#The Queen’s holding a bottle of blood probably

[ohmigoshiloveu]

Vastly different parenting experiences

[trashmouth-richie]

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: escaping Hawkins was impossible, but he did it. when a ghost from your past shows up unexpectedly, bringing with him old memories and holding up a mirror to the train wreck life you’re living… you find it hard to trust him again.

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ no minors, depictions of poverty, child neglect/ endangerment, drug use/abuse, alcohol use/abuse, endangerment, 18+ sex working, 18+stripping, violence, smut. no use of y/n reader has a name that’s introduced in the first chapter, and another “nickname” that is lightly used throughout this series. eddie also has a nickname given by reader.

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: this series switches pov’s between reader and eddie, thank you to @succubusmunson @joejoequinnquinn @choke-me-eddie @sweetsweetjellybean for helping me read through the first chapter, helped me brainstorm etc i love you

there are two easter eggs in this let me know if you catch em! like pokémon only not

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: here i come, but i ain’t the same

masterlist

Stupid fucking bitch.

One dial tone waned into another, a monotonous wave taunting you from the end of the receiver. Your fingers tap impatiently against the counter. How long could a phone actually ring before it stopped or someone finally answered?

Too damn long apparently. 

Giving up and counting your losses, you slam the receiver back on the wall, muttering more choice words as you skirt your hips behind the wooden bar, thumbing through the blue lined notebook schedule.   

Work was packed. More-so than any other Friday night, but since it was the beginning of graduation weekend for Hawkins High— every Sam, Dick, and Harry had wandered into the bar looking for a cheap escape and a sugary drink. 

Lucky for them, that was exactly what Queen of Hearts had on the menu. And if you talked to the right person, the luck didn’t stop there. 

“No answer?” Jolene called over her shoulder, hands full with a bottle of Jack Daniels. 

Scribbling an angry dark mark through the name Ginger on the schedule, you toss the notebook back into the drawer shutting it with your hip.

“Just rang and rang,”  you say, annoyingly jumping in to help her finish pouring three Jack & Cokes. The soda fizzes under your thumb, “and before you try to cover for her, this is the fourth time she’s done this.” 

She lets out an exaggerated sigh, taking the cans from you and tossing them into the trash.

“Really thought this one would work out,” her long legs cross behind you to slot the liquor bottle back in its designated spot, “she had kids.. poor thing needed the cash.” 

The familiar ache of neglect radiated through you, “I found a babysitter for the nights she was working, told her I’d help pay… that asshole she keeps around probably found out she was working here.” 

Jolene raises her eyebrows. Her slender fingers hold the three drinks with ease, setting them on a tray.

“Can’t believe Jackie skipped town with that rich salesman,” she sighs heavily, leaning an elbow on the sticky bar, “lucky girl, something like that would never happen to me.” 

Jealousy pings in your chest but you shake it off, “he was really dreamy huh? Those beauty marks? His hair? His ass?” You wolf whistle, “cut me a slice.” 

You weren’t jealous that Jackie was now probably driving a BMW, that her life would be nothing but luxurious from here on out, or even that her boyfriend was movie star hot. 

What made your blood boil over was the fact that she got out, and you were still stuck here like hardened gum underneath a table. 

The club was a part of you. Like an unwanted birthmark, this lifestyle was something you couldn’t get away from. Understanding at a young age, when most girls were playing with dolls, just exactly the kind of life you were destined to live, and unfortunately it wasn’t outside of these four walls.

“Your time will come,” Jolene smiled, looking into a compact and wiping a smudge of lipstick from her teeth, “you’re still young, Miss Assistant.” 

You rolled your eyes, placing the tray on her awaiting palm. Since Jackie was gone, her job was now yours.  Tacking on added responsibilities with no pay raise in sight. You found out all too soon what a fucking joke that title of ‘assistant’ actually was. 

“Told him I didn’t want it, but you know how that went.” 

“I do kid,” she sighs, looking down at you, her eyes sweeping over the still pink scar in your eyebrow, “I really… oh honey, you’re gonna be a busy little bee tonight!” 

You breathe heavily through your nose, dragging your hands down your face, “don’t remind me.” 

“I’ll help out wherever, ‘kay?” 

Jolene had taken you under her wing when you first walked into Queen of Hearts. Freshly eighteen almost down to the hour, naive waters brimming your eyes, forced into this life. 

Her motherly ways comforted everyone, only thirty-three but in this industry that was practically ninety. Just like you, Jolene had deep roots in this place. 

Her tall frame slinks over to the waiting guys sitting at the stage, a pleasant smile on her lips. Twirling the ends of her black hair twisted into schoolgirl pigtails, laying the charm on thick. 

Staring over at her in a forlorn gaze, you hated to think of yourself still here ten years from now, a permanent fixture to this place, like Jolene. The lemons of life were squeezed and you had made the lemonade, but it was sour, bitter.. you longed for something sweeter. 

The bubbly fantasy is popped when Mickey Fritz’ oversized hand hits the counter like he’s a toddler in a highchair.

“Hey sugar tits, I’m empty o’er here!”

Your nightmare reality comes back into view. 

The walls at Queen of Hearts were draped in deep shades of red velour, a cozy ambiance to invite strangers and locals alike. The bar was backlit and stocked with a decent selection of polished bottles of whiskey, gin and bourbon. 

His boots clapped along the wood floor as the pair walked further inside, leaving a plume of smoke in their wake, catching on the neon lights and creating a smoked crimson haze across the dark club.

The raised stage was centered, creating an aisle on either side of it, clad with leather backed red chairs surrounding it at every angle. For a night club in the middle of Indiana, it wasn’t half bad compared to the places he was used to out East. 

A row of booths were tucked onto the left side of the club, high top tables stood crowded with drunk college students, yelling loudly and making asses of themselves to impress the working girls. 

The music blaring over the speakers was a little cliche and too “pop” for his liking—fuck, had he really turned into one of those guys, questioning what a strip club was playing for music? 

He rolls his eyes at his own false pretentiousness, turning it into a wink at a cocktail waitress carrying a tray full of plastic flutes filled with a gut rot of pink liqueur. The gold thong she was wearing sat high on her hips, matching the cheap glittery cowboy hat on her blonde curls. 

Dark eyes follow her long legs to a nearby table, a fist to his mouth as he whistles and licks his chomps.

“Damn! Can you believe this used to be the Hideout?” Jeff squawked, not so casually adjusting himself as they slid into an open booth, “that was Gareth Emerson’s twin sister, she really grew up huh, remember him?”

He didn’t.

Much like anyone else Jeff had tried to bring up since he had agreed to meet up for a drink on the occasion that they were both home, he hadn’t given high school a second thought since the night he left. 

“Nah, man,” he said, grabbing for the sticky menu on the black table top, “I don’t.”

It had been years since he had seen Jeff, and he was surprised that he had recognized him at the gas station last night when he was filling up his motorcycle. 

His own appearance hadn’t changed much, dressed a little better, wore cologne now, normal shit that came along with getting out of puberty. 

Back then Jeff still had braces, a small lisp when he got really drunk. Now, he was a grown man. Living in Phoenix with a big important job at some company, home for the weekend to visit his parents, and watch his youngest brother graduate.

There would be no visiting family or old friends for him on this trip back to Hawkins. The thought of running into anyone he knew and having that painfully awkward small talk about the ‘good old days as a Tiger!’ made him cringe, as if that ever were the case for him. 

Having left this shit hole in the middle of the night seven years ago, he took nothing with him but some saved cash, his guitar, a full tank of gas and the clothes on his back. 

The heavy ache in his chest, brim filled with remorse, was an added carry on, something that didn’t go away with the miles he had put between him and Hawkins. 

He had planned to keep this town in the rearview, but life, probably karma, had other plans. 

Back in Hawkins strictly on “business,” that's what he told Jeff when the smiley old friend grabbed him into a bear hug in the checkout line, crushing the chips he was carrying to a powder in its aluminum bag. 

Technically, it was family business. But he hadn’t mentioned that to Jeff. He didn’t want the questions, didn’t want the pity.

He barely even knew his uncle that well anyway, but being the only living relative of the deceased, he didn’t have a choice when the call came through that he had passed. 

A week. That was the timeframe he told his job that he’d be gone for. Leaving just enough time to plan the funeral, and sell the trailer. 

Coming home to the haunting shadows of Hawkins was like playing in a graveyard filled with demons of his past. Sorrow filled every dark corner, looming around him like a fog, making him unable to forget the damage left behind. 

For years it had worked out fine, he had moved on. But every now and then, he had to push his inner demons down, and still to this day, years after the fact, they kept trying to crawl back up. The shame of his past coming to the forefront.

The music changes to another upbeat song that was popular on the radio, Jeff nods along to the beat, strumming his fingers against his belly like he was playing the guitar. 

He looked over at his old highschool friend and smiled for the first time since being back here, “still play?”

Jeff stretched a wide grin across his face, chuckling a little too loud, “only in my dreams… working seventy-hour weeks doesn’t really allow me to have that kinda freedom.” He nodded and smiled a little at the waitress who was coming to take their drink orders, “so what have you been up to man? It’s been years!”

He knew all too well about not having free time to spend the way he had wanted to. He didn’t even own a guitar anymore. The last time he saw his Warlock, it was sitting in a pawn shop in Nashville— the last of his many possessions sold to make ends meet. 

Ordering a beer, he counts his budget for this trip in his head, deciding to buy Jeff’s drink too. Maybe being back wouldn’t be so bad after a drink or two, a little liquid courage to get him through the night at least.

The pleather seat creaks beneath his weight when he leans back further into the booth, stretching his arms out wide. Trying to gain a sliver of comfort since being home. 

Working the pole to Ginger’s song of choice, Once Bitten, Twice Shy, you found it hard to get into music you could care less about. But you didn’t have time to complain. 

Legs crossed and spinning upside down, bare besides a face full of makeup and a red thong, you pretended that you were anywhere else but there. 

How nice it would be to not have to crawl across dirty dollar bills, teasing a faceless man with your body so that he would be eager enough to slip a twenty into your g-string.

Collecting your tips from your set, you tap them against your vanity in the dressing room, counting out loud your mind already knowing how much money will be put away after bills are paid. 

The long jagged crack in your mirror served as the only looking glass you liked to look in. The warped shapes of your face looking back at you made it easier to swallow the life you were living, as if it were a fever dream, a disturbed Alice in Wonderland type reality. 

In the mirror you weren’t a dancer at Queen of Hearts. You could be a nurse, a librarian, a cook in a shitty home town restaurant who went home smelling like grease instead of men’s cologne and wearing suspicious stains. 

It could be easy, simple really. Bus tickets weren’t terribly expensive. Going to any city, a map in your hand and the saved coffee can of cash tucked into your purse. You could almost imagine the taste of the ocean. The thought of even stepping outside of Indiana was enough to power you for the rest of the night. 

As easily as the daydream came it fluttered away when the boss stepped into the dressing room. 

His eyes loomed in a dead stare, sweat pooling on his temples. The ice in his glass shifted as it melted into the whiskey. A Colombian cigar tucked into his fat mouth had an inch long ash waiting to fall. 

He wasn’t much taller than you, barely older, but his attitude and small dick made him seem eight feet tall. 

“The hell are you doing in here? Fucking Christ woman, the girls are drowning out there, those needle dick college fucks are about to swing fists and you’re in here staring at yourself?”

“Just takin’ a little break Tommy, I gotta change.” 

“I don’t need any lip from you, better watch it before I match that other scar y’ hear me?” 

His threats didn’t scare you, it was who he answered to that made you terrified. A bad report to the big boss and you’d be drinking your meals through a straw. You knew because it’s already happened. Turns out you don’t need your mouth to swing around a pole. 

“Loud and clear.” 

This type of life was the only one you had ever known. You quite literally grew up with this environment right under your nose, and everyone at the club knew it. 

The romance novels you kept in your purse were full of knights in shining armor type of men, another fallacy to your looking glass. 

The thought of anything else was only real in your daydreams. Escaping the festering wound of Hawkins was impossible, almost unheard of. No one with your background got out. 

But he did.

Shoulder to shoulder, squeezing in sideways with grimy singles fisted in their hands, the club was stuffed to the hilt with sweaty, drunk, and extremely horny men. 

“… here!” you slam two more drinks onto the heaping tray and shove it into Wendy’s hands, “take this to those asshats and tell them we are out of triple sec, no more Long Island Ice Teas, if they want a drink they can order beer like everyone else.”

Wendy swung her hips with the Long Islands in tow over  to soften the hearts of the college boys. Batting her lashes, sitting topless on their laps and letting them tell her stories of the parties they went to, the classes they skipped and the girls they fucked. Anything to keep them from hollering and starting a fight with the locals. 

Lisa Ann was working over the business men from out of town, their briefcases shining with a matte patent leather, expensive watches adorning their wrists. Her pretty Marilyn Monroe smile on display as she brought over their drinks, tussling their hair between her pink fingernails, putty at her fingertips.  

Between the rest of you rotating between pouring drinks, collecting payments and trying to wiggle past the grabby hands of Donny, the roar of the busy hour had started to lull. 

All of you were tired and crabby, legs cramping and toes pinched in uncomfortable shoes. Jolene wiped her brow and blew out a deep breath. 

“Take fifteen,” you said to her, ��I got it from here.” 

She shot you a wink and disappeared into the dressing room. 

Peeling the soles of your boots from the floor you lean your back against the shelf of liquor bottles. Working your hands on the base of your neck behind your head.

The usual crink that ached when you were stressed was flaring up again. Causing your shoulders to tense up and sending a pinched dull ache from your back up to your throbbing temples. Radiating your jaw, with a heat so fierce it could melt glass and it wasn’t even eleven o’ clock yet. 

Your eyes are pressed closed in a tight squeeze, maybe you could shut the pain out by pretending it wasn’t there.

“Tiffs just about done in room D,” Veronica chirped, her bracelets jingling in a metallic tune, “the ‘doctor’ again,” she explains with air quotes chuckling to herself.

“He’s only here on nights she’s workin’” you say exhaustedly,  “she’s his favorite.” 

Being one of the few regulars that wasn’t married, he was somehow the slimiest worm in the dirt. Tall and slender framed with icy white hair, he seemed to stare down his nose at the girls, his voice an eerily calm when he asked for Tiff, handing over the crisp fifties to secure her for the allotted amount of time. 

Beads click together as she stumbles in from the back, adjusting her lipstick and holding the ripped strap of her bra, followed behind her like clockwork was the doctor, tucking his oxford shirt into his slacks. 

Your jaw felt like it was going to ignite, as if it were covered in tension rods and the gears were  cranking it tighter and tighter, sweat beginning to form on your back, “can you hand me my purse?” 

Rustling your bag from underneath the bar, Veronica hands over the canvas tote, her emerald eyes staring at you expectantly like a serpent watching its prey, “care to share those little party favors?” 

Rolling your eyes, you move your hand through the contents inside. Pushing past a checkbook, lipsticks, and the papered corner of a tampon. Finally your fingers close around the smooth unlabeled bottle. 

Two tablets land in your palm when you pop the cap, and you shake it begrudgingly to release another tablet from the bottle for Veronica.

She giggles and grabs two shot glasses, pouring bourbon into them both. 

“Only one,” you instruct, a serious look in your eyes, “I’m not picking you up from the floor later.” 

A coy little smile on her lips, she brings the shot glasses over, handing one to you, “you worry too much.” 

Placing the pill in her free palm, you clink the glasses together in a little cheer. 

“To us,” Veronica grins, “may our titties stay perky, our asses juicy, the boys pockets fat and our kitties not loosey.” 

You roll your eyes and she laughs, her lips close around the glass the same as yours, and you swallow down the liquor, wincing at the taste. 

Within fifteen minutes the temporary high coats your brain like a warm blanket, floating you to a place far away from shiny poles, 6 inch heels, and ass slaps, away from Hawkins. 

Jeff listens intently as he explains a very bland and watered down version of how he left Hawkins and traveled east, working odd jobs. 

Skipping the part about how he lied about his age to find work, and how he spent an entire month getting his ass kicked after dishwashing shifts at some swanky restaurant outside of Raleigh. 

He explained the good stuff, how he worked part time at a tattoo shop for one of his buddies he met in Philly. His full time gig being a lead shift at a factory. 

It wasn’t that impressive, he knew that, but he couldn’t make himself give a shit what anyone thought of him. For only being twenty-three, he was proud of having a paycheck every two weeks from a legit place. 

The click of the waitresses shoes on the floor had Jeff looking up, thanking her for the drinks. She was dressed a little more conservative than the other waitresses had been, wearing a black mini skirt and a see-through red long sleeved top, showing off black sparkly stickers that covered her nipples. 

But that wasn’t what had him taking a second look. At first glance he thought maybe it was just a note written in pen, a reminder of some sort on the top of her hand, lots of people wrote on their hands right? But when she set the drinks down, reaching past them and across the table to grab a napkin, sopping up spilled beer, he almost choked on air.

It wasn’t something written in pen, or a weird unlucky shaped birthmark. The marks on her hand were two small symbols, they had faded with time and were blown out a little on the edges. 

Of course they were, because the identical marks on his hand were blurred the exact same way. Two little symbols, done on the hottest day in July. The smell of his childhood room stung his nose as he thought of that day. 

A day when you were both only thirteen. 

The regulars were bellied up to the bar holding an aluminum can toast to their long gone friend, hollering for you to play some David Allen Coe in a final goodbye. 

Flicking through the jukebox to find “Never Even Called Me By My Name,” you were too busy to pay any attention to the toast of the deceased buddy.

Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have been completely blindsided. 

“Clovie?” A disgustingly sweet saccharine voice laced between bubble gum pink lips sang out from behind you, tapping you simultaneously on the shoulder, “be a dolly and run the drinks over to table 8, would ya?”

“Why c—”

Tiff was already gone, the door to the dressing room swinging shut in a shower of White Diamond perfume before you could even spin around and tell her where she could shove those aforementioned drinks. 

Outside of collecting her own tips, and pleasuring the doctor, Tiff never lifted a finger to help. 

Wiping your hands on the cleanest towel you could find, your muttering goes unheard as you cross back over to the bar and grab the cracked black plastic tray set with two large overflowing mugs of draft beer. 

The ground was sticky under your boots, like walking in half dried paint, sometimes you wondered if Wendy actually served a full drink to anyone. 

Balancing the heavy tray on your palm and shoulder, you pray that it won’t snap before you’re able to place the drinks down. 

Table 8 was occupied by a guy you had seen before but couldn’t remember from where, and a long dark curly haired woman who was facing away from you. 

The smile on your face was the fakest one you could make, hoping to maybe get a good tip before Tiff could notice and take her claim. 

“Alrighty,” your customer service voice sang with a false sweet sincerity, “looks like we have two Busch Lights?” 

The guy you had greeted smiled eagerly, moving his elbows from the table allowing room for the frosty mugs to be placed. 

Your fingers work gingerly to set the ruby colored drink napkins down first. The beer was placed carefully, his greedy fingers grabbing the handle before you could barely remove your hand from it. 

The second beer started to slide on the tray, and you over corrected causing it to land with a thud on the table, sloshing the pale ale all over the table—luckily not on the woman. 

So much for a tip, huh?

Apologizing quickly, you lean across the table and reach for the paper napkins. Wiping up the mess hastily you toss the wet heap onto your tray. 

Turning to the woman to offer her a look that’ll hopefully get you in her good graces— well enough that maybe her husband would reconsider tipping, “I’ll go fetch a rag and come back with another beer free of charge sweetheart,” you start to smile sheepishly, “I’m so s—”

The eyes you were met with were the deepest shade of brown, struck with astonishment, crowded by a grove of thick lashes, a look of dismay etched into them. 

Blinking once, twice, you couldn’t register if you were truly seeing this or hallucinating. 

You hadn’t seen those eyes in years, a flash of recognition drops on your face and the perky smile fades. Heart falling to the well of your stomach, punching the air from your lungs, heat rising to the surface of your cheeks. 

In an instant, you’re brought back to many years before tonight. When those eyes were younger, full of teenage angst and rebellion. 

Hell must’ve froze over, pigs were without a doubt flying overhead: Eddie Munson had returned to Hawkins. 

taglist: @mmunson86 @sidthedollface2 @winchester-angel @mrsjellymunson @joannamuns9n @tlclick73 @mewchiili @spacedoutdaydreamer @emxxblog @maybeisthemoon @str4ngergirlw0rld @chrrymunson @insertcoolnameherethanks @kellsck @prestinalove @mandyjo8719 @onegirlmanytales @mopeymopeymouse @veravee-blog @taintedcigs @eddies-acousticguitar @oeuryale @kthomps914 @bangaveragewhitewine @lil-quinnie @corrodedcoffincumslut @definitionwanderlust @madaboutjoe @littledemondani @eiightysixbaby @usedtobecooler

[simp-ly-writes]

Betting on Hearts

Cross-over: Contemporary! Peaky Blinders x The Gentlemen (2024)

Pairing: Edward "Eddie" Horniman x afab!Shelby!Reader,

Summary: Being the main face to the (legal*) Shelby Business Empire, you too dabble with the less than legal side when prompted to (against your Brother's wishes). So when a certain Duke and Glass Family start stirring things up on your doorstep, you decide to seduce the duke into compliance but maybe, Eddie had the same idea for you too...

Warnings: 5000~ words, depictions of blood, overprotective siblings, emotional manipulation (seduction), reader is a bit... much. Probably some other tags that I am forgetting

A/N: more notes later.

Masterlist | Taglist Request | read-through and edited.

↳ The Shelby empire was dominant in many industries and with you being among the middle children, just behind your three older brother's, you mainly took to the newer parts of the business but you of course wrangled your way to the darker sides as well no matter how much your family protested (except for Polly, she openly cheered you on before her untimely passing)

↳ You were the Queen of import/export, the face to the Gin company and co-owner to your new digital sports betting app, your younger sister Ada had stepped in to help you manage it all. Using the earnings from the gambling you put it towards the branding and advertisements of your other departments and the greater Shelby corporation

↳ Arthur, the spirited yet your mentally-barley-afloat brother as he drank half the gin you supplied to his section of the business or found himself high as a kite while insisting on keeping your hands as clean as possible, coming with you on every assignment. Arthur maintained his "Garrison" bars across the country, moving on to establish high dining and was currently trying to stick the Shelby name into hotel management.

↳ John, a man that carried a huge heart with his irresistible charm and humor. He (while trying to convince the youngest, Finn to join him) managed the productions and manufacturing of each one of your industries. Supplying the parts, the bottles and ingredients, alongside the construction materials for every one of Arthur's expansions alongside supplying for your... darker dealings. The company, to a degree, was self-sustainable

↳ And of course, you had Thomas, the mastermind of the whole empire and the one you reported every minuscule detail to at the end of the day. You wouldn't call him kind, but he was considerate to a degree. You could always count on him to protect you where other's have failed but that also caused the greatest conflict between the two of you. It was hard, managing family verses business with him, lines always threatening to be crossed as your relationship was strained. Thomas respected you deeply, you had stuck with him when the rest of the family fell apart and offered him new perspectives to cultivating legal business. Yet he was too protective of you, he couldn't stand to lose you and openly admitted that you where his first choice if he needed to choose who would live

↳ In recent times, your family was playing chess against with a rising power called the Glass family who not so suitably started poking their fingers into your sectors, fixing your gambling sites with their newest expansions. You chuckled to yourself within Tommy's house. The men reported on the new business the Glass family had established, a boxing ring as you shoved Arthur in his chair with a teasing smile.

"Remember when you wanted to become a boxer, brother?" Arthur flips you the finger, a frown emerging from his moustache as he pours himself another drink, mumbling about you being a spoiled little brat yet you don't bother to catch the end of it.

The spy coughs, returning all of your attention back as Thomas glares at you both to hold yourselves, John's face has gone red trying to conceal his laughter at the childish faces you pull at him as Thomas throws his hand up, signalling for the man to continue.

"They have been having some difficulties in expanding their weed enterprise as well, we are still trying to get to the bottom of as to why this is as the documentation we have stolen shows nothing out of the sorts." A series of copied folders and photographs are then spread against the hardwood table as your painted nails sort through each stack, categorizing them in sequential order. Your green nail taps on top of a dead mans face thoughtfully stroking his cheek as you look at the bullet hole placed in between his eyes, "And what is the backstory to this incident exactly?" you comment.

The spy looks towards Thomas who already looks bored, there was nothing of significance to be said just yet but this newest bit of information had him raising as eyebrow. "Well, that kill was confirmed to be done by the new Duke of Halstead as I were one of the men stationed to dispose of it."

The spy throws another bundle on the table labelled, "The Duke." You excitedly snatch the manila folder quicker than anyone else at on the table as your eyes dart across every picture and piece of information you can grasp. Captain, Aristocrat, Medals... More Medals, Service, First Place, Honour Roll, Head Boy, Family Strain, oh... Your thoughts pause, cheeks heating when you flick up a stapled bundle of papers, a defined uniform, blue beret. The next page a Polo champion in college and deep black suit for the funeral. Slamming the folder shut, all eyes snap to the sudden noise.

"We are joining the upper echelon of society, brothers! Do let me meet up with him- I promise not to disappoint," you plead, already knowing that you are perfect for the mission. You and the Duke were both public-facing faces with one foot in reality and another in the pits. It would be a simple mission really, you convince yourself and your brothers as they immediately protest to the idea. Step in, seduce, convince him to sign-out and step out- as simple as that.

You look at Thomas, eyes strong, eyebrows furrowed as you level his stare. "You know I'm the only who can properly do this job, Thomas and if it does not work out, we can just kill them off just like the last, right?" The spy departs, bowing his head before speedily turning out of the room as tension only rises in the room, getting caught in your throat as you hitch your breath watching as Tommy's mouth moves into an echoing, "fine."

--

↳ So here you sat, in your covered box from the sun at the races. You clapped joyfully with a smile spreading your cheeks. You tip your hat down, seeing your bets adding up on your card as Ada cheered loudly beside you, leaning over the railing as she praises your chosen racer. Interviews for the sportsmen start as the Jockey casts a wink up at your sister. Ada throws down a business card the he clutches, placing it in his breast pocket with a tap to his chest before continuing to answer the post-race questions.

"Have yourself a date?" you tease out, picking up your spiked lemonade to hide your smile curving up into a knowing smirk. "Well you are one to talk sis, I heard down the grapevine that you had a certain duke chasing after you like Cinderella," Ada rebuttals, fixing herself a drink at the cart as you eye the three shots of vodka she stirs in, "isn't that a bit much for..." you look down at your wrist-watch, "...1PM? We do have dinner at Arthur's later tonight you know."

"We all can use a pick-me-up every now and then," she comments as you hum out, eyeing up your singular shot drink before shifting further down the couch to create space for her as she removes a pillow, placing it on her lap as she kicks off her heels and sets her feet up upon the coffee table. "Now, you didn't answer my question, go on then," she sasses, setting her drink down and leaning closer to you with knowing eyes gleaming into your own.

You roll your eyes, face going red while pushing her face away from your own as she laughs, "So you do have the hots for him!"

"No, its just that a second sun is bursting in my face and plus, we could never work," you retort, now refusing to meet her chasing eyes as she grips your hand. "Oh, come on (name)! details, details! don't leave me hanging here, thats brothers work," Ada presses forward just as your resolve crumbles. You place a hand to the bride of your nose, pinching as you eyes squeeze shut. "I won't repeat myself so listen closely," you start recalling the first day you met Captain and Duke, Edward Horniman.

--

↳ Running around your house, asking various staff members of your estate as to where your old mail had been distributed you felt around the thin papers and pages till you felt weight and lifted out the invitation from the stack. Mr. Johnston's Estate invites you to his quarterly festivities, your fingers trace over the pressed letters and seal before looking towards your closet

↳ You had worn a tailored dress that perfectly accentuated your body for tonights assignment. Within a closer inspection, various hand stitched black branches and birds spread across the top sheer level of fabric set to a black backdrop. Your hair was pinned upwards, showcasing the glowing skin of your neck and upper chest that you spent way too much time blending in with your makeup.

↳ You suitably leaned against the bar-top, feet already sore from the high heels you wore to make your legs appear longer and by the looks around the room, your plan of seduction was already in the works as a woman ordered a drink for the two of you. Her red lipstick simmering brightly under the dim lights, beckoning you in closer yet you held your resolve. Thanking her for the drink while placing a hand on her own before walking towards the neighbouring room. Feeling her stare as you left, you offered her a floating kiss before turning the corner.

↳ The windows were open as you walked down the long hall towards the cheers as multiple guests played various card games within the billiards room, you pulled the sleeves of your dress down further as you dropped the drink on a floating tray- it's sickeningly sweet taste formed a headache as you pinched your temples.

↳ You strolled around the room, smiling at every face that met yours, shaking hands with others as you enjoyed watching every. single. face. fall in recognition to who they were just flirting with. Stuttering apologies, you grew disappointed when their eyes drifted cautiously around the room for a threat of a man, one of your brothers. You scoff at this, turning towards the next.

↳ With the most recent man that was trying to capitalize on the half-attention you were giving him, absent-mindlessly nodding along to his business proposition as you both strolled around the estate, you found yourselves back at the entrance as your eyes snapped over to the late party-goers just making their arrivals, one of them being just the man you were waiting for as he stumbles through the open doors.

His beauty stumps you in person, the blurry pictures you obtained from at the table do not do the man justice as he practically glows under the warm lighting above. His hair tussled in a wind-swept way as your hands itch to fix every strand. Chocolate eyes are all you want to drink in before your attention is being called back as you start to glare at the intrusion.

"So what do you think, Mademoiselle Shelby?" the man asks to you, hand starting to drift up your arm, another on your leg before your eyes snap back down to his face from over the crowd. You rip your arm away from his touch, sending him a cold smile as you fix the lapels of his jacket for him, gripping the suit closest to his neck as you pull him closer to you. Any outside looker would think your reaction to be a romantic display yet by the sweat starting to form at his hairline, you were receiving just the reaction you wanted.

"I have no interest in working with a boy who already starts to sweat at the mere touch of a woman," and with that you drop him, watching as he falls into a group of people who all glare down at him, stepping around as he scrambles out the backdoor. You fix your appearance in your phones camera before making your way towards your mission.

--

Edward Horniman's Perspective

Re-buttoning his suit jacket, he places his keys in the hands of a staff-member while making his way up the stairs. Susie had been waiting for him in the lobby rather impatiently, her foot tapping against the tiled floors as she dully looked at the floral decorations that hug around the vaulted space before her eyes snapped to Eddie form spinning around to face her.

"You look a bit shit," she says while eyeing him up and down, taking notice to the small amount of blood beginning to form at his side with distaste.

"Remind me why we're here?" Eddie states, taking the conversation reigns as he begins to glance around the room. Susie begins walking closer to him, making their way out of the foyer.

"We are here to learn why Uncle Sam wants in to your estate and subsequently our Business," Susan replies, a subtle shake of her head as if ringing out the terrible idea of it all. Her feet start to falter as she instantly notices you stepping into the room behind them both with a champagne flute delicately place in your hand.

"Then whats his business?" Eddie pushes forwards, moving them both through the sea of people as Susie snaps her head back forwards, doing her best to maintain composure and not cause a scene as she allows Eddie to guide her further into the estate.

"Meth. He's made billions from it."

"Then what are you, Susan, a drug dealer with a heart?" Eddie question's, raising a brow as he stops to pick them both up a drink. A small smile spreading across his lips as they chime together before Susie proceeds to down the rest of it.

"Everything alright?" concern now rising in his features as he looks around the room, his gaze stopping, breath intaking sharply at the sight of you. He is unable to tear his gaze away as you turn your head to face him, you offer a small smile. Eyeing the man from his shoes, the seam of his pants, his neck that swallow deeply as your hand rises from your side, up to your collarbones as you delicately play with the necklace you wear. You finally stop at his eyes as you mouth a cheeky hello before turning around back towards the bar.

Susie still remains looking at her now empty drink, unknowing to Eddie's distraction by the sound of the crowd as she continues conversation normally. "We like money just as the next man, but his gear comes with a rather violent price tag. We stay in our lane because comparatively, its a peaceful one. We let him in, carnage will follow."

Susie now looks up, noticing that Eddie had not replied to her speech as she follows his gaze to your back as your fingers play with the lip of your cup. You laugh at whatever the bartender had just said to you before your glass has been topped off once more, you turn around, flashing them both a smile before slowly making your way closer to them.

Eddie takes a step forwards, wishing to meet you halfway before Susie reigns him in, nails digging into the arm of his suit jacket as she pulls him back to her side.

"I don't think you are quite ready for the big leagues, Captain-" Susan warns, looking at the side of Eddies face before he turns back to her, a charming smile accentuating his features before he speaks.

"I just killed a man, Susie. I think I can handle speaking to a woman-"

"Hm, well thats just not any ordinary woman, Edward. That is Miss. Shelby- the possible saviour to every one of our problems if we did not already... push some buttons," Susie states, smile waning as you get progressively closer, many people still try and gain your attention as you hold up your hand, wishing not to be disturbed.

"And there's room to fix that I'm sure, but what exactly did WE do?" Before Susie could answer, your heels are in front of Eddies dress shoes as you extend a hand forwards in greeting. "Miss. Shelby," Susie greets you with a composed look, her smile dropped as she tries to stare through you.

Edward picks up your hand, pressing a kiss on to the back of it as you hold hands for longer than necessary before pulling away. "Your Grace, Miss. Glass," you greet, "a pleasure it is to see you both here tonight." Your voice is like honey, hanging in the air as you smile at them both.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss. Shelby," Edward replies, noticing Susie's mock indifference as she shifts her weight slightly under your faux-gentle eyes; sharped to a cutting-stare as you strike her down. "You two make a rather charming couple, if I may ask, how recent is this development?" you question, hiding your growing smirk in your drink as Eddie's gaze falls to your lips and the print you leave against the glass, snapping back up to your eyes- yours crinkle in a second greeting.

"You have yourself mistaken, Myself and Miss. Glass are merely business associates," Eddie clarify as you set your glass gently on the bar-top, hand brushing against Eddies bicep in the movement. Your eyes continue to lock on to one another, a silent conversation being played as you lean a bit closer, taking a deeper look at his features as you notice Eddies gaze roam your's own. In that moment, Susie decides to step back into the conversation.

"What does your family want?" she deadpans, eyeing the closing distance between you and Eddie with hardened eyes as her hand threatens to crush the glass in her hand. "Well, by the looks of it, your business had became my business, thanks to your mingling," you charismatically charm, hand hovering on Eddies arm as you adore the jealous look brewing inside her.

"And if you two are merely just associates, I think this calls for a more... personal discussion with the Duke since our businesses are now becoming tied together, is that not tight Susie?" you finish with as Eddie looks between the two of you, undeceiving of who to follow alongside. But by the look of your eyes snapping to his lips once more as you tongue swipes across your own, parting them slightly- his decision is made.

"I will be back in a moment, Susie," Edward says, following in-step as you lead him out of the crowded space. Just as Eddie reaches the hall, he casts his head back, sending Susie a knowing look as if to say, I'm fixing it before disappearing. Susie glares at your lipstick stained glass sat on the counter with distaste before being led towards Mr. Johnston by his assistant.

--

Your Perspective

Success, you cheer to yourself, as you loop your arm around Eddies arm, leading him towards a nearby study you know to be empty. The door softly closes behind you both. In the next moment, you pull Eddies arm to his side, shoving him against the door as it rattles from the impact.

Eddie's eyes are blown wide as he hisses out slightly in pain, forgetting about the gun-shot wound before becoming distracted by the feeling of your soft lips against his own. Your heels make you tall enough to capture his lips into a delicate battle of heated touches, your skirt being bunched up by Eddies hands, your gentle caresses of the stubble of his cheeks as playful bite his lower lip, wishing to explore more.

Gasping for air as you pull away, you further taint his skin a deep red to match his lips you coated in your lipstick. Pressing a kiss at the side of his mouth as he whispers out a tease before you trail over to his cheek, paving a way to his chin and down his neck as his head raises, exposing more skin for your greedy lips. He grips your hips, keeping you in place as you suck a mark onto the base of his neck. A soft moan escaping between his lips before an equally greater hiss as blood continues to pour out of his side.

You take a step back, gently opening his jacket, your eyes cast upwards, through your lashes as you playfully pout. You place a palm at his inner thigh, watching as his eyes grow in size as your hand drifts just past the growing bulge in his pants- stopping slightly before the wound as you hum out thoughtfully while looking at it.

"My, my, your grace. Whatever do you have here?" You rhetorically ask before pressing your hand into the opening, listening as he hisses out, hands swiftly moving off your hips and onto your hand as they pull your touch off of him side.

"You little fucking temptress," Eddie curses out, eyes darkened as his tongue sweeps over his lips, you take a few steps back. The Duke presses himself off the wall, taking wide strides as your hands begin to sweat yet you do not break eye contact. Continuing to swiftly walk backwards as best you can in heels before tripping over a rug and falling against the back of a chair.

Eddie's arms cage you in against the chair, your breath hitching as he places his face within the crook of your neck. His facial hair tickling your skin, a soft burn forming with every word he speaks, "Now tell me, Miss. Shelby, what is it you want from me?"

You swallow. Hard. Knuckles turning white at the force you grip the chair with before trying to compose yourself, a shaky breath you exhale conceal in a moan. Pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear, "I want you to kiss me, Eddie," you murmur, hand fixing those curls you wanted to from the start. Your fingers curl around a few strands within an instant as Eddie sucks a bruise to your neck, licking the area afterwards. "What are you here for?" he questions once more as you shake your head, wondering how far you can truly push this.

"No. That was not a proper kiss, sir. Kiss me." You state again, taking a deep breath in as victory when Eddie pulls away, eyes boring into your own, blood now tainting the band of his pants as your eyes flicker down to it. Your chin is gripped as Eddie pulls you into that proper kiss you were begging for but he pulls away too quickly as you press your lips together to hide your frown. Your cheeks were warm, hair a mess, your chest raises up and down like you had just ran a mile.

Edward appears in the same state as he stumbles back, hand gripping his side, eyes tipping down to your chest before snapping back up with a cold look- you needed to answer, couldn't have your signature bleeding out before he could sign.

"I need you out of my bettings, your grace," you breathily state, hand placed on your chest as you feel your heart-rate still bumping fast. You take deeper intakes of air, feeling for your heart starting to slow as you watch Eddie crunch over, blood-loss starting to make him go dizzy.

You swiftly stand and hobble towards the desk, finding a first aid kit in one of the lower drawers as you unknowingly bend down in front of Eddie as he curses you out once more, you look back, murmuring an apology before standing up straight and beginning to make work of his clothes, jacket off, tie discarded and shirt unbuttoned, you pluck the remnants of the bullet out from his side.

Eddie grits his teeth together, hands curled into fists as he watches you work, your tweezers poking into his muscle. "If you would stop watching me so closely, maybe I could focus more and poke you less," you sass, looking up at his while blowing the hair out of your eye. Eddie fixes the stand behind your ear before raising his hand once more. "Well just a minute ago you were practically on your knees begging for me to look at you," Eddie responds with a smirk, you huff and maintain your work, gathering the last bits of metal before treating the area and wrapping his torso snuggly.

The Duke's blood stains your hands as you look down at them thoughtfully. The thick liquid cascades off your fingertips, falling onto your dress, marking a pair of birds. "You owe me a new dress," you say, wiping your hands with the small cloth the kit provided before taking a stand. You start to walk away before Eddie grasps your arm, you pause mid-step, feet now plated in wait.

"Thank you, Miss. Shelby. I will sign to never fix a game with your business if you promise to have a meeting with Miss. Glass and I," Edward compromises, letting go of your arm and watches as you walk towards the exit, "I don't think you are in any position to make compromises, nevertheless demands, Edward. But... I'll keep you updated on my decision," and with that you close the door softly behind yourself for him to get dressed. Pressing your forehead to the wooden surface, you grip your hands into fists before settling your head up high as you descend the stairs and move towards the coat room. You sneak your keys and coat before slipping out the side door and walk towards your car.

A series of hastened footsteps against the gravel have you rolling down the window to your Range Rover, foot on the brake, hands on the wheel- ready to make haste. You do your best not to be surprised when the Duke's face greets you on the other side, a I know something you don't smile resting on his features as you raise a brow to it.

"We never exchanged contacts," he states to you casually, as if it were the weather. You hum out, analyzing his statement while look out the windshield before looking back at him. Light rain begins to fall as you press a lingering kiss to his cheek, "I will find you in due time, you and Miss. Glass. Have a good night, your grace." And with that, you roll up your window, and drive off underneath the moonlight.

--

You take a deep sip of your drink as Ada sits still, mouth open as you swear to be losing circulation to you hand. Pins and needles start to form at your fingertips form how tightly she holds onto your hand. "Fuck, sis. Sounds like you got him good," Ada says, barley able to conceal her smile.

Shaking your head you take a deep sip of your near melted lemonade before clearing your throat and checking for the time, it would be an hour's drive from here, you both had to leave soon. "Well even if I have managed to, 'get him good...'" you raise your hands in quotations, starting to mock even the idea of you two together yet your heart speaks otherwise, beating rapidly in your chest as you recount the feeling of his lips on yours. The small hickey on your neck still bruised as you wonder if his has healed since then.

Ada raises a brow, watching as you absent-mindedly reach up towards your mark, fingers circling around the mark as you continue to speak, "...Tommy would never allow it-"

"Fuck what Tommy thinks, he's not you. Do YOU want to see him again?" Ada cuts you off, a serious look taking over every feature, tightening into sharp lines- as if daring you to say else-wise.

You refuse to meet her eyes, looking outside to the near empty tracks, "I mean..."

↳ Taglist: @daffodilstark @leavemeslowly @iamasimpingh0e @kneelarmhstrung @surazim

↳ A/N: What did you all think? I am quite happy with this being a standalone but I am willing to write a pt.2. If you have any ideas as to where it could go- send an ask, DM, or comment and I'll see what can be done further :) (i'm also taking a break soon... maybe... probably).

[mothmanssweetsucculentass]

Corin Wickes Headcanons

Yeah I’m doing Corin too, sue me

How’s that undiagnosed anxiety disorder treating you queen?

But in all seriousness she really should get that shit diagnosed

Unfortunately she can’t for one major reason: her parents

Corin is not only homeschooled, but currently lives with her parents who aren’t exactly the best people

I mean the girl literally apologizes for existing, her parents aren’t treating her right

Her parents applied to Victoria Housekeeping for her under the assumption it would teach her discipline and manners and whatnot

Within the first week of Corin being there, Lycaon realized what was going on between Corin and her parents and vowed to be a better, more caring role model for her

He has her working the most out of everyone else

A normal person would hate having such a busy work schedule but Corin loves having so much freedom at her job

She also enjoys the opportunity to be helpful, useful, and making a difference within the organization

Like? No one yells at her? Or insults her? Or is stuffy and stringent the way her parents are? Sure, being a maid entails certain kinds of rigidity and strictness, but to Corin, the way Victoria Housekeeping Co operates is the biggest breath of fresh air she’s had in her whole life

Corin is obviously not allowed to have weapons at home, so Lycaon lets her store her sawblade within one of the many safe houses their company owns. Just like how Lycaon gifted Ellen her shears, Corin’s sawblade is also a gift from him

She originally had it outfitted with the same ice technology his boots and Ellen’s shears have, but kept slipping on the ice it created, and also had a harder time sawing through things in her path from how slippery the ice made everything. So, with Lycaon’s permission, she removed the feature altogether and made it a normal saw.

You’d think a girl so frail and timid and the epitome of cringefail girlfail sopping wet cat would also be physically weak. You’d be wrong

I mean it’s already canon her and Ellen are the strongest when it comes to pure physical damage, as evident by Corin’s introduction in Nekomata’s quest, as well as the entirety of chapter 3.

Corin says it has something to do with genetics probably, something about her dad being a former performing strong man or something

Corin also internally explodes every time Ellen compliments her on her strength. It doesn’t happen a lot, but when it does, Corin loses it

Has the BIGGEST crush on Ellen and is 100% not normal about it

Like, hello? She’s a sheltered girl with strict parents who now gets to see arguably the coolest person ever (in her eyes) on a daily basis

Corin is even more nervous around Ellen than most people for obvious reasons

She also damn near had a heart attack when Ellen passed out in front of her the first time. She grabbed so many pillows, several water bottles, four different sport and energy drinks, several protein efficient snacks, and even had a first aid kit at the ready just in case

Ellen normally hates it when people get fussy over her passing out, but considering this was the first time Corin had seen it, and the fact Corin went overboard in trying to help, Ellen let it slide

Now whenever Ellen crashes, Corin is the first one to make sure she’s okay before carrying on with her work

Ellen also knows it’s Corin who leaves candy and lollipops on the pillow next to her for when she wakes back up

Corin has since stopped worrying about Ellen every time she crashes, but insists to the point of threatening others with her sawblade that she be the one to see to it that Ellen is comfortable

There was once an incident where Corin, distracted from Ellen walking into the room, cut her hand whilst repairing her sawblade. She then bore witness to both Lycaon and Rina holding a suddenly frenzied Ellen back, who was fixated on nothing but the blood dripping from Corin’s palm. Lycaon took Corin out of the room to attend to her injury once Rina was successfully able to knock Ellen unconscious.

Ellen spent the next week apologizing to Corin and explaining how her shark thiren instincts are hard to control. Corin accepted every apology, but frankly didn’t need one, because that incident was probably the most exhilarating thing to happen to her outside of hollow missions with the company

Ellen was fixated on nothing but her in that moment, which did wonders for Corin’s fragile nonexistent ego

Every time Ellen interacts with her in any capacity, Corin gets major butterflies

Ellen insists Corin doesn’t need to refer to her as “Miss Ellen” but Corin disagrees. Corin thinks Miss Ellen absolutely needs to be treated like royalty

Corin would quite literally die for Ellen. Corin fell for her, and she fell HARD

Corin keeps a small box under her bed full of trinkets she likes. So far the only occupants of said box are buttons from her first teddy bear, and the metal piece shaped like a bear that Ellen bit into shape for Corin

Ellen is indirectly to thank for Corin’s fashion sense as well. At one point the shark girl mentioned how the Victoria Housekeeping Co uniforms were “giving Lolita menhera Jfashion” to Lycaon in passing, causing Corin to look up the style on Inter Knot (on one of the work computers, no way her parents let her have one of her own) and falling in love with it immediately

Corin already had quite a bit of sewing experience having been taught home ec by her mother, so it was no surprise she picked up outfit and plushie making very easily

She’s responsible for a lot of the accessories the company wears on their uniforms. She enjoyed making the bows and jaw head and neck piece for Ellen the most. Obviously.

Ellen often rambles to Corin about school and work related stuff. Corin soon realizes that she’s the only one Ellen does this to.

“Why?” She’d ask Ellen at one point during one of their conversations. “You’re a good listener. Plus, you give better advice than Lycaon and Rina combined.”

How Ellen didn’t notice how red her face got in that moment, Corin has no idea

Lycaon often contracts Corin longer hours than need be. Corin insists she can work the full duration, but Lycaon always makes some excuse about having enough help already, and that she should just go on a break, and that he’d clock her out, etc etc

Lycaon you ain’t slick we all know you’re doing it so this girl can actually go out and do things she enjoys

Corin has no idea that that’s the actual case, but she’s certainly grateful with how much free time Lycaon allows her

When their schedules line up, Ellen even invites Corin out for boba or lunch with her friend group

Corin is almost always quiet during these meetings, not wanting to intrude on Ellen’s quality time with her friends, but to her utter shock, Ellen is constantly making sure Corin is included in the conversation

Corin, being the sheltered kid, also hasn’t tried enough things, so of course Ellen insists on getting her fun snacks and roping her into seeing a movie or going to an arcade with her friend group

Corin gets so wrapped up in it all that by the time she gets home, she misses it immensely

Work is always “good”, when her parents ask. They never press for details thankfully due to Corin and Lycaon both making up an excuse that maid work is private, there’s NDA stuff involved, blah blah blah

Eventually Corin is able to buy her own cell phone with her salary. Her parents don’t know about it.

Her parents don’t know a lot of things about her, including the fact she’s actually been able to experience a normal teenage girl’s life for awhile now

Lycaon always insists that if Corin ever feels her parents are too much, she’ll always have a permanent home in Victoria Housekeeping Co. Corin gets closer and closer to accepting that offer every day.

[rowenas-megacoven]

On a Tiktok of Avengers Loki impersonating Steve Rogers with Tony Stark right there, a commenter was like “Tony loves taking the piss out of Steve, if Loki wasn’t evil here I think they’d be besties” and someone else replied something along the lines of “defs somewhere else in the multiverse” and it made me giggle and got me thinking

One of my What-If related Marvel headcanons is that 1602 IS that somewhere, or at least, one of them. Loki is an eccentric theatre nerd who is out here with early access to the upcoming plays of “Will”, implying this little drama queen knows Shakespeare personally. Tony is an eccentric inventor who likes big made-up words. Shakespeare was also famous for making up words. Tony also says to Steve that he personally would’ve used a sonnet on Peggy. Shakespeare also wrote a bunch of sonnets. Loki likes to pop bottles while talking non-stop about theatre. Tony spent all night inventing on a bender, sooo they’re both a tad indulgent. I think the two of them are the only two not actually sparring with someone during the fighting that breaks out in the throne room (although Tony is trying to get his invention up and running - he’d probably fight if he could)

During my rewatch of this goofy little ep I absolutely LOST it spying a suspiciously Mjolnir shaped hammer/mallet in the back of Tony’s workshop, too. If actually Mjolnir, in this universe it belongs to Loki - who had coincidentally misplaced it when Thor ask him where it’s at. What’s Tony doing with Loki’s hammer, hm? How’d that get there? Theft? Forgetfulness? Or maybe a little prezzie?

You CANNOT convince me they don’t hang out, maybe secretly, passing goblets of palace sourced wine between them, Loki reciting his lines while Tony tinkers away, occasionally pausing to say something like “Where’s the blood, sweat and tears? Give me more, your highness. Also, can you put aside Yorick and hold these tongs for a mo’? Great!”

[sere-rine]

~Your One and Only Protector~

SGE <Movie version>  Imagine (Lady Lesso x Fem Reader)

Warning: Fluff

----------

Woods are scaringly fascinating for an ever like you. It holds a lot of danger yet it is the most peaceful place you can find in this world of what they say is "balance".

You climb a tree with the help of Gale, and sit on one of it's higher branches and heave a sigh releasing all your anger towards a certain dean of the school.

Before the school being combined, you and Lady Lesso have a few small dispute that happens to be the one that is making your life like hell.

You missed Agatha so much for she is the only one who knows and who listens to all your rants about that Lady Lesso.

Now that Agatha left and the school is one, every single damn time that you walked into the hall you can see her which makes your blood boil all the time. She always looked at you with condescending eyes and Dovey would just elbow her and you will walk fast past them. 

You look at your surroundings and your view is no less than magnificent. You can see the whole school from where you are and you can observe from here. You don’t have any company but Gale, who is giving you a light refreshing breeze to help you calm down from your anger. But everytime you get to remember why you are angry, the temperature is starting to drop. 

~~~~~

“A princess is not supposed to hold a sword Y/n.” Lady Lesso said out of nowhere while you are busy practicing alone on the gym. You stopped at what you are doing and face her way. You try to meet her eyes but you are unsuccessful for her gaze are somewhere else.

You are wearing a white tanked top paired with black cycling shorts. You are filled with sweats and probably dehydrated. You make your way into the nearest bench where your towel and bottled water are placed. You hung your towel onto your shoulder and drank your water to satisfy your thirst. You did all of that with Lady Lesso’s eyes are scanning you making you feel conscious about the way you look. You are princess after all, you may be practicing to hold a sword but still appearance is one hell of a requirement for all of you evers. 

“What are you looking at Professor?” You asked after a minute of her feeding at your sight. She shrugged whatever thought she has and then she looked at your orbs. 

“Like I’ve said, princesses shouldn’t be bothered learning to hold a sword.” You scoffed at her statement and wiped your sweat. From your forehead to your cheeks down to your neck and chest. You didn’t notice how her eyes followed the strokes of your towel and how she gulped at the sight. 

“And do you think I care?” You asked her almost daring her to say something. She didn’t so you put the sword that you’re holding up to show it to her. “This sword is one of the most precious possession my mother have professor. I need to be worthy of wielding this.” You said while looking at the frozen sword. A ray of light from a window that is reflected at it is almost blinding you but that stopped when a slender hand with long black nails, holds the sword blocking the light.  

“Ahh of course. You, Princess Y/N of Arendelle, daughter of Queen Anna and King Kristoff, always trying to prove your worthy for the people of your kingdom. Your mother who claims to be inlove with a man who she met just a day. And your father who seems crazy talking to reindeer.” She said in a mocking tone making you furious. 

“How dare you talk to my parents like that?” You spat at her but all she did was to look down at you. 

“All i’m saying is stop this thing.” She tried to get my sword out of your grasp but you didn’t let her. You stepped backward and you get all of your things, ready to leave the gym. “Just leave me alone.” She was taken aback of what you have said.

“You are a princess, you should focus on how to keep yourself pretty and how to earn your first kiss. You’ll probably going to have a hard time to get yourself a prince before the Ball because of how you act. You have your mother’s stubbornness and yet you get your independence from your aunt. Such an irritating combination of attitude.” 

“And why on heaven’s earth do you care professor? You may be a teacher but you still are fruit of evil so why do you care for a mere ever whose looks does not have the power to reach your beauty standards?” You shouted at her but  didn’t wait for her answer as you stomped your way out. 

~~~~~

“Gale, I am beautiful right?” You asked annoyed at the elemental spirit that is accompanying you right now. It breezes lightly and you take that as a sign of yes. “Hmph, I can get any prince whenever I want. Besides they are not a necessity, I actually like to think that they are just an accessory for princesses to fit in on fairy tale's society. Don’t you think?” You asked again and much more breeze with autumn leaves surrounds you and you just laughs. 

“Such an idiot you are.” A voice interrupts you making you jerk from your sit and you lost your balance. You are expecting to hit the hard ground but you didn’t. You thought Gale helped you but you felt an arms around your waists after a few seconds. ‘Gale doesn’t have arms.’ You thought so out of curiosity you open your eyes but that caught your guard off.

Two amethyst colored orbs are looking straight at you and scanning not just your eyes but your whole face. How beautiful her eyes are whether you deny it or not. Her make up that is highlighting her gorgeous face are going to be the death of you. How can you hate her when she’s this flawless physically? Wait, whether she is pretty outside her insides are not. You seems to get a hold on your body now so you pushed her abruptly and she let you. 

“Where did you came from? You are literally coming out of nowhere.” You said exasperatingly. 

“I’ve come to say my apologies.” You are shocked at her statement for The former dean of evil does not admit her wrong. You can;t believe it because please, her ego is higher than the castle your aunt Elsa built. 

“Why?” You asked out of speechlessness. She looked at her sides eyeing if someone can hear her.

“Perhaps what I have said is too much.” She said with her eyes everywhere but yours and a blank expression. You don’t know if she is genuine or not but it is enough for now. At least she tried to say sorry.

“A-apology accepted.” She looked at you with a little to no expression. 

“That’s it?” You nod at her and she release a sigh. Your eyes are still at her and she meet it.

“How come it’s easy?” Your eyebrow cocked at this woman. 

“What choice do I have other than to forgive you?” You asked her then you sit down at the bottom of the tree where you fell.

“Not to forgive me.” She said then points her cane into where you’re sitting. “That is full of dirt princess, what are you thinking sitting the-” She stopped whatever she was saying because you grab the end of the cane that is near you and pulled it with her. She ended up sitting beside you and after that you stare at the clouds above you. What a great weather it is.

“You know professor, it would be no good if I keep my grudge onto myself, I am now grateful that you at least say your regrets after what you’ve done even though it is clear that you are evil.” You say beside her relaxed and feeling the air around you. 

While you are enjoying your surroundings and her company, your professor seems to not like sitting on a dirt. She keeps patting at her back and when you twist your head to look at her, she looks uncomfortable.

“Well you should be thankful for I will never ever say sorry to anyone ever again, and oh my, I really hate dirt.” She whines and she stands up. You followed her and straighten up your back.

“Well I feel honored to be the only one to hear your apology professor.” You said in a mocking tone and you look up at her while smiling genuinely. Her posture is straight and her eyes are running from your head to your toe.

“And to answer your question earlier...” She said dragging every word but you look at her with confusion in your eyes.

“Why do I care?” You mouthed an ‘aahh’ at her and nod. So she continued. “That’s because you are such a precious princess. I can’t bare to know that you can stand up physically for yourself when...” She pause her sentence. It is evident that she is contemplating whether she should say her next words or not. Because those words will surely change everything between the two of you.

“When what?” You asked really anticipating on what is she going to say next. You gulped and unconsciously licked you lips to give them moisture. You don’t know why but you feel like whatever she’s going to say next will lighten your already good day.

She leaned in into you and you just stand there like a statue which is the source of her giggle. She puts her index finger under your chin and her thumb brushed your lips. Her gesture made a rampaging zoo like feeling on your stomach and redness is coating your entire face.

“When you should be protected by me. Whenever danger surrounds you, you are physically prepared and I hate that because I want you to need me. I want to be your one and only protector, not just some silly prince who can’t even invite you to the Ball after one simple threat. Like hello, in the future they will need to have the courage to save princesses like you and yet... ugh I really hate princes.” She said that causes your eyes to widen and you gasp at her reveal. 

“You threatened them because you like me? Poor man.” You put your hands on your waist and turn your back on her. You can’t believe that someone really tried to ask you out. Not that you lost hoped with it, you just doubted your appearance for a second.

“You don’t need them anyways.” Lady Lesso said and you felt an arms circle your waist and you felt her chin on your shoulders. She is still holding her cane in front of you both.

“You are right, I don’t need them but you didn’t have to do that. Who is he?” You asked and you feel a tickling sensation when her breath touches your neck after she shoves your hair.

“He? More like them! Whatever you are going to the ball without them and you will spend your night after the ball with me.” She said and you didn’t oppose on that idea for you loved it as well. 

----------

I’m really gay for Charlize Theron

Just tell me if you want more guys! My inbox are open for recommendation and requests!

[teenagecriminalmastermind]

blue blood - chapter 4 (an aemond targaryen x team black daughter fanfiction)

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chapter 1: prologue chapter 2: the bells chapter 3: the race

chapter 4: claw isle.

Aemond is delirious with rage. 

That girl, that little bastard brat, not only had the audacity to steal the Crown of Jaehaerys from the very dead body of her grandfather, but then has the unmitigated gall to taunt him and hand it over to his wretched half-sister? He can hear her laughter still ringing in his ears, the sound somehow carrying over the thunder and the rain. 

Impertinent witch.

He cannot go back home yet, cannot go back with the failure of his mission. Not only was his quest to make that treaty with the Baratheons cut short by Lucerys Strong, his bastard sister just had to add fuel to the fire. He has to find some way to fix this, some way to retrieve that crown within time. He cannot go back empty-handed. He lands Vhagar upon one of the uninhabited islands by Storm’s End, the large dragon shuddering to a halt upon the sandy shores. 

He slides off the beast’s back, smashing his fist into the nearest cliff rocks over and over until he feels his knuckles bleed, until the sting of broken skin and blood is enough to calm his nerves. “No, no, NO!” He roars, his dragon sounding just as incensed as him, “that little fucking bitch does not get to do this to me!” He watches his bleeding hand, watches the blood trickle down his fingers and down his palm in swift, dark rivulets as he turns his hand over. Fire and blood. Daella Targaryen will pay, in fire and blood.

He sits on the shore, letting the rain wash away the blood, soaking through his coat down to his bones, his hair a flat curtain that clings to his face. He has to regroup. Think this over. See what he can do next and not what he wants to do. 

What does he want to do? 

He wants to go back to Dragonstone and gut Daella Targaryen like a fucking fish, watch the girl bleed upon his person as he wrenches the crown out of her hands and holds her beating heart in his palm, his face being the last thing her defiant eyes see. 

However, he cannot do that lest he be labeled Kinslayer and truly kick start a war of bloodshed and dragons. No, for now he has to find a different way to win the crown back, or at least force the girl and the crown back into the open and wrest it from her. No, that would not work. No, she has probably handed over the gold circlet to her wretched mother and her father Daemon. Gods, that girl is far too much like her father Daemon Targaryen, in all the worst ways that the Seven could conjure. It is as if they bottled up every single one of his worst impulses and characteristics and poured it into his eldest.  

So what does he do? 

Well, alighting upon one of their smaller vassals with Vhagar would be a good start. It would put the fear of all things holy in them while letting them know that he has not relented, to let her know that this is not over yet. 

Claw Isle is nearest.

Lord Celtigar is steward of Claw Isle. The man is loyal, slightly tough, and not easily cowered. But no one in the Seven Hells can look upon Vhagar and not be scared shitless, and he plans to do just that. “Vhagar,” he speaks to his dragon, voice hoarse after his prior screaming bout on the island, “time to move.” She will feed once they return to King’s Landing, which won’t be too long from now. 

When he lands on the shores of Claw Isle, there is already a small group of soldiers collected, bows aimed at the ready and Aemond has to resist the urge to laugh. As if some measly bows and arrows could incapacitate him and his dragon. “Lord Celtigar,” he says in a cool, even voice, spotting the gruff man. “I come bearing regards from King Aegon.” 

“We only recognise the one true Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen,” the older man says, steely eyes looking into his own. He tamps down the ire that threatens to bubble over, the prior events still rankling in his mind. 

“My brother holds all the symbols of legitimacy, my Lord,” he says calmly, “He wears the Conqueror’s crown, wields his sword Blackfyre. The Queen, as my half-sister calls herself, wears a stolen crown that she had her craven daughter steal from the Keep.” 

“A crown that is rightfully her mother’s,” the man replies, not budging from his stance. So Aemond is not winning any allies here. “Daella Targaryen did what needed to be done.” The mention of her name is enough to almost send him in another rage, her voice echoing in his mind as she called him a thief, spoke of him stealing her birthright, as if it was ever a bastard’s to begin with. 

“Very well,” he says, plastering a polite smile on his face, resisting the urge to bare his teeth. “Well, my Lord, I hope you let your Queen know that her younger brother has come calling for her. Send a raven to let her know that I shall wait here for the crown to be returned, and that I shall wait for as long as it takes and do whatever it takes. And that if she has any true integrity, she sends the thief her daughter to return it herself.” 

The man takes his message and sends a raven in front of his own eyes, making Aemond wait by the shore. “I don’t mind, my Lord,” he says lightly, “I can wait here by the sea. After all, it should not take long, should it?” 

Hours pass, and it must be far past the witching hour when he starts to doze off, shielded by Vhagar’s wing as he rests by her head. The sound of footsteps on the sand shakes him awake, and he rests a hand on the pommel of the sword on his hip, body slightly relaxing when he sees that it is just a mere messenger. “A message from the Queen Rhaenyra,” the man says, barely keeping his voice even. 

“And?” He prompts the young man, the latter barely older than him. 

“The Princess Rhaenys shall be here to negotiate with you, my Prince,” he says, voice wavering. “Her and the she-dragon Meleys are on their way to speak to you.” Why? 

“And why has she not sent the Princess Daella?” He questions sharply, anger rising up again. So now the little witch intends to hide from him, huh? Seems like cowardice runs in the family blood. 

“The Crown Princess is not in any condition to leave Dragonstone, and the Queen does not intend to risk her Heir’s well being and safety,” he answers. He must have injured the girl worse than he thought then, and a smile of cruel satisfaction lingers on his lips. So she isn’t here not because she is a coward, but because she simply cannot. He wonders how much he made her bleed, whether it hurts for her to take a breath because of him, whether she looks at her hands and thinks of how he is the reason they are stained bloody. 

Aemond wonders how much of a mark he has left on Daella. 

“Very well then,” he says coolly. “If the Crown Princess cannot make it herself, then I suppose her aunt Rhaenys shall suffice.” It does not take his aunt too long to arrive, the Red Queen coming to a smooth stop next to Vhagar as the older woman dismounts, walking towards him tall and proud. 

“Nephew,” she says, giving him a curt nod. 

“Aunt Rhaenys,” he nods back, hands clasped behind his back. “I suppose you are here to do the right thing and return the crown.” 

Rhaenys’ eyes harden, the ghost of an angry smile playing on her lips. “You have quite the delusional belief, my dear boy,” she states. “Such treachery, and that to your own House? To your own sister?” 

“I have only one sister,” he replies, keeping his voice level. “And she is now the Queen Helaena.” 

“Aemond,” she says, “I am here as an envoy, merely to convey Her Grace the Queen Rhaenyra’s wishes. She does not wish to sow further discord in the family, and she wishes to keep her brothers close. She knows you are sensible, and she hopes that you, the honorable and level-headed one of the two, will see beyond Otto Hightower’s treacherous machinations.” She seems sincere in her beliefs, and he cannot believe that the one woman he would wholeheartedly have bent the knee to has bought into this con. 

“You are being led astray by the counsel of evil men, nephew,” she stresses. ��Please, consider our words, our side. See sense, and make Aegon see it too. Otto Hightower and Larys Strong are the vipers that seek to destroy the House of the Dragon from the inside.” The nerve to call his own grandfather a viper to his face. 

“Thank you for your sage counsel, Princess Rhaenys,” he replies, voice curt and clipped, “but I suppose I shall withhold myself from taking your offer and let my brother the King know that his treasonous half sister refuses to see sense. Tell my half-sister and her bastard daughter that I will retrieve the crown and return it to its rightful owner.” 

Rhaenys does not retaliate, mouth pressed in a thin line as she nods at his words, mounting Meleys. Soon, she and the Red Queen are specks in the sky, on their way back to Dragonstone with a message from him in hand. He debates whether he should head back home now, or let Vhagar have her fill on this small island. It would be cruel to rob the island of a sizable chunk of its livestock, but they have decided to pledge fealty to his wretched half-sister, and they must pay the price of siding with the treasonous queen and not the rightful king. 

“Are there any parts of the isle not populated by people?” He asks Lord Celtigar, who points him in the western direction, understanding the nature of the request. “Good,” Aemond adds coolly as he takes Vhagar to that segment of Claw Isle, letting the dragon feed to her heart’s content. Celtigar invites him back to his Keep, ever the observer of guest rules himself, and Aemond surmises it would be prudent to take some food and rest if he is to continue his search for the crown and if he is to alight on the Black stronghold itself. 

Aemond sleeps fitfully over the next few days, leaving as soon as Vhagar is ready to depart. This is now enemy territory, and he does not wish to stay here a moment longer than is necessary. He cannot go to Dragonstone just yet. No, he must be prudent and return to King’s Landing. 

The sky clears further as he approaches the city, Vhagar’s wings darkening the stretches she flies over, echoing his mood. He dismounts the dragon with an easy grace and then makes the journey back to the Red Keep on foot, his gait determined but erratic, anger bleeding through every step he takes. The guards swing the gates open without question and he walks into the Small Council chamber, black coat billowing behind him as he comes to a stop at one of the chairs, his mother and grandsire watching him intently.

He picks up one of the marble balls on the table and throws it at the wall, the force of the impact ripping through the wooden frame of one of their maps and Alicent winces, startling back in her chair. “Apologies, mother,” he mutters, too restless and angry to sit down. 

“I take it you do not have it,” Otto Hiightower speaks, his voice slow and measured, as if trying to avoid upsetting him. He whirls around on his heel to glare at his grandfather, memories of that insolent girl laughing at him running through his head. 

“Rhaenyra Targaryen has been crowned Queen at Dragonstone,” he grits out, trying to keep his voice level. “She sent Princess Rhaenys as her envoy, and the Blacks have no intention of handing the crown over.” 

“And what of Daella?” His mother questions.

“Daella,” he says slowly, the name poison on his tongue. “Is apparently indisposed. Too injured to even face me.” Hiding behind her mother’s skirts, on the volcanic island of Dragonstone that she calls home. His mother seems not too happy at this development, brows furrowing in worry. “Mother, what causes you concern?” He asks. “If Daella Targaryen is indisposed, then she and the Black Bane cannot take to the skies. This is a development in our favour.” 

“I do not wish for the girl to be maimed,” Alicent fires back, fixing her son with a worried and angry glare. “We are not yet at war, Aemond, and I do not wish for us to be the ones to begin one by attacking Rhaenyra’s eldest child.” 

“My half-sister declared war the moment she had her daughter commit that brazen theft. It is treason, mother, an insult against our family, against the crown and my brother, but still you wish for it to go unpunished?” He does not understand her hesitance, the kindness that still lingers in her heart for his half sister and her bastards. 

“Not like this!” The bite in her words takes him aback, and he stares back at her, surprised at the turn of events. So his mother is more than content to usurp his half-sister, but when it comes to taking concrete steps against her transgressions she wavers. 

A week passes, and he raises the same question to his mother over and over again, only to be greeted by the same form of resistance and restraint. Nevermind, he tells himself at dinner that night; he shall rectify this inaction soon, but for now he is tired, he is angry, and he needs a listening ear. 

Aemond dons his cloak once night falls upon the streets of King’s Landing, weaving his way in silence and anonymity until he darkens the doors of an establishment he last visited a week ago in search of his brother Aegon. He barks orders to one of the attendants, asking them to bring the head of the place to him for a private audience and soon enough, he is whisked away to a quieter part of the silk house, the lit candles surrounding him like the altar of a Sept. 

“Your brother has not been here since, my Prince,” she says, raising an eye with a knowing smile. 

“I am not here for your services,” he replies gruffly, lowering his hood as he sits there, fully clothed. “At least, not in the way one would surmise.” 

“Then what is it?” She asks. 

“I need someone to speak to,” he admits. “Someone outside of my family, who shall not judge me for my words and my deeds just yet.” The woman does not interrupt him, her silence an invitation for him to continue. “A grave error was made in the hours following my father’s death.” She fixes him with a probing gaze, and Aemond knows that somehow, she knows what he speaks of. 

“We all saw the Black Bane and his rider depart King’s Landing a day after the bells were first rung,” she states, inching closer to him. So word has spread indeed. He doesn’t protest at first when she pushes his cloak off his shoulders, her hands wandering over his person. “I can imagine you must feel slighted and incensed, that your brother and your family were disrespected so.” 

“I do,” he mutters darkly. “That bastard girl had the audacity to steal from the crown, and she thinks she has gotten away with it. That her treasonous actions are actually serving the Realm,” he scoffs. He thinks of Daella’s smile, her cool voice taunting him in the skies. The way she raced to Dragonstone, her body thrown off her dragon in a desperate attempt to reach the sanctuary of home before he and Vhagar caught up with them. 

“The heart does not listen to reason, my Prince,” the madam speaks, her fingers carding through his hair as she leans in closer. He knows this should distract him, ground him, but all he can think of is the impertinent girl hiding in the clouds, her voice sure and solid even amidst the storm.

He thinks of the blood seeping through her cuts, the wounds that must litter her pale flesh. Wounds, some of which will scar, a permanent reminder of that stormy night, a permanent reminder of him. He wonders how many more scars she carries on her body, whether he is the only man to mark her. 

Aemond rips himself away from the madam’s ministrations, haphazardly throwing on his cloak as his feet carry him rapidly out of the establishment and away from the Streets of Silk, but not towards the Keep. He keeps walking and walking until he comes to a halt at a familiar place, the ground rumbling from his dragon’s sleeping purrs.

Aemond wakes the beast up, hoping she is well-rested enough for another short flight to Storm’s end, where he shall take a small boat and head to Dragonstone. It will not be difficult to slip into the fortress undetected, for they would be expecting him on Vhagar, not arriving on the island by boat and then on foot. 

“Come on, old girl,” he says as Vhagar regards him with a doleful golden eye, “we have a visit to pay.” 

[thatdammchickennugget]

There Will Be Blood - Part Two

pairing - remus lupin x fem!reader

chapter warnings - none

wordcount - 1.8k

series masterlist - previous chapter - next chapter

After hauling all of their luggage into the entryway of the cabin, James took Lily by the hand to lead her down into the basement. Lucky for you, turning on the power and the water heater was fortunately always James’ job. You were quite happy to never step foot into that creepy basement.

Marlene and Mary were tasked with pulling the sheets off the furniture and putting them away while you got the keys from the designated drawer in the kitchen to go and unlock the door leading to the back porch. Taking a broom and a rag to swipe down the wooden benches surrounding the firepit right outside the glass doors leading into the living room.

You went back inside to get the thick fur blankets to lay on top of the benches, passing Remus who was working on getting a fire started. Brushing your hand along his shoulder as you walked by him, you told Peter to start unpacking the box filled with bottles of alcohol Sirius had brought.

James and Lily came back upstairs, the former holding the beforementioned blowtorch in his hands. Lily started on turning on the lights scattered around the floor, instantly changing the atmosphere of the lodge into a cozy one, as James made his way to the front door.

You finished setting up the outside, turning on the fairy lights strung around the porch railings before going back inside. Soon the front door was fixed and almost everything unpacked. Sirius had already turned on the stereo and chosen one of the cd’s from the shelves, filling the room with the sounds of his favourite Queen album.

James and Lily had already taken their bags up to the attic, where James’ room was. The others grabbed their bags and followed Remus up the stairs.

“Some of us will have to share. There’s six of us but only 4 more rooms,” the tall boy told the others.

Mary hugged Marlene’s arm closer to hers. “We can share. Don’t really want to sleep alone in here.”

Sirius and Peter shared a look, before each of them sprinted to one of the smaller rooms at the end of the hall. Remus let out a sigh and pointed the girls to the room they could share.

“Well, I guess you get to share with me,” you said and bumped your hip against his, walking to the last available room.

Smiling as you entered the master bedroom, you turned on the lights and dropped your bags at the foot of the king-sized bed. Usually, you had this room all to yourself, the boys letting you have it as it was the only room on the floor with its own bathroom attached. You never complained, seeing as that specific bathroom had a beautiful bathtub overlooking the mountainside.

“Which side do you want,” Remus asked, scratching the back of his neck and not meeting your eyes.

“I’ll take the right.” You let yourself fall onto the mattress, closing your eyes. When Remus did not move from his spot near the door you sat back up to look at him, cocking your head to the side.

“Maybe I should sleep downstairs,” he considered.

“I’m not letting you sleep on the couch,” you told him, tapping his leg with your foot. “You’re acting as if we haven’t slept in the same bed before.”

A blushing red crept up to his ears as his hand went back to his neck. “But that was years ago.”

Pulling up your legs to sit on criss crossed on the bed, you jokingly rolled your eyes. “And? I’m not bothered by it. And knowing James will probably make us watch a horror movie tonight, I think I’d actually feel better with someone else in the same room,” you reasoned, watching his shoulders relax slightly. “Unless it bothers you. I can go ask Pads if he’ll switch with you.”

“No, it’s okay,” he rushed out, stumbling over his own feet as he walked to the other side of the bed. “Just wanted to make sure you were fine with it.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄ ₊⁺ ⋆

“What are you doing?” Remus asked when the two of you entered the kitchen. Lily was crouched down, sweeping something into the dustpan she was holding.

“We found some dirt in here. We think it must have been some kind of animal that dragged it in. It can’t have been us. It probably got in through that open window upstairs.” She went to empty the dustpan into the bin. “James and Sirius are looking if they can find it.”

“I’m sure they’ve got that covered. I’m going to start the fire outside,” Remus said and squeezed by Peter and Mary, who were busy getting dinner started.

“Need any help in here?” you asked your friends, hopping up on the counter, your legs swinging back and forth. The water on the stove was already bubbling and Mary rushed to dump in two packs of noodles, almost punching Peter in the face with her elbow where he was stirring the sauce.

“We’re all good here,” Lily smiled at her as she went to supervise. “But thank you.”

You jumped back down and walked into the living room. James and Sirius were both lying on the couch watching Remus at the firepit outside. Apparently they were already done with their search. You went around the room closing the curtains, not liking the feeling that someone could be watching from any of the windows.

“Did you find the intruder?” Plopping yourself down between the two, you pulled your legs up to rest them on Sirius’ lap. His hand went to pinch your calf, earning a kick in his thigh in return.

“Nope,” James replied lazily. “It was probably just a squirrel looking to nap some food.”

You only hummed in response, your eyes now fixed on your best friend as he smiled at the small flames dancing around in the metal bowl. Sirius and James exchanged a mischievous glance over your head, their eyes crinkling in amusement.

“We should go and join Moony,” Sirius suggested, pushing your legs off his lap, and standing up to offer you a hand. Marlene came hopping down the stairs as Sirius dragged you out to the porch. James grabbed a stack of blankets before following along.

You all had dinner around the fire that night, staying out even though the wind found it’s way into the blankets and you were freezing. Usually, you were one of the first to complain about being cold and wanting to head inside but bundled up and sharing a thick wool blanket with Remus, you could not bring yourself to care.

Mary took over your role this time, being the first one to move to the living room, quickly followed by Lily and Peter. The three started a game of settlers of catan on the coffee table while the rest of you stayed outside, most of you nursing one of the beers Sirius had provided.

“Want to head inside?” Remus mumbled close to your ear when he noticed you shivering, and you nodded up at him. He stood up first, wrapping his part of the blanket around you as well. He settled down on the couch, watching the game as you went to rifle through the selection of movies the boys had brought on the trip.

You rolled your eyes when you saw it was mostly scary movies, just as you had predicted. But there were two Christmas movies as well, both of which you took with you to the couch. “I say we all decide on one of these right now so we can outvote those menaces out there,” you urged, mentioning towards James, Sirius and Marlene who were still talking outside, unaware of the plot going on against them.

They decided on watching Home Alone and you took it upon yourself to argue your case when the others finally joined you, ready to start the movie night. When everybody was ready to start you claimed your spot next to Remus, wrapping half of your blanket around his shoulders again. Sirius sat down on your other side. Peter plopped down in the armchair and the girls cuddled up on the other couch, James placing himself on the floor in front of Lily, leaning his head back against her leg.

You fought to keep your eyes open but not even halfway through the movie Remus felt the weight of your head drop against his shoulder. He fondly smiled down at you, the movie forgotten, and gently reached around you with his arm to slap Sirius when the boy started making kissing noises at him.

The room was almost completely dark when someone nudged your shoulder to wake you up. Your best friend was leaning over you, his eyes drooping with sleepiness and curls sticking up messily all over his head. The only light was coming from the stairs and the tv was already turned off.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” Remus said softly as he helped you sit up, the blanket dropping from your short frame. Holding onto his hand, you silently crept up the stairs and into your shared room.

He let you use the bathroom first and you quickly brushed your teeth and changed into your comfy pyjamas, now slightly regretting not packing a prettier pair as you looked down at your toothless themed sleeping pants.

Remus had already turned off all the lights and closed the curtains when you stepped back into the room, only leaving the small lamp on his bedside table on. Crawling beneath the thick covers, you watched him close the door behind him.

You were already drifting back to sleep when you heard a noise coming from the glass doors leading out onto the balcony. Body stiffening up, you lay still, listening if you could hear the noise again. There the noise was again, the sound raising the hairs on your arms and neck.

Trying to tell yourself that it was nothing, your mouth ran dry and your muscles tensed up as the noise continued, sounding as if someone was tapping on the glass from the other side. Slowly, you got to your feet, trying to steady your breathing as you approached the curtain covered doors.

Your heartbeat started pounding in your ears as you reached out to move the curtain to the side, pulling it back with a quick motion, not giving yourself the opportunity to hesitate. Nothing was out there. Moving a little closer, you tried peering further into the darkness, only seeing the snowflakes being thrown around by the wind.

“What are you doing?”

Remus’ voice startled you and you jumped back, letting the curtain fall back into place. Putting a hand to on your racing heart, you fixed him with a playful glare. “You scared me. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I wasn’t sneaking,” he let out a laugh, aware that you were not actually mad at him. “What were you looking at?”

“Nothing. Let’s just go to bed,” you waved him off, moving back to your side of the bed, completely unaware about the boot-shaped marks in the snow just outside the glass.

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[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Roses

Harry gets Uma some flowers.

Uma just locked up the restaurant – alone, for once.

Harry didn’t come, which was weird, he always came, and besides: „Just wait tonight, darling,“ he said to her when she left for her shift, „I’ll have a surprise for you.“

So there was that, and it really left three options:

First, something happened to him, something horrible enough to stop him from coming to her – and Uma firmly refuses to entertain that current of thoughts.

So that leaves two options:

A mean-spirited prank, which is the only type of prank the Isle has anyway, in which case he probably never intended to come; or he just forgot how time works, again. That would be nothing new, and Uma finds that she can be pissed at him in both of these options.

Anger is, after all, so much easier than worry.

So Uma sets her steps sure and her eyes sure in front of herself as she walks through the docks to her ship, the usually swift walk dragging like misfortune without her first mate to keep her company.

She makes a face at that and kicks an empty bottle, just because she can. the flask clatters and thuds about, and gods, she hopes it breaks–

She breathes through her teeth (when it doesn’t break) when footsteps join the noise, and she whirls around to meet them. She already knows whom she’ll see, she could pick up these footsteps anywhere.

„Harry,“ she greets her insufferable first mate.

„Uma,“ he says back, leaning against the half-rotten wall by the corner. His hook glistens in one of his hands while the other is draped casually behind his back. He’s smirking. „Missed me, darling?“

Missed me – as if! Uma would rather had her left foot amputated than admit that.

And so she says: „Your loud mouth, or your blinding ego? In your dreams, Hook.“

He smirks more, of course he does, the handsome son of a bitch. „My mouth can do more than just talk, Captain, I’m sure you would like to know in yourdreams.

Uma makes a face at the low blow, and he laughs, finally sauntering closer; he still keeps his hand behind his back. Thus, he touches her waist with his hook – very carefully so – which she doesn’t mind in the slightest. She pulls him a bit closer, which is only partly an attempt to discover what he’s hiding.

„So, this surprise that you’ve been talking about, Hook,“ she says, „Is that just you showing up late? Keeping me waiting?“

He slides his hook over her body, her hip, her shoulder, her cheek, as he brags: „Why, Captain, what else could you want? I am truly the greatest gift you could ever get.“

He’s so lucky he’s pretty, and – and most definitely hiding something from her reach. Not that she’d been trying particularly hard, but you’ll have to forgive a girl for being distracted.

She pushes him away in mock-offense anyway.

„Harry Hook, you’re a narcissist!“ she exclaims, a smile tugging at her lips, as she can see his arms moving, actually his whole body–

He falls to his knees as he says: „That might be so, darling, but I brought you these.“

In front of himself, he holds a bouquet of blood-red roses, for her to take; he even wrapped a paper around the stems. Probably with a page torn from a horribly sappy poetry book, as she knows him.

She takes the flowers.

She gestures for him to get up barely a heartbeat later and he does so instantly, standing even closer to her than before. She doesn’t mind.

„Do you like them?“ he asks, so damn hopeful.

She nods, looking at the flowers still. The rich red colour and petals in curious shapes, whispering in wind that isn’t there. Only one person on the Isle has such roses.

„Are these…?“ she asks, and she doesn’t even need to finish the question for him to answer.

„Aye, from the Queen of Hearts,“ he says, „She has the best ones.“

She has, that’s true, and she’d never ever let go of them under the threat of death, nevermind the capital punishment for even breathing too hard in the direction of her gardens. Not that that would stop her first mate, not at all.

She lets out a quiet laugh. „You’re crazy, Harry Hook,“ she informs him.

„Crazy for you,“ he answers, and she doesn’t know why she’s surprised at all.

[throneofsapphics]

can I request elide x f!reader? elide is a bit drunk and, encouraged by manon, confesses her feelings towards reader?

closed doors & open bottles

Elide x f!Reader

Summary: Manon interferes, giving Elide the final push to tell you how she feels. 

Warnings: none, maybe useless sapphics? idk

A/N: i loved writing this so much, thank you for the request!

“Humans,” Manon hissed, “tell her, or I'll do it for you.” 

Elide huffed, glaring at the witch from the corner of her eyes, before brushing down her skirt. “Fine,” she said, with more confidence than she felt, and rose. 

Manon gave her a curt nod, something she interpreted as approval. But, Elide snatched the bottle of wine, pouring herself a healthy portion, before bringing it to her lips. She let the entire glass slide down her throat, warmth pooling in her stomach and chest. The back of her hand swiped away the few droplets clinging to the corners of her mouth. She ignored whatever derogatory comment about northerners Manon let out, and focused one foot in front of the other as she made her way to the door. Just a few paces shy, it flung open on its own. Revealing you. The object of her attention for the last several … well, long enough Elide didn’t want to admit it, even to herself, lest the feelings of cowardice creep back in. 

“Oh,” your cheeks flushed as you took in the room. “Sorry, I’ll come back  -” 

“Actually,” Manon cut in, stalking towards you. Elide’s eyes widened and she prayed Manon wouldn’t take the reigns for her. “Rooms all yours,” she slid past you, not without planting a hand at the small of your back, shoving you into the room before closing the door. You whirled around, staring at the door for a few long seconds. Elide took the time to take in your features, the slope of your neck, the way your hair swept around one shoulder, exposing just a hint of your back. How smooth your skin looked … maybe she’d drank a tad too much. 

You turned slowly, and Elide focused on keeping her hands from shaking. She was hyper aware of her room, of the cozy bed in the corner, the hearth roaring, the wood coffee table, worn down by years, plants growing over and around the window, and the cozy worn sofa. In all, it was a large space, but with you - everything seemed to shrink down, like the world narrowed down to both of you, like you were the only ones existing. And you, you were looking right at her, eyes meeting hers. 

“What was that about?” You asked with a nervous smile, hands wringing in front of you. At least she wasn’t the only one a bit nervous. But - you were probably nervous because the Witch Queen had shoved you in a room, closing the door behind you. 

“Manon is …” Gods, where Anneith when she needs her? “Meddling.” Elide settled on. 

You cocked your head, “meddling how?” 

“I like you,” Elide blurted out, “I really like you.” 

“Oh,” you blinked, before your mouth parted, “oh.” 

“I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t,” you cut her off, holding up one hand. “No, I .. thank you.” Thank you? What in Hellas is that supposed to mean? “I - I was trying to build up the courage to tell you, “one hand rubbed the back of your neck, “it’s why I came here.” 

A smile, a genuine and beautiful smile came from both of you. Your teeth tugged at your bottom lip and you glanced towards the bottle. “Do witches drink wine?” 

That … that was a random question. “No, not usually,” Elide answered honestly. Manon had told her they prefer blood, and she fought the shiver tempting to creep down her spine. 

“Did you need some liquid courage as well?” 

“Indeed,” she gave a small nod, smoothing her skirts again to give her hands something to do. 

You both stared at each other, as if trying to figure out who was supposed to make the next move. Anneith was still silent. 

[final-girl96]

My Boyfriend's Back Chapter Ten

Youth of America was playing over the speakers, people were standing around in the living room, kitchen, outside, or where they could. Red cups and beer bottles in their hands and all over. I sat on the counter holding the tube for the funnel while Atu poured beer down into it and Carter chugged it. Sidney and Tatum came into the kitchen with bags full of more snacks and drinks. "About time! The party started without you!" I said, jumping down off the counter and hugging Tatum. "Yeah yeah."

The three of us moved into the living room Stu close behind and we sat down on the couch. Tatum sat between Stu and Sidney and I was Stu's lap. Sidney went through the movies Randy had brought. He was getting a vote on what to put in. "Terror Train, Prom Night… Why do all these have Jamie Lee Curtis in them?" She asked. Randy kneeled down beside her, leaning on the arm of the couch. The other night flashed in my head and I looked at Stu who was already looking at me and smirked.

"She's the scream queen!" Randy said, pulling my attention back to him. "With a set of lungs like that she should be," Stu said, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. "Tits…see," Tatum said, looking at Sidney. Sidney laughed and listened to Randy talk about one of the movies. Randy had the biggest crush on her. I would prefer him over Billy.

The doorbell rang through the house and Stu lifted me off of him and set me in his spot to get up and go answer the door. He turned back and looked at Tatum. "Hey, get a couple more beers will ya?" He asked. She rolled her eyes. "I'll help you," I said. But I was being picked up and thrown over Stu's shoulder. "Stu!" He walked to the door and pulled it open. Then ran back to the living room. "You're not going to believe who's here. That lady from Top Story!" He set me down but didn't let go of me.

Dewey walked in with Gale Weathers and I looked at Sidney. Her and Tatum got up and looked at them. Tatum called Dewey off to her. Me and Sidney looked at each other umt8l he was done talking to Tatum. When he was she walked off into the kitchen and probably to the garage. Me and Sidney went up to Dewey. "Did you find our dad?" She asked. He shook his head, "not yet," he said. She sighed and walked off. "Sid!" Stu came over and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "Just give her a little. Come on."

After a while people started to leave because they wanted to get home before curfew. I stood at the door with Stu. "Tatum, come on!" I looked over to Sidney. "Have you see her?" She asked. I shook my head. "She probably left with some guy," Stu said. "Ah!" I jumped and looked over at the door to see Billy. I looked up at Stu and he shrugged. "Billy, what're you doing here?" He asked, smiling. "I was hoping yo talk to Sid," he said, looking at her.

"If Tatum sees you she'll draw blood," she said. "Okay, I think maybe you should leave," I told him. "No! It's okay. We do need to talk," Sid said. I looked at her, "are you sure?" She nodded her head. "You guys can use my parents room. To talk or whatever," Stu told them, a smirk on his face. Billy walked in and hit him beofe walking up the stairs with Sidney. Randy walked towards us as Stu was closing the door. "What's leatherface doing here?" He asked, watching Billy follow Sidney upstairs. "Now I'll never get a shot with Sid."

Stu smiled and shook his head. "As if. That's all I'm saying. As if." He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me towards the living room. I gave Randy an apologetic look and he followed after us. Halloween played on the tv and the small group of people sat around and watched. Stu had me pulled into him where he was sitting on the chair. I wasn't paying attention to the movie. I was more worried about where Tatum went and about Sidney. "What rules?" I snapped back to reality at Stu's question then looked up at Randy and sighed.

"You don't know the rules?!" He stood up. "Great. Thanks, babe." He shrugged and looked at Randy. "Have an anarism why don't you." Randy stood in front of the tv and started his whole rule bullshit. "There are certain rules that one must abide by in order to successfully survive a horror movie. For instance, number one: you can never have sex." Everyone booed and threw popcorn at him. Stu kissed my neck, "looks like we're dead, baby." I laughed and lightly hit him. "BIG NO NO!" Randy said, swatingbthe popcorn.

"Sex equals death, okay? Number two: you can never drink or do drugs." There were cheers and everyone raised their bottles. "The sin factor! It's a sin. It's an extension of number one. And number three: never, ever, ever under any circumstances say, "I'll be right back." Because you won't be back." Stu pulled out from under me and stood up, kissing my forehead and then stood by thee kitchen door. 'I'm gettin' another beer, you want one?" He asked.

"Yeah, sure," Randy told him. Stu held put his arms, "I'll be right back," he said and backed into the kitchen. "See, you push the laws and you end up dead. Okay, I'll see you in the kitchen with a knife." After he qas finished with his shit Randy sat back down and un paused the movie. Stu came back in and handed him another beer and then handed me one. About another twenty minutes and a few more people got up to leave. I was starting to fall asleep on the chair when Stu got up to see them out.

[ragingstillness]

Ok so I just finished the episodes and by a cruel twist of fate I once again have to work in the morning so here’s my quick thoughts:

Calypso’s bday was clearly a pride celebration and I love that for them

I actually picked up on it surprisingly fast, like literally when Frenchie left the galley to go prepare for the party

Izzy’s voice is of course always tops, we knew Con could sing but man he really belted it this episode

Ned Low is a dick and deserved what he got

I now stan Hellcat Maggie

Not surprised murder turns Stede on, frankly it was smtg I was always expecting

While their previous two kisses have been sweet and romantic I was happy to see one with some passion

Izzy, Jim, and Wee John in drag mean everything to me

Poor Roach, he seemed to be enjoying his torture

Wish we’d seen whatever torture there was that “turned Izzy on” lol

Can confirm, people who play violin are assholes (source: I am a violinist) /jk

Ngl the episode felt a tiny bit rushed idk if that was just me

Ricky’s a dick and his speech immediately made me think of a gay priest who is denying himself and condemning homosexuality (for which specific priest, just take your pick there are a lot of them)

As much as I like Ed trying to encourage Stede not to “kill in cold blood” I think that ship has totally sailed on both their parts. Even if you don’t claim Stede’s killing of the Badmintons as “cold blood” he did totally set that ship of French aristocrats on fire

I like that the show’s acknowledging that jumping right into sex especially after trauma is not necessarily a good idea no matter how much some part of my shipper heart is like ugh why are they fighting again let them be happy

The second episode in particular Stede spends kind of acting like a dick and knowing Djenks and his team this is on purpose but it’s still unpleasant to watch

I feel like Stede’s fallen into the trap of now that he’s back with Ed he thinks everything is going to be fine and he’s turned Ed into this idealized figure again and is ignoring the actual things that Ed says

That being said, I do agree with him that Ed is being a coward by running off to become a fisherman as if he wasn’t a bloodthirsty pirate who still hasn’t made up for his actions to the crew.

Ed becoming a fisherman is clearly a “I was happy fishing for the first time in a long time I want to hold onto that feeling” decision

Essentially both Ed and Stede are running from their faults and pasts and I think they need to talk it out

Ed seems to be trying to say to Stede that he wants to have time to love himself before falling headlong into a relationship but he missed the mark a bit

Izzy briefly plays Lucius’ role in congratulating them on sleeping together and giving Stede advise

It fits him like an over large suit but I understand they needed a character to fill that role and Lucius has his own plotline now

I do think Izzy is being remarkably calm and that might not last, he’s probably bottling it up

Has the Jim/Olu/Archie polycule expanded to include Zheng? I’m so confused by it all. I don’t disapprove in any way I just feel like some of the relationships in that square are qpps and some are romantic and I can’t really nail down which is which

Fang and Roach bonding I kind of ship them a little

The Paper-azzi hysterical

Jackie’s new outfit: yes queen

The Swede’s new look: bitchin’

I feel like most of the cast have gotten hotter over the season. Shows what a few modifications in costuming can do (note, I said in costuming not in body or face or anything I’m not shaming anyone)

At one point I straight up thought Izzy was a ghost the way he kept popping up near Stede and Ed and giving commentary, idk if that was intentional

Izzy is still dealing with his alcoholism and I’m glad they didn’t pretend that’d be solved in a few days

RIP Ed’s leathers, you were hot

I knew there was smtg up with those clocks but I thought there was some sort of secret message in them not that they’d explode. That might be just because I considered it an anachronism. The earliest I can find evidence of a time bomb with a little googling is 1776 but that may be wrong

Who was firing on the republic? Was it Ricky or did the bombs somehow set off the canons on Zheng’s ships?

Stede deserved the beat down he got he was being a misogynistic dick

Also, it’s about time Stede detached from Ed long enough to realize that he hasn’t spent enough quality time with his crew to get them to stay with him when there are other options

Not surprised Ed didn’t kill Ned Low but a little surprised Izzy didn’t, as Izzy’s canonically killed everyone Ed couldn’t

Izzy mentioning how Ed shot him when he told him he loved him and Stede responding as if he’d heard that before I would have loved to see that scene

In general these two episodes felt a little rushed but idk if I’m perceiving that correctly I’m too tired

[evita-shelby]

Devilry dancing in her blood

Or Evas adventures in the Eva-verse

For @raincoffeeandfandoms blog birthday OC celebration 🎂

Enjoy!!!!!

It is strange how she got here.

To this place she knew was her destiny and she pretended she could avoid it.

Eva was born to rule high society, marry a great rich man and ensure they could rise as high as far as Saint Peter’s Gates in her generation or the next.

She drinks the tequila quickly before she lost her nerve.

The witch still gets nervous before these events, you know.

When she was fifteen her mother introduced her to the secret passed down to them from Lydia Chapul de Aramburu who took a shot of tequila before receiving her lover at the home she rebuilt from scratch.

Eva takes one last look at the mirror and sees the nervous fifteen year old girl so hopeful in a pink ball gown that once belonged to her grandmother.

To think all the hell that broke loose when she became a woman in the eyes of society.

To think how she came to discover who she was and what she would never be during those dark years between her fifteenth birthday and her twenty-first.

That she would leave and start over in a strange country that hated her for being different and yet rise just as she her great-great-grandmother did when she chose to change her last name from Aramburu to Arambula after sending Emperor Agustín to his death.

“They are ready for you, Mrs. Shelby.” Tommy says from outside the dressing room door.

There was probably something bad about drinking so early in the morning, but she needs it.

Besides it just one measly shot.

Just to settle her nerves and keep her from being nauseous or worse throwing up on Tommy during her vows .

Could you imagine if it went viral?

Mexican heiress vomits on English groom.

No, señor, she is not letting that happen.

There can’t be anything going wrong today.

It can go to shit tomorrow, today is her fucking wedding day.

After one last look in the mirror, Eva reaches for the door.

She keeps a bottle of tequila for emergencies such as these.

The first true meeting between Wakanda and Talokan to cement their alliance.

Maybe if K’uk’ulkan had not killed Ramonda thinking they had killed her or not have Wakanda declare war in revenge, this wouldn’t be making her so nervous.

She is dressed in Talokanil regalia, the only difference is that her headdress is a replica of Montezuma’s and black as squid ink with pearls and silver white vibranium holding it together.

She wears the pearls Ch’ah Toh Almehen , or as his enemies know him, Namor, gave her that magical night they met and te pearl bracelet woven for his mother with the fibers of the plant that save him and his people.

She has been the Witch Queen of Talokan since 1920 and yet this meeting has her biting her nails from the anxiety.

When she opens the curtain door she will be where she needs to be, she tells herself after fixing the endless ropes of the most perfect pearls the God King of Talokan could find.

It is over.

The last of the Shelbys are dead or hiding and now begins their reign.

The rubies are as red as the blood on her hands and the dress as black as her soul.

The Empress has completed her transformation and tonight she comes to stand by her Emperor as they celebrate their victory.

The black velvet is fine and warm, but the chill in her bones creeps in still.

The tequila does enough to quell it, but it’s there.

Something is going to happen the moment she opens that door.

But she must open it and see what’s behind it.

“You said you only needed a minute, maga, it’s been ten.” Her husband said impatiently.

“You can’t hurry perfection, Luca.” The witch laughed despite the pit in her stomach and opened the door.

She shouldn’t have been drinking.

She is pregnant with their first and second.

Twin boys.

Perfect little boys with their father’s looks and her desire to fight for what is right.

Eva can’t wait to tell Jack.

He has been great, sure there were some close calls and she’s had to threaten his secretary, but he wouldn’t stray.

Eva won’t let him.

But he could, her magic has been acting strange since she conceived.

And some men don’t like fucking their pregnant wives and after because the body changes for the occasion.

Will he still find her desirable?

Will he stop being her devoted husband who can’t go a day without her?

There is only one way to find out.

“Next time you want to fuck with magic, Evie, count me out.” Tommy said and she laughed at his words.

Fuck?

Fuckity fuck fuck.

Fuck!

Not again.

Eva Shelby, formerly Eva Smallwood opens the door of her dressing room to step into her old house in Veracruz and sees five other Evas walk into the courtyard as confused as her.

“Did we play with magic again?” an older Eva asks her, and it takes her a moment to realize that this was the Eva she switched places with.

“Why are you old, we are the same age?” she asks herself and her lookalike scoffs.

“Forty isn’t old, Smallwood.” Eva Shelby answered.

“Neither is 129, Lady Smallwood.” The fae looking queen who isn’t a day over twenty-five says with a glare.

“What is going on?” an Eva ,with a more pronounced American accent says wearing a baby blue day dress and having the aura of twin baby boys, asks the one question she might be able to answer.

But the sixth Eva beats her to the punch.

Somehow there is a darker, bloodier aura to her. The cold of death sticking to her like perfume.

“The Multiverse has been broken."

[ovwechoes]

this might be weird but PLATONIC junker queen and hammond headcanons? based around hammond being the champion of junker town!

Junker Queen & Wrecking Ball Headcanons (Platonic) I'm happy to write these for you (personally I think Odessa's the only true friend Hammond has and like the idea of the two of them as a duo), thank you for the ask and it's under the cut - enjoy! (half are questions and half are me rambling about scenarios I see them in oops…)

What are their favourite things to do together? Hammond and Odessa definitely like to spar with inventions of Hammonds, each honing into her weaknesses. They have a placard with a scoreboard near their ring so that they can keep track of each other's victories, often using it as a way to taunt the other. If either of them are feeling especially stressed, they'll turn to each other for these sparring matches to relax or at least get their frustrations out in some way. Otherwise, I like to think that they enjoy watching horrible comedy movies with snacks scattered around them, Odessa probably drunk and Hammond working on something and using the movie as background noise. Whatever they do, you know they're going to have a blast.

What is their dynamic like? Their dynamic is definitely ‘found family’ - after what happened between Hammond and Winston, Hammond struggled with making friends or even trusting anyone to receive kindness from him. His bite was to protect him, so when he met someone with a similar bark and similar background, it warmed him to the idea of a friendship. It was hard for them both to break down their walls, with Hammond struggling more than Odessa, but it was worthwhile. Hammond and Odessa value the fact that they don't have a biological family to turn back to anymore, and those they grew up with simply aren't able to be there for them like they'd want. So, they have each other as their family, with Hammond harking on the phrase ‘the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb’ when reassuring Odessa of the value of their friendship. Their friendship bloomed from their shared experiences in life, shared values and shared humour. And if anyone tries to devalue it because Hammond is a small hamster? Expect Odessa's knife to land itself scarily close to your foot.

Who's more likely to worry about the other? Hammond, funnily enough. Odessa admires Hammond's capabilities and as much as he's a small animal, he can hold his own and has more intelligence than she's ever seen in an animal before. So, she doesn't tend to worry about Hammond as much as he does about her. Hammond does trust her abilities, but he's more so scared of losing the one person who could understand his distain for his past, and would end up alone again on a planet that doesn't welcome him if something were to happen to Odessa. He's finally let her in and became close friends with her, so he's scared of losing that and going back to square one, if he could even bring himself to. It's selfish, he would admit, but it is what it is and it doesn't mean he doesn't care about Odessa any less than he does.

You can't tell me that Hammond and Odessa don't get into petty arguments that are half joking, half serious. Hammond would get passive aggressive about Odessa forgetting to bring him something to eat after he asked her to daaaays before, and Odessa would get so frustrated that she'd start arguing with him over it. They have the most unserious insults for each other that sound too cruel to others but are perfectly funny for the two of them - like, Odessa will tell Hammond that no amount of surgery would be able to fix the gaping hole in his scull, calling him ratbag and blaming him for Brie cheese becoming endangered. Hammond will tell Odessa that she's the reason shampoo bottles have ‘DO NOT INGEST’ written on them, telling her to walk near an MRI machine and see if she's still talking then, things like that. They don't mean anything by them and know they're not being serious with each other when saying them.

Odessa definitely taught Hammond aussie slang and has grown extremely tired of him using them for everyone they meet in the completely wrong contexts. He's started coding his mech to have an Australian accent as well, so that when he uses the slang it hits harder in his mind. He'll say the most stereotypical aussie phrases as well JUST because it annoys Odessa too, for instance ‘shrimps on the barbie’. He relishes in having Odessa's life with their shared humour, and often finds himself calling her Sandra just to annoy her even more when she retorts with annoyance.

If they played the ‘bestie slang’ game on tiktok, you can best believe they know each other's perfectly. They have similar humour and have grown to speak a lot like each other with slang, so they'd enjoy playing it a lot. However, it would definitely cause a lot of arguments if Hammond got Odessa's wrong and she teased that she's going to have to make Jamison her friend now, since her's doesn't know anything about her clearly. 

[nerendus]

Datability/Fuckability of every Bloodborne boss

You know how it is....

Cleric Beast — First boss of the game and very simple. He's quite the acrobatic, and is permanently burned into my mind whenever I walk across the bridge. He has a lovely voice that he uses to scream at me from the very beginning of the game. 7/10.

Father Gascoigne — Do I really need to say anything..... Deep voice, bloody, tall, DILF, religious man. Being able to summon him in Central Yharnam and just twirl your hair at how tall he is..... Don't worry about his wife. His wife's dead. And his children need a new mom and I've already accidentally killed them, so there is absolutely nothing in the way of our fucked up bloody romance. 10/10.

Blood-starved Beast — You know..... I'll give them points for being in one of my favourite locations (the chapel, not exactly Old Yharnam), but the poison sweeping from every orifice of their body really is a major turn off. I love their mangly and skinned look, but I would rather not die while cuddling. 4/10.

Vicar Amelia — Probably the first boss to give me genuine trouble, but I'm alright with that! She was a very beautiful human woman and became an even more beautiful Borzoi woman. Even in her transformed state, she still holds firm to her values and religion, so she would never betray me just because now she's able to scream really loud. Her friends outside really don't approve of the relationship, but there's nothing more juicier than a forbidden relationship. 8/10.

Witches of Hemick — I'm not saying yes for her, she isn't really my type (her eyes are a little...too much), but the Mad Ones in the polycule are extremely lovely and I want them to hold me in their arms and protect me from all danger. 5/10.

Shadows of Yharnam — YES! MY DUDES! Seeing three robed guys slowly creep into view from the fog is already enough to make a lass swoon, but with the added Nazgul effect of them and just the overall fact that they are Pthumerian makes me so desperately be in the middle of whatever they got going on. Don't worry, the Queen will be fine on her own, she's already dead anyhow. 10/10.

Rom, the Vacuous Spider — MILF, loyal children, loyal to the cause that made her turn into a mindless cosmic spider at the bottom of the lake. Her very tiny legs are kinda silly, and I don't really have that much attraction to her, but I think we could be besties. 4/10.

Amygdala — YES! WOMAN ALIEN MOMENT! She is seven arms of beauty. There are two particular variations that I'm obsessed with: passed the Yahar'gul Chapel lamp, there's a lass that is...extremely dangerously hanging from one of the buildings, and a few of her arms are just dangling without any purpose as she just lazily looks down at us. The other one is back up the way we came, passed The Girls, and she's just clinging to the bars over this walkway, and you can get so close to her and see her heartbeat and she just stares down at you with all her tentacles and it makes my heart blush. 100/10.

Laurence, First Vicar — His human form, even though we just hear his voice, is an automatic yes, but this isn't about him, it's about his fucked up flaming transformation version. From the moment of the boss intro, it's obvious that he's just having a bad hangover, and I feel for him! I'll get a washrag and damped the flames before giving him a full bottle of Ibuprofen (I feel like he'd need all that) and taking a cuddle break with him on the altar. 8/10.

Ludwig, the Holy Blade — Honestly....his second phase is sorta attractive, but he really just gives me dad vibes instead of husband vibes. 2/10.

This is the end of Tumblr post due to photo limit, second part will be reblogged!

[downwiththeficness]

The Usurper-Chapter Thirteen

Summary: Lilah McNamara stole things for a living. It was tedious work and often dangerous, which made it just exciting enough to keep her interested. After botching a routine job, Lilah finds herself standing amid monsters. Wholly unprepared for the horror of living under Amaru’s reign, Lilah decides to use her well honed skills to thwart the queen’s plans and prevent the end of the world.

Word Count: ~ 3,700

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How did they run the wires for electricity down here? The thought sort of floats through her brain. Its there and then suddenly it dissolves, as if Lilah hadn’t thought it at all. A lot of her thoughts were like that, lately. After her destructive rampage and subsequent break down in the cave, Lilah trudged back to this room and lay down on the floor of the bathroom. At first, she just wanted the space to think, to come up with a plan to destroy Amaru. Three days later, she was doing everything in her power not to think at all.

Brasa left her alone, which was a good decision. Any time Lilah caught an errant memory centered on him, she had the urge to set fire to something. Him, probably. Would a sun god burn? Lilah didn’t know and she didn’t want to think about it. She swiped a mental hand over the question and pushed it out of her mind with the others.

Javier visited her regularly. He didn’t try to muscle his way through the locked door, but he did knock and let her know that there was a plate of food waiting for her at the threshold. Lilah never responded and she never opened the door to take the food. She didn’t want to eat anything she hadn’t made with her own two hands. Over time, the feeling of hunger overpowered her rage. Then, gradually, even that went away. Lilah wallowed in the nothing-feeling that was left behind. It was a kind of bliss to feel nothing after everything that had happened.

Javier was back. Lilah could hear him calling her name. She closed her eyes and ignored him. In a few seconds, he would go away and she could get back to wallowing.

“Lady Lilah,” he said loudly, “its time to come out now.” She set her jaw and refused to reply. “You’ve had your tantrum. Open the door. I have food for you.” A pause, “I’m not above breaking this door down.”

She continued to lay there, uncaring about Javier’s threat. He could crack the door into splinters and it wouldn’t matter. Lilah had picked a spot to lay down and she wasn’t getting up from it until she was good and damn well ready. Movement from the other side of the door reached her ears. A shuffle. A clink. The scratch of metal against metal. Lilah’s eyes opened but she didn’t have the energy to lift her head. At the very edge of her periphery, she saw the glint of the doorknob turning.

Javier strolled into the room. He was holding a tray in one hand while the other pushed what she assumed was a key into the pocket of his jacket. He was dressed casually today—no tie to match his immaculately pressed white button up and cream linen suit. He set the tray on the bathroom counter and regarded her with a frown. Lilah’s eyes met his, rolled in agitation, and closed.

“That can’t be comfortable,” he muttered while Lilah suppressed the urge to sigh. “He told me what happened. I thought you should know that it was me who encouraged him to give you his blood in that way. He was against it, at first, but I convinced him.”

Lilah didn’t think that it mattered how Brasa made the decision. What mattered was that he’d made the decision and then acted on it. There was no way of knowing how much of his blood she had in her system, or what that might mean for her. She didn’t have a clear count on the number of bottles she drank. Whenever she finished one, another seemed to magically take its place. Lilah never questioned where they came from while she was filling her glass.

“I have to say I was impressed by your reaction,” Javier continued, undaunted by her silence. “We still haven’t cleaned up the damage.”

Good, Lilah thought bitterly. She hoped it took ages to get the smell of smoke out of everything. She hoped there would always be ash in the air.

“The queen was fond of that chair,” he said lightly. “She was...unhappy that it had to be thrown out.”

At this, Lilah opened her eyes and fixed Javier with a look that conveyed how little she cared about Amaru’s feelings. She could die mad about it—Lilah actually hoped she would die mad about it, whenever death decided to come for the ageless queen. The only benefit to drinking Brasa’s blood was that Lilah might actually get to be there when it happened.

Javier moved to sit on the edge of the tub to her left, “Brasa lied, of course. If Amaru knew you were the one who set fire to it...well, you can guess what might come of that.” He took a breath, “Five of our people were killed for your anger.”

She didn’t like the idea of people taking the fall for her actions. She’d been through that before and it didn’t sit well with her then, either. Lilah allowed herself to feel bad for them. Their deaths were likely gruesome and painful—and, totally undeserved. She wished Brasa had just told Amaru the truth.

“It is a lie he would tell again, if he had to. I know you’re angry with him, but he is still protecting you.”

At this, Lilah snorted. None of this would have happened if Brasa had just been up front with her. Not that asking would have gone particularly well for them. Lilah knew she would have attempted to negotiate with him or wriggle out of agreeing to drink his blood. Brasa would likely become irritated with her and they would almost definitely end in an impasse, accomplishing nothing. Still, he should have asked.

Javier leaned his elbows on his thighs hands folded in the space between his knees, “Would you like to hear about how we passed into this dimension?” He didn’t wait for her to reply, “I was the first to notice the culebra numbers dwindle. In the beginning, it was just a small group here and there. I explained it away as one warring faction doing away with another. Soon, they were disappearing by the dozens. Then, fifty or so at a time.

“I kept close watch on the ones I thought might be leading the exodus. Not long after that, I got lucky. I was able to follow a pair of stragglers until they showed me the way to the door. After that, it was a matter of taking one of their leaders prisoner and questioning her for information.”

Here, he paused for several seconds, “I always considered culebras a lesser species. They were too driven by hunger to truly come together as a group. Those that tried to rise above their baser instincts were often culled from the flock. Violently.

“In any case, we finally learned how they got the door opened. It was a long, complicated process. Very bloody. We failed a few times before we perfected the ritual. Afterwards, it was easy to replicate the process.” Javier smiled wide, “I kept meticulous notes.”

Lilah didn’t smile back. She didn’t know why he was telling her this. It wouldn’t change her situation with Brasa and it certainly wouldn’t make her think better of Javier. If anything, it made her want to side with the culebras. Their violence was, at least, honest.

“Back then, Amaru was the reigning monarch for most of the realm. There were other generals who sat on a council, but they were largely figureheads. The real power was Amaru. She controlled every aspect of Xibalba, especially if it had to do with the culebras. I remember her fury when she realized so many had slipped her grasp. It was...incandescent. A living thing that ate at her from the inside. I think it was the rage that made her go after them, herself.

“Brasa went with her because she trusted him above all others on the council. I only went because I feared Brasa would need help once he crossed the boundary from one world to the next. Everything about this felt like a trap. In fact, it was a trap, but not one set by the culebras. Once we were through the door, it closed behind us and sealed. Amaru’s generals finally had enough of her tantrums. We have lived here ever since.”

Lilah wasn’t at all surprised that Amaru’s generals betrayed her. She’d seen what Amaru’s style of governing was like and would have done the same thing. Living under her rule sounded like a nightmare.

“I tell you this to show you that Amaru can be dealt with,” Javier said. “You’ll need to be very careful in the trap you set, but it can be done.”

“I’m not going to deal with Amaru,” Lilah groused, moved to speak by the audacity of his assumption even though she’d had the exact same thoughts not three days ago.

Javier laughed, “Of course you are. You’ve already started to plan it.”

“The fuck I have.”

There was—possibly, maybe, sort of—a plan rolling around in her head. Not that Lilah was going to act on it. The only plans she had for the foreseeable future was to lay right where she was until she rotted.

Another laugh, “What do you think all that research is for? You’re looking for a weakness.”

Lilah couldn’t help but take the bait, “Do she even have a weakness?”

“Of course she does,” he replied with frustration touching his tone. “Haven’t you been listening?”

Lilah found the energy to lift up onto her elbows and scowl at him, “How does a history lesson amount to revealing her weakness?”

Javier leaned forward and the light caught strangely in his eyes. The pupils fluttered, forming a dark, abnormal shape, “Pride, Lilah. Pride is her weakness.”

“Pride,” she deadpanned back at him. What was this? An afternoon special?

He straightened, “Yes. Pride. I’m told it is a particularly nasty sin for you humans, too.”

Lilah shrugged, “For some people.”

“Then, you should be familiar with how it can topple the powerful.”

She was familiar. Lilah had definitely seen that movie several times over. She’d also read it in the news a few times, too. Shaking her head, Lilah muttered, “I’m not plotting to take Amaru down. Not only do I not care enough to put in that kind of effort, but she’d squash me like a bug the second I did anything.”

Three days of thinking had stopped her plans cold. Lilah simply didn’t have the smarts to take down Amaru, and she certainly didn’t have the strength.

Javier cast her a sardonic look, “You set fire to her throne, Lilah. Here you are, not squashed.”

“Because Brasa lied,” she retorted angrily. “In any other case, I would already be dead.”

He would not be deterred, “Given the time to look at the situation from all angles, I’m confident you would succeed. Besides, you weren’t thinking rationally when you decided to commit your little act of arson.”

Lilah felt her eyes narrow dangerously, “You are not going to call me irrational. What I did was justified.”

Javier held up his hands, “I don’t disagree.”

She dropped back down on the floor and went back to staring at the ceiling, “Thanks for the story.”

“You need to get up, Lilah,” Javier said gently. “You need to eat and you need to plan.”

“I don’t need to do anything.”

“You do if you want to survive what is coming.”

After an absolutely giant sigh, Lilah asked, “What is coming?”

“Another endless night,” Javier replied. “Another kingdom like what we had in Xibalba.”

“I guess you’ll feel right at home, then, won’t you?”

He hissed a breath through his teeth, “It wasn’t me that brought the darkness. I was very content to live in the sunlight.”

“Then, kill her yourself,” she shot back. None of this was her fault and she wasn’t going to be a superhero. Only idiots thought they could swoop in and save the day.

“I can’t,” he asserted firmly. “I am sworn to Brasa and he is sworn to Amaru.”

“So I’ve heard,” Lilah said. “How did that happen again?”

“You know I can’t tell you.”

“Aw,” she drawled in a mocking sing-song, “I thought you were in a story telling mood.”

The movement was so fast that Lilah was standing on her feet before she even felt the way his hand caught her around the throat. Javier’s face was inches from hers and it was angry. The pupils of his eyes were blown so wide that they encompassed the white and she could see the points of his fangs peeking out from snarling lips. She held her breath—she had to hold it. Javier’s grip was tight and it partially cut off the amount of air she could draw into her lungs.

“Listen to me, you silly child,” he ground out. “There are bigger things than your ego at play. The whole of this world will be subsumed beneath the bloody fist of Amaru’s vengeance if you don’t grow up and do something about it.”

Lilah had already seen ‘Amaru’s vengeance’. A field of bodies lying prostrate and bleeding with Brasa looking over the work of his hands. Lilah had no doubt that Amaru would do anything she thought necessary to accomplish her goals. She knew that there would be nothing too horrific, nothing too heinous, for the queen.

“Why me?” Lilah wheezed.

Javier loosed her and took a step back, “Because you’re human. Well, mostly. Amaru only thinks of humans as food. She’ll never see you coming.”

Unsteady on her feet, Lilah managed to frown at him, “You’re rooting for me because she thinks I’m food?”

A nod, “She thinks you’re food. What she doesn’t know is that you managed to steal a priceless sapphire from around the neck of a diplomat’s wife. Or, that you found a clay tablet that was rumored to have been carved by Christ. Or, that you spent a year as the secretary of an art dealer just so you could get access to their private collection. You stole a lost Renoir and walked out of his home with it rolled up in your laptop case.”

Lilah’s jaw dropped, “How did you hear about the painting?”

Javier laughed, “I couldn’t be sure it was you. The man I sat next to at the bar was adamant that the thief had to be the driver. No one even suspected the blonde sitting behind the receptionist’s desk at the gallery.”

He was right. Not a single person suspected her. She made sure of it by continuing to work at the gallery for another month before submitting her notice, claiming that she wanted to travel a bit before settling into a career. Lilah got a very nice watch on her last day along with a short speech about how grateful her boss was that she’d worked there even if it was short-lived.

“So,” she said, “you’re rooting for me because I’m a good thief.”

“I’m rooting for you because you are goal-oriented. Because you are careful. Most importantly, I’m rooting for you because you are patient. The fire notwithstanding, every job I could connect to you was thoroughly planned and slow. You took your time to make sure you never got caught.”

Lilah nodded, “What’s the point of stealing something if you’re going to go to jail for it?”

“What’s the point of knowing everything there is to know about Xibalba if you’re going to ignore the fact that Amaru wants to destroy your world and replace it with hers?”

She looked away and sighed, “I can’t beat her, Javier. She’s ridiculously strong and completely insane. Its an unstoppable combination of personality traits.”

He rolled his eyes, “You don’t have to beat her. Just give her the rope she needs to hang herself.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Keep doing what you’re doing,” Javier answered confidently, “You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Lilah ran her hands down her face, trying to smooth away the feeling irritation, “I don’t want to figure it out, Javier. I want to forget Amaru even exists.”

His expression softened, “I know. I will help you as much as I am able. And, I know you’re angry with Brasa, but he is a powerful ally in this fight.”

“A lying ally,” she snipped.

Javier nodded, “True. He lied and you have every right to feel wronged by that. It was an act of fear, Lilah. He knows the world he is opening your eyes to and he knows how terrifying it is. He also knows that you will have to be strong to survive if Amaru does open the door to Xibalba.”

“Yeah, its going to be a shit show. I know it, you know it, everybody knows it. Hell on Earth, and all that. But, I won’t need strength to get through it. I’ll need people that I can fucking trust. Brasa obliterated what little trust I had in him. You did, too.”

“I’m sorry, Lilah,” he said sincerely.

“Sure.”

Javier stared at her for a second or two, then said, “Eat. Mope around, if you must.” He held up a finger, “Think, Lilah. Think and plan.”

He turned and left without waiting for her response. Lilah flipped the bird at his back while her eyes fell to the side. The tray on the counter was covered, but she could smell something spicy and delicious wafting towards her. Lilah considered leaving it outside the bedroom door as a further act of protest, but her stomach cramped with hunger.

Resigned, Lilah grabbed the tray and walked over to the bed where she perched on the mattress. The meal was still warm and gently steaming when she lifted the lid. She leaned down and inhaled, steak and vegetables gently fried in spices and a sauce that she couldn’t name. The small tortillas were soaked in the sauce, too, leaving them with a faintly orange color. Lilah ate with fervor, barely tasting what had to be a beautifully prepared dish.

Somewhere between her third and fourth taco, Lilah heard the door to Brasa’s private office open. She froze and stared at him as he appeared from the room. “Have you been in there the whole time?”

He looked down at the book in his hand, “I was reading.”

Lilah looked down at the food. She didn’t know what to say to him. Three days of hiding in the bathroom and she hadn’t come up with anything to say when she saw Brasa again. Her feelings were raw in her chest. The undercurrent of anger and resentment undeniably stilled her tongue.

Brasa stepped forward tentatively, “Are you hurt?” When Lilah squinted at him in confusion, he added, “Your shirt...did the fire burn you?”

Before ensconcing herself in the bathroom, Lilah had thrown off her burned shirt and pulled on another. The singed wad of fabric was still lying on the floor near the wardrobe. “No, I’m not hurt,” she said, eventually.

Lilah had been burned, but only a little. Lying face down on the tile helped soothe the reddened heat of her skin those first few hours. The pain faded between bouts of banging her head against the floor and berating herself. Lilah rolled over and stared at her unblemished stomach in disgust, knowing that it was the handiwork of Brasa’s blood.

“Good,” Brasa replied. He shifted the book from hand to hand, “I worried about…”

Lilah waited a moment for him to continue. When he didn’t, she sighed and set the tray on the nightstand, “We need to come to an understanding.”

“Oh?”

She debated, then dismissed, the urge to gesture for him to sit, “Javier seems to think that I’m supposed to find a way to take Amaru out.”

He looked a little bit shocked, “Does he?”

Lilah nodded, “Personally, I don’t give a shit about her. But, I also don’t want her tearing off my head or pulling my heart out of my chest.” Or destroying the Earth.

Brasa’s face hardened, “She won’t get the chance.”

“Let me finish,” she cut in, holding up her hand. “I know I can’t beat her, so I’m not going to try. All I want is to survive this incredibly fucked up situation.”

His expression softened marginally, “I will make sure that happens.”

“I’m sure you will.” There was ice in her tone and she didn’t try to hide it. “But, this thing that we’re doing? Its not going to go on like it has been. You’re not going to hide things from me and I won’t hide things from you. I need to know the truth about what I’m dealing with at all times. Is that clear?”

Brasa took a slow breath and nodded. Lilah searched his face for signs of deception and couldn’t find any. It wasn’t enough for her to decide to lower her guard, but it was a start. Javier was right. Brasa was a powerful ally, but they had to be playing on the same team. Lilah couldn’t made good decisions if she was guessing every step of the way. Speaking of which…

“I need to know why you can’t hurt her.”

He flinched and Lilah knew he understood what she was getting at, “Its a long story.”

“I think I can make the time to hear it.”

Brasa looked away, “It is also an embarrassing story.”

“I accidentally caught myself on fire and had to stop, drop, and roll into a stream a few days ago,” Lilah said. “I think I can handle some embarrassment.”

“Its not you handling it that I am worried about,” he replied around an airy laugh.

“Call it an olive branch, then. An act of peacemaking.”

His eyes closed briefly before he laid the book down on the mattress and sat down opposite her, “I used to bask in the sun.”

“You told me.”

Brasa hummed lowly, “I used to bask. That was how Amaru found me. Basking in the sun as I had done since the morning I came to consciousness in Xibalba. I sometimes think it was how she trapped me.”

“She used...the sun against you?”

He thought about it, “Maybe it was the other way around. She used me against the sun.”