#aka she flies around on that thing

[manga-and-stuff]

Source: Flying Witch Furaingu Witchi ふらいんぐうぃっち

by Chihiro Ishizuka

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

God ever since reading A Gilded Cage I cant get the thought out of my head of a part 2 where Reader doesn't see Jason for a few days after the revelation. Like maybe he thinks he's being kind and giving us some time to process, maybe he's on his angst again, or maybe some outside factor has taken his attention so the only time he's able to visit is while we're asleep.

And the whole night of the reveal feels like a fever dream when we wake up but there's a blanket draped over us and a fuzzy little kitten purring up a storm on our chest (in my heart his name is Bean (short for Toebean)), so we're at least kind of sure it happened. But as the time passes with no sign of Jason our certainty begins to wane and until we finally get fed up and write on the notepad the first thing we've asked for since that night: "You."

Or something like that idek okay I've been over here clawing at my walls frothing at the mouth I never really even liked ak!Jason before reading your stuff and now I'm feral for him and its all your fault and I'm not even mad about it

A Glimmering Collar

AKA Part Two of this series. Ahh, nonnie, you literally cooked with this. I love when my fics inspire people enough to keep thinking on them! Seriously, ty for dropping these ideas in my inbox cause I had nothing going on in my brain for a part two initially. Hope you enjoy!

~2.6k words

You wake up to something tickling your nose. Your body feels heavy, your mind even more so. Nothing in you is ready to open your eyes, to face the fact that last night could all have been a dream. That he isn't– that was just a dream.

Something soft flicks your nose again, and you force your eyes open. You blink hard once. Then twice. It's a kitten. It's tiny, and it's sitting by your face. Every few seconds, its tail sways and brushes your nose.

Oh. You sit up slowly, trying not to frighten the small thing. It looks at you contently over its shoulder and meows. The kitten stretches as you stare at it, then plops itself directly on the blanket resting over your lap.

Huh. There's a blanket you definitely don't remember grabbing sprawled over your legs. You carefully reach down to pet the kitten's head. Your heart melts a little when it nuzzles your fingers and purrs.

You look around the room slowly. Nothing else looks different. The notepad is still in place, but the kitten and blanket all point to one thing. Last night was real. Jason is alive. Jason is the Arkham Knight.

You're trying to wrap your brain around that when the door flies open, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

"Good morning!!" A flurry of voice call from the doorway. Your eyes widen as three brightly dressed people strut their way into your apartment, "Are you ready for your shopping trip, hun?"

"My– excuse me?" You stumble out, tucking the kitten to your chest as you stand.

They giggle, and one of them steps forward, "Your shopping trip, sweetie! And spa day, of course. Oh, ha, we haven't even been introduced, have we? I'm Krystal with a K, she's Destini with an i and he's Robbi also with an i."

Robbi huffs and walks up to you to pet your kitten, "Why can't you ever introduce Destini second? She can be Destini also with an i, ya know."

The other girl walks up to you as well and picks affectionately at your clothes, "Because it's alphabetical that way, Robbi. Now you better go get dressed, we have brunch reservations and mimosa plans!"

"I– sorry? What?" You ask, eyes darting between the three of them. Whatever this is, you can't keep up. You've barely processed Jason kidnapped you, and now you're supposed to go get a massage and drinks?

"The boss wants you to go out," a flat voice cuts in. You're the only one that stiffens at the sight of two large men stepping through the door.

Krystal speaks up, "We're here to make sure you have a good time! And Mack and John are here to keep us safe!"

"Mack and John," You echo weakly.

"Your body guards, silly," Destini chirps, ushering you to your room. She plucks the kitten from your hands, "Now get dressed! Wear something nice!"

You stare at the door as she shuts it. What just happened? You hear them chattering happily in the kitchen, idly talking about pregaming your shopping trip.

Your whole mind is a mess, and you sluggishly get ready, thoughts whirling. You've barely talked to soul since you were kidnapped, and now you have five new names to remember, a kitten, and a day out.

You're not exactly sure if you should be unsettled or grateful at how quickly Jason worked to get you what you asked for. By the time you've opened your bedroom door, Krystal, Destini and Robbi are passing around a flask, and playfully trying to get your 'bodyguards' to drink it.

You wonder what they must think of all this. Who they think you are. You're struck with the realization that Jason must be paying them to entertain you today.

You don't get to linger on the thought before Robbi hooked his arm with yours, dragging you towards the door, "Let's gooo, the brunch place we're going to does the best pineapple mimosas. Or cherry, if that's your thing."

"Wait," Mack– or John, you're not exactly sure which one is which– stops you, "Boss wants you to wear this."

The girls and Robbi coo in awe when Mack opens a box, revealing a glittery, jaw-dropping choker. You waver at the sight of it. It's not that it doesn't match what you're wearing. You'd dressed up like Destini suggested, but it feels like some kind of trap.

You reluctantly pick up the necklace, eyeing how it catches the light, "Is it– are sure it's safe to wear this out?" Safety isn't really what you're concerned about at the moment.

You're more worried about the crushing weight that this means more than you understand.

John nods once, "There won't be any problems."

Krystal happily plucks the necklace from your fingers, and before you have time to argue, she drapes the necklace around your throat. "It's beautiful, hun. Just like you. Let's go get you something to eat," her voice is soft, measured, and full of so much understanding it makes you want to cry.

You don't know much they know, but when she hooks her arm with yours to guide you out the door, you have a feeling there's more awareness than their bubbly attitudes let on.

The day ends up being wonderful. Being around people, out under the sun (the sun Gotham does get), was rejuvenating. You had fun, joked, smiled, and for a day, it was almost like you didn't have a prison cell to go back to.

The food was delicious, the spa relaxing, and you didn't have to carry back a single bag. Krystal had flashed a black card at every payment, every place ever could want to shop at, reassuring you it's all been taken care of.

But the time you've collapsed on the couch, exhausted but content, the uneasy feelings from this morning are gone.

You settle on the cushions to wait for Jason. To thank him for listening or to yell at him for still keeping you here, you're not exactly sure yet.

But he doesn't come, you fall asleep in your expensive necklace and pretty clothes with one hand petting your kitten. He doesn't come the next day either, at least not while you're awake, but Krystal, Destini, and Robbi do.

Your friends, the people being paid to entertain you are nice, perfect even. They're exactly what you would have asked for.

Your kitten is perfect too, it cuddles with you at night and nuzzles under your chin after you're left alone, when the unease finds its way back to you.

It's been days since you've seen him. It's starting to feel like a lifetime. You know he comes back after you fall asleep, he moves things. You think it's his way of showing that he listened, that he came back because you asked.

The notepad, the one you haven't written on since that night, shifts closer to you on the glass table if you sleep on the couch.

The glimmering choker gets pulled out of the drawer every time you try to put it away. Your kitten has a growing collection of toys and things to climb on.

It's obvious he's visiting, so why won't he let you see him? Day five of dancing around each other breaks you. You want to see him, want to talk to him, and understand. You want Jason.

Your hand shakes a little, when you go to write on the notepad, and when you wake up the next morning, the paper is blank again.

You wait. You wait some more. All day you wait for him. No one else comes. It's strangely quiet, with just you and your kitten. You've just about given up, collapsed in your bed, when the glowing whites of his helmet catch your attention.

You sit up quickly and throw your legs off the bed as you stare into the doorway, "You came."

"Did you mean it," he asks, any emotion he's feeling hidden by the aggravating modulator.

"Mean what," You question, standing off the bed to walk closer to him, "Will you take the mask off?"

He doesn't move for a moment, just takes in the sight of you. The silence that drags almost makes you regret the question, but he carefully pulls off his helmet, "What you wrote. That you wanted me."

"I– yeah, Jason. I haven't– it's been days since I saw you," You only notice mid sentence that his hand is reaching for your face, it makes your voice waver. "You never answered any of my questions," You finish weakly.

His hand stills and he drops it, "Questions. That's what you wanted?"

You nod a little, searching his face for any hint of what he's feeling, but he gives nothing away.

He sighs softly, and looks away, adjusting his helmet under his arm. You think he might look disappointed, "I can't give you the answers you're looking for."

"Why not," You question softly, worried to push him away.

Jason turns his focus back to you, "I just need you to stay here. Please," he sighs out your name, and his hand twitches as if to touch you, "Don't fight me on this."

"That's not fair," You mumble, "Why am I here, Jason? You know I would have listened if you came to talk to me instead of– this."

Silence falls again, and he steps past you into your room. He sets his helmet on your dresser and picks up the choker resting on the wooden surface, "I wish you would wear this. I picked it out for you."

"Jason," You start, tracking his movements.

"I know," he cuts you off, "but I told you, you don't need to understand anything." You stiffen when he steps back towards you and guides you to turn around.

The air leaves your lungs as his gloves brush over your skin. He sets the necklace around your throat, and even after it rests heavy against your skin, his touch lingers.

"You just need to stay here. It's safe. I've given you everything you've asked for, and everything you haven't," Jason says softly, stepping out from behind you. His gaze lingers on your neck for a moment, and the stifling, unexplainable feeling sets back into your gut.

Your words stick in your throat. There's a sense of danger, one that doesn't make sense. Jason wouldn't hurt you. Not the Jason you know. But is this the Jason you know? The thought makes you want to tear the choker from your skin and throw it at him.

"It feels like a collar," You say quietly, and your breath hitches when his gaze snaps go yours, "I mean, it's pretty. Really. But, it feels– like it's more," You stumble out.

He nods slowly, and he doesn't stop himself from touching you this time. His fingers trace the choker, linger over your collarbones, brush along your pulse, "Maybe it is."

You blink at him, every thought flying from your brain, "What?"

He hums softly, hooking a finger under the shiny jewels to draw you closer, "Does that scare you? Knowing that you can't leave? Knowing that no matter how pretty these are, it's just another way to keep you?"

"You wouldn't hurt me," you say instead, it sounds like you believe it, but you're not sure if you're trying to convince yourself or him.

"I don't want to," He admits, fingers leaving your throat to trail up your jaw, "but I probably could."

"I don't believe that. I remember–" He tuts, tapping your cheek. Your heart drops when you realize he's mirroring where his own brand is.

"I'm not what you remember," he says firmly, before whispering your name, "I'm not that Jason. Not really."

"Then who are you," You ask, even though you don't want to know the answer. You want to pretend he's still something you know.

His eyes dart over your face, then back down to the necklace, "I'm still Jason. But I'm also the Arkham Knight."

"What does that mean," You push, reach up to grab his wrist, demanding his attention, demanding real answers.

"It means that you stay. It means that I give you what you want. Everything and anything except leaving," he says, voice lowering to something kinder, gentler, "it'll make sense eventually. You'll be happy here. Safe."

"Will that make you happy?" You ask, fingers tightening on his wrist. Half of you wants to pull him away, stop him from tracing patterns over your cheek, but the other part of you wants to press his hand closer.

Something flicks in his eyes at your words, "Yes."

"Will it keep you safe?" You murmur, eyes locked on his.

He doesn't answer, clenching and unclenching his jaw for a moment, "Safety is an option I don't have."

"It could be, if you wanted it," You say, dropping his wrist. It must be true. Even with all the secrets he's keeping, his evasive disappearing act, he could take off the armor. Leave behind the new symbol engraved over his chest.

He laughs a little and swipes his thumb under your eye, "I'm glad that you don't understand. It's good, that they didn't twist you into something unrecognizable."

"Understand?" You prompt, unsettled by his laughter.

"That they need to pay. All of them do," he smiles a little, it's a mockery of the one you remember. Jason traces the choker one last time before stepping back.

"You're leaving," You say, not a question, a statement of fact. He's leaving, without explaining anything again.

"I am," he affirms, moving to grab his helmet.

"I want you to stay," You breathe out and he freezes in place.

He exhales softly and faces you again, "You don't know what you're asking."

"I do. I want you to stay," You repeat, reaching out to push his helmet back towards the dresser.

"And then what?" He asks lowly, a warning, "What do you expect to happen?"

It makes you waver, "I– I don't know. But it's what I want."

It's another long moment of nothing before he answers, gesturing towards the bed, "Go to sleep."

"You'll stay?"

He nods at your question, unceremoniously dragging the chair from your desk to your bedside.

"Is that going to be comfortable–" You begin, settling yourself in the bed.

"You're overthinking it," he mumbles, waving at you to lay down. You do, watching as your kitten jumps into his lap, curling up like this is something that happens all the time. (You have the feeling it is) "Have you named him," he asks quietly.

"The kitten? Mm, no. Wanted you to," You say softly, carefully not to unsettle either of them.

"I wouldn't be good at it," Jason protests, eyes flicking between you and the kitten.

"I don't mind," You murmur, "anything's better than 'kitten'."

He pauses, so quiet and still you think he won't answer, "Bean," he mumbles, reluctant as the newly appointed Bean cuddles into his armor.

You smile, "Bean's a good name."

He doesn't answer, seemingly engrossed with watching the kitten.

You take him in for another moment, memorizing his face before closing your eyes. It's not an accident that you leave your palm open and face up by the side of the bed.

There's no more pleasantries exchanged, no sweet goodnights or the gentle touches against your face you've grown used to. But just as you finally start to drift off, as darkness finally draws you to rest, a warm, rough hand weaves itself into yours and squeezes.

Part Three

[macfrog]

If you ever feel up to it - a little short story from the scom universe about reader and Joel deciding to have a second baby or finding out they're pregnant for the second time would warm my cold dead heart <3

i am. so. sorry. for the word count on this i truly do not know what happened. but i had a lot of fun with it, so. hopefully y'all do, too. happy fathers day! x

jellybean ~4k words | series masterlist warnings: pregnancy symptoms (feeling and being sick, horniness + sleepiness. aka me even when not pregnant), 99% just duckie vs her mom

Duckie spills the secret on a Friday.

The morning is lazy, slow. The breathing of the sea across a plain of beach. Your fingers sift through her hair like the breeze through sun-bleached pages. The way she and the sun tint the room peach.

Sarah sprawls out across the spot still warm on her dad’s side of the bed. She’s in a habit of waking up early to sneak through to your room, lift the bottom of the covers, and army crawl between your bodies.

Joel’s in a habit of stirring to the heat of her at his back, her tiny toes at his spine, and turning to scoop her in one arm. They sleep curled into one another, mouths catching flies.

This morning, though, she’s up to something. She brought a secret.

She’s flat-out on her stomach, pens scratching at the paper. There’s the scent of cherry and lemon and green apple tangling in the air. Taut frown on her face, tongue poked with concentration. She looks just like her dad.

She pauses and looks up at you. “What color is this part?” she asks, dabbing at the blank hubcap.

“Silver,” you reply, fixing the cap back onto the grape pen before it stains your sheets.

She huffs. “I don’t have silver, Mama.”

You tap on the page. “Daddy’s wing mirrors are black, but you did ‘em green. The colors don’t matter, do they?”

But it’s seven a.m., and you’re sharing only the red jellybeans for something of a pre-breakfast snack (the four-year-old’s idea), and you’re exhausted despite having slept the full night, and she keeps halting any time Joel’s humming quietens – just in case he spoils his birthday surprise.

She hunkers down with the lemon pen to nail the emblem of his truck, and you figure – color is just the least of it. Truthfully, to your kid – and so, to you, too – nothing has ever mattered more.

You cup her cheek and lift her gaze back to meet yours. “How about I grab you a glitter pen today, just for the wheels?”

She grins. Little milk teeth, gappy and gummy. Peach fuzz cheeks, sweet as the rest of her, a perfect fit in the palm of your hand.

I love you I love you you’re my whole world I love you, you want to say.

Instead: “Only if we tidy your room later. Deal?”

“Deal, Mama,” Sarah giggles, and her little ink-stained hands splay out across the page again.

She scribbles only a few more splotches of color before you both notice it.

The sudden silence.

The water’s stopped running. The shower screen rattles as he pulls it back. Dripdripdrip from the showerhead straight down to the empty basin.

Sarah twists to watch Joel’s disembodied arm blindly grab for a towel folded on the sink. It whips off out of sight, and he calls through from the bathroom.

“Duckie? You still there?”

“Gogogo,” you whisper, helping your daughter cover her dad’s drawing with blank sheets. “Leave the jellybeans, Duck, save yourself!”

She finds the entire thing hysterical. Swinging her masterpiece under one arm, two fistfuls of rainbow pens, springing from the mattress like it suddenly caught flame. She throws herself from the foot of the bed and dashes across the hall to her own room, candy scattering in her wake.

Joel’s head cranes around the doorframe. “Where’d she go?”

You smile, shrugging. Chewing innocently on a jellybean. “That’s funny. She was here a second ago.”

He pads over to the bed, towel slung loose around his hips. Smirks, when your hungry eyes descend his figure – the bearlike shape of him, all muscle and fur, toned where he needs it but soft where you want it.

He cages over you, dark hair dripping with the smell of citrus, skin sticky.

His lips are like velvet against yours. Tongue still singed with coffee. A low growl from his throat when you lean forward to lick into his mouth.

“Smell so goddamn good,” you murmur, dipping your head to bury into the crook of his neck.

His beard is fuzzier when it’s damp, natural masculine musk melded with the fresh soap and rich aftershave he uses. All honey and oatmeal, mixed with a woodsy scent – and fuck, it’s intoxicating. Moreso than usual – stronger and sexier.

You take his hands and lower them to your hips, letting his fingers knot around the baggy material of your – his T-shirt. Tugging on it, exposing the slip of delicate lace on your hips.

“Darlin’,” Joel warns, “we’re late. We still gotta drop Duckie off – If she walks in –”

You groan, huffing back into the mattress. The weight between your legs ripples over the horizon, pulses into weak nothing.

Joel fixes the shirt back down to your thighs just as the thunder of his daughter’s footsteps rumbles back into the room.

Tonight, he breathes, slicking some of the hair from his face.

You grin, taking his hand to pull yourself back up.

Sarah materializes in the doorway, a lingering half-girl. Smiling from behind the frame, twisting the ball of her foot into the floor.

“Hi, Duck,” Joel says, still playing with your fingers.

“Hi.”

“You look guilty.”

Her grin widens. She totters into the room, launches herself onto the bed, and nuzzles into your side. She squirms when Joel digs his fingers into her waist.

The beats of her laughter drum against your ribs, the same way her fists used to when she lived inside you.

“Alright.” You cradle her, her little head tipping back to wake the rest of Austin up with her squeals of glee. “Are we ready for some actual food, now?”

Joel chuckles, reaching for his mug.

Sarah nods from your lap. Her eyes drift down to the print on your tee. “Mama?”

“Mhm?”

“Do they like jellybeans?”

You frown. “Does who like jellybeans?”

Her finger prods lightly into your tummy. “The baby.”

Joel chokes, splattering coffee into his fist. He slams the mug down, pounds his chest clear of liquid.

“There’s no – Jesus, Joel,” you swipe mocha flecks from the sheets, “Told Sarah to be careful with her pens and then you spray coffee all over the…”

Sarah rolls off, cackling. “Silly Daddy,” she hoots, leaping on the bedroom floor.

“Hey,” you usher her over to the door, “Why don’t you go pick out what you wanna wear today? I’ll be right behind you. Quit tryna give your dad a heart attack, okay?”

“The baby, Mama,” she’s repeating, walking like a little convict. She turns over the threshold to her room like it’s a cell, her pink pajama uniform and guilty expression to go with it. Still laughing, swallowing the ticklish bursts when she notices you’re shaking your head.

“There is no baby.” You kneel before her, repeating, “No baby. Just you. How about your T-shirt with the butterflies?”

It seems to distract her enough. Thank Christ. She gasps, inspired, and twirls off to find the tee.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, pushing back to your feet.

Joel’s flapping the sheets when you slip back into your room, still clearing his throat. Half-dressed: a white T-shirt over his broad chest and a pair of black boxers. Soaked hair clinging to the back of his neck and drying in flicks across his forehead.

Jesus, you want to pull him back over you and let him have his way.

You close the door over and spin, hands on your hips. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Me?” he croaks. “Did you hear what she just said?”

“You’ve known this kid for four years, Joel, you really can’t tell when she’s fucking with you? She’s my kid, keep up.”

“Just seemed an awfully –” he thumps his chest again, “– awfully specific thing to say.”

“She’s in a phase I think,” you reply, catching the pillow he tosses across. “She’s telling stories. Last week, her pre-K teacher congratulated me our supposed wedding. Asked to see pictures of the Mickey Mouse officiant.”

“Jesus,” he grumbles. “She really bought that?”

You mimic the breezy voice: “Sarah was very convincing.”

Joel scoffs. “I don’t know if I can take a lying phase and a copying phase at the same time. Every goddamn word I say, she’s gotta repeat it.”

“She idolizes you,” you straighten the sheets, “I think it’s endearing.”

“Hm. Just wait until it’s you.”

He wanders around the bed, pulls your back against his chest. His arms cross over your tummy, lips pressing into your shoulder where his shirt has slipped.

“How much harder would two be?” he mumbles into the bare skin.

“Two Sarahs?” You scoff.

Joel laughs. “Yeah, you’re right. I forget she runs on chaos and jellybeans.”

“Yup,” you turn in his arms, linking yours behind his neck, “And there ain’t no point in talking about it anyways, because I am not fucking pregnant.”

He rolls his forehead against yours, stealing bristly kisses. “Okay.”

“I’m not, Joel.”

“I believe you, baby.”

Sarah’s bedtime is a liberal eight, eight thirty on weekends. She likes to sit up, lodged between you and Joel on the couch, and help pick the movie you two will watch once she’s in bed.

Once – and only once – Joel tried to fool her by pretending to play her choice, then switching as soon as she went down.

The kid quizzed him on the movie the next morning. He failed. She’s never forgotten.

Tonight, though, Joel’s out. Some game that you know and care too little about sports to learn the name or importance of. He’s with some buddies at the local bar, probably nursing his second beer in as many hours, and counting down the minutes until he can come home to his girls.

Sarah snores soundly, slumped at your side as though butter wouldn’t melt. The flicker from the TV across her face, the gentle mumbling of the voices onscreen. Her hands limp in her lap, fingers idling in a pink snack bowl.

You admire her, stealing a piece of her popcorn. Teeth grinding down when you remember dishing it for her earlier, hearing her curious voice ask whether or not the baby likes popcorn more than jellybeans.

Nope, you sang, tossing a handful in your mouth as you passed her the bowl. Imaginary babies don’t eat popcorn.

She snorted (which unnerved you, because what the fuck is this kid finding so funny?), and followed you to the living room so close that you could feel her toes at your heels.

Some of the kids in her class have siblings. Some older, but mostly younger. It’s the only fucking explanation, the only thing that explains this sudden interest in the real estate of your uterus.

She’s going through a phase, you tell yourself, suckling on popcorn. But then – how many fucking phases do kids go through? Which phases did you go through?

Barney & Friends. That was a fucking phase. Refusing to leave the house without the hoodie your mom bought you from the Museum of Natural History, even in the height of summer. Ketchup and broccoli, your boyfriend at seventeen, frisbeeing your neighbor’s newspaper and aiming for his flowerpots.

Phase, phase, fucking phase.

Does she know something you don’t?

…No. You took a test just last week. Shut up. Stop letting the kid into your fucking head.

Joel’s keys jangle on the other side of the door, shunting into the lock with a sound which stills your brain.

You tilt your head over the back of the couch, your man’s beard tickling your nose as he kisses you. “Evening.”

“Missed you,” he whispers against your lips. He straightens and tugs the jacket from his shoulders. “She not in bed yet?”

“She fell asleep down here,” you reply. “I got too tired to carry her up.”

He caresses your forehead, big pillowy palm. “You feelin’ okay?”

“It’s been a long day,” you grumble.

Joel smiles. He flops down onto the couch beside you, reaching over to stroke Sarah’s head.

You roll, solid as a rock, curling into his side. “She keeps saying it, Joel. She keeps fucking saying it.”

His chest jumps, tectonic plates moving with a laugh. “You’ve met your match, honey. Produced a professional little shit.”

“One of the other moms from her class is pregnant,” you mumble. “That’s gotta be it, right? That’s where she’s getting it from?”

“Maybe,” Joel muses. His fingers link with yours. “Why don’t you take a test anyways? Settle it in your mind?”

It startles you awake, even if only enough to prove the fucking point.

“No, Joel!” you hiss, body jerking. “If I take a test, and it turns out negative – which it will – she wins! My four-year-old fooled me. No,” you pluck spilled popcorn from your lap, pinging it back into the bowl, “I know this kid. I gave birth to this kid. She is not fucking winning.”

“Alright, baby,” he coos, “it’s okay. I won’t let the four-year-old fool you.”

You glower. “Thanks, asshole.”

He chuckles. “She’d make the best big sister, though. She would,” he insists, when you huff back against his chest. “She’d love being the oldest. Get to be bossy, get to call the shots. Get to protect them, no matter what.”

Your voice feels so small, as inquisitive as your daughter’s when you blink up at him. “Were you protective over Tommy?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, he was annoying as all hell – and I told him so – but anyone else had anythin’ to say about him, and – well, they had me to deal with.”

“Big scary Joel Miller,” you whisper, yawning into his shirt. “I knew him once.”

“Mhm,” he rumbles, “You sure did.”

You look up again, blinking all doe-eyed and dreamy. Already half-asleep.

“He never scared me,” you whisper.

Joel smiles.

“Well, you scared the hell outta him.”

Saturday morning, you wake to an empty bed. No snoring man, no scribbling girl. Just you – a starfish on the mattress. Bathing in waves of late-morning sun, sheets for coral, body as heavy as though you really are at the bottom of the ocean.

Her giggles carry all the way upstairs. Sarah. They surf into the room on a sunbeam, sounds like bubbles which shatter and sprinkle over your aching body.

You smile into Joel’s pillow, breathing in the smell of him, and peel your eyes open.

It’s ten thirty. Definitely – you blink three times and rub at your eyes, just to make sure. Ten thirty, and something’s swirling behind your navel. Something that sharpens, sours, when you push yourself upright.

“Oh, shit,” you rasp, and throw yourself across the room.

You barely make it, collapsing in a heap at the toilet. Your stomach empties in seconds; three heavy, painful gags and your head is in the bowl, choking on last night’s dinner.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, gasping, “Oh, Jesus.”

You’re sick. You’re just sick. Sarah probably caught something from pre-K, passed it on without even knowing. And, hey – you feel better, now that that happened.

You’re just sick. Nothing else.

“Mornin’,” Joel calls, watching as you stagger into the kitchen.

Sarah mimics his drawl. “Mornin’, Mama.”

“Hi, Duckie.” You crumple into the chair beside her, shoulders hunched. The smell of burnt toast and grape juice twists up your nose, and you suck in a slow breath.

Joel sweeps a hand over your forehead. He tips your jaw up to face him. “You alright? Thought we heard running.”

Sarah rips a slice of toast in two. She stares at the fluffy insides, the jam dripping from the tear. The sight of it lifts the hairs on your skin, the gloopy mess splattering onto her plate.

“Just feel kinda…funny,” you slur, turning away.

“Funny? Funny how?”

“Funny how?” your daughter parrots.

You shrug. Every word, every inhale makes you feel even more nauseous. “Probably just ate something.”

“Heard that one before,” Joel drones, and you throw him a flat look.

Sarah licks the jam from her fingers. She holds her tiny hands up to her dad, snorts when he pretends to bite at them.

“Eat your breakfast, Duckie,” he says then – in his Dad voice. And in something softer, kinder: “Can I make you somethin’?”

You swat the idea away, but it’s already churning in your stomach again. “Just gotta – get over whatever it – is.”

The table falls silent. Joel and Sarah stare blankly at one another. When you turn to look at your daughter, she’s staring straight back. Smirking.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you clip, wincing again at the dribbling jam.

“Alright,” Joel utters, “I think you oughta take a test now.”

“That is not what this is,” you groan, petulantly pushing up from your chair.

He takes your hand, steadying you. “No? I was thinking about it, baby, and I don’t think we’ve been safe enough to be so sure.”

You dump your golden toast in the trash and turn, crossing your arms. Your shoulders lift. “We’re not being any less safe than we have been the last four years.”

“Safe,” Sarah says, and Joel holds a finger up.

“No,” he tells her. “No. Not that word. Go back to funny.”

She beams at him. “You’re funny, Daddy.”

He sighs, pacing over. “Look,” he lowers his plate into the sink, “I’ll take Duckie to the park. Let you rest up, give you a quiet house for the morning. But darlin’, if you’re not better by tonight, you’re takin’ a test.”

You grimace. “But she –”

“I know –” he grits his teeth, “– I know you don’t want her to be right. But I want you to be okay, more ‘n I want to prove my child wrong. Like it or not, you’re taking a damn test.”

Your eyes flit across to the kid swinging her legs in her chair, the splotch of jam down her Peppa Pig T-shirt. Your greatest accomplishment and your biggest challenge, wrapped up into a hundred-centimeter, jellybean-fueled monster.

Her cheeks lift, jam-covered and smug.

“Funny,” Sarah says, nodding.

The afternoon strings the sun high in the sky.

You’ve been home alone for the better part of an hour, busying yourself by cleaning to take your mind off the nausea tugging at your esophagus. Making and remaking beds, folding laundry until your fingers cramp.

Sarah’s room has never been tidier. Joel’s workshop has never seen so little dust. And you have never been more determined to prove your four-year-old wrong.

You’re lingering in the bathroom, the window gaping. Sucking in breath after breath of fresh air – which only serves to tickle the acid burning its way up your throat, entice it further.

You’re emptying the cabinets, reorganizing them into some senseless order. Playing Tetris with boxes of Band-Aids, slotting in tubes of toothpaste. You blindly reach behind your hip for the next box – a nearly empty thing which rattles when you lift it, jitters as though nervous.

You glance down.

“Fuck off,” you hiss, throwing it on the shelf beside some tampons.

It stares back at you, as blinding as the sun. The two display window examples, pregnant and not pregnant, like a wink peering out from the dull cabinet.

Your gums taste of bitter bile, rancid. Teeth furry and aching. Your entire body aches – though nothing quite so bad as the space below your ribs, still tender from all your retching.

Slowly, your hands slip down your front to cup your lower tummy. Rounder than before, suppler – bloated, even.

“’s from all the throwing up,” you tell nobody in particular. Maybe yourself. There’s a desperate edge to your voice, almost a plea.

But then – a plea to who? For what? There was nothing you loved more than carrying Sarah for nine months. Duck. Start saying duck. Baby Duck.

You were never on your own. She was right there. Someone to talk to, someone to complain to. Someone to weep to, in the quietest lulls of night.

Her language came to you as easily as your own. All her kicks and punches, her fucking acrobatics while you tried to sleep. It was love, in its most chaotic form.

And you loved her, the very moment you saw those two lines. The very moment you realized she’d been in there the whole time.

You realize now, squatted on your bathroom floor, that it feels the exact same. A warmth, radiating from your very core, if only you’d pay it enough attention to feel it.

Like there’s someone there. Right there.

“If you’re fucking with me,” you warn your stomach, reaching for the single test, “I will lose my shit.”

Love, in its most chaotic form bursts through your bedroom door no less than half an hour later.

“Hi, Mama!” Sarah sings, tearing through the room with her hands behind her back. Her knees bump against the side of your bed, the air about her summer-warm and pollen-sweet.

“Hi, little Duck,” you mumble, voice swollen. You wipe sleep from your eyes, asking, “How was the park?”

She answers with a wide grin on her face, whipping out a small, shabby bunch of flowers. Dandelions and daisies tangled around one another, loose petals scattering over your bedsheets.

“Oh, baby,” you push yourself up, ignoring the sickly weight in your stomach, “Are these for me?”

She nods. She dusts her hands free of grass when you take the bouquet. And then, as you smell them and hum with delight, she turns.

First, over to the dresser. She stares at her reflection, pokes at some of the makeup on the table. Then over to the window – where her breath fogs the glass. You hear the whack of Joel’s tailgate closing, and she tracks him into the house, before examining the windowsill.

You watch nervously as she drifts back over to the bed, a curious hop to her movements. Inspecting, like she knows there’s something waiting to be found. Someone.

“Did you have fun with Daddy?” you ask.

“Yep,” her small voice says, distant and distracted. She disappears into the dim bathroom.

You slump back down on the mattress, dropping the flowers in a clump on your bedside table. “I don’t even know when I fell asleep, baby girl,” you say through a yawn.

Sarah doesn’t reply.

“Duckie?”

“What’s this?”

You lift your head. “What’s wh…Oh, n-no, Duckie, wait –”

She flees past you, one fist raised and wielding the pregnancy test.

“Sarah! Jesus, fuck –”

You’re chasing after her before you have a chance to consider it – nausea be damned. She’s squealing something, roaring with laughter, blitzing out into the hallway. She swivels, ladders down the stairs backwards, leaps straight into the arms of –

“Christ, Sarah –”

Joel stumbles backwards with the force she throws at him. She’s safe in his arms by the time you reach the top of the stairs, waving the stupid stick around his head like it’s a magic wand.

“Daddy!” Sarah cries.

He glances up to you: hunched over the top step, panting, clutching your stomach. He pinches the test from her grasp. “What do we got here, baby duck?”

She kicks her feet. She has no fucking idea what they have, but she knows you didn’t want her near it – and if you know your kid, you know that’s all the catalyst she needed to fucking take it.

You slowly make your way down towards them, smirk growing the nearer you draw.

Joel glances down to the test. The creases by his eyes deepen. He hugs Sarah closer.

“Two...two means...pregnant, right?” he asks.

You sigh, nodding. “Mhm.”

His head lifts.

He breaks, the second he sees your expression. Eyes glassy, tears spilling onto your cheeks. The same smile you wore that June morning: sleep-deprived and shellshocked, a love pumping through your veins so strong that you thought you might burst with it.

Joel reaches for your hand, reels you in against his body.

“Shit,” he laughs, holding the test up.

Your shaking hands take it from him – though you already knew what it says. You were dreaming of it all when Sarah broke into your room.

Dreaming of linked hands and echoed giggles; of bunkbeds and matching surnames, of all four seats in the truck filled and all four chambers of your heart spoken for.

Dreaming of one on each hip, one in each hand. Dreaming of them tag teaming Joel, of the word kids slung with his southern twang. My kids, the kids, our kids. All ours.

Dreaming of two Sarahs, goddamn it. Because nothing ever completed your life as effortlessly as one Sarah, and – hell, she was born to follow in her dad’s footsteps and become the elder Miller sibling.

“Shit,” you agree, turning to sob into Joel’s chest.

“Duckie,” Joel says, voice hoarse and choked by tears, “You’re gonna be a big sister.”

She giggles, tracing the damp lines down your cheeks. As she reaches your jaw, the elation on her face slowly dwindles into something of a frown.

Your lips part to repeat it – a big sister, Duck – when her tiny voice steals the air from your lungs.

“Shit!”

[muwapsturniolo]

✯FreshLove for the fit PT4 ✯

pt1 pt2 pt3 mww1 mww2 mww3 mww4

summary: Chris joins his girlfriend while streaming.

warnings: NSFW CONTENT. making out, fingering, pussy slapping, facial slapping, oral (m receiving), sex. dom! Chris, vibrator, live streaming. if I forgot anything let me know.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

Chris grunts as Y/n tries to get off his lap, using his hands to keep her in place. The two were in her living room on the couch, making out for what felt like hours. They have been dating for a few months now, keeping their relationship a secret from socials and certain friends.

"Chris, I told you I can't be with you all day, I have to work."

Work, aka streaming.

Chris isn't oblivious to her line of work, that's how they met and started dating. He didn't care about it, in fact he loved it. He would occasionally watch her streams, getting off to her moans and the way her body moved.

"Go do your stream then, I'll wait right here."

Y/n huffs at his stubbornness. She wasn't embarrassed or ashamed of her job, she loved it, but she was all about respect. She didn't want to make Chris uncomfortable in any way shape or form. She raised her prices for personal sessions, she only streamed at night, and she made it clear to Chris to tell her if he started getting uncomfortable.

"Chris... I'm not leaving you in my living room while I stream." He shrugs and starts rubbing small circles on her hips, looking over her body. She was wearing one of his shirts that she cropped herself, underboob showing. She had on the tiniest pair of shorts, the orange material leaving little to imagine.

"Well I want to spend time with you, I have the next two days free and I told you I was spending them with you." He begins to kiss along her neck, her hair tickling his face slightly. She cranes her head to the side, giving him more space to leave the incoming hickies.

She doesn't want this to stop, if she could ditch this stream, she would in a heartbeat, but she knew she needed to do her job. Suddenly, an idea, a bold one, pops into her head.

"You wanna watch?"

Chris stops kissing at her neck, pulling away to get a good look at her. "What do you mean? like on my phone?"

She moves off his lap, walking towards the stairs. "No, I mean in person."

"You'll let me?'' She notices the glimmer in his eye and says nothing, ascending up the stairs. Chris flies off the couch, racing up the stairs to reach her. She's standing in front of a door Chris has eyed multiple times.

Every time he came over, the door was locked, the key never to be found. She unlocks the door and walks inside, Chris following close behind her.

He recognizes the room immediately, it's her streaming room. his heart begins to race as he looks around.

Y/n moves around the room, getting everything set up for the long stream ahead of her. After a few minutes, she walks over to Chris and pushes him down in a chair that's out of view from the camera. "Sit here and don't move. Don't even make a noise," she demands. Chris smirks, sinking down further into the chair, "Yes ma'am." She rolls her eyes and walks over to the bed, yelping when Chris lands a firm smack on her ass. She turns and gives him a dirty look which he just smiles at. She huffs and hops into the endless amounts of pillows.

She grabs the sparkly keyboard and taps away, loading up the stream. He watches as the monitor lights up and comments roll in.

"Hi everyone," he notices her voice is softer, much like the first time they talked. Her eyes scan the monitor, soft giggles escaping her mouth. "The hickies?" She eyes Chris before looking back at the camera.

"I have a special guest with me today, he won't be participating but he's watching." She pushes the keyboard away and swaps it out for a pillow, purposely hugging it close so her boobs are pushed up.

The stream continues, her chatting with the viewers about random things, talking about her day, etc. "You want me to take my shirt off?" she hums and begins to fiddle with the orange Freshlove shirt. "You guys know the rules"

Like clockwork, her phone blows up with multiple payment notifications. Chris is shocked seeing the payments roll in, he knew she got paid, but not this much.

She lets go of the pillow and slowly takes her shirt off, her boobs rippling slightly. Chris sucks in a sharp breath, adjusting his hips.

Chris is hard, painfully hard.

His girlfriend is sitting a few feet away from him, naked, and teasing both him and the audience, yet he can't do anything about it. Every once in a while she would tweak her nipples, talk about a new vibrator she bought, and even going as far as opening her legs slightly, showing the slick covering her folds, all while eyeing Chris deviously.

This was torture.

"I want to play now, you guys are no fun." She bats her lashes, pouting at the camera. She suddenly grabs a vibrator from the side of the bed and smiles. She turns it on and trails it over her body, teasing herself and the stream. She eyes Chris once again before turning back to the screen, "I think I'm going to be nice today."

She leans back, propping her legs up and showing off her glistening cunt. She puts the vibrator on her clit and immediately throws her head back in relief. She had a bunch of pent-up tension from her and Chris previously making out, and now it's being handled.

He sucks in a sharp breath as he watches her play with herself. Of course he's seen her masturbate through a phone, but seeing it in person is a different type of feeling. His hand slips into his sweats, stroking his aching member in an attempt to relieve the pain. He bites his lip, suppressing the groan wanting to spill out of his mouth, his hand moving faster.

His dick is throbbing at this point, leaking precum and pulsing under his touch. he watches with hungry eyes as his girl shows off in front of the camera.

"Mmf fuck!" She moans throwing her head back and grinding against the vibrator.

He can't handle it.

"fuck it"

He jumps up and rushes over to the bed, wrapping his hand around her throat and yanking her into a lustful kiss. She's in shock but doesn't fight it, both of them forgetting they are on a live stream. "You're working me baby, having me sit there and watch you play with yourself like a little whore." He growls as he pulls away from her. He removes his hand from her neck and grabs ahold of her hair, slapping her firmly. She whimpers but doesn't back out, "You gonna make it up to me?" She nods eagerly, always excited to please him. He grins at her, shoving her face in his crotch, "Go ahead ma, make it up to me."

Her hands move quickly, pulling his sweats and boxers down. His dick springs up, slapping his stomach, aching to be engulfed in her warm mouth. She grabs it by the base, slowly stroking it as she rubs the tip against her puckered lips. His precum glossing the soft pillows.

Chris yanks her hair harder than the first time, slapping her once again and starting to brutally fuck her mouth., "Stop fucking playing with me." She gags and chokes around him, tears running down her face and mixing in with the spit pooling out her mouth, mixing with the spit bubbles.

The chat goes wild seeing their favorite cam girl getting throat fucked by her boyfriend. They haven't seen her collaborate with an actual guy in so long, they were feining for it. They were sending in payments like crazy, her phone constantly buzzing.

She tries to slow him down, but it's no use. He goes even harder, making it a mission to bruise her throat.

"Come on, be a good girl and take it. I know you can." He pants as he feels himself getting close. He stalls in her throat, letting out deep and raspy groans as his hot seed spills into her throat. She looks up at him through salty tears, her body lurching due to her gag reflex. He pulls out of her throat, giving her no time to breathe, before he pulls her into a hungry kiss, not caring about his own cum being pushed into his mouth.

He pushes her back harshly, settling down behind her. He slaps her pussy a few times making her whimper and whine. He stops and runs his fingers through her folds, gathering her slick, "Look at you, making a mess and I haven't even fucked you yet."

He slaps her pussy once again making her close her legs, "Keep 'em fucking open. You want to show off like a whore, I'll treat you like one." He pushes her legs open, grabbing the vibrator that was discarded on the side of the bed. He turns it on and presses it on her clit, making her throw her head back onto his shoulder. He snakes his other arm around her front and sinks his fingers deep into her cunt.

Her back arches against his, her eyes fluttering shut. "You love this, don't you? You love being treated like a whore?" He grunts in her ear, his fingers moving faster.

"Answer me Ma, you like being my whore?" The lewd squelching noises and vibrations fill the room. "Fucckk! I love being you whore!" she answers, her hips chasing both the vibrations and his fingers. He hums and kisses along her neck, still driving his fingers in and out of her.

He turns the vibrator up by two settings, watching as her legs begin to shake, her toes curling.

"Oh fuck Chris!" She looks down and watches his fingers pump in and out of her, the cream pooling on the slender digits.

She feels herself getting close, dangerously close. She tries to pull it away but Chris stops her, holding her body and the vibrator in place. "Come on baby, don't be so shy. Show them what you do," he whispers in her ear, urging her to show her viewers his favorite action of hers.

She has never shown her stream that she could squirt, keeping it a secret, and now she's being forced to. He curls his fingers and that's the breaking point. She lets out a mix of a moan and a scream. Chris pulls the vibrator away, using his fingers that were once pumping in and out of her to swipe back and forth across her clit, aiding in pushing the liquid out. Her hips lift off the bed as her juices splash in front of them, landing on the pink blankets and monitor.

The chat blows up seeing her squirt for the first time, urging Chris to keep giving them a show of a lifetime.

He pulls his hand away, shoving his soaked fingers into her mouth. She gags but proceeds to lick his fingers clean, knowing their routine like the back of her hand. "good girl," he says pulling his fingers away from her mouth.

She has no time to recover due to Chris pushing her down face-first into the mattress. He lifts her waist, positioning her exactly how he wants her. Without warning, he slips inside of her. Her velvety walls suck him up just right, taking him in with no problem. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, her body jolting with each harsh thrust Chris throws at her.

She tries to pull away from him, everything becoming too intense. "Don't run from me, you know I hate it." He grabs her waist and yanks her back, going even deeper and faster. "fuck fuck fuck I ca-" she reaches back and tries to push him away, angering him even more. He grabs her arm and holds it against her back, using it as an anchor to drive his body into hers. Her body falls onto the bed, Chris now lying on top of her, plowing relentlessly. He wraps his hand around her throat, forcing her head up. He smiles seeing the tears running down her face, "Aww, is it too much for you?" He taunts as he switches his pace, opting for slow and hard thrusts that would knock the wind out of her lungs. She's unable to speak, only being able to make a noise. He wraps his arm around her neck, squeezing slightly and watching as she goes cross-eyed, drool beginning to run out of her mouth.

With the deep thrusts that were already knocking the air from her lungs, and her oxygen supply being cut off, she's over the moon. She looks into the camera, giving a wide and fucked out smile that shows she's loving every second of it.

"You can handle it, I know you can. Be a good girl and cum for me." He whispers in her ear, still pounding his hips into her. Her eyes roll back as her body convulsed under him, reaching her high once again. He groans feeling her walls clamp down on him, begging him to stay inside her. He kisses her shoulder blade as he pulls out, a popping noise being heard. He flips her onto her back, grabbing her jaw harshly, "You gonna give me one more?" The girl is so fucked out and delirious, she doesn't answer.

He gives her a swift slap to the face that makes her moan. He smirks and lets go of her jaw, pushing her legs to her chest and slipping back inside of her with ease. Her back arches off the bed, a wheezing noise being heard from her. He wastes no time and ruthlessly pounds into her, enjoying the way she mumbles incoherently.

The creamy residue sits at the base of his dick, some of it flying and landing on the back of her thighs and his abdomen from the thrusts. He could never get tired of the sight, it was something about visually seeing their pleasure that drove him to keep going.

Y/n feels like she's about to pass out. Of course she has done streams where she has gotten fucked or overstimulated herself, but not like this. She usually had time to cool down so her stamina didn't run out, but with Chris it was different, and she loved it. chris was always ready to pleasure her back to back, pushing her to her limits, and leaving her shaking, fucked out, and pleading for more.

Chris feels his second high of the night approaching. In reality, it's been there the whole time but he refused to let go until Y/n was damn near passed out underneath him. He hooks his arms under her legs, going underneath her, and lifts her off the bed, beginning to jackhammer.

She lets out a scream, this new angle making her see stars, her sobs and moans bouncing off of the room. Chris has never fucked her while standing up, hell she was never fucked in this position in general. "Almost there, just a few more," he encourages as he drops her to the bed, pushing her legs to the side of her head, his pelvis meeting hers.

Their bodies bounce up and down on the bed, his dick reaching the deepest it could go, even hitting her cervix at times. She's holding on to his back, raking her acrylic nails down the soft skin.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum!" She finally finds her voice to speak the four words. "Come on baby, I'm right there."

He rubs circles on her clit, driving her to her high. Her back arches off the bed, her body shaking as if an exorcism was being performed. Chris stalls his hips deep inside of her, painting her walls a milky white as he groans in her ear.

Y/n lays there, holding Chris with closed eyes and panting. Chris turns and looks at the monitor, reading a few comments as he comes down from his high.

"Isn't that Chris Sturniolo?"

That comment makes him freeze, his actions suddenly hitting him. He quickly stands up from the bed, pulling out of Y/n harshly. She whimpers from the sudden movement, her body sore and tired.

Chris quickly pulls on his boxers, darting toward her computer in the corner. His eyes dart across the screen, looking for the end button. He finds it and abruptly ends the stream, his heart pounding

He turns hearing Y/n whine. He walks over to her and picks her up, carrying her out of the room, and to her own bathroom.

"Let's get you cleaned up ok?" He mumbles looking down at her. She hums, allowing him to set her down on her bed.

As he runs the bathwater for Y/n, he only has one thought going through his head.

"I fucked up."

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

I'M SO SORRY THIS FIC TOOK 40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS TO BE PUT OUT😭 I JUST HAVE BAD WRITERS BLOCK WHEN IT COMES TO THIS FIC SPECIFICALLY!!! BUT THIS SERIES IS MY BABY CUZ I FEEL LIKE IT WAS THE ONE YALL ATE UP WHEN I FIRST STARTED POSTING SO I HAD TO BRING IT UP FOR THE ONE TIME!!!

THIS IS (finally) THE END OF MUWAP WEEK!!! THANK YOU FOR TUNNING IN!!! I LOVE YOU ALL!!!

XOXO, PEACHES 🍑

TAGLIST🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

@st7rnioioss @carolinalikesthings @mattslolita @suyqa @xxloveralways14 @pepsiimaxx @judespoision

@ivonchetooo1239 @imaslut4kehlani @that-general-simp @m4stermindd @itzdarling @gigisworldsstuff @adoreindie @braindead4l @pettydollie @chrissgirlsstuff @alexis007 @ratatioulle @yamamasjumpercables @luv4kozume @sturnioloslurps @kqyslyho3 @mattslolita @j3tblackt3ars @ilovestarz @lustfulslxt @soimightlikeoldmen69 @tastesousweet @slut4sebastiansallow @whicked-hazlatwhore @stasiesturn @loljackwasfat @nicksmainbitch @ninacutebee16 @mayhem-72 @sturniolosmind @breeloveschris @mattslolita @mattsivy @guccifrog @hysteria-things @cassiopeialunax @mrssturnioloo @teenagetrash00 @koris_009 @patscorner @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @nickuniversity

[quill-is-brainstorming]

I've just re-read the short lived duel that Aeneas and Achilles have in Book 20 of the Iliad and it's actually the most hilarious fucking thing.

So it starts out with Apollo disguising himself as Lycaon, one of Priam's many sons, and telling to have a go at Achilles. Keep in mind that this is post-Patroclus Achilles. Aka: berserk Achilles. Aka: so fucking mad he would fight a literal river Achilles.

Aeneas, who is capable of critical thinking, says he doubts he can actually take him on. He also references a time when he was herding cattle on Mount Ida and Achilles ambushed him, adding that the only reason he survived then was because Zeus gave him enough strength to book it (cracking up the official times that he's been saved by a god from certain death to 3, you go dude!).

However, after a bit of back and forth and a ton of hyping up on Apollo's part, Aeneas decides to try anyway.

Like, what could possibly go wrong?

Achilles notices Aeneas charging at him and he begins to taunt him. It's something among the lines of: "I'm sorry, are you, background trojan character #61, actually gonna try and beat me? And then what? Do you think that Priam will reward you in some way? Maybe making you king after him? Well it's BULLSHIT, because Priam fucked so much that your chances of succeeding him are basically 0. Ahah. Loser."

Now, you'd think that maybe Aeneas got enraged at the comment and attacked him, or maybe he even got scared and backed down, but NOPE. What does Aeneas do?

Well, first of all, he insults Achilles' insults, comparing his bickering to that of a child. Literally, "I heard third graders do better than that." And then he decides to list his and Hector's entire fucking family tree.

You know that part of the Bible that's like "this guy sired this other guy, and this other guy sired yet another guy" and so on? It's basically that.

So after he's done with all that, Aeneas states that while he'd love to have a battle of insults with Achilles, because according to him he's actually very good at insulting people (his words, not mine), they should probably throw hands now. Achilles agrees.

The duel is shortlived and Aeneas gets his ass handed to him. Badly. As expected. And he's about die when ✨️POV shift✨️ we're not on Olympus where Poseidon, Hera and Athena are watching this absolute train wreck go down.

Poseidon, pitying Aeneas, suddenly goes on a rant. It's something among the lines of: "come on guys, look at him, he's just a little guy! He literally has no stakes in this war, he doesn't deserve to die here! He even gives us lots of gifts and sacrifices, he's literally such a nice guy. How can we do this to him!?

...oh and also he's part of some prophecy, Zeus would get mad if he died."

The fact that the way it's worded makes it sound like Aeneas being part of a literal prophecy is an afterthought to him absolutely floors me, Poseidon is literally just attached to a random dude that's fighting on the opposite side to his because he thinks he's nice.

After all that Hera is pretty unimpressed and states that she really doesn't care if our man lives or dies as neither her or Athena have ever saved a Trojan from death, she however adds that Poseidon is free to do whatever he wants.

The literal moment Hera stops talking, Poseidon lunges down from Olympus and onto the battlefield to look for the two combatants. When he does, he saves Aeneas like only he can do.

You know how when Diomedes first tries to kill Aeneas, Aphrodite gently folds her hands around him to shield him? There's none of that here. Poseidon just runs up to him and literally flings the motherfucker.

It literally says that he flies "high in the air". It's like a Looney Toons sketch.

So Aeneas lands and, while he's obviously a bit dazed, Poseidon proceeds to call him a madman and essentially tells him to never do something stupid like that again and just wait until Achilles is dead, then he'll be able to murder Achaeans to his heart's content. Aeneas is fine with that.

Achilles, who just saw his opponent just get yeeted into the fucking sky, just shrugs and goes "welp, guess that guy's off limits, I'm gonna go kill someone else now I guess lol".

This entire scene is pure fucking gold and the fact that I've literally never seen anyone talk about it just breaks my heart.

[crazymadpassionatelove]

Cool Girl

Notes: None of this would be possible without my dearest darlings @ab4eva and @precious-little-scoundrel! All the hugs and kisses to you both xo

Part 2

-

Here's the thing nobody ever admits about being the other half of a celebrity: it's actually as hard or as easy as you make it. Enter hunky, gifted actor who just happens to be hung like a horse? Well, being his lady isn't hard at all. You just have to know the rules. Number one, you can't hear the noise. Not literally, you can hear it. You must strive to live in such a bubble that none of it matters though. You shop, power walk your gated community, and take cock like it's the only job you have. Truly, it is. Pleasing him is of utmost importance. Be ready to hop a plane at a moment’s notice, or even get fucked on said plane. You're so busy spending your man’s cash snapping up authentic mid-century modern homes before certain celebrities turn them into minimalist gray prisons, raising money for dogs who need prosthetics, and trying your hand at that sourdough bread craze, you really don't even have time to see the Instagram hate being spewed your way 24/7.

Number two, remaining an enigma. Selling energy drinks on social media? Having your man pay off some fast fashion brand to “partner” with you for a collection? Appearing on some campy sitcom as a guest star? Not for you, the thought of it actually makes you recoil. You're too busy doing all the little things and making his once barely furnished house a home. Homemade chocolate chip cookies with the chocolate specially flown in from Belgium on his private plane? Check! Gold vintage jewelry via that cute little flea market in Paris is clanking as you insist on being the ones to change the bedroom sheets. A housekeeper comes once a month, and even she comments coyly about your chemistry. Still, she need not see the soaked sheets from the multiple round of lovemaking the two of you do at all hours of the day and night.

Being seen on the red carpet is not your cup of tea, but it's the equivalent of attending your man's office Christmas party. So you pick out a dress, aka one of the couture houses offers to dress you, and he flies you to Paris for multiple fittings and macarons. Then there's some vintage Van Cleef jewelry that appears on the dining room table one morning, and a fresh new pair of Louboutins is the final piece to the puzzle. Then, looking very demur and shy, you appear on his arm, clinging to it actually. You'll smile at the various television hosts and press. Speak softly, and practically defer to him for all questions. He's the star, you're just a great supporting act. Then, when the night is finally done, you both breathe a sigh of relief and he thanks you for being such a good sport. How about a McDonald's drive thru run, huh? That face, oh that handsome fucking face of his that you've been dying to kiss all night. He just always knows what to say. So that's how you're papped still in your couture gown, he in a wrinkled white button down, his jacket slid around your shoulders, feeding each other French fries and chicken nuggets, splitting a milkshake. How wholesome and Americana honestly.

That night he promises to thank you again. Austin's perfect lips wrap themselves around your puffy clit as two, then three fingers curl, shove, and squelch inside you. “You were such a good girl the whole night, baby.” There's something about being called a good girl that makes you absolutely feral. He brings you to orgasm over and over, you lose count after about 7. He's just getting started though. He hasn't even slipped inside. When he does though, it's rough. The glorious slapping sounds of flesh fill the room as he brings himself to the edge over and over, denying himself a release and giving you an additional, what three or four orgasms? You've left feral behind and have crossed over into absolute animalistic filth as you bury yourself in the goose down pillows and practically shove it in your mouth howling. Letting him have his way as you throb and clench, hot and pink with almost blurred vision as he talks you through it. Peppering the conversation with lots of “that's my girl, my pretty baby cums so damn pretty”. When you think you're in need of a paramedic, he blows inside you something reminiscent of Niagara falls. He knows how much you love a vocal man. You end the night not being able to feel your limbs or do anything beyond closing your eyes with a lazy, bashful grin. He gives you one last slap to the ass then mentions as you drift off, “Could you make some of those brownies of yours for the cast and crew tomorrow?”

The third rule of being the other half to everyone's favorite blue eyed baby boy actor? Less is more. This sort of goes hand in hand with the enigma rule. Those celebrities who traipse around in loud designer clothing and accessories covered in flashy logos? That's not you or your man for that matter. Sure you have handbags that cost more than some people's cars, but they are solid authentic leather bags your guy finds you in far flung corners when he's on location. No one really notices when you're papped and printed in People Magazine. You keep your head down in aviators he takes to wearing, a nice little subtle nod. The bands you each wear on that finger are a solid Welsh gold. Whenever his slightly deranged fans see you, the one thing they can't call you is a golddigger. You drive a jeep or even that old Ford truck he restored himself, no Lamborghinis in your garage.

Part of the less is more shtick though is being able to give a cute little nod to him here and there when appropriate. When he's cast in a certain biopic that alters his career and your lives? You sit tight and let him have his moment, after all, you know all the behind the scenes work that goes into it. The blood, sweat, and tears. There are times when he takes method acting to such a level that it's almost like going to bed with another man. You can't exactly complain though. The slight drawl that appears when he says your name is something he is never able to truly shake and you're glad. When the moment is right though, you post a tongue in cheek Instagram post. Your feed is normally bogged down with pictures of the pets, your baking, and various charities you support. This time though, you post a rare photo of yourself looking like you're a certain sort of American royalty stepped from a time machine. It's a candid shot with you at his feet. Worshiping. Except now it's sort of like you worship two men. It's fairly well received, friends tell you, though there will always be hate. Remember, you can't hear the noise. You certainly can't hear the noise women old enough to be your grandmother are making as they lust over the man who's cock you gag on every night.

Those utterly delectable fingers of his snake inside you, make you hiss and come undone as that tongue in cheek sort of throw back makeup you're sporting runs down your cheeks. “Who's my pretty girl?” He teases you. A good hour later when he finally allows himself his own release he's panting your name into your ear. He settles himself in between your breasts. Didn't his agent once mention the girls on Tumblr call him baby boy? If only they could catch a glimpse of him now. Murmuring against your skin and tracing what feels like hearts on your arms. You scroll Zillow and read out the six-figure price tags on castles in Ireland. How does fucking in a dungeon sound, honey?

Rule number four? Be ready to go to bat for him at any moment, others opinions be damned. Being Austin's other half brings out a protective streak in you. A maternal bodyguard quasi agent of sorts. Always keep your eyes peeled for the photogs, especially when he's indulging in that pesky little smoking habit he doesn't exactly like to advertise. That actual management team of his isn't bad, especially once the Elvis flick is underway and you learn just exactly how bad certain managers can be. Still, nobody has his best interests at heart the way you do. Keep his favorite snacks on hand in your purse, water ready at a moment's notice. Your boy has a tendency to work himself to the bone and you certainly cannot allow him to run himself ragged. Tea with hot honey every night was a must while he immersed himself in Elvis. Be his soft place, let him cry and vent while you run your fingers through those golden locks. Take whatever you can off his plate so he can dedicate himself to his craft.

Some wonder if you've lost yourself in him and his life, but it's the exact opposite. You've found yourself. When that angel boy praises you during press tours and jokes on talk shows about you flying out in the middle of the night to see to it his shirts are starched the way he likes and he eats breakfast, well you just sit there and smile. “I couldn't be me without her.” Those words make you melt and you immediately crave the feeling of his hot cream inside you. Playing Elvis brought out a side of him that never truly leaves once filming wraps. Stressed? Tired? Enamored? Him bending you over while you're brushing your teeth becomes a common occurrence. “That's my baby – take it, take it,” you've gotta talk it all out of him sometimes and that's fine with you. You stand in the wings of the Kelly Ripa show and try in vain to hide your red face when a PA offers you a napkin. “I think you spilled something down your leg,” the young girl offers. Something spilled all right, him inside you with his hands gripping your hair just minutes before he was due on stage.

Everything is just so right, it's only natural that cool girl very quickly becomes cool wife.

-

[ew-selfish-art]

Dpxdc Au: Dani has taken up letter writing on her adventures around the world! It gives Danny something to look forward to even if he can just text or call her… wait why is she spending so much time in Gotham??

Danny was thrilled that his clone sister had taken to writing letters as part of her travels- sure he could always give her phone a ring but this was so much cuter! She always included little drawings of things she’d seen and it was obvious that she was using letter writing as a way to reflect.

Jazz had mentioned that it was probably kind of like diary writing being good self-reflection time… Danny kind of zoned out during that lecture turned instruction manual, but he’s still super excited everytime a new letter shows up! Plus it’s not like his mom or dad ever check the mailbox.

Her letter last time was all about Gotham and the creepy heroes she talked to while she was there. It had a lot of details but Danny just figured she must have thought a lot about it with her own connection to having powers and using them for good. He’s hoping that she chose to go to metropolis or even Central City next but he opens the next letter and… Gotham.

She’s still in Gotham. Apparently she really likes the creepy heroes now, and she totally saved their butts on a mission. Huh, well, okay. It’s not like Danny is going to tell her to move on, cause the city’s most famous anti-power aka anti-meta advocate is hanging out with her according to her letters… whatever. He gives her a call but she says she’s in the middle of a board game night and will call him back.

2 weeks go by and a new letter arrives- checking the postage- she’s still in Gotham!!! She’s staying with a family that she really likes and thinks Danny would like as well, they have all his favorite video games and the food doesn’t even fight back! Danny is starting to get a bit anxious but… he’s glad she’s getting some semblance of normalcy.

Next few letters are detailing her life with this family and then in the last one she calls the oldest kid “Big Brother Energy times 1,000” and it makes Danny come to a realization.

Holy shit- Dani’s been adopted!!

He immediately flies to Gotham to inspect this family and what the heck? Why are they being so nice to him?? He’s trying to interrogate them!! Dani stop helping them!! He doesn’t need to also be adopted!! Ugh!!

[wasabi-gumdrop]

thinking about modern au Kabru

ivy league college student, probably studying law and political science on a full scholarship. first time living away from Milsiril so he has to promise her, yes mom i’ll call you at least four times a week, no mom i don’t need your amex black card, yes mom the normal credit card is fine i need to learn how to budget like a Normal Person (it has a limit of $20k — that’s not normal Kabru).

Milsiril insists for a long time that she’ll just get him a house off campus so he can have his own space (aka a place she can drop by anytime and possibly live a few months out of the year just to be close to him) but Kabru puts his foot down and tells her the best way he’s gonna make friends is by living with other students (bye mom).

his floor in the coed dorms is the party floor and he always makes sure to invite everybody (his nightmare is accidentally leaving anyone out and having them think that he doesn’t like them). somehow it’s always a good time, everyone leaves with more friends than they came with, it never gets totally out of control, and plenty of girls who are interested in him (and a lot of guys too tbh) bring tons of baked treats so there’s always free food. Kabru is the RA’s favourite person to have in the building (even though Kabru himself is messy but most of the people he’s friends with are nice and clean up after themselves).

he has a porsche (Milsiril gift for his 16th bday) but he’s adamant about not driving it unless he absolutely has to (because he doesn’t wanna look like a douche). BUT he never says no when his friends ask for rides (so he ends up driving all the time anyway). he actually contemplates selling the porsche and going for a more practical car but Mickbell is like ‘dude you are not taking this away from me.’ Kabru sighs and decides to keep it because his friends (Mickbell) like being chauffeured around in a fancy convertible (Rin, Holm, and Dia don’t care, they’re just glad they don’t have to walk to the grocery store).

he’s probably on a casual texting basis with most of his professors and you know he’s going to all their office hours, grabbing beer with them just to keep chatting about life outside of school. and that’s how he winds up in some super secret faculty group chat where he’s now privy to all the college administration gossip.

Kabru is elected for student council during his freshman year and he’s probably the favourite to be sc president one day.

he doesn’t really date (gets too in his head about how he doesn’t wanna ruin any friendships) but he does hang out one on one with a lot of girls and treats them all really well. he probably goes so far out of his way to be platonic that he flies a little too close to the ‘Just Like One of the Girlies’ sun, he kinda forgets that most people interpret it as flirting coming from him. which leads to a few awkward conversations. people feeling led on, a few angry jealous boyfriends, scathing dms about him being a girl stealing homewrecker.

it’s such a nightmare for him and he needs it to end right now. so he begs Rin to ‘date’ him for a week or two and then publicly dump him just so the entire student body gets the message that he is Just A Friend.

Rin stares at him for a few seconds. then she laughs. she laughs and laughs. she laughs for a crazy long time. and then eventually she goes, ‘wow you’re an asshole, Kabru. no i won’t be your fake girlfriend. you’re gonna suffer and i’m going to enjoy it.’

and that’s when Kabru has a moment of enlightenment. ok yeah. asking for that is probably really selfish and mean. maybe he needs to think about girls’ feelings more and that’s maybe more important than his deep seated need to be liked, and when has Rin ever been wrong about anything.

he apologizes. and so begins one of the more serious talks he’s ever had with Rin about being okay with not being liked.

he thinks he can really turn over a new leaf. the whole ‘not worrying about what other people think’ thing goes pretty well — up until Kabru meets the aloof professor for his Monsters and Myths class who keeps forgetting and mispronouncing his name.

Kabru has never needed someone to like him So Bad, he needs Prof. Touden to like him as a matter of life and death, and he’s willing to look stupid for it (fails a midterm on purpose to justify begging for one on one tutoring)

[cypherscript]

Comic Con-versation

Had this little blurb idea while I was mowing at work, I seem to get these a lot while doing that...

This comes from the idea that during the episode Reign Storm, when Pariah Dark rips Amity Park from the land of the living it's not quite put back into its right dimension which ties into Reality Trip when Danny finds out there's a comic book series about him that heavily goes into his backstory to his dread. The universe? DC where Danny Phantom is essentially the same level as DC is here.

____________________________________________________

The Justice League was currently called into a meeting, not that is was a new thing for Billy aka Shazam. What WAS a new thing was that Constantine, workaphobic/smokeaholic Justice League Dark member, was the one to call in the meeting. Billy gets deposited by the zetatubes and sees some familiar faces around the table; Batman, Nightwing and Red Robin on one side while Flash and Kid Flash/Impulse sat across from them adamantly talking. Constantine stood by the projector controls with huge stacks of comics, newspapers and magazines.

One of the comics catches Billy's eye; a young man in a hazmat suit looking into a screen that loops onto him watching the screen titled Masters of All Time. He quickly flies over and snatches it from the pile, "Awesome! I didn't know we were aloud to bring comics up here. I've been meaning to catch up on this series." He kicks up his feet and starts reading.

Constantine gives a tired look at Shazam, "You mean to tell me that you know this series? I've just spent that last bloody three weeks studying this bollocks."

"Of course, who doesn't know about Danny Phantom?!"

The remaining league walks in at that point as Batman, Nightwing and Flash raise their hands. Impulse flashes over and reads them in a second.

"Dude that's so crash, these are CLASSIC~. Dad had an incomplete set that he gave me for my birthday. Oh dude! Reality Trip, I remember this one; Danny, Sam and Tucker are chased-"

"HEY! Spoilers!"

"Sorry."

"Constantine if you can just start the meeting about why we're here?"

"Right. As Shazam said; this is a comic book series about a ghost themed superhero. Sorta like Deadman but not magical." Constantine types into the console and brings up multiple pictures of Danny Phantom's scenes from the book. "The comic book series has been running for nineteen years, it's had multiple adaptations and crossovers. Thousands of roleplaying accounts across multiple social medias, millions of enjoyers of the media across the globe."

"How is this a problem for us," Aquaman asks as he flips through one of the comic books. "It's fictional."

"Yes and no." John presses a key and a real life picture of a town comes on screen."

"Holy Geez! Is that Amity Park?!" Red Robin exclaims as he takes over a personal console and makes a 3D render of the city, rotating and zooming until he finds a brick building with a heaping monstrosity of metal atop of it with a sign stating Fentonworks. "It's real..."

Batman looks at Red Robin calculatingly, "I wasn't aware you partook in that kind of media."

"It's a guilty hobby."

Constantine clears his throat, "It appears real. This city didn't exist four months ago and not just that." He pulls up an actual picture of Danny Phantom in the flesh, "This has magical bullshit written all over it and the only thing to explain it is a Tulpa. All of the evidence points to it; millions of thoughts based on one subject, it suddenly appears out of nowhere and there wasn't a blip on our systems."

"Is a tulpa that much of a problem," Wonder Woman asks as she looks over the pictures of Phantom and Amity Park."

"It can be difficult; seeing how this character's powerset changes more than Supe's does and he's just as strong. The problem is if it's NOT a tulpa and the comics are prophetic."

"Why," Batman asks straight to the point.

Constantine looks through the stacks of comics and pulls out two of them; one with a black gauntlet wearing a green skull ring taking up the front page and the other a grim scene of a large blue skin version of Danny Phantom with fire like hair standing amidst skulls and ruin buildings.

"This first one is about a King of Ghosts ripping the city from their plane of existance, he manages to defeat him in single combat and return his city to his world. Sound familiar?" John gestures at the images of Amity Park. The second is where the problem comes from; this is an evil version of the stories hero, corrupted after the lose of his family. He destroys his world with Amity Park being the only remaining city."

"Ok," Flash asks bored as he flips through the comics.

"Ok? Ok?! It's not bloody ok. It hasn't happened yet but other things have happened exactly as they did in the comics!" He pulls up videos of Danny Phantom and Danny Fenton being split apart and a satellite feed of a massive armored vehicle firing at something that can't be seen.

"The next part is Doomsday! Those two events happen directly after the city is ripped from its dimension and dropped into this one. We all die! Dark Danny comes back in time to reassure his future, we have to stop this."

The Justice league shares a look as Constantine keeps ranting about the incoming apocalypse from a comic book.

"Constantine when is the last time you had a vacation?"

[iron-strangers]

That's my girl!

aka Din watches you fight with the biggest heart eyes in the galaxy as Wildest Dreams (Taylor's Version) plays in the background (a WIP of my 3+1 fic)

gif credit @1038276637

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Length: 690+ words

Tags: Mand'alor Din Djarin, Swearing, Kid Fic

A/N: Written in Expanding Clan Mudhorn universe. Link to the series on ao3, tumblr

-

“I challenge you for the Mand’alor’s hand in marriage.”

The lively chatters around the market shifts into a quiet whispers when a challenger appears from the crowd. She has her full armor on, holding her blaster up for everyone to see. Shrugging, you took your squirming fourteen-months toddler from his birikad (baby harness) into his buir’s (father’s) arms before walking into the fight. Aranar laughs, clapping his chubby hands and pointing at you. “Bu-ee! Look, momma!”

“Yes, Ar’ika, momma’s gonna kick some s-h-e-b (ass), so we have to stand aside and let her do her thing, okay?” Din sighs, bouncing the boundless energy out of his toddler, getting a ‘Kay! and a grin from his son who’s currently munching happily on his small portion of uj cake, with that sweet tooth no one will ever doubt that he truly his momma’s son. Aranar is getting a lot of ‘copikla’ (cute) from every passer-by, enthralled by his mop of dark curly hair and his adorable toothy smile.

“I accept your challenge,” you smile, turning your saber on. The snap-hiss of lightsaber ignition rips through the air and Aranar whoops. “Bu-ee! Pu-pel!”

“Yes, good job Ar’ika! Momma’s laser sword is purple!”

“How many time should I tell you it’s called lightsaber.” Kryze sighs, holding her head in her hand. She insisted to come during their visit to the newly opened Sundari Market for this exact reason, security of the Ven’alor Mand’alor. “You married a jedi, osik (shit), you have two jet’ika.”

“Osik!” Aranar parrots, laughing without caring how his buir is going through all five stages of grief in three seconds. “Kryze! I swear to the Manda-”

Din is cut-off by the sound of lightsaber hitting beskar. You deflect blaster bolts with the force and hits the challenger on her pauldron. You swipe your saber low, aiming for her leg. She jumps and brings her other hand up, shooting grappling hooks out of her vambrace, straining you. You groan as you fight against the ropes until it budges a little, enough for you to slash it with your saber. You pull on the leftover rope, sending the challenger towards you and you punch her in the middle of the T-Visor of her helmet, sending her to the ground with a loud crack.

“That’s my girl!” Din cheers, earning snickers and adoration from the passer-by. Flustered behind his helmet, he nuzzles Aranar’s soft curls, pointing and narrating the fight to the baby. “That’s your momma, ad’ika. Isn’t she the best? Buir and momma will teach you just how to fight like that when you’re ready, ner ka’ra (my star). You’ll be unstoppable.” Din can't take his eyes off of his riduur (wife). You fight with grace, your steps calculated and you never miss your attack. Every hissing sound of lightsaber meeting beskar only adds to his love and adoration.

She shoots another round of blaster bolts and you deflect them all to the ground with the force, careful not to let stray bullets hit the crowd. You stalk over her, the tip of your saber dragging on the ground. You flick your hand and her blaster flies from her hand, crumpling in the air when you curl your hand into a fist and brings the tip of your saber up to her neck, so close to her pulse point. 

“Yield,” you command. She stutters, forfeiting the fight and scurrying back to the crowd.

“Anyone else want to challenge our clan?” Your question is met by silence and you smile, turning the saber off. Addressing the crowd to go back to their activity as the purple light disappear into the hilt of your lightsaber. 

Aranar lights up when he sees you, making a grabby hand and asking you for uppies. Smiling, you pepper the laughing boy’s cheeks with kisses and lift him up to your shoulder. Din leans his helmeted forehead to yours and leads his family away from the crowd.

“Hey, Kryze made Ar’ika swore back then.”

“By the force- Kryze!” 

Yeah, that’s my girl, Din smiles adoringly behind his helmet, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together before you can go smack some sense into Kryze.

-

[primeofprimes115]

Eyes on Him - Supergirl x Male Reader

Warnings: - Smut 💕(Flying Sex Missionary and Bareback

18+

Kara had sat by herself, not being able to keep her eyes off of the young man that had just recently appeared to join up with a few members of the Justice League on some form of mission that required his help who was someone who had dealt with these specific alien runes and magic which was called Soulfire, which can be deadly even toward Kryptonians due to their vulnerability to magic.

The young man she couldn't keep her eyes off of was Y/N, a Scholar and Magic wielder, some called him a Space Gunslinger which was what he is. He is a human from Earth, but has travelled to different Earths which was an accident at that time, confirming his theories about the Multiverse, a story for another time.

For weeks they had been working together to solve this issue, recent hostile alien activity had been making it's way toward Earth from the Moon, exactly which Y/N predicted, but how? Teleportation? Their answers would be solved upon discovering a portal on the Moon, which led to their pocket dimension.

However, she daydreamed as he kept rambling on about the magic and the runes, even speaking about his own run-ins with these aliens, a 'pain in the neck' he would call them.

Kara sighs with happiness, watching him as she began to fantasize about him, there was times where he caught Kara staring at him which he would wave a 'hello', she would always look away straight away, trying to hide her face which would be a blushing mess, she would wave back of course.

This was Supergirl, the toughest girl on Planet Earth, the Maiden of Might, the Girl of Steel. And this young man her age is the only thing right now that is weakening her, she was impressed of how a good fighter he was.

Sure she's had a few run-ins with certain individuals who she could've been with and even went on a date with Robin aka Dick Richard Grayson... Which didn't really go well, he went out as Robin for the date which Kara didn't exactly approve of. But for the first time in a while? Now at 20 years old, her heart is drawn toward him, and only him.

For you: You saw Kara as this ball of fluff, a genuine fun and caring person to be around, she's pretty protective of her friends and teammates, you saw that at that moment when one of them were injured during a fight, she went over immediately to protect him from the threat. She was a lot like her cousin in a way, protective and caring for their friends, family and compatriots. That's what you liked in her, her willpower to protect her loved ones without fear, she was smart and beautiful to you. And at times... Just the unsuspecting cute girl who stares at you without you looking, you found it amusing, adorable as well.

But she thought of you as eye candy, just someone to stare at and dream about, even if it brought up kinks of hers, kinks that would make her body squirm with excitement and pleasure, where she would moan your name during her private time away from people... She couldn't help it.

She even had that thought right now since she couldn't keep her eyes off of you, she bites her top lip as the thought kept rolling back in her head, of feeling your body on hers, her daydreams becoming more pleasuring and fantasized, the fact she wanted to feel him inside her when she flies in the sky, the thought of her being dominated by him on the bed after having sex in the sky... It turned her on at every moment when she could think.

"Well... I think it's time for me to run off into the night, since the situation has been resolved, G'night gents... And ladies" the emphasis on ladies landed on Kara's mind as he looked at her, catching her staring at him again which he smiled at her for it, even gave her a wink.

Kara immediately flushed a bright red across her cheeks and tried looking away... But she couldn't, she embarrassingly waved at him as he waved back with a smile on his face. Taking his leave out to the corridor of the Hall of Justice.

Then it hit her... He was leaving...

"HE CAN'T LEAVE YET!" Is what Kara thought in her head.

She immediately got up and zoomed off, the remaining members wondered why Kara rushed off but shrugged it off not a moment later.

Y/N kept walking down the hallway, heading for the exit. He quietly hummed a song to himself... Rock Lobster, which was annoyingly catchy tune...

"Curse that annoyingly catchy tune" he cursed at himself, seeing the exit not far now, he couldn't shake the song out of his head since he had heard it earlier. He has forgotten how annoyingly catchy songs can get, especially songs like Hollaback Girl, sure that wouldn't bother him at first... But now he hates it. It's all stuck in his head.

Suddenly... A gush of wind rushed passed him in a form or a red and blue blur with blonde/golden accents, which caught him off guard as his hand itched for his gun out of instinct.

But what came after... Was Supergirl, waiting at the door out of the Hall of Justice. Her arms crossed as she smiles at him from across the hall. He assumed that was her who zoomed past him... But for what? To talk? Or something else? But her action managed to drive away the annoying songs repeating in his head which he silently thanked her.

She watched as he slowly made his way over, she couldn't keep his eyes off of him with a hungry look behind her own thoughts, the need to have him to herself. Her kinks were overwhelming her but she held it together... Just for this moment at least.

"Going somewhere?" she asked him with a hinting smirk, she had her back leaning off against the wall behind her as he finally approached fully, smiling at her too.

"Yeah, heading out, assuming you heard me with your super hearing" he winked with a teasing smile, one where it would make her blush uncontrollably which it did.

She giggled nervously, uncrossing her arms as she begins feeling her heart pounding faster at every moment, pushing a strand of blonde hair out of the way on her face. She's only had little interaction with him outside of combat but during it is when she's a different person overall... And he knew that. It's what drew him toward her a little... Along with her cuteness when everything calms down. And no threats around them.

"Y-Yeah" she spoke after a few seconds, not even trying to hide her blush anymore.

"Haha... You seem pretty interested in me from what I've seen, Y'know? ~" he got closer to her, putting his hand on the wall beside her as he leaned in - "You had your eyes on me every moment you could, which makes me think..." he took a pause for a moment to let it sink into Kara's mind - "That you've been thinking about me" he leaned back from her ear, a teasing smirk at the corners of his mouth.

Kara was breath-taken by his words, she had a feeling he'd known but mentioning it simply made her blush more furiously, she began chuckling and playing with her hair as her dirty thoughts began running amuck in her mind.

She bit her lip in response as she smirks before licking her lips as she looks at him in the eyes - "Well... It's hard not to when you catch my attention all the time" she awkwardly spoke, she didn't exactly know what to say in particular, she felt all flustered around him, her dirty thoughts and kinks didn't help her either as she nervously chuckles... 

She really wanted to make a move on him... It was so easy, she begged herself to pull him into a fiery kiss... But she couldn't... Not yet at least... She wanted to wait it out.

Y/N began chuckling at her shy actions, he wasn't wrong about her being cute, he's heard stories about the almighty Supergirl, the toughest girl on planet Earth, he's heard about her from her cousin when he had a few run-ins with him. He found it adorable the way she was flustered around him, he knew for a fact she was when she'd look away when he noticed her staring at him.

However, he was impressed with her abilities, her courage and strength. Fair to say he thought of having Kara on his team that patrols the Galaxy and the planets, even Earth... His home as well as it's Kara's adopted world too.

He actually admires her too, she's amazing in every way he thought, thinking back to where she's saved his back a few times from unsuspecting enemies... Maybe he could use an extra pair of hands on his expeditions at one point. 

"Sorry if I'm being awkward or anything, it's just that... I've never felt this way around a boy in... Well... A while I guess" she spoke after some seconds went by, being able to look back at him again.

"No need to apologize, I do admit my... Charm can be overwhelming for some woman" he joked with a laugh afterwards, getting her to laugh with him.

The laughing dies down a few seconds later again, the two staring at each other as a smile reaches their faces.

"Y'know? You're actually pretty attractive up close ~" Y/N stutters a little, he felt his face heat up as hers did the same - "Wanna go out for dinner? I know a place down in San Francisco" he asked her which caused her to widen her eyes in shock, before the flush of red grew brighter on her face, a smile creeping up not long after.

"I... Uh, yeah... Yeah! That sounds great but... The last time I ever went on a dinner date... It didn't exactly... Go well" she looked away for a moment, scrunching her face up upon thinking back to her date with Robin at the time before giggling.

"Oh? That date? ~" he snickered - "the one with the Boy Wonder? Yeah... Heard that went horrible, but don't worry, nothing like that'll happen... We can go as civilians" he offered, which was a surprise to her... He really is willing to go out to dinner with her.

"Y-yeah! That sounds nice, however. I was thinking of... Something else to do" she hinted with a smirk, her hand drifting up his clothed body as she stares hungrily in his eyes, her slow blinking hinted toward how she was feeling.

"Oh? Well... What else would you want to do? Think it can top the dinner date?" he smirked with her as he leaned in a little, he had her at the wall still as Kara's cheeks flushed a bright red again.

She felt her body on fire at this point, his face was close to hers. Kiss him Kara! Do it! She shouted at her self in her mind.

"I know you've been thinking hard about me Supergirl, it's no wonder you've been so flustered around me" he teased her next, causing Kara to blush even harder at this point. Calling her by her Superhero name began to turn her on, she loved the fact he called her by Supergirl instead of her actual name in private.

She felt her desires kicking in, her kinks, her dirty thoughts of wanting him to herself... He drove her crazy when she thought about him, pleasuring herself to feel something... But she wanted it to feel... Breathtaking.

With the hungry look of lust in her eyes, she looked at him with a different perspective - "Well... I want you for starters" she smirked with seduction in her voice, the moment turning her on even more.

He kept his smirk as he leaned in closer to her, their lips almost touching at this point - "Ha, you flatter me. I've always wondered how Supergirl would be in bed" she was surprised he said that, he also had dirty thoughts of his own, maybe his own kinks too?

Her hungry intent went into overdrive before she closed the gap between them, firing up a fiery kiss as she felt him pin him on the wall behind her, their lips beginning to dance into each other as smacking noises sounded off from their lips.

Their tongues began to dance into each others mouths performing a French Kiss, fighting for tongue dominance, the latter being turned on further as it continued. Kara moaned into the fiery kiss she pulled him into, there was no going back. She was going to put in all her best to show her feelings toward him.

Her hands freely roamed his clothed body, slowly drifting down below his waist, she was dying to have his member inside her.

His hands however, were on her hips, holding her there as he had her pinned on the wall, it was a moment soon that he began to get turned on by the fiery kiss which the Kryptonian girl started.

"I've been in relationships before, passed many eyes... But it seems yours is what I got lost into" he pulled back slightly to breathe, speaking out with words that sounded like a confession. He had to admit that Kara's blue angelic eyes is what also interested him... She was like an angel toward him.

Supergirl smiled hard at his words, before pecking him on the lips - "I'm not going to lie, but you turn me on when I think about you" the Maiden of Might confessed, she wasn't wrong... She's pleasured herself on many occasions she could when alone. Having him on her mind was pleasant which made her wetter by the second.

"Well, my charm can do that to beautiful looking women, I'm happy you're one of those women" he flirted, causing her to smile hard as she holds his hand next after he explored enough of her model of a body.

"Ever tried the Mile High Club?" she asked him with a smirk, the question seemed to make him erect upon thinking about it.

"Ask Starfire, she'll tell you all about it, guessing that's a kink of yours too right?" he responded with a smirk also, knowing where this was going.

"Well... Let's fly" she says with lust, he leans off from her before being dragged to the doors by her leading him outside, where her hair, cape and skirt would billow softly in the calm wind.

His arms would wrap around her as she began to fly them up, up and away into the sky, her cape, skirt and hair billowing even more as she flew him up higher out of sight of anyone, above the clouds where the fun would begin.

"Think you can handle me? I am Kryptonian, don't wanna crush your pelvis or your penis for the matter" she asked him with a smirk 

Supergirl reaches down under her skirt and pulls at the under shorts she wore where it covered her clit, sliding them down as she bites her lip.

"Won't need these anymore, got plenty spare at home" she giggles excitedly, winking at him as she dropped them, the wind carelessly blowing them away as he watched it drift out of view. For some reason? He just hoped it didn't randomly land on a person's head below...

It didn't take long for her to move onto him next, slightly pulling his pants down to whip out his manhood next which she already knew was erect before she took him outside.

She smirked at this, didn't seem like she needed to lube it or anything, not with her being wet of course... She simply guided it into her as she felt the tip hovering over her clit.

"Ohhh fuck!" she moaned softly as it fully entered, she slightly squirms freely thanks to him holding onto her, he can't fly and bend the laws of gravity but she can.

He began thrusting up into her with his hips at a steady pace, slowly moving in and out of her as she moans softly when each thrust went in her.

"You're a virgin right?" he groans slightly, he should've asked earlier but he didn't. His question answered with a hum detailing a yes. He was surprised she wanted to do the Mile High Club for her first time, but... He smirked at the thought of taking her virginity... It wasn't the first time he's took a woman's virginity away.

His thrusts begin to pick up the pace a little as his cock slipped in and out more easier with Kara's pussy lubing his cock up with how wet she was.

"Oh fuck yes! Mmmm, never felt one in me before but it feels so good!" she opened her eyes before locking eye contact with his, Kara leaned back freely in the air as he leaned on top of her like he was on top of a woman in bed, only the bed is in the sky this time.

She kept herself steady within the sky, her cape and hair hanging downwards as she does. She felt his thighs hit hers gently with the slow pace he went with as he goes in for a fiery kiss, his hands freely exploring her back, feeling a little bit of her cape as well.

The both moan and groan into each others lips, feeling the sexual pleasure building up between them as he thrusts into her with more force, causing her to moan out his name with lust, he felt his cock go deeper in her once the hymen was broken a little further. Allowing him to thrust a little more deeper.

She moans his name once more as the latter begins kissing the crook of her neck, feeling his hot breath on hers. She for one hasn't felt this sexual pleasure before, she always wanted to know how it really felt.

"Mmmm Y/N" she groans softly, feeling his lips on her neck as he slowly thrusts in her, the calming winds blowing her hair and cape side to side as it blew on their semi naked bodies.

Her arms wrap around him next, kneading her nails on his back as he moves his hips to thrust into her a little more faster than before.

He stops kissing her neck and goes for her lips, beginning to make out with her to muffle her moans as he began picking up the paste with his thrusts, he wanted to give her a good time for her first sexual interaction. After all... She had Eyes on Him for the last few weeks, he had a feeling she was thinking a lot about him.

"The way she moans my name, she really is cute as fuck" Y/N talked to himself in his head, it was like he was already falling in love with the Maiden of Might, despite him having intercourse with her right now.

In the sky for that matter again, but with Supergirl this time...

He pulls back to look into her eyes, her blush grew deeper as she began to giggle in excitement, her kink becoming reality with him fucking her in the sky.

"You like that huh, don't you Supergirl?" he teased her, his free hand drifting up her suit, his hand now over the symbol she proudly wore as the Girl of Steel simply nodded and hummed a response. Her face said it all that she was enjoying this.

A moment later... He begins going faster... Faster... And more faster as her walls enclosed on his cock.

"AHH FUCK!" Kara moaned out loudly, she felt her walls closing in as she begins to wince a little as she felt her hymen fully breaking, a little blood spewing out from her clit

"You want me to slow down? ~" Y/N looks down and sees some blood, and he realized her hymen must've broke, noticing she was in a little bit of pain, Kara's kink of flying sex along with it being her first time having intercourse was a bad idea he thought, was she really that desperate to have her first intercourse in the sky? - "You're bleeding, I think we should stop for now" he said with worry on his face, he didn't think she would feel pain from this, though it is the sensitive part of her body as a woman.

"No! Keep going! I can - Ah Rao! Take it!" she growled through the little pain from her hymen breaking, opening her eyes to make eye contact with him. Giving him a drunken smile to show she's alright.

He smiled back at her before leaning back in toward her face and began thrusting at faster pace, using his hips like a jackhammer to pound thoroughly into her pussy.

"Oh fuck fuck, yes yes yes! Ahhhh-mmplhh!" her moans are softly cut off by his lips on hers, muffled as his lips dance with hers, the wind began to pick up not long after, showing that Kara was indeed flying now instead of staying stationary in the air.

Her hands claw at his back, feeling the pleasure overwhelm her once again, her vaginal walls enclose further on his cock, both fought for tongue dominance once again as she kept flying them both, wherever she's taking them.

Y/N breaks the kiss to take a little break, just to hear her moans again as he thrusts deeply in her, eventually hitting her G-spot, which made her squirm in pleasure.

"Ahhh yes! Keep at it and I'm gonna cum soon!! Don't stop any sooner!!!" she moaned out loudly, following up with a laugh of pleasure, a joy in her body to feel ready to release herself on him. Knowing her virginity is being taken away by the person she laid eyes on and daydreamed about. 

She kept her Eyes on Him, not breaking eye contact as she feels his cock inside her, he made a comment of her being tight which she simply giggled at before her moans and groans of pleasure continued, still flying backwards, not having a care in the world with her cape and hair blowing oppositely fast.

"Ohhh fuuuuck" she moans out slowly, she felt his cock beginning to twitch inside her vaginal walls... Which only meant one thing.

"Ugh, Kara... Don't think you're gonna be the only who'll cum soon!" Y/N announced the warning to her, getting ready to pull out in case of impregnating Supergirl.

"Cum in me" she growls, which raised concern to him.

"What? You sure? You could get pregnant" the young Space Gunslinger wasn't sure about the idea of releasing his seed inside her, he wasn't exactly ready to have a kid yet... More specifically... A kid with a Kryptonian? They haven't even began dating yet.

"Trust me... I know what I'm doing!" she pleaded, biting her bottom lip as he kept thrusting.  

The green light given, he thought - "Fuck it" he kept thrusting till the climax was approaching, he felt it rising in him, groaning a little. Kara's body squirmed as he kept his pace up.

"AHHHHH! I'm cumming!!" Kara felt her juices squirt out, onto his cock as he thrusted deeply into her a few more times before releasing inside her next... Both releasing at the same time almost, maintaining eye contact as their moans and groans lap over each other.

Kara's flight speed slowed down as her body finished squirming, feeling him fill her up fully finally after half a minute passed by.

The latter both chuckle at the same time before the Kryptonian pulls him into a soft kiss, smiling deeply into it.

"So... Wanna head back to mine? Seems I flown us near Metropolis accidently" Supergirl giggled, realizing where she flew herself and Y/N.

"For the night? Sure..." he agreed with the offer. But he felt he had another round in him... After all... His sex drive surely asked for another round... Perhaps Kara has another in her too - "Round two maybe?" he asked her after pulling his pants up, hiding his manhood.

"Yeah! I'd love to! ~" she seemed overjoyed by the thought, biting her bottom lip thinking about it too - "Since you're offering. I want you to dominate me"

*

"AHHH YES!!!! I'M CUMMING!!" Kara shouted at the top of her lungs, now naked on the bed as she gets railed from behind, her vaginal walls once again closing in on his cock. Y/N's thighs clapped off of her ass as the moment of climax approaches once again. They've been at it for a good 30 minutes,

Their moans lap over each other again as Y/N collapses on top of Kara from behind, she collapsed on the bed covers with a satisfactory laugh and sigh, feeling him fill her up again... Good thing she can't get pregnant due to birth control tablets that somehow works on a Kryptonian which had him confused. She didn't clarify how it works, quite possibly Kryptonian made too which would explain it.

The two finished panting as they cleaned themselves up, surprisingly he jumped into the bed with Kara as she laid her head on his chest, placing a hand on his body as he wrapped an arm around her.

"That was a lot of fun, thanks Y/N. Rao you were amazing as my first" Kara sighed with satisfaction, hugging him as she smiled brightly.

"You still owe me a date, I really do wanna take you out on one" he replied, she looked up at him with a smile upon thinking about it.

"Yeah... That would be nice..." he looked back down at her after she replied, both smiling before he kissed her softly - "And that wasn't a date? You taking my virginity away? I would've counted that as a date"

"Hmm... Not necessarily a date but... We could call it a hook-up date... Supergirl" he spoke after a few seconds of thinking, the Kryptonian had a look of confusion on her face, before giggling.

"Kara, Y/N. Supergirl is only out there when I wear the cape" her giggle continued which made him join in with her as well. Her laugh was cute, he never thought he'd fall in love harder.

"Well... Maybe I just like the name Supergirl more.. Because you are Super" he smirked as the laughter died down.

"Okay... That was bad ~" she cringed with a snicker, he rolled his eyes afterwards at her - "But thank you"

"Whatever, sounded better in my head... And you're welcome"

The two stare at each other not long after, Her Eyes on Him not going away anytime sooner before their faces drew closer. Their lips softly connecting not long after...

[1218-814]

Twst Loop Theories/Analyses … (Mostly of Leona Oji-tan's)

Savannaclaw’s the deepest and most mysterious theory I have translated tbh... 

This time it’s ALL of the people that are from the Savannaclaw Arc (Even Cheka!)

Jokes on you if you haven't dissected the op like I have. We (as players) have made a contract with Azul :3

Leona is an important person in the Loop Theory, aka Rapunzel theory. And one way is by looking at his hair.

Leona’s hair is brown, unlike Scar’s black mane. Most characters have a main villain base and other characters as a sub-base. Leona’s is Scar main and possibly Kion as a sub base. (more on that later in the bottom) But a lot of characters have more than 2 bases so what if the base is in his looks? 

Leona’s hair is brown with braids. So, in the Disney’s franchise there's only one specific person, or princess that would fit this description. Rapunzel. These two have a lot in common if you look for them.

Leona is 20. Rapunzel is 20 by the 3rd season of the TV series.

Like I said, looks Rapunzel did have brown hair as well as green eyes. When she has long hair in the tv series, she did braid her hair sometimes. But in the end she did cut her hair again, like in the end of the movie. So Leona might cut his hair in the end. (I will miss his hair)

The Fairy Gala had lilies in Leona’s SSR. In the movie, there are similar lilies when Rapunzel gets out of her tower.

And the buddies of his card are the light trio, Rook, Silver, and Kalim. All three of them have a part that is based off of the ‘good’ characters.

His tarot card is the tower; if the tarot card theory is true, then it does fit in with the description. Especially the part that Rapunzel was trapped inside a tower. In the story Leona (Rapunzel) is trapped in the tower (NRC)

Both of them also share a similar power (kind of not but). Rapunzel has a power that is called the “sun drop”- it came from the sundrop flower. The power of the “Sun Drop” can help slow down aging, heal, and as well as recover what was once lost. Leona’s power is King's Roar. His power “dries up the opponent and turns everything into sand”. (I don't fully believe it because of my last post but this is this) We are going to assume “in the end” it will become sand.

In the world of Rapunzel. There is a stone called the “Moonstone Opal”. This stone is the exact opposite of the “Sun Drop”, and it- kills and takes away life. In the 14th episode of season 2, Rapunzel finds an old scroll and chants the “Reverse Inaction”; it makes the animals decay and the people around hard to breathe. This was only the first half of the lyrics so the power of destruction was probably not complete. Half of the lyrics can kill, but unlike Leona’s power, it can’t fully destroy the shape.

Cassandra, the daughter of Gothel, did use the powers (her hair and eyes became different) and if she touched anything they would decay; like Leona’s powers of drying the things he touched after using “Kings Roar”. And in the end of season 3 Rapunzel did absorb part of the Moonstone Opal’s powers. 

So what will Leona do in the story? If you look at the prologue 0-0 in the end title you’ll notice it either

turns to sand 

or the fire went out.

In the movie of Rupunzle the antagonist, Mother Gothel (Evil Queen is the motif), and in the end, she loses the power of Rapunzel’s hair and drops from the tower and becomes dust leaving her robe behind. I did say this before of him being “The Tower” card. But what if in the end... He uses his magic and makes the person/thing Crowley revived into sand?

(Personally I think there's a chairman or someone that Crowley will revive. Mallenoa? IDK, there's a person or something I think)

But before the soul disappears, Crowley flies into the mirror and uses his magic to rewind time, which is what might happened, and he tries to find his “Happy ending”

But Leona doesn’t lose his memory, and the Messiah, Lilia, is probably the one who knows and is teaming up secretly. It was especially suspicious when Leona purposely overblotted, which I think, was because of Lilia’s words....

It would make sense if it was the fire going out, because it can also ties in with Rapunzel. Leona is probably going to break the loop with MC. 

I did say that Leona does have chess pieces in his room that tie in with the Light trio. (below)

Rook: Rook Hunt’s name

Knight: Silver thinks he has a talent for a sword and “silver sword”. Also Malleus’s knight

Pawn: Kalim is a pawn to Jamil (He tried to use him to become King in the movie and in the arc)

Also, Leona would be the “king” chess piece 

And Leona’s best subject is “ancient curses”, like Rapunzel he can use harmful ones, like his unique magic too. What if he knows a spell that can “go back in the past? 

If he did It would make sense why his memories aren’t lost. So in conclusion Leona is the Rapunzel trapped in the tower called “Twisted Wonderland”

But other than the pieces what gave away that he is the traveler? 

Something with Azul’s contracts and the scar on his eye is still not clear. But, first let’s look at his name.

Kingscholar can be seprated into King (ruler) and Scholar (a specialist in a branch of study). Scholars usually point to social sciences, or humanities. These branches of study study the human values and how they express the feelings; they require knowledge from phycology to history. If the word “scholar” is in his name, then it can be reasoable to think that he may be “observing and analyzing a person or a thing” 

Leona’s best subject is “ancient curses”, and he is good at protection spells as well as pharmacy (the study of medication). Those do require a lot of knowledge to be good at. Why would he need to repeat the grade if he is so smart?

On Youtube (とろちゃんねる), Leona broke the loop in between his second year and third year. 

In the 4th arc, Mickey’s third remark in the dream is the reason the number “3″ is really weird, almost incompatible.

Leona is 20 he’s in his third year for the third time (if the loop theory is true). If I am correct then the time MC came is when the “3″s (triple)overlapped. He also asked how many stones Grimm ate after the third arc.

This is where Jack’s origin comes in. Jack most likely originated from the author of “White Fang” (Jack London), but there’s more. In my other theory, I said that the MC’s body is not there, that Jack may be referenced from the TV show of the Lion King, Lion Gard’s, Ray-ray. In the show, they defeat Scar, who died and came back to life. Maybe this is also a clue...

In a personal talk, Savannaclaw was talking about the King of Beasts (or whatever they called it). People usually thought “Oh, it's about Scar” but, it's not. It’s not Simba or Mufasa either. It's not Kion as well. If I summarize the traits of the king they were talking about then it becomes like this:

He ruled with his power and fangs, and rejected his older brother to become the king in an attempt to great a good country with wisdom and order to change the affiliation of the strong bullying the weak

The King of Beasts does not discriminate 

“The King of the sky that guides the stars” was called “firefly” and “Great King from the Past”

The nephew of the king was not at the king’s coordination ceremony (Leona and Jack’s conversation)

Leona’s scar on his eye and the King of Beast’s scare are the same. But, Leona avoided answering the question when Ruggie asked him when his scare was from. (Ruggie and Leona’s conversation)

The anecdote of the king; he can apperently talk to hippos, giraffes, lions, and monkeys. (Jack and Leona)

The hornbill, who served the royal family, noticed the change in the country and gave their opinion to the king of beasts infromed. The king is very considerate and king and listened to the opinions and advice. (Ruggie and Leona)

Most of it is describing Scar 

but 3,6,7 are far from matching him.

3 is taking about the “ The King of the sky that guides the stars”. This description is very fitting to “Roar of the Elders” from Lion Gard. Yes, there is a time where this kinda happened in the main story. (also Leona’s unique magic is referenced from “Roar of the Elders”

6. We do have a hippo friend in “Lion Gard”, but not any other animals in the original ones. (The giraffe is missing)

7. the Hornbill is Zazu from lion king, who does serve the royal family. He is present from the original “Lion King” and is with Kion in the show. Something seems off to my guts.

“Why are they favoring Kion?”, you may ask. But Kion and Scar have a trait they share. They are both second born. Also Kion’s roar becomes the strongest; there is a story when he got the cobra venom in his eye and became violent and couldn’t control his power. His scar is as the same as Leona and Scar’s left eye. In season three you see Kion with two lines as a scar on his eye.

In conclusion, what the Savannaclaw students were talking about is either “Kion” or “a lion other than Scar and Kion”.If it is Scar the King, number 1 explained, then the flow of the story is too convenient.  It’s also unclear if it is Kion as well; if it's the conversation after season 3 then I would have no idea. 

 The Key part is his Tattoo and Azul’s contract (Bet you didn’t see that coming) 

In “Lion Gard”, the guards all have a tatoo. Leona does have powers and has a tattoo on the same left arm (technically) as Kion. But unlike Kion’s, the tatoo is a different color. We’ve seen this shade of color. Yes, it’s the same as Azul’s ink. 

(Pull out Azul’s Dorm SSR, after Groovy)

We can’t read the contract, but Lin Channel (on YouTube) is doing gods work and translated into actual words (English cursive) it reads:

Contract:

I am wishing mate 

I wishes senior siring

nephew smiling

inwhere inway amaging waiting

winner winter welcoming

where wide whichever via where wiser anniversary

For all eternity (For all eternity is from the original “Little Mermaid”’s contract)

Let me explain how she’s doing the work, Google (yea, teachers) She looks up people’s hand writings and can conclude things (the long curve after “i” may be the ending “ing”) But, if I clear it up and make it normal English it would look like this:

I want a companion

I wish my brother and nephew a smile

I am ambushing and waiting

Anywhere in the place where

the winter of victory comes

This is just my thoughts, but “brother and nephew” may be Cheka and Leona’s brother, which would be reasonable why such a minor character like Cheka got voice acted. 

Winter could be meaning Hades, who kidnapped Persephone and made winter. So, maybe Idia could be the key to our victory here. And this would expain why Savannaclaw was between Ignihyde and Diasomnia 

Winter could also mean Cheka and Leona’s brother’s heart. They could be lonely (Grim asks Leona about his family, and Grim replies with “They must be lonely, being in a dark cold place” or something like that)

I’m sure that Leona made the contract for Cheka and his brother. He is the only character with a nephew. The tsun-dere side of Leona would explain why he didn’t want to tell anyone about what the contract is about.

Just by the contract and the loop theory we can tell that he is important. But what if he is not based off of Scar... But rather, Kion from “Lion Gard”? If I look into the original characters of what Leona is based off of, then I would forget about “Leona”. Yana Toboso is twisting our brain like that, such as in “Black Butler”, and maybe thats another reason why the game is called “Twisted Wonderland”

So what we all we know about Leona is:

Leona’s tattoo

he is aware of the loop or he is suspicious of the loop

Jack’s position (We don’t know as much as I would like about his power)

Cheka will appear again (he does get Voice acted, and maybe that’s what the second arc will be about. He also said something about having a fiancée so maybe an event?)  

Leona overblotted instead of Ruggie (my other theory)

I do think the tattoo may be made by Azul in the other loop, and he is aware of the loop or will remember of the loop because of the tattoo 

But it is Yana Toboso sensei so... I may be wrong~

~~~

Posting this after Leona's magic is aeration theory bc his unique magic makes no sense.

Multiverse or Azul theory next?

If you can comment that will be appreciated (likes and reblogs are appreciated.

I also wrote this 2 years ago

Idk if its right but I did make some changes :3

[diazheartsbuckley]

Soooo many to choose from, they all look so good! Ok get ready for a heap of asks 💞

🖤🖤🖤

Omg Hippo, I’m so sorry that I’m taking forever to answer 🥲

Hope you enjoy tho!

Prev snippet here (I don’t write in order, whoops)

🖤 aka lots of religious trauma

“I uhm-… I might have to reenlist if I don’t find a job soon” Eddie says, dragging his hands across his face, feeling a few beads of sweat forming near his temples. He doesn’t want to reenlist, he doesn’t want to leave Christopher behind again, he can’t do that to him. Not when he moved to another state just to be able to keep seeing him. Shannon had gotten a job offer that she couldn’t refuse and Eddie had willingly accepted that if they were to co-parent, he had to come with them.

And the last thing he’d expected was to meet someone as amazing as Buck, so loving and caring and kind and so proud of who he is. Eddie wishes that he could be like him, be happy with who and what he is. Surely, he’d come out to Shannon and Christopher but not to the world. He wasn’t ready for that. Maybe he’d never be ready and that scared him too because Buck…Buck makes him feel whole.

And even though he wasn’t ready to share his feelings with the world, he knew that he didn’t want to leave Buck behind either.

The concern spreads instantly across Buck’s face, forming deep creases on his forehead and even small lines around his eyes. “I won’t let you do that, Eds. You can’t do that to yourself. Or to Christopher” or to me, the last part remains unspoken because he knows that he might just be pushing Eddie away instead of holding him close. “There has to be another way”

Eddie exhales deeply, the fear almost palpable as he stares at a blank space right behind Buck’s head. He knows that if he looks at him for too long, those soft, blue puppy eyes will win him over. Without a doubt, he knows that he’s in love with Buck but he doesn’t know how to show it. Yet.

Instead, he reacts in a manner that he can only recognize as coming from his father. He halfway flies out of his seat and drags his fingers almost desperately through his hair. “Don’t you think that I’ve thought about that? Do you think I want to leave my kid behind again?”

Do you think I want to leave you behind?

“That’s not what I’m saying, Eddie. I’m saying that I want to help you” Buck replies, not reacting to Eddie’s outburst but instead stretches his hand out carefully, touching Eddie’s side with his fingertips.

Oh.

The silence lingers for a moment before Eddie speaks again, this time realizing that maybe he has to react differently. “I’m just-…”

“Scared. I know. But we can work it out. Together. Okay?”

“Okay” Eddie agrees despite the fact that he’s fighting every fiber of his being. A real man doesn’t need help from others, his father’s words echoes in his head.

Make me write ✍️

Sharing is caring 🩵

@tizniz @daffi-990 @wikiangela

@steadfastsaturnsrings @honestlydarkprincess @giddyupbuck

@wildlife4life @actuallyitsellie @spotsandsocks

@watchyourbuck @jeeyuns @pirrusstuff

@cal-daisies-and-briars @fionaswhvre @dangerpronebuddie

@underwaterninja13 @thewolvesof1998 @bucksbignaturals

@bucksbirthmark @evanbegins @bidisasterevankinard

@ronordmann @namjroon @jesuisici33

@exhuastedpigeon @extasiswings @housewifebuck

@inell @whosoldherout @lover-of-mine

@loveyouanyway @bucks-daddy-issues @rogerzsteven

[joanna-lannister]

I promised I would make a masterlist of all my favorite JC fanfictions, so here you go. Those fics aren't sorted out by Canon or AU, they are just a mix of what I loved over the years.

How My Story Ends by Millie55 Cersei and her army arrive in Winterfell to aide in the battle against the Night King. Or Cersei and Jaime reunite in Winterfell.

Casablanca by LordStannisTheGodDamnMannis666 Tywin extends Jaime’s business trip abroad at short notice with express instructions to fly directly to the next country. Jaime however rather likes the idea of a detour, and he knows the perfect person to join him. Aka As long as he gets there by Monday morning it doesn’t really matter what he does in the meantime, does it?

They Want to Make Me Their Queen by Millie55 Cersei has lost everything except 2 things: Jaime, and her Kingdom.

Until Death Do Us Part by LordStannisTheGodDamnMannis666 A new law is passed in parliament that changes Jaime and Cersei's lives for good, allowing them the opportunities, freedom, and happiness that they once could only dare to hope for.

my blood alone remains by houselannister The Austrian Princess is barely fourteen when she leaves her homeland for France. She speaks very little French, and is wilful, stubborn and capricious. She leaves Vienna with an escort of two thousand men, loyal Austrian soldiers.

The Ribbon by Magnolie Cersei is shipped off to France by their mother to part her from Jaime. But there is no without each other for them, only together.

Oh come all ye faithful by Magnolie Jaime and Cersei have their own ways and excuses to escape the boring Christmas Parties and even if they have to stay... there is always a way to spice things up.

therefore each to other bound by copacet Having escaped Stark custody, Jaime returns to King's Landing during the Battle of the Blackwater—thus solving some of his family's problems while also creating several new ones.

of love and beauty by liesmyth “We’re lions.” Jaime’s hand clasped around her own. “Let them all choke on it.”

The Price of Love by nightingalesighs Cersei studies her sleeping twin’s face one night trying to pinpoint when Jaime’s feature’s had changed. When his hair had started going grey and what caused the wrinkles on his familiar face.

She's always been afraid of storms by vwoolf Cersei's afraid of storms and seeks out her brother's company.

you gave away what you never really had, and now your purse is empty, I can see why you're sad by houselannister It's been five years since Jaime left London. Now Tywin is dead, and business is business. Cersei flies to Paris to get what's hers.

foreshore by lutece Still, the lions linger—perhaps they are dead across the sea, but in Pentos they have flourished with their cub.

The Better Cure by corrielle After being unhorsed by Loras Tyrell on Prince Joffrey's name day, Jaime visits Cersei to soothe his wounded pride.

perihelion by houselannister London, 2020 - After Tywin Lannister's death, Jaime and Tyrion uncover their father's most precious secret: a hidden sister. Money and power intersect with family and obsession.

Prophecies & Promises by spinsterclaire When the 18-year old Lannister twins find themselves locked out of their father's townhome, they visit an old acquaintance to escape the Manhattan blizzard. There, they must confront their fears about keeping promises, accepting fate, and bringing new life into the world.

Study Me, Study You by LordStannisTheGodDamnMannis666 Jaime needs help with his homework, and who better to help than Cersei?

Take My Hand, The Night Grows Ever Colder by LordStannisTheGodDamnMannis666 Across the Narrow Sea, in a stone house on the shore of Pentos, Cersei Lannister dreams of her children.

The Loneliest Girl in Town by Millie55 Cersei fears she may have lost Jaime for good - every last piece of him.

Quiet. by frozenpapers Tywin interrupts Cersei and Jaime.

Hush. by frozenpapers A phone call interrupts Cersei and Jaime.

[yarrystyleeza]

In A Heartbeat (M.M)

"I loved her, father, and her heartbeat was all it took for me to fall in love with her."

Taglist: @mindidjarin @acharliecoxedfan @v4leoftears @galaxies-and-moons-and-cox @itwasthereaminuteago @chronicoverachiever @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @chvoswxtch @bellaxgiornata @bunmurdock @bunmurdock-main @shouldbestudying41 @1988-fiend @xxdrixx @munsonownsmyass @shiorimakibawrites @devilsmurdock @saltedlays @babygirlmurdock @starxlightm

[series masterlist / main masterlist]

[Chapter Two: Fixing Ties]

Word count: 6.8k!

Warnings/tags for this chapter: typical show violence, use of guns, blood, the black suit is wet TWO TIMES (first one is implied, second is direct), "The Devil" grins a lot which fucks me up every time I picture him, big doses of fluff.

A/N: the long-waited chapter is finally up! Damn, it's been almost a year since I last updated this wth (literally July 12th of 2023)!!! It really took me a while to fill in the plot holes (aka sit my ass and think). I hope you all enjoy it, feedback is always appreciated! <333

There stood by the window frame, a male figure, one that this city has marked to be its savior, the masked vigilante that kept the evil hiding in its den. The man in black. The man without fear.

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

“This is bigger than you, kid,” the man had his gun imprinted in Madilyn's head. She closed her eyes, prayed for her death to be merciful.

“How about you let her go and fight me like a man?” The Devil walked slowly towards them. “And that's the only option you have.”

“You know she has nothing to do with this, McCarthy. Let her go, now.” Oh, Hell, Devil Boy, he was sure-footed. Although he got beaten to death the last time they crossed roads. But The Devil was certain of how things ought to end this time.

One minute he was here, the next he's gone. The large man looked around, loosened his grip on Madilyn, who took advantage to set herself free and take shelter behind the counter.

Her heart raced out of her chest—though she was safer now, she couldn’t help the anxiety that's crushing her pumper.

BANG!

The man hits the wall. But he's much stronger than The Devil. He pushes him aside, The Devil crashes into the bookshelf. But he gets back up quickly from under the piles of books and uses his weight to ram into the brick wall of a man and takes him to the ground, flipping the couch underneath them.

She rises a little to spy on the scene. A wooden baton shoots and flies over her head, smacking into the kitchen wall. She must stay down, and this is her warning.

“Stay down!” he shouts, confirming her suppositions. She's already a distraction with her racing heartbeat. It's crazy—but he wanted to let all this fight be damned, run up to her and hold her tight. He fears for her, he doesn’t want to witness her going through another episode and not being able to comfort her. But, he knows he is nothing more than a stranger —yes, he’s a savior, her savior, but he’s just... a stranger, and he knows it.

The adrenaline rushed back and forth in her veins like raging fire, almost bursting out of her skin. Her teeth grind, she’s shivering. Her heart raced, and the anxiety crawled all over her like ants running up the hill, numbing her limbs, freezing her body.

The Devil receives a good punch, throwing him off to the wall. He recalls her giggling and laughing in the rain. He smiles. She truly is a distraction. His jaw is slack. He spits blood. “You really wanna do this the hard way, don't you?” The Devil asked with his gravelly voice, gutting a giggle.

The man gets up and walks towards his bag, but The Devil takes him by surprise, strangling him with his wooden batons. The man overpowers him once again, breaking the hold he had on his neck and smacking The Devil to the wall.

The Devil wouldn't stop, he can't. If he was anything, he's a menace, a troublesome, a real pain in the ass—and he has to prove it tonight. He gets back on his feet, his boots thudding on the wooden floor. “I can do this all night...” he chuckles.

BANG!

The room bursted with the loud thuds of the men's conflicted fists, noises of clouts and punches whooshing in the air, combined with agonized grunts and groans—aside from the words they spat over each other.

She trembles. Sweat is running down her skin. Her teeth are grinding and clacking. Her body temperature isn't acting right. Her skin was hot, but her limbs were cold. It was distracting, once again. He listened, almost taking a punch when he did. He dodged it, aiming a blow in the direction of the intruder. He was larger than him, but that wouldn't stop The Devil from taking him down—he had to take him down.

She was scared. No, she was terrified. But what took over her mind was the thoughts of why is this man here, and what is it that she has and he's searching for? She's not registered as an official detective for that case yet, how did he know that she's the one working on it? How could he come after her?

Or that's what she thought it was.

She realized how quiet the atmosphere has gotten to be. She peeked her head over the marble counter, stood off her squat slowly. “It's okay... It's over.” The Devil was the last man standing, he assured her with a warm tone, trying to regulate his breath. His gloved fingers shake, and his eyes water beneath the dark fabric.

“You're okay?” she gently asked, the blood on his face glistened in the dim lights. He sighed, thanking God for not testing his limits tonight. He would've killed that man if she got hurt tonight.

“Yeah, don't bother. You just call the cops in.” he demanded, turning his back to her and taking whatever the man was carrying.

“But what are you gonna do with him?” she turned around the counter, arms crossed upon her chest, supporting her towel around her torso.

“I'll take care of him.” he answered, carrying the guy over his shoulder like a camping blanket, “secure your windows better next time.” He left through the window and down the fire escape. She stood still at her place, processing the latter events. She snapped back to reality and walked to her bedroom, got dressed, and immediately called the cops.

Somewhere along the Hudson River shore side of Hell's Kitchen, and in an old, abandoned warehouse at the port, one of the light sources flickered as The Devil of Hell's Kitchen brought the so-called McCarthy in, still unconscious from the beating he took.

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen placed him on a wooden chair and waited for him to regain consciousness, one hand cuffed to a pipe.

McCarthy slowly came back to his senses. With still dim and blurry vision, he turns to look at his cuffed hand and tests it, pulling his fist towards himself. It's locked. There's no escape anytime soon. He looks upwards the light source in the room, only making out something of a shadowy black figure looming from above him.

“Who the hell are you?” he speaks in a fearless deep voice.

“I'm the one asking questions.” The Devil throws a handful of folders on the wooden surface causing a loud and heavy thud. He settles down on a chair on the opposite side of the table. McCarthy recognizes these folders; they were the ones he dropped on his way out of Mr. Lloyd's house.

“I know what happened.” The Devil interrupts the silence as McCarthy stared at the folders stacked under his eyes. “I can help you find whoever is responsible for their deaths and put them behind bars.” The Devil offers.

McCarthy stayed silent for a bit before raising his head with a smirk on his face, “go to hell, kid.” his tone remained sarcastic.

“Well, I might not know exactly what you went through, but I know a friend who did, and I know how hard it is.” The Devil leans forward in his seat.

“You think I'm stupid enough to fall for this sweet talk, kid?” McCarthy shrugs, his voice laced with sarcasm.

The Devil shifts in his seat a little, placing his forearms over the wooden surface. “What do you have to lose anyway, sergeant Nicholas McCarthy?”

He looks up at him. “You think some kid in black pajamas that knows who I am is gonna scare me away? Stop me from taking them down for good?” The Devil chuckles.

“I'm just trying to help you, you're the one serving a couple sentences in jail anyway,” The Devil follows calmly with an even calmer smile, “and for the record, they are a lot, in case you want to know.” McCarthy rolls his eyes and turns his face away. “I have all night long, and I'm not going anywhere,” The Devil leans in closer, his tone turns darker, “and they're already looking for you.”

Meanwhile, sirens were heard racing across the streets, back at the heart of Hell's Kitchen, as Mahoney's team arrived at the scene. He made it straight to Madilyn's apartment where she waited for him at the door, her cat held in her hand and her old Italian neighbor on her side, he embraces her lightly. “Mayfield, you’re okay?” He asks, freeing her.

“Yeah, I am… I assume,” she shrugs, hugging herself, “at least not dead...” she steps aside to allow the cops to start their work. She observes the scene for a moment, recalling the latter events. “You know, I just-- I have this gut feeling that this is the same guy we're after in Mr. Lloyd's case,” Madilyn says, and Brett pulls a face, a little puzzled. “The exact same physical description, same ways of menace, even the way he holds a gun and his choice of words, it's all just so symmetrical that he can't be another person,” she explained thoroughly, “I can't shake that feeling off me, you know me, Brett.”

Brett sighs. “You didn't know what he was here for, did you?”

She shakes her head in complete denial. “I’m telling you. At first, I thought he was here because I'm working on his case, though I was supposed to be officially registered in the morning, and it's impossible that he knew I was applying for this case— it was just assigned to me this morning. Rethinking it now, he could've just threatened me and told me to stop coming after him— but he didn't, he told me he wasn't here for me anyway.”

Brett nods slowly, “and Daredevil?” he asks, he knows that the masked vigilante would never let that slide.

She shrugged, curled her lip. “He took him away, I don't know where— but I assume he's searching him up,” she huffed.

Brett sighs and pats her back. “I'm glad you're okay, Mayfield, and that you’re back.”

“First day on the comeback—” She chuckled, “I suppose we're used to this kinda shit. Thanks, though. I missed this.”

“You think I really care about the sentence? I don't care if they behead me or burn me alive,” McCarthy chuckled.

“I appreciate your high spirits, sergeant, but— unfortunately you won't be able to take one step if you're arrested. As I told you before— they're already looking for you.” The Devil keeps his calm but sarcastic tone. “I help you avenge your friends; you help me put the ones responsible behind bars, we'll be even,” The Devil offered.

“These people deserve to be dead.” McCarthy corrects him.

“Well, death is not always the best option. But rotting in prison is a better one,” The Devil shrugs, “these people don't deserve death, death is merciful.” The Devil stressed.

Silence falls over the atmosphere before a question breaks through the air. “Why should I trust you?” McCarthy asks.

The Devil smirks and leans forward in his seat. “Because I got something you really need.”

The Devil places a file on the tabletop, slides it towards the man on the other side of the table. “This is what you broke into Detective Mayfield's house for—but you were never gonna find there.”

With his free hand, McCarthy reached out to the file cover, eyes going back and forth between the file and what he could make out of The Devil’s face as he unfolded it. Walking his eyes across the page, McCarthy skimmed snippets of some corporations from the paper. “What is this?” he asks.

The Devil smirks, “these are some of the corporations linked to a guy I think you might want to know more about.”

“What does this have to do with it?” McCarthy asked.

The Devil shifts in his seat, “meet Mr. Winston Bennett, one of the funding pillars of the war. He's involved in corruption cases, money laundering, and bribing military officials, for instance. A year ago, he transferred a couple of his main companies’ assets, one of which was to Porter Lewis, his former secretary, he's our key to get to Bennett.”

McCarthy's eyes fall onto his lap, “fuck,” he muttered between his teeth. The Devil could sense the disappointment in his voice, but a man of war like him had seen so much it shouldn’t surprise him anymore.

“I'm gonna make each one of those fuckers pay...” he mumbled.

And that was an oath The Devil took upon himself.

Sounds of evidence bags crunching in the investigators' hands filled the room as they gathered bits and pieces of anything that could be a lead. Flashing lights flickered around the room. Madilyn sat at the dining table and watched as the team took pictures of the scene. A light switched on in her head. “McCarthy...” Madilyn says, “his name is McCarthy.”

Brett turned to look at her, a little puzzle, “McCarthy?” he asked, to confirm.

She nodded, “Daredevil said a name. This name, McCarthy,” she shifts in her seat a little, now completely facing Brett, “now I don't think that's a guess because Daredevil talked as if they met before, and I think they did. Daredevil definitely knows who that guy is.”

“Tech units, file a 6'2" white male dressed in all black with experience in military combat, he goes by the name McCarthy. All operating units, if spotted the suspect with previously mentioned description, arrest immediately.”

“Seriously, Mahoney?!” she exclaimed, angrily standing off of her seat at Brett Mahoney's office, “what do you mean I can't investigate this?—it's my job! You can't force me to stay out of it!” she followed up, almost stuttering for how outlandish this situation sounded to her.

“Mayfield,” Brett responds, pinching the bridge of his nose, too bothered to keep it together anymore, “for the last goddamn time, you can't investigate a case you're involved in and you're fully aware of this. Your testimony may not be valid and even if it is, his attorneys will make sure to use it against you just like what they did with Davis!” he shouted back as he turned to look at her, after trying to keep calm for the last thirty minutes. She remembers this trial very well; it was the downfall of her colleague years ago.

She huffed, sitting back on the chair, “well, I never said I was gonna testify against him in court...” she mumbled, crossing her arms.

“Now you're just being childish, Mayfield! If I don't stop you, the court will! And they might as well take back your license, so don't go reckless, I already have plenty of idiots up to my ears!”

“Brett, please,” she pleaded, her eyes blurred with the tears she fought to keep, “this is my chance to come back. You didn't just call me out of my shift to stop me from doing it—” her voice cracked, “you know I've always wanted to come back.”

“And you know you've already been causing trouble all around while working with the Bulletin. And you also know that you were always a second away from arrest for obstruction of justice—multiple times!”

“Well, that means I'm smart and I can get away with it—”

“That means you never pull your head out of your ass and see that you're a bull in a China shop!”

“For the love of God—”

“I'm not gonna say this again, Mayfield. If I ever find out you got involved in the matter, I'm gonna be the one to arrest you, and that's my final word.” he towered over her as he leant over his desk.

“Fine!” She stood off her seat and walked towards the door.

“I don't wanna hear you talking about this case again, Mayfield!” Brett said before she slammed the door behind her. Turning around with a sigh, she saw her three colleagues standing in the narrow hallway right in front of the door, they're concerned, deeply.

“So?” Foggy started.

“I can't investigate the case,” she shook her head, “but you guys can still take his case! Not Mr. Lloyd's. His.”

“Why take his case? He tried to kill you last night!” Matt countered, scrunching his face.

“He threatened to, he didn't want to kill me, I was never his target and I already told you that!” Madilyn countered back.

Matt sighs, running his hand across his face. “You can't risk it,” he calmly says, “what if he comes after you again?” Matt doesn't want her to get caught up in the mess. She's not made for such things. The things he knows about the case might crush her.

Madilyn shook her head, “he won't, I'm not even his target, trust me,” she stopped. “Look, you just--... you're gonna investigate him, just in case, because I don't think that's a normal case, and I think it's going to have a great impact on the firm. I have this gut feeling and it never disappointed me.”

Her eyes darted back and forth between the three of them. “Karen, say something?” She knows Karen will always have her back.

Karen nodded, “I say we give it a shot?” she stated, looking at both Matt and Foggy next to her. Madilyn sighed with a smile. “I mean she's right, there's nothing we could lose.”

Matt clenched his jaw, “you don't have to support her just because she's your friend.” Matt was worried, and he couldn't hide it anymore.

“But Matt,” Karen countered, “she's right, there's something off about this case, and I trust her guts.” she explained, tucking her blonde strands behind her ear, “a guy she never knew broke into her house, saying she had nothing to do with what he’s doing, yet proceeds to break into her house and takes something she never knew it existed in her home. Something is off.”

“Foggy?” Madilyn called, asking for his opinion as he stood silently watching the conversation going back and forth.

“Well,” Foggy slowly shrugged, “I can't say I wasn't intrigued by what they're saying...”

Matt rolled his eyes behind his tinted glasses, “I can't believe you're agreeing with them on this, it's dangerous.”

Foggy glanced at him with a knowing look, “it's not our first time involved with such things, buddy.”

They all stared at Matt, waiting for his final answer. He huffed, unclenching his jaw, “we're gonna do it, but...”

“But what?” Madilyn whined, almost comically.

“But none of you put yourselves in trouble. That means no going on investigation night shifts, no playing undercover cop and surely, no participating in dangerous political positions or situations.” he pointed a finger at each one of them. “And because I don't have experience on such acts from you yet, please don't do any of these, it's dangerous and ridiculous and I don't want a third troublemaker on the team.” he directed his speech to Madilyn. It was really funny coming out of his mouth; it was like he was talking to himself. Foggy stared at his feet to distract himself from laughing at what Matt said.

Matt tilts his head, waiting for her answer. She huffed, rolling her honey eyes, “fine.” They all suspire.

“Let's go pick up some coffee and see what we've got for starters, shall we?” Foggy suggested. The girls agreed by taking the lead on the way out. “A fourth you meant,” Foggy corrected in a whisper as he let Matt hold his arm. Matt chuckled. “You should really take your own advice sometimes, buddy. Let's go.”

“I'll meet you downstairs tomorrow, alright?” she asked him, standing at her building entrance, tugging on her purse strap.

“Alright,” he smiled. “Goodnight, Madilyn, take care of yourself,” he fixed the red blinds barely hanging on the bridge of his nose.

“You too.” she smiled back, “Goodnight, Matt.” She said, before turning around and walking towards the stairs.

She took the stairs to her apartment. As she unlocked her door, her cat purred and scratched the wooden surface, eager to reunite with her. “Hello, little one!” she carried her in her arms the moment she walked into her apartment, “did you miss mommy? Oh, did you miss mommy? Mommy missed you too, baby!” she playfully nuzzled her cat's head. Ivy trilled. “Well, I'm hungry too, I'm gonna make us something.” she headed to the kitchen as she cradled her cat. Searching in the pantry, she found a can of soft food. She emptied the can in a bowl and walked across the room to place it at her cat's area.

Once she made sure her cat was indulged in feeding, she headed to her room to change her clothes. In all black outfit and a zip-up hoodie, she sat on the edge of her bed with her phone in her hand, waiting for her call to be answered.

“Madilyn?...”

“Hey, dad. How's it going?” she fiddled with the drawstring of her hoodie.

“I'm doing great, angel... Your mom told me you got that job at the... Nicholson and Madock, I guess?...”

“It's Nelson and Murdock, and Page,” she corrected, “it's a law firm, and recently they got into private investigation,” she recalls the latter events, “so I applied for the job, and I got accepted. Mom probably told you all of that.”

“Oh, yeah, these fellas… I heard they had a questionable reputation...” she huffed a chuckle at his comment.

“Yeah, they did get involved in a couple of things lately, but I assure you, they're squeaky clean.” Her father chuckled at her response. It's been almost six months since she last heard his laughter echoing on the walls of her place. “However, that's not why I called.” her chuckles subsided, she had to be straightforward.

“What is it then, angel?” her father asked, he's probably flipping through one of his newspapers, she knows the way he speaks when he's wrapped up in reading.

“There's a guy I met last night, he said his name was McCarthy and that he knows you very well and wanted to make sure if you're okay,” she stared out of her window as the dim moonlight casted upon the floor of her room. Her father went silent for a moment. She mentally made a note of that. He definitely knows him; he was an admiral; he knows all the people he worked with.

“I don't think I recall this name...” he slowly answered, “no... I don't think I know a guy with this name...”

“Yeah, I thought so…” she clenched her jaw, already calculated her next move.

“Alright, angel... Gotta go now... Your mom is struggling with the blender again...” he chuckled.

“Alright, dad. Tell her I said hi. Talk to you later,” she said and hung up, grabbing her boots off the floor to wear them.

Another rainy night, she walks over the forming water puddles, splashing her heavy feet into the spills. Her journey doesn't take long, her destination is only a twenty-minutes-away walk. She took the elevator of a building and rang a bell.

Once. Twice. Three times.

“Who is it?” a guy calls from inside, his voice approaching the other side of the door.

“It's me, Alan. Madilyn.” she answers, “I'm freezing here.”

“Alright, alright, I'm coming...” she heard a noise before he reached the door, “shit...” he cussed under his breath. He opens the door. “Hey, Maddie-- whoa, no hugs,” he raised his hands, “you're soaked, and I might catch a cold.”

“Yeah, you could've answered earlier...” she responded, passing him and into the house, “why is this place so messy?” she grimaced, taking her hoodie off.

“Had a really shitty week at work,” he rubbed his face, his eyes are surrounded with dark circles, “there's a money-laundering scandal going around and it's affecting everyone.”

“Money-laundering? How's that?” she asked, squeezing the water out of her hair.

“The head of the company is suspected to have been laundering money through one of his oil companies,” Alan explained. She hummed. “We still don't know much details about the case, they're keeping it under wraps. It doesn't matter really. What brought you here in this weather, though?”

“Oh, ummm... A guy broke into my house last night,” she started, “and I'm suspecting he's from the military.”

“How can you be so chill about it?” his brows knitted with confusion, “you're talking like you got a gift card from Walmart or something...”

“It was already dealt with,” she shrugged, “not by the cops of course.” she mumbled the latter part.

“Who dealt with it then?”

“Daredevil.”

“There are guards on this floor,” The Devil whispered, hiding behind one of the pillars at the parking lot, next to him was McCarthy, who was visibly confused. “Four.” The Devil confirmed.

“There's two more, they're taking the elevator with him,” he tilted his head to the side a little, “and there's a driver, he's in the car. It's a few minutes away from the elevator, that’s enough time for us.”

“How do you know all of that?” The Devil smirked at McCarthy’s question before rolling to hide behind a car. The man is out of the elevator. He's moving closer with his guards. But The Devil must clear his way first. His dark silhouette moves from one pillar to another. He throws one of his wooden batons at a guard. He's down, and luckily, no one noticed, not yet.

He smells sulfur, McCarthy has taken his gun out of its holster. The Devil shoots his other baton, but it aims for McCarthy's hand, throwing the gun out of his grip, sending it clattering across the floor. “No guns,” he whispers.

“Come on...” McCarthy rolls his eyes.

“There’s noise on the floor, 10 o’clock…” one of the bodyguards talks through the handheld transceiver as he walks towards the source of the latter sounds. The Devil takes advantage of the situation, silently attacking the man from behind, sending him into a short sleep. Meanwhile, McCarthy has taken another one down with the back of his gun. The last one was an easy target, The Devil smacked him with a baton, knocking him unconscious. As he drags the man away, he hears a click behind his back.

BANG!

He dodges the bullet and turns, knocking the gun out of the bodyguard’s hand and blowing him with a punch in his chin. The man falters in his steps but manages to aim a punch in The Devil’s face, The Devil strikes him before he could react further, knocking him to the ground, as McCarthy attacks the other bodyguard with a blow to his head.

The man freezes for a moment before bolting towards his car, but to no avail, The Devil corners him against the car before he could reach the rear door’s handle as his driver escapes the scene.

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” arrogantly, he speaks, “I’m too influential, I can destroy you—” but before he could finish his sentence, he was blown with a fist to the face, McCarthy’s fist, sending his rectangular glasses shattering across the concrete flooring.

“Not as influential as you may think,” McCarthy comments.

“Don’t you know who I am?!” he shouts. They did not flinch.

“We’re not the kind of guys who’d bully a random rich business man,” The Devil smugly smiles and answers after swallowing his desire to punch him in the face, “but I appreciate the effort you put on a show.”

“We believe you have some information that we need…” The Devil starts.

“Winston Bennett,” McCarthy cuts him off offensively, “does that ring any bells for you, prick?” The Devil sighs, rolls his eyes behind his mask.

“You were his secretary, more like his right-hand man,” The Devil continues.

“Then why are you coming after me, bastards? Why not go after him?”

“Where does he keep his files?” The Devil ignores his rude response, still holding him by the collar of his swanky gray dress suit.

“Why the hell would I tell you—” The Devil slams him against the car, his head hits the metallic body.

“Answer the question.” His voice is coarse and dull, “where does Winston Bennett keeps his files?” McCarthy pulls his gun out of its holster and points it Lewis’ head, the muzzle is almost carving a circle in his skull. The Devil tightens his grip on Lewis’ necktie. His neck turns red and swollen with the obstructed air and blood.

“A safe…” he groans.

“Where the fuck is that safe?!” McCarthy snaps, imprinting his gun further into Lewis’ head.

“Diesel…” he chokes, “Diesel Gush… the executive office… a painting…” he coughs and wheezes, “please…” he pants as he pleads. The Devil lets go of his collar enough to breathe before aiming a punch straight to his nose, knocking Lewis down with a bloody nose on the gray concrete floor. As he tries to regain composure, he looks up, but no one is there anymore.

“Did you find anything?” Madilyn sleepily asked, resting her head on the couch arm and her eyes are half opened.

“There are hundreds of thousands of people in the navy under the name McCarthy,” Alan answered, still staring at his screen, “of course I'm not gonna find him, I'm not a digital magician.” Madilyn stood off the couch. “Wait, where are you going?” he asked, turning to look at her walking to the door.

“Calling it a night,” she answered, putting on her boots, “call me if you find anything, alright?”

“You're sure you could go home like that?” he took his headphones off, resting it on his neck, “you can stay the night here if you want to.”

“Nah, I'm good.” she shook her head, already opened the front door, “I can walk home... Or take a cab... Or whatever...” she mumbled, “I'll text you if I find any new info on him, alright? Alright.” she says, closing the door right after.

She walked down the stairs and out of the building. The rain stopped, that was one good thing, at least she wouldn't have to fight both the water and sleep.

“You know you can't walk home looking like that, detective.” a familiar voice says, before coming out of the dark and revealing himself.

She gasped, pulling her gun out, aiming it at the shadow man. “Jesus!” she clutched her chest, “I almost shot you!”

The Devil grinned as he approached her, “it's too late to walk home alone,” she lowers the gun, “and you're a detective, you should be on alert. Not sleepy.”

“I was sleepy until you showed up and scared the shit outta me,” she mumbled. He barks laughing. “You enjoyed it that much?” she asked, she couldn't hide the smile on her face.

He shook his head in denial, “I never meant to do that…” he chuckled, his gravelly voice is amusing, “I wanted to be gentler.”

She looks down, biting back the smile on her lip; his figure is already distracting more than the sleepy bees buzzing in her head. “So, I guess you're here to walk me home, Mr. Devil. Right?”

He shrugged with a smirk, “you can say that.” she nodded to his response.

“Guess I don't need to show you the way,” she says, “unless you insist,” he chuckled. She made The Devil laugh three times, in contrast to the bluntness he was known for, he sounds gentler. His laughter sounded pretty amusing, too. It’s not like she’d feel the butterflies crowding her stomach whenever she hears it, or is it?

As they started to walk, the sky steadily dimmed, the moonlight softly hid behind the clouds, and the rain droplets bounced off their shoulders once again. She hugged herself tight to keep her body heat, yet the goosebumps rose on her forearms beneath her dark soaked hoodie. She looks at his toned muscles peeking from beneath the wet and stretchy fabric, she’s glad he couldn’t see the red flush on her face, she hoped.

“How did you know I was there?” she broke the quiet pitter-patters of the rain, “I mean…” she trailed off for a moment, shrugging and looking down at her boots as they gently broke the surfaces of the puddles.

“I was overlooking the area when I found you walking out of the building…” he wasn’t lying though, he knew she wasn’t home so he had to watch over her.

“That makes sense…” she shrugged.

The rain continues to softly drop, showering the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. It's warm, it’s calm, it’s safe. She glances at her side, he’s quietly walking, quieter than the rain. The pitter-patters fade into the background, her heart steadily beats in her chest. The anxiety enzyme in her blood is lower than the night before, almost no longer exists. She suspires, calmly, she feels alright. It warms his heart.

“So…” she speaks again, breaking the silence for the second time, “about last night…” he huffs with a smile, “what did you do to him?”

“Well, we’ve come to an agreement…”

“What was he doing in my house? Then he said it doesn’t have anything to do with me?” she speaks her thoughts, “doesn’t make sense to me…”

“That, um…” he sighs, he knows why McCarthy was there, he just couldn’t tell her. “Couldn’t really get it out of him…”

“Yikes…” she muttered, “but thanks anyway, if it wasn’t for you I would’ve been dead… I guess.” He smiles.

“Guess you’re home now.” The Devil speaks.

“I’ll see you around?” She looks at her building’s entrance and then back at him, but he was gone, like he was never there. “Oh…” She sighs and walks into the building, closing the door behind her and taking the stairs afterwards. She unlocks her apartment door and places the keys on the console table.

Kicking off her wet and muddy boots, she takes off her dampened zip-up hoodie and t-shirt, and walks in the direction of the kitchen. She opens the fridge, retrieving a cold bottle of water.

“You keep forgetting to close your windows, detective,” she heard a voice from behind her. She gasped and turned, she finds The Devil standing at her window with a grin. It was so hard for her not to smile back, or, at the very least, not fall for it. She raked her fingers through her dampened hair, biting her lip to hide her grin. “Goodnight, detective.” he says with a smile.

“Goodnight, Devil.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He walks to his door as he buttons up his white dress shirt. It's her. She's pulling onto the strap of her purse. She wore a dress today; it's softly brushing again her skin. Her hair is tied in a low bun, and it's a little messy; her dark bangs are straying out of it. But her fragrance was as lovely as always, floral, and sweet like vanilla. His heart smiled behind his ribcage as he prepared himself to open the door.

“Good morning, Matt-- whoa, God! Are you okay?” she exclaimed, her smile disappeared, and her eyes are gone wide, “what's that big bruise next to your eye?” she's hesitant to check it.

“Slipped in the shower last night...” he says, smiling apologetically, “good morning, Madilyn.” He opens the door for her to come in. She walks down the hallway and stands by the end of it. “Please take a seat,” he says as he walks to the kitchen. She sat on his couch as he started the coffeemaker up.

“I called you, but you didn't answer, so... I thought I should check on you,” she said, placing her purse next to her on the leather couch.

“Sorry, It's my fault... I probably left it on silent.” she nodded to his answer.

“Did you apply any ice to it-- I mean the bruise?” she asked, staring at his muscles moving beneath the white dress shirt as he prepared the coffee. He was impressive, she didn't have to think about it twice.

“Not sure if I did..” he answered, too carried away in his search for an extra mug in his cupboard, “I can do it later at the office.” He found one and placed it next to his.

Her eyes darted around the room, “this looks cozy, the place,” she stated, “did anyone help you with the decor? I mean—”

Matt chuckled; her question warmed his heart. He shook his head, “no, I was told it was like this when I first rented it.” she nodded and hummed to his answer. Her eyes fell to the coffee table, it was neatly arranged, his mail was sorted, his phone was aligned with his folded cane and briefcase. It was a pleasing scenery to see.

“Creamer or no creamer?” he asked, her head flies to look his way, he's turning her way with a warm smile.

She knows he couldn't see it, but she smiles back, “creamer,” she says, “two spoons of sugar.” He nods and continues his work.

She picks up his folded cane to inspect it, she's never seen one this close, and it looked interesting. She doesn't notice him placing the mug on the table in front of her. He cleared his throat, “your coffee,” he says as he straightens his back and heads to his room.

“Thanks,” she says, taking the mug off the table and drawing it to her mouth to take a sip. It's sweet, with a hint of vanilla. She hummed contentedly as the dulcet taste swirled in her mouth.

She stood off her seat and walked to the window, the foggy but slightly different in color tiles were beaming with light. She leant onto it, looking outside to make out a mirage of the neighborhood. She could see the windows of her own apartment on the other side of the the street, her cat was standing by the living room window, biting the green leaves off the branches of the plant she left on the windowsill—but Ivy couldn't see her.

In the other room, the heat was rising up his neck, he was nervous, his hands were shaking. The sound of her heels softly clicking on the wooden floor makes his heart tick faster with each step she takes. She takes a sip of her coffee, her heart beats faster and she's smiling. He's jittering with each breath she takes, she's looking outside the window and tucking her stray bangs behind her ear, her earring swings to the movement of her hand, and his heart sways with it.

He regrets not answering the phone, he wouldn't have to shake like a broken blender despite her standing in a completely different room—yet he couldn't leave her waiting downstairs.

He couldn't tie his necktie, no matter how hard he tried, his hands kept trembling and his mind kept straying. “Damn it...” he cursed under his breath, but it was loud enough for her to hear it.

“Are you okay, Matt?” she asked, still giving him privacy. He walked out of his room, necktie in his hand and his face is flustered.

“Couldn't tie it,” he sighed. She approaches, his heart is burning, and the blood is pumping wild in his ears.

“Can I help you with it?” she asks, her fingertips are softly touching his. He nods. She feels his hands shaking beneath her touch. “Are you alright?” she asks with a smile, her voice is warm with worry, “you're shaking...”

He knows, oh Hell—he knows. “I... I don't-- I don't know...” he blurts, “maybe I'm just... Tired... Yeah.”

She takes the black tie and starts wrapping it around her arm. “Learned this trick a while ago,” she says, “you spread the thick part along your arm and wrap the thin part three times around your wrist,” she explains, “then you pull the second loop through the first loop... And we're done. You're just gonna have to put it on.”

She smiled proudly at herself. “I'm just gonna adjust it a bit...” she fixes the length of each end and widens the loop. “Can I help you put it on-- unless you want to--do it yourself—”

He shook his head, “of course—you can... Thank you.” he smiles with his red face as she passes his head through the noose.

“You're welcome,” she responded with a grin, fixing his collar around the noose before fitting it around his neck. “It looks good,” she addressed, smiling, “not because I tied it, of course…” she mutters, he giggles. The sunlight beamed upon his smiling face so gently, the tint of the glass softly shaded his skin with colorful auras. “Is there anything else that I can help you with?” she offered.

He shook his head, “thank you,” he gestured a thumb to his bedroom, “I'm just gonna get my suit jacket.” She nodded and hummed, watched him make his way back to his room and put on his suit jacket. He walks back into the living room and picks up his briefcase, phone, keys and cane— off the table. And without saying another word, they leave the apartment, hands tangled, hearts tied.

[previous / next]

[teecupangel]

Au where Desmond is a dragon, looking like an apple of eden, and going around through the times 'saving' things, aka changing Canon history so no good people die, like kadar/malik/sef/auditore family/Connor's tribe. He can speak telepathically, has some sort of breath attack (doesn't have to be fire, could be anything) and of course flies. And while he saves anyone, he is loyal to the 'protagonist' Assassin most (altair, ezio, Connor, etc)

It would be symbolic for Desmond to have a sunlight-type breath attack. It doesn’t spew actual fire but a beam of white light as bright as the sun and has the same temperature as the solar flare that he died to save the world from.

Desmond has no idea what the hell it is or how it works so he just calls it his ‘laser beam’ because it looks like a laser to him.

Also… you say dragon and the first two things I thought of are “oh god, Desmond’s hoard is gonna be all the important stuff in AC lore” and…

You know what would be funny?

If Desmond has this urge, this itch, this need so ingrained into his dragon self to…

Kidnap the AC protagonists.

Because dragons are well known to kidnap princesses and a brave knight going on an adventure to save these damsel in distresses are simply part of human culture by now.

Just imagine…

Malik, after having lost a rock-paper-scissor contest, having to be the one to ‘save’ Altaïr from the fierce dragon that destroyed Solomon’s Temple just to burrow deep into the strange place where the Ark had been, incinerating Robert and his lackies before they could kill Kadar then taking off with both the Ark and an angry Altaïr shouting to put him down or he’ll skin his lizard skin. When he get to the supposed dragon lair, Altaïr is just in the middle of the hoard, reading an old book, with a large dragon curled around him, purring like a cat… a large cat with a purr that makes the entire cave shake slightly. Malik just staring at Altaïr with a ‘why aren’t you trying to escape???’ and Altaïr just going “Malik, good, you’re here. I’ve found letters and journals that says Al Mualim has betrayed us. Here.” Altaïr throws a bag at him, making Desmond grumble in displeasure which he just rolls his eyes as he said “We’ll get you something shiny. I’m sure the Templars have something in Arsuf.” and Malik is just “WHAT???”.

And that is how the legend of a dragon underneath Masyaf is born. It is said it guards the most prized treasures and knowledge in the entire world.

… It should. The Levantine Brotherhood had to be careful in transferring all of Desmond’s hoard or they’d get an ear-piercing howl equivalent of “FRAGILE, HANDLE WITH CARE!”

And the most annoying part is that they all know Desmond can talk to them telepathically. He just prefers to howl whenever he wants to be annoying.

The next one to be ‘kidnapped’ is Ezio and Ezio doesn’t need any dashing knight to save him. No, no. He got Desmond to just stay in the Sanctuary (which was made to be just as big as his home in Masyaf before because the Brotherhood had decided all secret lairs must have a basement as big as that… just in case the legendary dragon decides to visit or stay a while…) by promising to bring him as many shinies as he can.

Claudia is his favorite Auditore though because she figured a dragon would be a better guard for their money than a bank. Also, Desmond is okay with getting funds for any reconstructions or buildings Ezio wants to do because Ezio gives him more shinies which meant that they also have extra emergency money if they needed it.

And he managed to destroy the Papal Army in a matter of minutes. Sure, that meant Rome was left defenseless and the Borgias became known as the family that got Rome destroyed and sacked but… weeellll… at least Monteriggioni later became an independent state which is nice?

Edward found him… sorta by accident. He heard the tales of the legendary golden white dragon, of course. Of how it hoards the greatest most priceless riches in the entire world. But, by his time, everyone believed it to be a legend. Only those coming from Italy and Levant truly believed the legend. But Edward did ‘find’ a certain journal that talks about it from the headquarters of the Assassins that Mary took him to. So he went out to find this supposed dragon hoard and… well… he got captured on the way to the hoard.

In his damn ship no less.

The dragon just swooped right in and taken Edward from the helm, much to the surprise of his crew.

Adéwalé was the only one of his crew that had the heart to try and find him. He found Edward pinned to a very large hoard by one huge dragon hand and Adéwalé realized what Edward had been doing when he heard, “Alright, alright! I’m sorry! I won’t try to pocket anything anymore! Promise! Yes, I know this is my third promise today but I’m serious this time!”

Shay had heard the legends of the dragon but never saw it. Until Lisbon… When he got to the location where the POE was… the dragon was there, curled around it.

It told him that this POE was unstable and touching it would cause an earthquake that would destroy whatever was above them and Shay just went…

Alrighty then. He isn’t going to argue with the dragon of legends that can talk directly to his mind.

If Achilles still wants to take the POE, he can take it himself.

Achilles heard and believed the stories of the dragon, of course, so if the dragon says that then yeah… better order Shay to find all the other POEs in the manuscript and make sure they remain untouched for as long as possible then.

Desmond chills in the Grand Temple during Ratonhnhaké:ton’s time. His laser beam incinerates everything but does not have to give out any kind of flame at all so he can use it without worrying about accidentally causing forest fires which is nice. Desmond ‘kidnapped’ Ratonhnhaké:ton when he was a child but he let him go anyway so Ratonhnhaké:ton just started visiting him before he could kidnap him. The villagers believe that this means Ratonhnhaké:ton has been chosen by the dragon and it’s a chill dragon that’s only main problem is it likes to hoard feathers for some reason and that agitates all the other birds in the area.

Charles Lee… Charles Lee didn’t live too long in this one.

Also, Ratonhnhaké:ton doesn’t need a ship. He has a dragon!

Arno got captured by the dragon early on. The most embarrassing part was that the ‘knight’ who came to rescue him?

The pretty redhaired de la Serre girl he didn’t even know the name of.

And. It. Kept. Happening.

It’s gotten to the point that his father would check the dragon’s liar first if he can’t find his son and Uncle Pierre has started calling him ‘dragon bait’. He honestly preferred being called pisspot.

“Maybe this time you can finally ask her what her name is.”

“Shut up, Desmond.”

Jayadeep had to be the one to ‘save’ Jacob and Evie from the dragon that ‘kidnapped’ them. He knew the dragon had a liar underneath London and Henry had actually talked to the dragon twice now. He liked to be called Desmond and he was the same dragon as the one in the legends so he thought it wouldn’t take a long time for him to ask Desmond to give the twins back.

Unfortunately…

“Please, Evie, we need to go-”

“Just a few more minutes!” (gasp) “This is the first edition of the-”

“I found the rum! Lots of it! Hey, Desmond, can you get drunk?!”

“And this is the actual journal of Leonardo da Vinci, best known as an ally of our Brotherhood and- oh. Oh. Oooohhh… there’s a lot of nude sketches of a man in this one.”

“Where?! Trade you for a casket of rum?!”

“I thought you wanted to get Desmond drunk?”

“Right! Come on, Desmond. Let’s try and see if you can get drunk!”

Jayadeep sighed and left the hoard.

He’ll try again tomorrow.