. “-what does this yellow face mean?”

 She frowns and leans towards him (she smells like cinnamon, maybe cloves… it’s not weird that he’s noticed that, right?).

 “Oh.” Again, that laugh, but quieter this time. “It basically means, ‘I’m second guessing what I just said and I hope it didn’t come off the wrong way.’”  That makes sense, given the context, but he still has another question.

 “But why is the face yellow?”

 Her brow furrows slightly as she thinks.

 “You know, I’m really not sure. That’s just how most emojis look.”

 “Emojis?”

 “May I?” She indicates his phone.

 “Sure.”

 With a brief tap to the screen, a full page of yellow faces (amongst other odd symbols) appears.

 “These are emojis. They sort of add interest to a text.”

 “Huh.” Taking back the offered phone, he studies the symbols. “That would’ve been useful to have when we sent telegrams.” As soon as he says it, he realizes how he sounds. “I just dated myself, didn’t I?”

 She smirks.

 “Just a little, but don’t worry. It’s charming.”

 He places a smile on his face and laughs lightly, but on the inside, he’s still trying to figure out whether or not this is a date. Is she, against all odds, actually interested in him, or is she just being kind? Two hours later when the clock strikes nine, he’s still not sure.

 “Well, I hate to kick you out, Bucky, but I have a student coming by tomorrow at seven a.m., so I need to get to bed.” Has he overstayed his welcome? But no, she doesn’t look offended.

 “Sure. No problem.” He stands and, without thinking, offers her his hand to pull her up, which she takes. How long has it been since he’s touched another person, or another person has touched him, like that? A casual gesture that normal people with simple secrets share?

 “Thanks for the meal, by the way.”

 “Oh, no trouble.” She still hasn’t let go. “Did you want to take some leftovers with you?”

 “No, that’s okay.” Yes, he really does want to (its much better than what he usually comes up with on his own) but if he had to venture a guess, she probably doesn’t have the funds to be giving away food willy-nilly.

 “Alright.” She pulls her hand away, and immediately, he feels colder.

 They walk single file towards the door (this apartment is too small for them both to pass through  shoulder-to-shoulder), her right behind him. As he pulls open the door, he tells her,

 “Thanks again for everything.”

 She chuckles.

 “Thank you for the conversation.”

 He’s about to say something more (although he’s not sure what) when she wraps her arms around him in a hug. It takes a second for him to realize what’s happening, but then he returns the embrace.

 It’s over far too quickly, and when she stands back, her cheeks are flushed.

 “Be careful on your way home.”

 “Will do. Have a good night.”

 On the bus ride home, he plays over the events of the evening. He’s still uncertain as to whether or not it was a date. He feels like it was, but it’s been so long… time to consult the internet. As it turns out, there’s quite a few websites that offer opinions on the subject. He finds one that has a quiz attached and, calculating how much time it’ll take him to get home, decides to take it.

 The questions are pretty generic, and he gets through them in under two minutes. Waiting for the result to load, however? He’s back in his apartment before he gets a solid answer on that. There’s a graph showing how they measure each factor, but the final result is stands at, “You’ve been on a date- likelihood, 99%.” Huh. First time in seventy years. Maybe he’ll give the whole “texting” thing another go.

___________________________________________________________________________________

 Morning dawns far too early for her liking, and with it, her memories of last night return. It was going okay. Really it was. Until she hugged him, that is. Oh my god. Why couldn’t she show some common sense for once? Friends don’t hug goodbye, especially not, “I’m just getting to know you” friends. She’s never going to hear from him again because she came on too strong, and now he really doesn’t want to have the, “I’m not attracted to you” conversation.

 As she makes a cup of tea, a scene plays out before her eyes. The phone dings with a text alert under the name “Barnes.” She doesn’t realize it’s a vision until that exact thing happens ten seconds later. “Wow. So helpful. Really.” She mutters to herself. It’s almost as useful as someone yelling “Duck!” just as you get hit in the head.

 She really shouldn’t read the message. She has a job to do, a student to teach, and if she’s distracted during their lesson, she’ll feel terrible. But, another “ding” sounds and curiousity gets the better of her.

 The first text is simple: “Good morning” followed by… she has to choke back a laugh… several various smiley faces. Guess he’s decided to give emojis a go. “Hope your class goes well today.” Shaking her head, she scrolls down to the next message. “Last night was fun. Would you want to do it again sometime?”

 “Well, I’ll be damned.” She whispers as her fingertips make contact with the keyboard. Maybe he didn’t take it as her trying to make something happen between them that never will. Or maybe he’s just been away from normal human interraction for so long, he’s accepting whatever she throws at him simply so he’ll have a friend. Either way, she likes him and would like to know him better, and if that means swallowing down the silly crush that’s starting to develop, she can do that.

 “Good morning. That sounds great.” She types back, then puts her phone on silent. Certain areas of her life may be changing, but for now- a knock sounds on her door- class is in session.

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 43: Grimoire

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Forty-Three: Grimoire

Note: And here’s me, genuinely unable to remember if Vergil gave V his book back and what chapter that could have happened in. I’m certain he has, but fuck, really that bothers me. Not even joking. It was so many chapters ago. So many months… 

(-~-)

 One day later…

Thick sheets of ice shattered underfoot like faulty glass, sending a slurry comprised of semi-melted ice and slushy snow jetting out in all directions. The temporary surface slid slightly, but due to the height of the surrounding snow, didn’t migrate very far and was still able to be walked upon if done so carefully.

It had stormed in the short time that they had spent away, leaving the entirety of Redgrave and its surrounding municipalities covered under a moderately thick blanket of powdery-white snow. But today was different. The snow had gone from heavy clumps stuck together by the moisture in the air to soft flurry barely noticeable to casual passers-by, and the sky had gone from an overcast gray to something substantially darker, the foreboding clouds admittedly daunting to take in.

More than one storm was brewing just over the horizon, and no one present was sure what to make of it. They knew that they were not ready for what was to come, but now was the time to prepare for it, nonetheless. Underestimating their opponent would gain them no favors, and as a result, they could only do their best to over-prepare for the unexpected. Simply waiting and hoping for the best was out of the cards, at least in most respects.

Having left just after Aluta’s unfortunate diagnosis of V’s newly contracted ailment, Vergil had yet to return. Not a soul knew of his whereabouts, and several possibilities were tossed about amongst everyone aware of his sudden departure, but in regards to concrete proof? Well, everything was still up in the air. It had only been a day so far, but it had still been somewhat jarring when everyone had prepared to leave and they were one descendant of Sparda short of a complete set. Where had he gone at a time like this, and what was keeping him.

But knowing full well that simply sitting idly by and awaiting his return would do them little good when they could be using that time to do something more meaningful, they had opted to return home at the time that they had originally scheduled, unsure as to what else they could do in a situation like that. Vergil knew his way home. They would simply have to wait to see what happened. And while they waited to see what the outcome of his unscheduled trip was, they would prepare themselves in any and any way that they could.

Standing in front of the front steps to his home, V wrapped his arms around himself and took a few deep breaths, exhaling slowly and allowing the chilled air to cool his lungs. He shivered, feeling a chill crawl up his spine as he exhaled again and watched the frost blow from his mouth. Despite everything he had been through in it, there was still something he found relaxing about the sight of snow; something primal within him that awakened at the slightest touch of the frozen water molecules. His muscles didn’t agree with his mind in this regard, but he still enjoyed it in spite of that. But that time had now passed, at least for the foreseeable future. He had been warned to stay within the confines of his home for reasons that he was told would make more sense to him once he returned. And now that he was back, he was willing to believe that Aluta might have been onto something.

Flora nodded in approval as she looked at the snow-draped building, watching as a large ice sickle dropped from one of the overhanging windows above and crashed into the ground, shattering like a thousand broken dreams. She turned as he approached, her long white coat trailing against the ground as she did so. Her long black hair had been placed into two loops, hanging from the lower portion of either side of her head. She popped her gum as she tucked her hands into her pockets, a strange flavor that V was certain he’d never heard of before just by looking at the color of the bubbles it made. After all, how often did someone chew black gum?

“What flavor is that?” He asked

“The gum? Oh, it’s black licorice. A favorite of mine. I’m told that makes me quite the outlier. Can’t say that I mind, though.” She shrugged nebulously, stepping out of the way as he unlocked the door and opened it. He then stepped to the side and allowed her to pass him, sure that she probably wanted to get out of the cold just as much as he did. “Care to try it?”

 V hadn’t exactly brought any luggage with him. It was just an overnight trip, and more pressing obstacles had stood in the way of more trivial things like reading. All he really had with him was a change of clothes, and nothing more. Well, aside from his book, but that didn’t count. It never left his side, even when he didn’t make the fact that he had it known to anyone else.

He shook his head politely, declining her generous offer. “I appreciate the offer, but no thank you. I like the tea quite a bit, but aside from that… Well, I’m afraid not.“

She nodded, shrugging in polite indifference. In truth, that was the answer she was expecting. After all, it was the one she normally received when she offered someone some of her favorite candy. It was genuinely amazing to her that licorice companies stayed in business with the number of people that she’s met who hated it with a passion. Where did the demand come from?

“Fine by me. I get that. Most people besides me don't seem to like it much. Guess it’s a matter of taste” She said, popping the gum again. She unwrapped another stick, pausing for a moment to add it to her mouth. She then continued to chew, stopping only when she was forced to migrate the gum to one of the sides of her mouth in order to speak. “ I’ve never actually had the tea. Didn’t know that it was even a thing.” 

“Yea, you're probably right about that. I don’t think I know anybody that likes that stuff now that you mention it.”

Both V and Flora turned to watch as Nico approached them from around the corner. Having just stashed the van in the garage, she was now ready to join them inside of the house where it was presumably warm and not snowing. In truth, she was willing to take at least one of those things. Anything was better than freezing to death in the snow outside of V’s front door. She liked to look at it, and she didn’t mind going out in it, but in this outfit? No way, she was going to catch her death out there.

Smiling, Flora motioned for Nico to follow them inside and stepped across the threshold, brushing off her coat as she did so. As soon as Nico scampered through the doorway, V closed it and leaned his cane against the entryway wall before heading into the living room and immediately over towards the fireplace. There had to be some way to light it. There was fuel in it, after all.

Noticing her newfound companion’s plight, Flora headed over to watch, noting that he seemed to be looking around for something to light it with. She waited for a short while, not wanting to step on his toes in regards to something so simple, but admittedly growing colder and colder by the minute. It was something that she could remedy easily enough, but not something that she wanted to attempt in someone else’s house. She didn’t sense any notable traces of magic in this house, so that meant that there were no protective wards in place to protect it from fires. Well, at least for the time being.

Realizing that there wasn’t anything he could use to light the fire, he turned towards the young Ludwig girl, catching on to the fact that she was quietly offering her assistance simply by being there. He shrugged slightly, clearly unsure as to what she could do, but willing to take any help that she could offer him at this point. The nearest store had been burned down during his run-in with Belial, and he was admittedly still a little unsure as to whether or not he wanted to go shopping again anytime soon.

“Could you assist me with this, please? I have a hunch that you might be able to.”

A sneaky smile spread across her lips as she nodded and stepped forward, rubbing her hands together. She seemed to concentrate carefully on what she was doing before pointing her left palm towards the wood that had been added to the fireplace. She got in close and placed her hand on the log, whispering something for a moment before a small spark became a vibrant flame and she ignited the wood, allowing the fireplace to finally serve its purpose.

V nodded in approval, admittedly impressed and grateful to finally be able to warm himself by the fire. He would have to ask her how she did that, or at least purchase a fireplace lighter before she left. Something told him that he couldn’t just do what she had done. It didn’t look particularly easy when she had done it.

Upon realizing that she didn’t have to suffer in the cold hallway any longer, Nico came over and flopped down on the floor in front of the fire, clearly grateful for its rejuvenating warmth. She closed her eyes and laid down, forming a sort of snow angel on the wooden floor. Nico then pointed up towards Flora as she sat up again, nodding in dramatic approval. It wasn’t every day that you saw something like that.

“Sirrus did something like that once, but it was with some kinda black fire. It was pretty cool, not gonna lie.” Nico shook her head, seemingly still in disbelief that she was surrounded by so many extraordinary people. Her life had been so normal just a year or so ago. Well, as normal as it could have been considering the fact that she was working as a gunsmith and had recently met Lady. That had probably been the beginning of the end for her. “You think you could teach me some of this cool stuff you guys do in that big, fancy house of yours? Because I want in on that. It would be super cool.”

An almost teasing look crossed her face as she punched Nico playfully in the shoulder, coaxing an entertained but brief laugh from the mechanic as she sat up again and attempted to right herself. “I suppose nothing bad could come from showing you the basics. We're always looking for new disciples. Just don’t say I showed you. I’m certain that madam Willow would have my head for it if she knew.

Nico exclaimed excitedly, jumping up and heading into the kitchen. Flora and V made themselves comfortable in front of the fire in the meantime, seemingly ready to call it a day even though it wasn’t even noon yet. Perhaps that was the problem. It was too early for at least one of them, and almost too early for the other. Nico was too sporadic to say definitively. But as she sat there basking in the glow of the warm fire, something occurred to her that hadn’t the moment before. And thankfully Nico had returned from the kitchen empty-handed in the meantime. She could answer her question.

“Black fire you say? Very interesting… That’s quite the rarity if I’m not mistaken. I can barely make an orange flame.” Flora brushed her hair out of her face, clearly flustered slightly. What a strange thing to hear about from someone outside of the estate. She had never seen anyone wield that kind of power in person. She only knew about it through her studies. That kind of magic was forbidden. Too destructive from what she understood. “In fact, they are not quite flames at all, in that respect. Those flames, they burn cold. I’m curious what he hoped to accomplish using that type of fire.” 

Yawning, Nico sat back down on the floor and stretched out, unsure as to what else she could really add to that discussion until she remembered something. “Oh, believe me, Missy, it was definitely hot. Now that I think about it, the fire was black and white. Might have something to do with it. I don’t know, I’m not the one with the fancy magic.”

Flora blanched. Clearly, she had misheard that, or Nico was simply mistaken. Black and white flames together were simply unheard of. Was that even possible? Everyone she’d ever met put together couldn’t amass the power necessary to pull something like that off. Could Sirrus actually… 

“Now then, do you still have that scroll that you were given before your departure? I was told to assist you with it. Considering the circumstances, it should be invaluable, at least from what I have been led to believe.” Perhaps it was best to simply change the subject. After all, there was nothing she could do to influence things one way or another. The possession of that kind of power didn’t mean anything worrisome in the grand scheme of things. It was more down to the user than anything else when it came to deciding if an ability was hazardous or not. The gifts he might possess were potentially calamitous, but that didn’t mean that Sirrus was planning to wage a war of epic proportions against them simply because he possessed the ability to. Now she better understood what Hydrangea had been talking about all this time… 

V reached into the inside of his coat pocket and produced the scroll, handing it to her. She unfurled the piece of paper, carefully looking it over in the dim light before holding it closer to the fire so that she could see it better. After a moment, she nodded and then returned it to V, turning her attention back towards the fire. “Know what to do with it?”

He considered simply telling her no before deciding to look it over himself one final time, curious to know it was possible for him to glean anything useful from it in spite of his inability to actually perform magic. Well, at least on purpose. V was positive that he had accidentally done so on several occasions without realizing it, the first time he’d ever manifested his spectral canes being a stand-out example of that to him. He wasn’t sure if that was an inborn gift, or simply a case of him accidentally doing something he hadn’t known was possible. All that he knew was that he had wondered what would happen if he had tried to move his hand in a certain position after feeling a strange surge of power, and in that instant, he had figured out how to utilize that specific ability.

After studying the scroll for a moment, V furrowed his brow ever so slightly, sure that he had misunderstood what it was trying to impart upon him. He then turned his attention back to Flora, giving her a questioning look. “Am I to understand that this should be thrown into the fireplace?”

She nodded, seemingly impressed by the fact that he had actually been able to read the scroll. She then gestured towards the fire, moving out of the way so that he would be able to proceed. “Yes, as it turns out, this is a more advanced ward that requires activation instead of just reading it. Tossing it in should do the trick.”

Upon hearing this, Nico stood up, nearly falling over herself in the process. She steadied herself and brushed off her clothes, having accumulated a thin layer of dust from sitting so close to the fireplace. It seemed that V had missed that part of the room when he had attempted to clean. Or perhaps it had simply returned to that state after V and Flora looked at her curiously for a moment before she broke the silence, clearly excited.

“Okay, so…  can I throw that paper or whatever that is into the fireplace? Because I never get to mess around with this kinda stuff and it just seems super cool. I get to make stuff sometimes, but I can’t use it, ya know? I just wanna know what it’s like. That alright with you, V?”

Admittedly, V was shocked by her question. Her point was completely valid, but he hadn’t thought about the fact that Nico might feel that way. Something told him that she would probably be genuinely excited to wake up with demonic powers one day, unlike him who just didn’t know how to take it at first. He had no issue with her request, but was that even possible?

V looked over his shoulder at Flora as if to ask her if it would be possible to honor Nico’s request. She nodded, shrugging slightly but not unpleasantly. It seemed that it didn’t matter how it ended up in the fireplace. All that mattered was that it made it in there one way or another. He then turned to the mechanic and handed her the scroll, nodding in agreement. “Of course you can. Be my guest”

With a barely concealed yelp of excitement, Nico chucked the scroll into the rolling flames, going slightly wide-eyed as they turned bright purple and shot up the chimney and out of sight. A sort of heaviness lingered in the air for a moment and the windows and door rattled as the walls vibrated before settling down and returning to normal. Nico couldn’t have looked more excited if she tried.

Leaning over to teach Flora’s ear, V smirked slightly, more than a little amused. “Are you positive that you should teach her any form of magic? I’ve seen her drive. That is a disaster waiting to happen.”

(-~-)

Oh shit, I forgot to tell you all that Thursday is my Mom’s 50th birthday! We’re going to be celebrating basically all weekend, so I’m going to try my best to get the chapters out on time for Friday (I’m working on them today) but don’t be surprised if they are a little late. If you don’t see them on Friday, check back on Saturday! They should be out by then!

I hope you liked this chapter! See you in the comment section, and have an amazing day!

[themenof--freeridge]

What Once Was

Pairing: Oscar Diaz x Reader  

Requested?: Yes- jeyramarie - Oscar and reader being high school lovers (never stopped loving each other) and the reader comes back home and she sees Oscar again just to find that he has someone and is gonna be a dad.

Warnings: Angst (sort of)  

It had been years since you’d last been to your family’s home in Freeridge. You finally managed to get the approval for your vacation from your company in the city and you were eagerly awaiting stepping into your childhood home.

Your younger brother kept you updated on all the town’s happenings. He let you know when the Prophets were dismantled, when a new gang arose from nowhere and when the Santos took charge to improve the safety of the streets. You always looked out for his updates on Oscar Diaz. Every time Oscar was brought up by your brother, you kept waiting to see how his life was developing.  

The last thing your brother told you about the Diaz brothers was that Oscar had departed from the Santos and Cesar had taken up his throne.  

When you taxi stopped in front of your house, your mother and brother were waiting in the foyer, ecstatic smiles spread across their faces.  

The reunion was quick as your brother was dragged into the kitchen with your mother to finish up making a lunch spread of all of your homemade favorites. When you mother refused your help in the kitchen, she shooed you off to the living room.

Rather than lay around doing nothing, you decided to head off to the nearby 24-hour convenience store. You were suddenly craving their low-quality chicken paste sandwiches.

Once you announced your departure, your brother rattled off a list of snacks to get until you were out the door.

The walk to the store felt all-too familiar, except now the streets were busier with children and teenagers enjoying their lives and not caring about who was watching them. There definitely was a decrease in the number of Santos and questionable characters on the streets.

When you opened the door to the store, the lingering smell of cigarette smoke and fresh bread engulfed you. You strutted in and immediately headed to the refrigerated food section, eager to complete your quest for that sandwich.

You were leaning over the shelf inspecting the products as you heard a voice that only lived in your mind for the past few years away from home.  

“Make sure we get paprika and garlic powder,” his voice boomed through the aisle.

You straightened up slowly, turning to face the direction of his voice. When you found him, you gasped quietly; he looked so different from when you last saw him.

Your teenage love, arguable the love of your life, Oscar Diaz, was standing a mere few feet in front of you. His hair had grown out, so long for the shaved head. He wore a proper shirt instead of the wife-beaters that once decorated his closet.  

Your feet moved on their own, taking you closer to him. As you stood at the entrance of one aisle, he stood on the opposite end with his back to you. In front of him, too close to be a friend, stood an attractive woman with soft, curly auburn hair. When she shifted to the side, you noticed a prominent baby bump. You watched as Oscar moved to place a hand around her center, cradling the bump. In that moment, you realized how differently your lives turned out. While you were away working on making a name for yourself, Oscar had freed himself from the Santos and managed to settle down with someone who was soon to make a father out of him.

What hit you was that he was settled down with someone that wasn’t you.

Suddenly, the couple turned, heading towards you. The moment Oscar met your eyes, he came to a halt. The girl with him didn’t seem to notice; she moved around you, heading to the next aisle.  

Slowly, Oscar moved to stand in front of you. “Hey, Y/N.”

Just hearing your name in his voice was enough to take you back to your younger days. “Hey, Oscar.”

“When did you get back?” he asked, glancing at his baby mama.

“A couple of hours ago.”

He nodded and smiled shyly. He was just as awkward as you felt. You couldn’t deny it, he still made you feel like a teenage girl.

You needed to ease the tension a little. You gestured to where his girl was and asked, “So, you’re gonna be a dad, huh?”

His smile grew proudly as he nodded in confirmation.

“Congrats. You’ll make a great dad to any kid.”

He nodded again and replied, “Thanks. I’m planning on it.”

You pointed to his hair and asked, “You left the Santos?”

“Oh, yeah. A lot has happened since you left.”

“Papi?” his girl swiveled around the aisle to spot the two of you chatting. She offered you a kind smile as she waited for him to respond.  

Before he could leave, you hurried up by saying, “I should get going anyway. Maybe I'll see you around?”

“Yeah, of course. Hey, we’re having a barbecue at the house later if you wanna stop by with your brother.”

“The Santos house?”

His girl piped in again, “No, we moved out of that house a while ago. Maybe Oscar can text you the address.”

“Y-Yeah, sure,” you managed. You smiled at them one last time before turning away and returning to the refrigerated section.  

You thought about what she said. “‘We’ moved out”? That meant that she and Oscar were already living together while he was a Santo. You closed your eyes, trying to take in all the information. The boy you watched turn into a man found happiness with another woman. She was beautiful and the pregnancy glow worked in her favor. She was giving him all he ever wanted: stability, love and a future.

You stayed in the store, staring blankly at the sandwiches; you stayed until you heard them leave.  

When you snapped back to reality, you felt a tear slide down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away and took a deep breath. You told yourself that this is how things go. People grow when apart and even though your feelings for him remained, you had no right to act on them. He was settled now with a baby on the way. Whatever residual feelings you two had for each other needed to be locked away.

Reality was coming down on you and you were trying to adapt as quickly as possible. When you left for the big city, you were saying goodbye to everyone you once knew. Being away from a certain lifestyle forced you to make a life of your own.

Just because you were back home didn’t mean that everything fell back into place as you wanted.  

For the foreseeable future, Oscar was off-limits. Despite how naturally your body moved towards him, like magnets stuck for life, you needed to stay away from him and give him space to build his own future.  

[7-wonders]

Money, Power, and Glory

Summary: The sordid history of Duncan’s rise to the top, and hand-to-hand combat lessons that lead to other activities.

Word Count: 3855

A/N: Hello and welcome to another chapter of Memento Mori! I hope everyone’s had a fantastic holiday season. As my belated gift to you all, this chapter includes what everyone’s been waiting for: SMUT. A big thanks to my lovely angel @divinelangdon for letting me spitball ideas at her at any time of day, and to @lvngdvns for inserting the original ‘what if’ into the minds of this fandom.

Warnings: Murder, mafia, drugs, fighting, sex; what you would usually expect from a story about a mob boss.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

By all accounts, Duncan Shepherd is not a man known for showing emotion, unless that emotion is sadistic pleasure gained at the expense of others’ well-being. Nobody would describe Duncan Shepherd as patient or helpful, a gentleman or a teacher. Instead, Duncan Shepherd is often referred to as cruel, vicious, heartless, and bloodthirsty, to name a few. But most of all, Duncan Shepherd would not be described as weak. 

Duncan’s proud of the reputation that he’s cultivated through his few short years as the official “head” of the Shepherd family. However much he hates to acknowledge it, he has his strict upbringing to thank for that. 

An absent father who died when Duncan was barely old enough to walk, followed by rumors that the supposed grieving widow was the one who ‘accidentally’ gave her husband too many sleeping pills mixed with a hearty glass of aged bourbon with the endgame of joining her brother and building the Shepherd name into one of the most powerful monikers in Washington D.C. Being passed off from nanny to nanny, his mother and uncle too busy climbing their way up the elitist ladder to take care of the sole heir to the elaborate empire they were crafting. 

The Shepherd family had always been wealthy, but the wealth became exorbitant upon Annette and Bill’s foray into the underbelly of the city’s privileged class. Suddenly, Duncan was shipped off to the best boarding school in North America, with business and political skills instilled in him from the very beginning of his enrollment at the Andover Preparatory School (along with how to dodge punches and how to go on a coke binge and still show up for your 8 a.m. looking none the worse). Prep school was difficult, but it was much more preferable than being around his uncle.

Duncan’s met a lot of douchebags through his close association with the GOP, but Bill Shepherd embodies toxic masculinity. For a man so fond of collared shirts and quarter zip pullovers, he knew just how to emasculate even the most confident of men with a few well-shot insults. For his detested nephew, however, “a few” insults was a daily occurrence that could be counted on with the regularity of the rise and fall of the sun. The physical aspect of Bill’s temperament, slapping and punching and the feeling of his fingers digging into Duncan’s jaw as he commands him to “use your empty, good-for-nothing brain and just listen to me, god damn it,” marred Duncan’s late teen years. 

His uncle saw him as a threat. Even if Duncan wasn’t able to discern that himself from the increasing beatdowns, whether physical or verbal, as he reached adulthood, his mother was sure to remind him of that fact whenever he was younger and would come crying to her about the mean things that Uncle Bill had said to him. If he closes his eyes, he can still feel her hand carding through his light brown locks and her soft voice reminding him that everything under the control of the Shepherd name would be his one day, regardless of what her brother said. She never confronted Bill about the abuse, but she had tried, in her own fucked-up way.

Ultimately, Duncan has Bill to thank for his rise to the top of the Shepherd Freedom Foundation, Gardner Analytics, Shepherd Unlimited, and, of course, the Shepherd family itself. It was Bill who accosted Duncan after the young Shepherd had gotten into a gunfight with a rival group that had attempted to blindside him on his first solo meeting to restake territory claims over the different wards of Washington D.C. It was Bill who grabbed Duncan by the collar of his bloodstained black shirt, throttling him and bitterly spitting out that he would never be a “true” Shepherd. It was Bill who took a swing at Duncan, a horrified Annette frozen with fear across the room.

And, in the end, it was Bill who was too slow to react to Duncan pulling a knife out in retaliation and jabbing it into his uncle’s abdomen. Annette had screamed, but Duncan had hardly heard her over the sound of his blood roaring in his ears as he stared at his hands, soaked in the blood of his uncle who was on the floor and gasping for his last breaths. Duncan’s Goliath was finally slain, dead on the floor with blood slowly spilling out from the stab wound. His first murder had been his most difficult, and while the easiness of ending somebody’s life scared him, the fact that Duncan enjoyed killing his uncle frightened him the most.

It had been all too easy to frame Bill Shepherd’s death as a robbery-gone-wrong. Annette, already shaken from seeing her brother stabbed to death by her son, had been able to pull on years of experience with lying through her teeth to recount to police the harrowing ordeal of how she came to the building that housed the various Shepherd businesses only to see Bill bleeding out in his office. With the notability of the victim and the million dollars that had been stolen from the busted safe behind the bookshelf (in reality, the money was funneled into one of the family’s many offshore accounts, but that was neither here nor there), the case was textbook open-and-shut.

The “grieving” Shepherds had publicly vowed that their figurehead’s death would not be in vain. They would build on his legacy, just as he would have wanted. Behind closed doors, Annette had begrudgingly admitted that Duncan was in the right when he shoved a blade into Bill’s stomach, especially upon seeing just how capable of leading Duncan was. More money, more power, more territory, more influence: the more the Shepherd family became a name at the forefront of every conversation about the VIPs of Washington D.C., the more determined Duncan was to reach the top. He would stop at nothing to be better than his uncle, to prove to him one last time that he was more of a man than Bill Shepherd, cold and rotting six feet under, could ever be. 

So maybe people are right when they refer to Duncan Shepherd as a callous, cruel, bloodthirsty, monster of a mob boss. But Duncan is certainly not weak.

Why, then, does he feel so weak when he’s around (Y/N)? The woman shouldn’t even warrant a passing thought, not when Duncan has far more important matters to be dealing with. He should have killed her; it would have been far easier, and created less of a lasting effect (for Duncan, at least). Yet, when he heard about how she nearly scaled a wall when attempting to run from some of his men, and when he saw the fire blazing in her big eyes as she spit at him when he tried to touch her face, he knew he couldn’t.

Duncan’s found it impossible to stop thinking about last week’s shooting lesson. How she looked to him for guidance on what, to Duncan, is the most basic of tasks. Her defiant comments that make him angry while simultaneously making him chuckle. Her wide smile when she hit the target. The smell of her hair as Duncan loomed behind her to check her sight.

The way that her body slotted perfectly against his when he closed his hands on top of hers.

Duncan’s stirred out of his unusually soft reverie by the chiming of his phone. An email notification from one of his tech employees shows on the screen, the subject line warning him of an extended search of his name and family in the metropolitan area. It may sound conceited, but any search taking place within a 30 mile radius lasting longer than a few minutes carries with it the potential of a threat against the empire that Duncan has so carefully built. He’s sure it’s nothing, but clicks on the email just to be certain.

His eyes scan quickly over the contents of the message, noting the IP address and the approximate length of said search. The IP address traces back to a physical residence, the location of which makes Duncan smirk. It’s (Y/N), and he has no doubt that he’s been on her mind just as much as she’s been on his. Finding her file (because of course Duncan Shepherd is going to have an extensive file for every person he’s ever interacted with) on his computer, he types her number into his phone and sends her a short text.

“Training tomorrow, 3 p.m., same location as last week. Oh, and the next time you’re interested in learning more about me, you need only ask. -D.S.”

//

The embarrassment of knowing that Duncan Shepherd knew that (Y/N) was searching for information about him still controls her emotions as she readies herself to once again meet the notorious mob boss. She thinks she would rather die than see the triumph that sparkles in his crystal blue eyes of the knowledge that she cannot stop thinking about him. 

In (Y/N)’s defense, it was merely an informative search. Not being from the area, she figured that it would be a good idea to learn a little bit more about the man she is now indebted to for the foreseeable future. What she had learned was sad and brutal, but also what she expected. Wikipedia described a rich boy who was coddled until he was old enough to receive a position at the top of one of his family’s companies, while the gossip tabloids loved to speculate on the true amount of wealth that the family possesses. Forbes Magazine called him a bright, young entrepreneur whose tenacity was forged out of the tragedy of his uncle’s murder, and the Washington Herald painted a compelling narrative of various criminal activities and how they lined up with events in the rise of the Shepherd family.

(It’s probably no coincidence that, shortly after the three-part investigative story had been released, the Herald’s editor-in-chief, Tom Hammerschmidt, was found floating face-down in the Potomac river with a bullet lodged in his head. The official cause of death was ruled a suicide, but the popular rumor is that a furious Annette demanded his murder.)

She could skip today’s proposed “training” with Duncan, but that’s useless when he knows where she lives and can quite literally kill her for refusing his demand, so she slips on a pair of black workout leggings and a purple-and-white patterned sports bra.Throwing a sweatshirt on, (Y/N) quickly grabs a water bottle and her phone before rushing out the door so as not to be late. Although she doesn’t know much about Duncan’s personality, she assumes that he hates people who are late.

The man in question is waiting inside the doors of the high-end training gym when (Y/N) enters, slightly out of breath from nearly running to make it in time. A small smile starts to spread across his face as he appraises her outfit, and (Y/N) self-consciously crosses her arms over her chest.

“Sorry that my clothes aren’t right off the runway like yours,” (Y/N) says as she gestures to Duncan’s figure. While he’s wearing workout clothes as well, his joggers and zip-up hoodie carry an air of wealth with them.

“They’ll do.” (Y/N) huffs as Duncan spins on his heel, repeating the same procedure as the last time they were here in order to get through the private door. 

There’s training mats set up in the open area next to the shooting range, and Duncan waits until (Y/N) places her stuff against the wall before walking to a bench and grabbing a roll of athletic tape. “We’re not doing shooting training today?” (Y/N) asks.

“No, I feel like you have a pretty good grip on shooting. Today I’m going to teach you how to fight, as that will most likely be what will happen if you do get into an altercation while under my orders.”

“When am I not going to be under your orders?” She rolls her eyes as she pretends not to watch Duncan take off his hoodie and reveal his strong, muscular arms. (Y/N) realizes that she’s never seen Duncan in shirts that didn’t have long sleeves, the monochromatic tattoos that decorate his skin coming as a bit of a shock.

“Once I decide that there’s enough to implicate you in crimes as well, if you were to ever run to the police.” She scoffs as he holds out his hand. “Give me your hand.”

She shouldn’t talk back, she knows, but she’s feeling defiant after hearing just how Duncan plans to keep her quiet. “Why?”

“This tape isn’t for me.” Giving her hand over, (Y/N) watches as Duncan swiftly wraps her wrist, checking the support of the tape on the joint before repeating the process on her other wrist. “This will help make sure you don’t injure anything. While the main goal today is to make sure you know how to take down an opponent, I also want to know that you know how to effectively punch somebody.”

Duncan lets go of her hands, and (Y/N) takes off her own sweatshirt before joining him in the center of the training mat. He’s conspicuously not looking at her chest, and (Y/N) bites back a laugh at the polite behavior of the crime lord before her. “Hold your hand out in a fist,” Duncan commands.

His eyes are narrowed in calculation as he studies her fist, adjusting her thumb so it’s on top of the space between the first and second knuckles of her index and middle fingers. He’s a good teacher, and he explains his reasoning as he makes adjustments, “you never want to have your thumb tucked inside your fist. You’re almost guaranteed to break your thumb that way.”

“Thumb on the outside, got it.”

Duncan steps back, holding his arm up with his palm facing (Y/N). “Punch my hand.”

“What?” (Y/N) looks at him warily. “I’m not going to punch you! What if I hurt you?”

“I promise you won’t hurt me,” Duncan says with a laugh. “Now punch.”

(Y/N) squares her shoulders, rearing her arm back before punching Duncan’s hand as hard as she can. He nods, and she punches once more, this time with her other fist. “I’m impressed,” Duncan says, “you punch really well.”

“I’ve taken a couple of self-defense classes in the past. They didn’t teach punching, but they did teach how to throw your weight into your hits.” Duncan’s eyes flash with a hint of pride, and (Y/N)’s chest uncharacteristically clenches at the thought of making him proud.

“Great, then we don’t need to work too much on that. Unwrap your wrists and we’ll practice some sparring.”

It seems like a good part of her life lately is following Duncan’s directions, but (Y/N) complies anyways. Duncan’s joggers look like they were tailored specifically for him, his black tank top showcasing the tattoos (Y/N) had found herself staring at earlier. This time, Duncan does notice. “Do you like my tattoos?” Duncan asks with a smirk.

“I just--you don’t seem like the type of person to have tattoos,” (Y/N) stutters.

He quirks an eyebrow in amusement. “I’m a mob boss.”

“Still don’t seem like you’d have tattoos,” she mutters before placing her hands on her hips. “What’s the goal here?”

“The goal is to take me down. When you’ve had me on my back for five seconds, today’s training will be over. However, there will be no dirty moves, got it?”

“But kicking someone in the balls is okay if I’m fighting an attacker, right?”

“Yes, but not in a practice scenario.” Duncan starts to slowly circle (Y/N), watching as her spine stiffens under his gaze. “I suppose I should warn you that I will not make this easy for you. You will be fighting to win, not fighting to learn.”

(Y/N) nods, turning to stop Duncan from pacing around her. He takes two steps back, standing in a defensive stance as (Y/N) attempts to get a feel for how to spar. She snaps her arm towards Duncan suddenly, in an attempt to catch him by surprise, but the man simply blocks it with a quick dodge.

The punch leaves (Y/N) defenseless, and Duncan lunges forward to shove her. He would never actually punch her; he’s been trained in combat since he was 10, and she learned to throw a proper punch 10 minutes ago. It would be unfair of him to swing at her, so Duncan settles for pushing her instead.

(Y/N) attempts to regain her footing, but Duncan’s too quick. His arm wraps around her neck in a chokehold, and (Y/N) gasps for air as she tries to wriggle out of his grasp. Avoiding panicking, (Y/N) thinks desperately to the aforementioned self-defense classes, trying to remember any of the acronyms the instructor swore would save the class’s lives one day.

Rearing her arm towards her body, (Y/N) swings her elbow back as hard as she can to elbow Duncan in the stomach. He releases her with a pained groan, obviously not expecting that move, and she turns around and kicks at his leg. 

“Fuck you,” Duncan gasps out, stumbling backwards but refusing to fall.

“Fuck you!” (Y/N) retorts. “You tried to choke me out!”

“And I warned you beforehand what you were getting into.” The two move warily, neither person wanting to make the next move. (Y/N)’s eyes crackle with anger, and Duncan grins wildly at the fierce expression she wears.

He swings once again, (Y/N) dodging before punching him in the chest. Duncan seizes the opportunity to sweep her leg with a well-placed kick, and (Y/N) goes falling to the mat with a thud. She inhales heavily, trying to get her lungs to work again after having the air knocked out of them. (Y/N)’s barely able to scramble backwards before Duncan is on top of her, his legs straddling her waist as his hands pin her wrists above her head.

Chests heaving, both Duncan and (Y/N) glare at each other as he waits for her to give in, but she refuses to admit defeat. She becomes acutely aware of the fact that Duncan is pinning her down to the mat with his weight, his strong hips against hers making movement impossible. It’s borderline-indecent, and (Y/N) chides herself for finding being held to the ground any shade of arousing. Although she can’t tell if she wants to kick him or kiss him right now, she knows that Duncan feels the same when he glances from her eyes to her lips, and back again.

“Can you get off of me?” The end of (Y/N)’s sentence is muffled as Duncan presses his lips to hers.

The shock of being kissed by the man who just defeated her at sparring quickly wears off as (Y/N) eagerly reciprocates the action, feverishly kissing him back. Her hands flex in Duncan’s grasp, desperate to grab onto any part of him as a way to ground herself. Duncan refuses to acquiesce, so she brings one leg up to the back of his knee and applies as much weight to the vulnerable area as she can.

“Ah!” Duncan groans, the buckling of his knee giving (Y/N) the opportunity to flip them over. Now it’s she who has the upper hand, grinding her hips down harshly on him as she kisses him once more. Duncan licks at her bottom lip, attempting to gain access to (Y/N)’s mouth and getting frustrated when she refuses to let him slip his tongue into her mouth. He’s done playing nice, and nips at (Y/N)’s bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. He moans when the copper taste of blood hits his tongue, (Y/N) pulling away and panting harshly.

“You fucking asshole, that hurt!” Duncan just chuckles, flipping them over once again and roughly yanking her leggings and underwear down her legs. (Y/N) lets out a surprised moan when Duncan’s finger runs over her clit, collecting some of her burgeoning arousal and using it to slide effortlessly into her cunt.

(Y/N) is not the type of person to engage in casual sex with a person she hardly knows. She’s not even sure she’s had an actual one night stand before; the couple times that she had, it’s been with somebody she knew fairly well. So to be under the most dangerous man she’s ever met, his fingers buried inside her as he works her open, is certainly unlike her. It would, however, be impossible to deny that she’s not thoroughly enjoying this endeavor.

One hand grabs at Duncan’s bicep, and (Y/N) briefly admires the elegant script inked into his skin. Her other hand goes to grab at his sizable bulge, gripping onto his erection as roughly as he’s currently fingering her. Duncan lets out a choked groan at the sensation that’s both painful and pleasurable. Once he’s decided that neither party can handle the tension any longer, he withdraws his fingers from her cunt and pulls down his pants.

After (Y/N) gives his shaft a couple of quick strokes, Duncan lines himself up with her entrance and thrusts into (Y/N)’s tight walls. Matching moans ring out through the training room as Duncan begins to set a quick and deep rhythm. (Y/N)’s hips snap upwards, meeting Duncan’s as the two thrust in tandem. Every other sound, feeling, or experience fades away as Duncan continually bottoms out in (Y/N)’s cunt, his balls slapping against her ass. Her head lolls back against the ground, giving her the perfect chance to admire Duncan’s lustful expression and how his hair falls into his face with each sharp roll of his hips.

(Y/N)’s head begins to spin as Duncan’s rhythm begins to stutter upon nearing his orgasm, and she bites down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder in an attempt to muffle a scream as she cums unexpectedly. He cries out at the sharp pressure of her bite and the fluttering of her walls, speeding up his thrusts before pulling out and tapping at (Y/N)’s bottom lip with the swollen head of his cock. 

She turns her head towards him, eyes glazed with lust as she opens her mouth. Duncan only needs to thrust into his fist a few times before he cums in (Y/N)’s mouth with a deep groan. Her lips are painted white with his seed, and he nearly cums again when she licks it all up before swallowing with a content hum. Duncan collapses next to (Y/N), whose bones feel as if they’re made of Jell-o. As they both come down from their highs, (Y/N) has only one thought on her mind: What the hell did they just do?

//

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