#and now I put this potential story up for auction (?)

[wreckingtickles]

Hello, anon who asked for Kaminari here! I just wanna say I love your scenarios, they’re so fun and detailed. I vote for a scenario for a person of your choosing! Anyone you have or haven’t done yet, just throw in one that’s stuck in your head!

That's mighty kind of you! Hope you enjoyed it, these scenarios are just a bunch of story ideas I'll never write lol Mh, my first thoughts were Kirishima or someone from FT, but I'll actually go with DBZ Goku.

I'm sure this was the case for many others, but he was probably my first tickle crush. That Caterpy scene, ahooga! So I actually started writing an Auction story for him as well, before realizing my hands were already full with the current series.

The premise was the following: Goku is meant to be auctioned, but the machine that rates each lee's worst spots read exactly 10 everywhere: 10 is supposed to be the max, but the machine can go all the way to 12, as superhuman physiologies may allow for extraordinarily sensitive spots (like Bakugo with his Quirk...), and of course the method you use can increase the lee's sensitivity, but this is just the baseline.

Anyway, the machine doesn't seem to be malfunctioning. So 3 "analysts" are sent to investigate the matter. And they are quite puzzled by this because, yes, the guy is exactly a 10 everywhere, no matter what they do! Except... while they're using their fingers on his armpits, they realize that his reaction shoot up to a 12! And I like to think that reaching 12 is accompanied by another kind of "shooting", but I'll keep this somewhat SFW lol

Now, that's weird, when they tried the electric toothbrushes and buffers earlier, that spot was definitely a 10, but now it's a 12? And when they used their fingers on his abs, he had a 10 reaction, not a 12 reaction...

So they run a few more tests, and discover something magnificent: each of Goku's spots has the potential to become a 12, you just have to find the right tool and method!

The analysists are ecstatic, they've never had a lee like this before. Sure, they'd got to find the only ticklish spot on multiple shitheads who didn't think they were ticklish. But a lee that's basically like a riddle? What a treat! So they naturally get competitive and poor Goku is dying. What they discover is that claws work best on his abs, backscratchers on his ribs, raspberries right in his bellybutton, scalp massagers on his sides, electric tothbrushes on his, uh, chest, feathers on his B-side, I don't want to say where electric buffers work best, tongues on his toes, etc.

Now, the rest of his feet undoubtedly reward scrubbing, but the Lower Body Analyst (from the knees down) and the Upper Body Analyst (from just above the waist) get into one of their usual fights (I even have names for them lol): LBA (Creep) points out that his hairbrush + grooming glove combo on Goku's feet provokes a reaction above a 12, UBA (Culture) concedes that but claims it's only because LBA has used oil. The Middle Body Analyst (Champ, from just above the knees to the waist) calms them down, says there's a simple way to settle this...

Cut to a few minutes later, and LBA and UBA don't even remember what they were fighting about as all 3 analysts stand over an oil-glistening Goku and each use one of the absolute worst methods they discovered on his now frictionless skin, chatting idly while they put Goku through the most intense experience in his (after)life.

God, I know you don't exist, but please, make this real lol

[colorsunimaginable]

the spare // chapter fifty-two // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 7.3k warnings for this chapter: exhibitionism, public sex, a little dubcon?

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Fifty-Two:

I wake with a start. I know I’m in the living room, but I’m not sure how I got here. My head aches and it hurts when I open my eyes. They adjust to the dark, taking in the light streaming in from the kitchen.

I only notice Thomus when he moves his arm. He’s sitting in the armchair, one leg perched over the other. The glow from the kitchen casts shadows on his face, the ridge of his brow and glasses hiding his eyes. There’s something about the set of his shoulders that radiates tension and it puts me on edge.

I’m just gonna ignore my unease for now and push up onto my elbows. “Hey,” I say, my voice relays how dry my throat is.

He doesn’t respond to me. This is weird. Is he angry? What for?

“Oh… kay,” I murmur and shove myself into a sitting position up against the armrest, my legs curled under me. There’s a blanket laid over me, I clutch it closer to my chest. “What is it?”

He still stays quiet. Yeah, he’s gotta be angry with me. My heart thuds with nerves while I mentally trace my steps as to how I got here. I remember listening to music, baking, crying… dancing, and then… nothing.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Well, I wasn’t expecting him to ask me that. “My head is killing me, which probably means I drank too much and didn’t hydrate.” I press my fingers against my brow, pushing in to relieve some of the tension.

“I’m glad we both agree you over indulged.”

“And… your point?” I ask. “Are you scolding me?”

“No,” he answers smoothly.

“Then why’re you being so…” my hand makes an unintelligible gesture as I search for the word “I don’t know it just feels like you’re mad at me.”

He shifts in his seat, re-crossing his legs and looking away. “I am angry,” he says, “but I’m not angry at you.”

I let that sink in for a moment. “So I didn’t do anything to embarrass myself?”

He lets out a chuckle that surprises me, his entire demeanor shifting. “I never said that.”

“Right,” I huff, letting out a laugh. “So what did I do? Vomit all over myself?”

“Loads. It was disgusting,” he deadpans.

I look down at myself and then into the kitchen, a horrified look morphing onto my face. Everything’s all cleaned up now, so he’d have to have taken care of me while I was piss drunk.

Thomus laughs again, and when he speaks his voice is soothing. “No, you were far from vomiting, which is impressive considering how much you drank.”

I shrug. “I’m a big girl. I can handle my liquor.”

“Not to mention how much I spun you around,” he says as stands. He reaches down for the blanket tucked on me, and I realize it’s his cloak. When he takes it back I feel chilly and exposed, noting the loss of his scent.

His words confuse me, but then, “Oh, right, dancing.”

Thomus drapes his cloak over his arm and walks closer to the stairs. He pauses at the bottom, his head tilting adorably as he speaks. “How much do you actually remember?”

I bite my lip. “I’m afraid it stops there.”

Thomus looks back at the stairs. “Interesting.” He heads up them, two at a time, then pauses. “Edinburgh on Friday.”

I don’t know what’s worse – going to Edinburgh or the gap in my drunken memory.

~*~

As I wait around for Friday, not being able to remember what happened after we danced really starts to bother me. Thomus doesn’t bring it up again, and besides outright asking about it, I can’t think of a way to naturally bring it up in conversation. I’ve never been so drunk that I couldn’t remember what happened before.

Friday afternoon I spy him outside at the border of the property, walking along the stone wall. I watch him from the living room window as he recites incantations from a book he’s holding. An iridescent mist pours from the tip of his wand, it shimmers and clouds over the property line as it creates a wall that just goes up and up past my line of sight. As he walks away from it, continuing, the wall disappears.

I have a feeling that this new ward is going to keep out more than just our mysterious intruder. It’s going to keep out everyone else too. I’ll have to leave another note across the creek for Caelan or Kyle to find once Thomus is done.

While Thomus is outside, I practice my magic. Three days seems to be the magic number right now. Literally. Within a few minutes of concentration on that same lightbulb, it’s glowing in my hand. I wonder how long I’ll be able to keep this a secret. Especially since just me zoning out makes him suspicious.

~*~

Since I’ll have my magic for Edinburgh tonight, I don’t second guess the dress I chose. It’s getting chillier at night, but with the warming charm, I should be okay wearing a shorter dress with merely straps for sleeves. Granted, the shape of the dress isn’t all that different from ones I’ve worn in the past, but I’ve really only got a few options when it comes to styles that flatter my body shape.

The color is a few shades paler than my hair and I’m busy layering on a darker shade of pink onto my eyelids when Thomus moseys into the bathroom from his side. He comes up behind me to grab his comb off the vanity, his hand briefly touching my hip to keep me still. I step to the side anyhow to give him room, because having him directly behind me like that while I’m bent over the sink put the dirtiest images in my head.

I do my best to ignore him while I continue doing my makeup, but every so often I glance up, my eyes involuntarily drawn to the movement of him combing his hair out of his face. I freeze when he leans forward to turn on the tap and wet the comb before returning it to his hair.

You’d think I’d be used to his closeness by now. We’ve literally slept together, so how is it that he can still make me blush? I internally roll my eyes, because I need to get over my stupid crush on the man. He’s a Death Eater. It’s not like he’s ever going to feel the same. He’s not going to want the same things I do. Fuck, I’m still not over the fact that I want those things in the first place. Guess we always want things we can’t have.

I’m so focused on my makeup and my thoughts that I don’t notice Thomus has paused combing his hair. He’s leaning against the doorway to my room, fingers running up and down the teeth of the comb. My eyes flicker back and forth, uneasy that he’s just watching me. I almost believe he’s just looking at my ass, given how I’m leaned over the sink, but no, he’s… watching me do my makeup. I want to groan. He’s probably got a problem with my outfit.

“What?” I ask.

Our eyes meet in the mirror. Then his eyebrows raise and his gaze travels along my body. Ugh, I can’t decide if it makes my skin crawl or tingle.

“Nothing,” he says, but he’s clearly lying.

“What?” I snap again, irritated. “Something wrong with my dress?”

He hesitates and doesn’t return my irritated tone. “That’s what you’re wearing?”

“Yes,” I bite, finishing my mascara. I angrily toss it into the makeup bag before grabbing my toothbrush, squeezing the minty paste onto the bristles. “What’s wrong with it?”

I start brushing my teeth as I wait for his answer. He hesitates again, so I start spewing the worst I can think of. “Is it too much pink? Do I look…” I was gonna say fat, but of course I look fat, that’s a fucking given. “Bad?”

“Not at all,” he says quickly, then much slower, “I just wondered if you were going to be cold.”

I spit out some of the toothpaste/saliva mixture and snort. “Why? Planning on fucking me outside again?”

“No… not outside.”

My skin immediately prickles across my chest and my face burns. My eyes widen for a moment before I take a deep breath, trying to ignore how my heart thumping madly in my chest. When I look at him, he’s already looking at me, waiting for my reaction. Mostly I’m just remembering last time… and the several times I’ve fantasized about it since.

There are several witty responses I could say, but what actually comes out is a garbled, “Really?”

He doesn’t respond, instead turning and disappearing into my room. He returns a moment later to put the comb back.

“Once you’ve changed, I’ll be downstairs,” he says.

I resist the urge to sigh. Whatever it is, I’ll bet I have to redo my makeup.

~*~

The dress he wants me to wear is the one I wore to the Lot fights. I only adorn it with a belt, and leave the neckline as it should be, simply buttoned up to my chest. No tights this time, and he’s lucky I didn’t have to redo my makeup. I added wings on top of the pink eye shadow, so I wouldn’t look entirely like a clown.

He’s waiting for me by the front door and I have to pass him to step into my flats. Then I straighten and turn to him, expectantly waiting for the collar.

Thomus turns to me with his hand in his pocket, and I assume it’s to pull out the collar, but instead he asks, “Are you wearing panties?”

The question takes me by so much surprise that I’m momentarily speechless. When I do find my voice, it’s a jumbled mess of words. “I – um – mm – yes?” I say. “Why?”

He holds his hand out and says with all seriousness, “Hand them over.”

“Why?” I demand again, stepping back. My back hits the front door.

“You won’t be needing them,” he replies.

I snort. “Yes, I do need them. They’re my underwear.”

“Give them to me or I will take them off myself,” he warns.

I swallow hard and grit my teeth, glaring at him. There’s no humor in his expression, just calm expectation.

“Ugh, whatever,” I grumble. I stare pointedly around the room as I lift the sides of the dress, my hands finding purchase at my hips. I quickly slide them down, step out of them, and ball it up into one tight grip before chucking them onto the couch.

“Good,” he says, satisfied. He pulls out the collar and I turn around, already hating feeling exposed underneath my dress. “They’d just get in the way.”

I am both aggravated and intrigued. He said we weren’t fucking outside, so logically that means inside… somewhere. One of the private booths? A dark corner?

And then I’m just… confused. He’d said when he returned from Italy that he didn’t want me to kiss him. I’d assumed that meant he wanted things to go back to the way they were before. He’d said that night was a ‘terrible lack of judgement’.

Okay, maybe – maybe – I can understand. Thomus has to be in denial. He’s got a thing for fat chicks and he doesn’t know what to do about it. Plus, I’m not a pureblood, so let’s throw that into the mix, too. What’s so special about me? I’m everything that he hates, aren’t I?

Though I hardly doubt that me, some American witch who’s gotten herself mixed up in all of this, some girl who’s never had a boyfriend or a lover, could cause such turmoil in Thomus’ life. We’d interacted, what, twice before he just straight up bought me?

Why did he buy me?

I’m torn out of my thoughts when he reaches around me to twist the door handle and pull it open. He’s put the collar on me, and his cloak around his shoulders. We step into the night and I shiver when I feel a breeze ruffle the skirt, drifting up my thighs. I silently cast a warming charm.

He scoops up the leash and leads me down the path. At the barrier, he pulls out his wand, waving it slowly back and forth.

“Aperio Saltus,” he says. The iridescent cloudy shimmer I’d seen earlier today reappears, but fades to nothing where the wooden gate is. I pull up my sleeve and hold my arm out for him to take. He glances down to make sure his fingers touch the tattoo before pulling me through the barrier. He holds onto me when he turns back to the house. “Cludo Saltus.”

The protection spell reforms where we’d passed through and I only realize now that I can’t even see the cottage. It’s disappeared into the dark woods with no defining markers that a cottage exists here at all.  

~*~

“Nice one, Alder,” Will says as I sink a striped ball into a corner hole.

“You’ll tell me if we’re winning, right?” I mutter, resuming my stance next to him. This game has been long and I’m not exactly having fun. Will and I are partners, facing Astor and Thomus. There’s only a couple balls left on the table, the 8-ball, the white one, and two plain ones.

“Yes, you’re winning,” Thomus grumbles as he leans over the table, lining up his cue.

“Is that why you’re so grumpy?” I say aloud, crossing my arms, and giving him a pointed look.

He narrows his eyes and gives me a sour look. “Hush – I’m trying to concentrate.”

Just as he turns his gaze away, I stick my tongue out at him. He pulls the stick back, aiming the white ball at one of the plain ones. He light taps the white ball and it shoots forward, bouncing off one of the felted walls to knock against one of the plain balls. It narrowly scoots its way into a hole.

Thomus makes a triumphant gesture and holds the cue stick out for Astor, who’s busy flirting with a lot sitting a drink before him at the small round standing table. Thomus has to poke Astor with the end of his stick before getting him to move. It’s their team’s turn again since they sunk the ball.

Thomus comes to stand next to me while Astor lines up their last shot. “I can think of a few other places for that tongue to go since you’re so willing to have it out.”

I don’t even look at him, but my heart skips and my ears get hot. My eyes flicker over to the sea of couches and chairs where I know we’re going at some point tonight. The whole time we’ve been playing I’ve been overly self-conscious of the way the dress slides between my ass cheeks, almost like it’s doing it on purpose, every time I have to lean over the table. I always hope no one notices, but the way Thomus looks at me… he definitely notices.

Astor sinks their last ball and looks to me and Will. “Better say your prayers now.”

“I know a way to make our game more interesting,” Will says, a mischievous glint to his smirk. “Losing team has to admit the craziest place they’ve ever had sex.”

My eyes widen. Maybe it’s the location, Edinburgh being the current sex capitol of the Death Eaters. Maybe sex is just on the brain for everyone here. It’s definitely on mine.

“You’re on,” Astor says immediately, a dumb goofy grin on his face. Seems like he’s eager to boast about his sex-capades.

Thomus sighs, shooting a glare at Will. “Take your turn so we can get this over with. I’d like to actually have sex rather than talk about it.”

“Touche,” Will chuckles, unbothered by Thomus’ mood. He takes the cue stick I hold out to him and leans over the table. He misses his shot because it was just a bad angle.

Thomus leaves my side, taking the cue from Astor and attempts to save the set up Will had left. He somehow manages to get the white ball lined up just perfectly for the next player… which happens to be me. Will has a big grin on his face because he already knows they lost.

Will passes me the cue stick and without fuss, I easily sink the 8-ball.

“Fantastic!” he beams at me, holding his hand up for a high-five. I give him a small smile and return his celebratory high-five. He turns to the other team. “Well?”

Astor is finishing chugging his drink, but he answers Will with a handsome grin. “Flying carriage, mid-flight.”

The Lot still standing by the small table gasps at his answer and he turns to her, murmuring something into her ear. I wonder where Isobel O’Quinn is tonight.

“Well?” Will asks Thomus, who’s busy setting up the next game.

Thomus hesitates, glancing up at me and then back down again. “Azkaban.”

I know I look shocked, and I peek at Will to make sure I’m not the only one.

“How?” Will asks.

Thomus gives him an exasperated look. “Do I need to explain to you how sex works?’

Will scoffs. “No. I only meant isn’t that place supposed to be full of dementors and like despair?”

“Yes, it is,” Thomus replies smoothly, without hesitation this time. “Astor, are you playing another round? I’d like to win this time.”

Thomus pulls the triangle rack off the set balls, the 8-ball in the middle. He places the white ball in between it and the edge of the table. I walk over to him and line up my shot to break the set.

“Don’t beat me this time or I’ll have to prove my masculinity in other ways,” he says. My quick glance around ensure only I heard that. Will is standing too far away and Astor is still wrapped up in conversation with the Lot.

I snort. “Mustn’t have been all that strong in the first place,” I tease. I push him back gently with my elbow. “Now get out of my way.”

He smirks and steps back. It feels so nice to just simply flirt with him. It makes this round pass a lot quicker than the last, and I wish we’d been doing it a lot sooner.

A few turns go by, and my eyes wander the room like they did before. Before this round, the Lounge had been kind of empty with everyone still gathered in the Main Hall. Now there are more people, more Death Eaters coupled with their Lots scattered around the room.

A couple stands behind us and I accidentally back into the Lot. While I make my apologies and put distance between us, I just so happen to look down and see a tiny scroll, no longer than an inch, on the floor. It’s where the couple had just been standing. They’d adjusted as well, stepping to the side.

When I look up at them, the Lot is looking at the scroll on the floor, too. Her face has paled and she tries to mask her sudden anxiety, but I see it before she does. Her eyes jump up to mine and we both look down at the paper before meeting eyes again.

Silently, I step to the scroll, putting my foot over it.

Relief washes her face, and her eyes start to frantically dart around the room. I look too, trying to see who she’s looking for.

Eventually her eyes land and stay on Charlotte, who’s making her way towards us with a tray full of drinks.

Okay, so I need to get the scroll into my hand and then somehow into Charlotte’s. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that this is some kind of note being passed around the Lots.

My eyes are darting around, trying to come up with a plan. Charlotte’s stopped by someone, she’s still a distance away.

Thomus is focused on the game, as is Will. He’d just taken the cue stick before his turn, so I have time. No one else seems to be paying me any attention either. Except for the girl who’d dropped the scroll, but that’s a given.

Trying to be as casual as possible, I crouch down, pretending to adjust the strap of my flats. I lift my foot enough to grab flattened scroll and tuck it into the palm of my hand. When I straighten, no one’s overtly staring, thank god. Not that they would. Me dropping to adjust an article of clothing isn’t weird human behavior. I’m just paranoid.

Next time I lay eyes on Charlotte, she’s about to make her way past me. Astor’s waving her down, needing another drink. The only plan that pops into my head is a stupid one, but I’m gonna have to give it a go.

As she passes, I pop my foot out in her path. Not to make her fall, just to make her stumble.

My hands jump out to the tray, holding it as she gets her bearings. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were walking by!”

She blinks at me, an uneasy expression on her pretty face. “Don’t worry about it. No harm done.”

“Oh good,” I say, my hands slide to hers still gripping the tray. I quickly slip the tiny paper into a gap between her palm and the edge of the metal.

The subtlest of realizations crosses her face and she simply smiles at me. “Would you like a drink?”

“Not if I’m already being clumsy,” I smile sheepishly.

She nods and continues to Astor. Thomus appears at my side not two seconds later.

“Save the day?” he questions, an eyebrow raised.

I haven’t even had time to quell the adrenaline rush that whole fucking thing just gave me. My hearts racing with joy at my success.

“From disaster? Yes.”

~*~

What feels like forever a time later, after Will and I had beaten them again, Thomus is finally dragging me over to a section of couches. There are a few couples scattered about, their attentions solely focused on each other. It gives me minimal relief knowing that we won’t have an attentive audience, but I’m still practically shaking with nerves. Last time I got carried away by the moment and focused on Thomus. Hopefully I can do that this time too.

Thomus picks a couch, a spot with plenty of room for my legs to spread on either side of him. He sits, his eyes dropping to follow my hands as they lift the hem of my dress so I’m not crawling on it as I straddle him. His thighs feel so strong underneath me as I settle in, a hand on the back of the couch to keeps me steady as I gently lower my weight onto them. As always, I test for his reaction, terrified that it’s too much for him.

He’s not looking at me, though. Well, not at my face. His gaze roams my torso like his hands roam my thighs and hips. The thin fabric of my dress snags on his hands and it feels extra enticing over the areas normally secured by my undies. His fingers slowly trace the curve of my ass and hip and it’s almost as if I were actually naked. They even trail up to the rolls on my waist, an area he’d gotten to know the night we were here last. When his hands explored and worshipped my body as they do now.

That’s how it feels, at least.

Thomus is bent forward, I feel his breath on my chest as his lips kiss around the forgotten leash. His hands move forward, caressing my stomach, moving up to palm my breasts. I shudder when I feel his tongue and teeth lick and nip at the base of my throat. I ache from his attention already, and my hips shift, searching for the right pressure, my bare core spread across his lap. The cool fabric of his pants brushes against my skin.

Some men across the room laugh, and I’m reminded we’re not alone whatsoever. The momentary clear in my aroused haze makes me realize his hands have left my breasts and are now slowly undoing the buttons on the front of my dress.

“Thomus,” I protest, my cheek pressing against his soft curls to speak in his ear. My hands push at his shoulders and he relents, sighing as he sits back against the cushions. My fingers and eyes immediately go to the buttons, assessing the damage.

His hand grabs mine, stalling the rebuttoning. “Don’t touch those.” His voice is husky and I’m surprised to see his pupils are blown out as he looks at me. It’s probably the dim lighting. “I won’t threaten your modesty any further.”

“It’s not modesty,” I correct, shaking my head as if that were ridiculous. Which it is. “I just don’t want to be on display for dozens of men who’re literally strangers.” My body isn’t something that all men want to see and I don’t want their harsh judgement.

“I don’t want you on display for them,” he scoffs. He moves his hands back to my thighs, restarting their journey up my sides. “I want you on display for me.”

“If that’s the case, then why don’t we do this from the privacy of our own home?”

He takes the time to drag his eyes up to meet mine. “Because I enjoy publicly staking claim on what belongs to me.”

I snort and roll my eyes. “Okay, so the tattoo, the leash and collar, and the fact you fucked me in front of a crowd last time wasn’t enough for you?”

As if reminded of their existence, he grabs said leash and pulls on it tightly, yanking me forward so I’m leaning against him. My hands support my weight against the back of the couch, but the new angle adds the precise pressure to my clit that I’d been searching for. I somehow manage to keep the pleasure from being written all over my face. His lips brush my cheek as his free hand presses against the valley between my breasts, pillows against the shape of it.

“I’m insatiable,” Thomus murmurs, his mouth quickly resuming its work against my skin.

Boy oh boy, my monkey brain is quickly winning the battle against my sanity. I release a sigh that borders on a moan as my body embraces being pressed on him. My hips move, rocking and pressing my core against what’s clearly his erection wedged between my thighs. He quickly picks up on my movements, his hands move to my hips, gripping them tightly, encouraging their grinding.

“Does that poor little clit ache to be touched?” His deep voice sends shivers down my body and as if it heard his words, my clit starts to throb. He flexes his hips and I release a quiet little whimper, nodding my head.

“Then touch it for me,” he says and my breath catches in my throat, my body freezing. “I want you to rub that pretty pussy for me.” He pushes back at my hips and I reluctantly leave the safety of his embrace.

My brain scrambles for a reason to object. I know this is the general nature of what we’re here to do, but that? In his lap? Never mind all these people here. My eyes immediately jump to the crowd, looking for faces turned in our direction, gazes providing me with their unwanted attention.

“Remember you’re here for me,” he says darkly, a possessiveness in his eyes. “Not anyone else. You’re going to touch yourself because I want you to.”

“But why?” I ask, my expression full of vulnerability and disbelief.

“Because I want to watch you.” He grabs one of my hands and pushes it against the soft curve of my fupa.

God I wish I could use my Occlumency right now. But if I do, he’ll obviously notice from this close proximity. So I take a few deep controlled breaths to keep myself from freaking out. How did I ever do what I did the first time we came here? I hardly even knew him then.

As I begin to adjust my body – sliding back on his thighs, tilting my hips up, positioning the dress so it won’t be in my way – I run my mouth.

“So exhibitionism, voyeurism, bondage, spanking – what else are you into?” I attempt to make my voice nonchalant, as if what I’m doing isn’t as dirty as I think it is.

He ignores my question, his eyes zeroed in on my hand disappearing beneath the green fabric between my legs. The position is awkward, I feel I need to lean back more, so my hand can have full access, but I don’t want to lose my balance and fall. Talk about calling attention to myself.

I grab one of his hands and put it on the outside of my thigh, near the crook of my knee, and I put the other on the juncture of my hip and waist. He’s already looking at my face when I look at his.

“Don’t let me fall,” I plead, and his grip immediately tightens where I’d placed his hands.

“Never,” he says. His voice is so serious and somehow so reassuring.

I tilt my hips again and lean one hand back on his knee. My dominant hand disappears beneath the dress again. I don’t know what he wants to watch. It’s not like he can see down there.

“You never answered my question,” I state. My fingers find my slit, quickly delving between my lips – holy fuck I’m really wet. I move my arousal up to my clit, rubbing and circling it directly with the lubrication. My scent wafts up into the air between us.

“What question?” he asks, and I wonder if he’s this easily distracted all the time.

I sigh, but I’m not sure if it’s out of pleasure or trying patience. “What’re you into? Like sexually.”

He glances up at me briefly. “You’re asking this now?”

“Seems the perfect time.”

He swallows and his eyes absently drift up as he considers.

“I already know you have a fat fetish, so you don’t have to bring that one up.”

His eyes snap back to me. “A what?”

“Fat fetish,” I enunciate slowly. “Or maybe it’s a kink – I’m not really sure the difference.”

“I don’t have a –“

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, you don’t? What the hell am I then? You telling me that you have a history of being attracted to plus size ladies like myself that I don’t know about?”

I expect him to rebuff me again, but he surprises me with honesty. At least his tone makes it seem like he’s being honest.

“No,” he admits. “It’s a, um, recent development.”

“How recent?” I ask because I’m nosey as shit.

“Are you even touching yourself? You seem awfully distracted.”

It’s true, I am distracted, but I know my body’s subtle reaction to what my hand is administering. My thighs and ass have clenched, my hips slightly rock with every pleasurable jolt my clit sends throughout my body. I tilt my head and lick my lips.

“Yeah, I’m touching myself,” I breathe quietly. “I’m really wet.”

His hips flex beneath me and he lets out a heavy huff through his nose. “Yeah?”

My horny monkey brain is taking the lead on this one. “You wanna taste?”

He lets out the quietest whimper, like he was trying to suppress it. His lips are already parted when he nods.

I sink two fingers inside my core and make sure I give an appropriate gasp as I press them against my g-spot before pulling them out. Thomus’ gaze is full of hunger and want, eager for the middle and ring finger I slip into his mouth. His eyes close as his lips seal around them and his tongue laps at my juices. I let my fingers linger in his mouth, enjoying the hot wet suction.

When I pull them out, my hand goes to the back of his neck and I pull him forward to kiss him. Our lips smash together, tongue and teeth clashing in the fight for dominance. My hand slips down to his belt, quickly freeing him of the confines of his pants. He gasps when I start to stroke him against my palm.

The hand that had been behind my knee easily slips under the dress, his fingers prodding between my legs. I feel his chest shudder and his mouth becomes distracted when he feels just how wet I am. My hips jerk when he presses in on my clit, a little too hard, and I bite his bottom lip. This doesn’t deter him because he sinks two long fingers inside me. It’s my turn to gasp as his thumb presses against my clit and his fingers curl onto my g-spot.

“How’s that feel, my darling?” he murmurs against my lips. I rock my hips and the added pressure of my weight onto his hand makes me crazy.

I grip the base of his cock and drag my hand up it, twisting my palm against his head, smearing a bead of pre-cum. My lips leave his as I kiss my way to his ear. “How’d that feel?”

A light breathy laugh escapes him. “Trying to distract me won’t prevent me from taking an orgasm from you.”

I repeat the strokes of his cock, my tone light and curious. “I thought one is supposed to give someone orgasms. Not take them.”

“You give them to me and I take them from you,” he murmurs. As if to prove his point, his hand pulses, fingers flexing against me. “It’s not complicated – come on, darling.”

His hand on my hip encourages the enticing rocking they’re already starting to do. My cunt is throbbing with need and pleasure begs to be released. I whimper and give into his movements. I don’t go as wild as my instincts are telling me to, but I move just enough to push my orgasm higher and higher until it’s threatening to spill like water over the edge of a tub.

My body stiffens and by some miracle I’m able to orgasm in silence. His hand is rubbing my back as I come down from this high, trying to keep my panting to a minimum.

“Such a good girl,” he purrs into my ear.

Once recovered enough, I push myself away from him, sitting in his lap. He’s got the most irritating, smug grin on his face, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Without realizing it, I glare at him, and his response is to flex his fingers that’re still inside me.

I gasp and quickly grapple for his wrist, lifting my hips to pull his hand away. His hand is practically dripping with me and I put it the best place I can think of. I steer his hand down to his still-stiff cock, wrapping his fingers around it. My hand encloses over his as he shamelessly strokes himself, his breathing hard and his eyes on me. Soon my hand replaces his and I lean forward to kiss him again.  

“I need – inside you,” he breathes heavily between kisses. I quickly nod my head, hazy with anticipation. “Rise up for me a little bit?” he asks and I comply while he shimmies further down in his seat. I crawl forward a little bit more, and when I feel him pushing my thigh down, I lower myself until I feel his cock sliding up and down my cunt.

The tip of his head finds my entrance and I slowly start to sink down. When I’m fully seated, his cock stretching me out and pushing deeper than he ever has before, he lets out a long breath.

“Fuck,” he groans. He’s farther away from me now. He’s not lying down, but he might as well be. If I lean forward, I know he’s going to slip out.

I test how much I can move. This is a new position for me, one I’m definitely not comfortable with if I really think about it. My thighs burn when I lift myself up and sink back down on him. I circle my hips, focusing on how he feels moving in me. It feels amazing, but unless I have a finger on my clit, I don’t I could finish. And I already have, which makes the small noises coming from him all the more interesting.

His hands are on me, one behind my knee again, and the other sliding up and down my waist. His hand takes in my body just as his eyes are. I circle my hips again and he looks ready to combust.

I have one hand on the back of the couch to stabilize me, and I bring the other one to his jaw, cupping it. His lust-filled eyes go to my face.

“I got some questions for you,” I say, my voice sounding just as breathless as I feel. “And you’re gonna answer them.”

His jaw locks and he frowns. “Or what?”

“Or…” I lift my hips until only the very head of him is in. “I stop this ride.”

“That’s what you think,” he smirks. His hands are suddenly at my hips, pulling down on them while he pushes his hips up. He sinks all the way back into me and maybe even further, gyrating his hips, and I barely stop myself from crying out. This won’t fucking do.

“No,” I pant. I clamp my legs around him and really let my weight settle on his lap. He lets out a strangled gasp, and I try to tell myself I’m not hurting him, even as the negative thought takes root. “No,” I say again, my voice firmer. “I want answers.”

“What could you possibly want to know?” he grinds out, clearly irritated at being cock-blocked.

I lean forward, as close as I can be to his face. I keep my voice low. “Did you take a potion to do this?”

His eyes, which had fallen to the cleavage bursting out of the dress at this angle, snap to my face. He opens his mouth to speak and I just ignore him. “Or is it like what you said before? This place just makes you horny.”

He closes his mouth, long silent moments passing. I sit back up and grind down on him, squeezing him with those internal muscles. He groans and his hips flex beneath me.

“Answer me,” I breathe. “I’m tired of the back and forth. I just want the truth. I –“

“Yes,” he groans. “Of course it was a bloody lie.” He pushes his hips up again, thighs jostling me. “What does this fucking feel like to you?”

“Well, I don’t know,” I hiss. To regain control, I rise and then lower myself a few times, watching his strained, annoyed face. “It feels like you’ve got a big hard cock for me.”

His hand smartly (and rather loudly) smacks me on my ass. “Ten points for Thunderbird.”

“What does that even mean?”

I circle my hips again and he hisses. “I’ll explain it later.”

“Why lie in the first place?” I demand. “Why say all of those awful fucking things to me right after we –“

“Because I’m not supposed to –“

“Right, you’re not supposed to find me attractive, but you do, right?” I grind down on him again on impulse.

“If that wasn’t fucking obvious,” he groans.

“But if that’s the case then – then why – do you – do you hate me?” I ask. I know our words won’t be overheard because of how softly we’re speaking, but my hearts pounding with nerves. I shouldn’t be having this conversation here. I shouldn’t be having it at all. My words aren’t indicative of the type of relationship we’re supposed to have. Master and servant, master and slave, Death Eater and sex slave. I speak as if we’re already equals.

Narcissa said to ignore what he says, and if I do that, then his actions imply that he… that he doesn’t hate me.

And I really want him to not hate me.

I’m lost in my thoughts, my eyes focused on his chest and not his face. I’m too terrified of what I’ll see there.

“Lift up,” he simply says, and I finally look at him. His expression is concentrated, intense focus. I raise my hips, pulling off of him, and he shoves himself back up in his seat. He doesn’t settle though, instead he pushes at me so forcefully, I’m lying on my back along the couch.

I don’t have time to see if anyone’s watching because he’s on me in the next instant. He settles between my legs, pushing my dress up enough for him to slide into me again. He plants a head next to my head and the other on the edge, keeping me trapped.

Thomus lowers his head and lips are on mine in the next second, taking taking taking. Taking the air from my lungs, the soul from my body, any sense I’d had left. He pumps his hips against me, his cock rolling deep and sure inside me. I moan into his kiss.

He finally pulls his mouth away, his lips finding my ear. “You drive me fucking crazy,” he rasps. He slams into me again, this time so hard my whole body jolts. It feels so fucking good.

“This fucking body – I wanna sink my teeth into every glorious inch,” he’s starting to sound like a man possessed as he whispers in my ear, but my god I’m not gonna fucking stop him. He rocks into me, his pelvis angled just right – how the fuck does he get it right every time? “And your hair. This bloody beautiful color that makes your eyes so fucking green. Did you know I found strands of it wrapped around my cock in Italy? Couldn’t even escape you there.”

His breath is hot and fast against my neck as his pace starts to pick up. He’s close to losing it and so am I. This is a wild, feral version of Thomus that I haven’t seen before. Experiencing him like this is beyond what I’d hoped for.

Because my brain likes to remind me of things at the most inconvenient times, my eyes open to double check we’re not being watched, and the air in my lungs freezes when I see fucking Rodolphus sitting in an armchair a few feet away. Our eyes meet and he smirks, raising an eyebrow.

My hands – they’d been clutching at Thomus’ side and arm – release their grip and pat him to get his attention.

“Thomus,” I gasp when he doesn’t acknowledge me.

He only fucks me harder. “Say it again, darling.”

“Thomus,” I moan, my eyes closing. The orgasm that had been rising suddenly crests, the pleasure crashing over my body in a quick flush. Like I’d been dumped with hot bath water.

Thomus’ teeth sink into my shoulder as he finishes. I open my eyes and Rodolphus is gone. Thankfully, Thomus’ brain returns and he pulls out. He quickly sits up, pulling my dress over my legs. He takes my hand and pulls me up, too.

Then his hands are cupping my face and he’s kissing me. It’s tender, gentle, unlike the absolute wild fucking I just received. But that’s okay. I’m okay with both.

Thank you for reading and sticking a long with me this far! A reblog and comment will go along way, thank you 💕

[godesssiri]

I am about to type the most ridiculous sentence ever: I didn't mean to buy a zebra.

I went to an auction today. It's a shabby run down place that's been open for 60 years and does a no reserve auction, where everything must sell, every other Thursday. Mostly estates, insurance stock and business closures. You never know what's going to be for sale and whether it will go for thousands or for a song. I knew there was an antique zebra hide rug up for auction with no reserve price and I figured it would go for hundreds or even thousands and I was just interested in watching the bidding. I collect oddities and it was cool so I was interested to see who would get it.

When I got there I went to have an up close look, they encourage you to thoroughly check what you're potentially buying because all sales are final. It's a bit moth eaten, the fur has worn away in a couple of places, it was cool to see a real zebra hide up close. There were a couple of other things I was actually there to bid on (they all went way over what I was willing to pay) but I did snap up a couple of bargains. Then the zebra came up. The auctioneer opened at $500, no one bid, so he dropped to $400, $300, $200, no bids. He said $100 and I sat there dithering, and thinking how it was super cheap, and I couldn't really not bid on it at that price, but I have NO WHERE to put it. While I was dithering he dropped to $50. My hand shot up so fast. Another guy who was obviously a dealer buying stock for his second-hand business put in a $60 bid just to see if he could get it super cheap or if I'd fight him for it. I put in $70. The dealer didn't want a fight so he dropped out. The auctioneer called that my bid was the winner and I sorta squeaked to the entire auction room that I have No Idea what I'm going to do with it (my voice went up several octaves with the dawning realization of: I Didn't Mean To Do That). It was $81.50 with the 15% auction fees! Less than $100!

So now I've gotten it home and am deciding what I need to sacrifice from my gallery wall going up the stairs to make space because that's literally the only wall big enough to put it on, it can't go on the floor as the cats will wreck it.

And that's the story of how I didn't mean to buy a zebra.

[nikibogwater]

Watchful Eye--a Fire Emblem: Three Houses fanfiction

Ignatz Victor was skinny as a rail, soft-spoken as a dove, and almost pathetically shy. He seemed content to vanish into his wife’s shadow, and apart from the occasional patron of the arts, most people let him do just that. From what Aspen could tell, he wouldn’t need to count the Archbishop’s husband as a potential obstacle.

He was not aware of it yet, but Aspen Caecius had never been more wrong in his entire life.

Or: Ignatz often notices things that others might miss.

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Read on Ao3

Or in the post below:

A/N: Still on my Three Houses brainrot, and tired of trying to fight it. I've actually had this fic idea floating around in my head for weeks now, but it took me a while to give in to the temptation and spend an afternoon actually putting it into words. Like my last Three Houses fic, this is purely self-indulgent, so if you think this whole story is utterly silly, yes, I agree, and I loved every second that I was working on it. Special thanks goes to @singingshutin for the quick beta!

*****

Archbishop Byleth was no stranger to assassination attempts. Even before she had assumed the throne of Fódlan, there were more prices on her head than a prize horse up for auction. One made a lot of enemies when one worked as a mercenary, and even more so once one held a position of such great power. Fortunately for her though, she had always been notoriously difficult to kill. 

But at the same time, Aspen Caecius was no stranger to difficult jobs. 

Difficult jobs were just about the only ones a professional assassin could get these days. With the unification of Fódlan and the reformation of the Church of Seiros, there simply wasn’t as much demand for assassinations as there used to be. Of course, there were always monsters to be hunted and bandits to be routed, but the Knights of Seiros usually took care of such things now, making even honest mercenary work hard to come by. But Aspen knew that no matter how peaceful things were, there was always at least one person with a grudge and a pocket full of blood-money. And for someone as proficient in his craft as he was, the difficulty of a particular job wasn’t even something that had to be taken into consideration. 

Aspen didn’t really have anything against the Archbishop himself, apart from how difficult she made it for him to earn a living as an assassin. In fact he would readily admit that Fódlan had thrived under her rule these past two years. But his employer felt differently about the matter. Said employer had once held high status in the church thanks to his noble lineage, but after Lady Byleth began her reformation, his bloodline was no longer enough to shield him from scrutiny. He was investigated, found guilty of extortion and fraud, and promptly stripped of his title. Such a thing would never have occurred during the days of Archbishop Rhea. Aspen’s client was hellbent on returning to those days and reclaiming his lofty position.

Assassinating Lady Byleth would involve a lot more preparation than the usual job, but it was certainly doable. Thanks to the dozens of past failed attempts on her life, her strengths were very well-documented, and such intel was easy to come by down in Abyss. She was very alert, being extremely difficult to catch off-guard, even while asleep. She was also remarkably sturdy--the few times anyone had managed to actually land a blow against her, she hadn’t been nearly as phased as she should have been. Regular poisons seemed to have little effect on her as well. But the Agarthian blade he had salvaged from the ruins of Shambhala would easily cut through any of her goddess-born natural defenses. It was her other defenses that he was more concerned with. 

Aspen was no fool. He knew that if he crossed blades with Lady Byleth directly, it would certainly end in failure. That was what got all the other assassins killed or imprisoned. Those cocky idiots thought they could go toe-to-toe with the vessel of the progenitor god and come away with all of their limbs still intact. No, he would have to find a weakness and exploit it, preferably before she even realized he was there. 

He considered simply taking a hostage; it was perhaps an inelegant strategy, but it was rather effective in the right circumstance, and Lady Byleth was renowned for her unwavering love for her former students. The only problem was that all of her former students were also war heroes in their own right. Capturing and containing one of them would be an entirely separate job in and of itself, one that could easily end in disaster for him. Case in point, everyone in Abyss was familiar with the infamous Bandit Massacre of 1180. Not only did the bandits not get the ransom money for Riegan boy, they had all met a grisly demise at the end of Professor Byleth’s sword. No, a hostage was out of the question. 

Waiting for her to leave the safety of the monastery wasn’t a viable option either. She rarely left without the company of a knight or two, and if she did, it actually made her much more difficult to kill, since she had no one else to defend besides herself. She would see through any traps or snares he could possibly lay, and even if she didn’t, that sword of hers could slice through rope and chain as easily as butter. No, his best option was to do the job inside the Monastery itself. Getting inside wouldn’t be much of an issue, as it was always open to the public. But getting to Lady Byleth without anyone noticing--especially without her noticing--that would be another matter. 

So for now, Aspen decided to play the long game. Passing himself off as a pilgrim from Gautier territory, he secured lodging in the village of Garreg Mach, and was permitted to come in and out of the monastery as he pleased. Lady Byleth believed that the Church of Seiros should be readily accessible to all who wished to practice their faith, and she was known for leaving her audience chambers to mingle with the common folk. This made it easier for Aspen to observe her daily routine and make note of any potential openings for an attack. 

Lady Byleth was often accompanied by her husband when she wandered the monastery grounds. Aspen knew that the Archbishop had a consort, of course, but because of Lord Victor’s origins as a commoner, as well as his generally unremarkable appearance and demeanor, he was rarely ever spoken about by the public. Little was known about him apart from his paintings, and it was unclear as to why the new Archbishop had chosen him to be her husband when she could have had her pick of anyone in the nation. Not that it mattered--if anything, Aspen was counting himself lucky. Ignatz Victor was skinny as a rail, soft-spoken as a dove, and almost pathetically shy. He seemed content to vanish into his wife’s shadow, and apart from the occasional patron of the arts, most people let him do just that. From what Aspen could tell, he wouldn’t need to count the Archbishop’s husband as a potential obstacle. 

He was not aware of it yet, but Aspen Caecius had never been more wrong in his entire life.

Three days of reconnaissance yielded frustratingly little useful information. The only times Aspen could be certain of Lady Byleth being alone (apart from her non-issue husband, anyways) were when she was securely locked in her chambers for the night. As long as the warm weather didn’t break soon, he was fairly certain he could get in through the terrace, but there was still the matter of finding a way to cripple her without engaging her directly. Aspen now found himself aimlessly wandering around the stables, brooding on his situation. He was starting to get antsy, though he couldn’t say why, and he wished to have the job over and done with so he could make himself scarce as quickly as possible. As of yet, no one had seemed even the slightest bit suspicious of him, but he still couldn’t shake the sense that he was missing something--something that could mean the end of his career. 

He was so lost in thought that he nearly stumbled right into an easel set up in front of one of the stalls. There was a frantic little yelp, and the clatter of paint supplies as the artist jumped to protect his work. 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, I wasn’t paying attention--” Aspen began. 

“No, no, it’s my fault, this wasn’t a great place to set up.” Lord Victor was awfully quick to cut off Aspen’s apology and take the blame upon himself. Rather pitiful, if Aspen was being honest. He was beginning to wonder if this man had any spine at all. 

Then again, it could prove very useful for Aspen if he didn’t. 

“Oh, aren’t you Lord Victor?” Aspen began, easily slipping back into the character of a starry-eyed pilgrim. 

“Just Ignatz, please,” Ignatz replied with a smile, adjusting his glasses a little nervously. “I’m not one for titles.” 

“Of course, of course. Word is you were a commoner before marrying the Archbishop. It’s made you a bit of a folk hero among peasants such as myself.” That was a lie. Most people tended to forget that Ignatz Victor even existed. 

“Folk hero?” Ignatz laughed shyly. “I don’t know about that. I’m just a painter who fell in love, that’s all.” 

“Indeed.” Aspen held back a retch. Goddess, this man was as soft as pegasus down. It was practically nauseating. “How is the fair Lady Byleth, by the way? I don’t recall seeing her in the village today.” 

“She’s taking the day off to get some rest. She often has trouble sleeping, and there was a mix-up in the kitchens last night, so she wasn’t able to take her sleeping draught.” 

“Sleeping draught?” Aspen perked up immediately. 

“Yes, it’s just a blend of herbs from Morfis,” Ignatz replied carelessly, adding a few strokes to his painting. It appeared to be a painting of a horse, but it was certainly one of the ugliest horses Aspen had ever seen put to canvas.“She takes it with her tea every night before bed,” the artist continued. “Bernadetta--er, that is, Countess Varley, is always getting after her for it. Says it would be too easy to slip a poison past the testers, due to the complex molecular structure of the herbs. Personally, I think she’s being a little paranoid.” He started out of his distracted rambling with a jolt and turned wide, pleading eyes toward Aspen. “...Please don’t tell her I said that.” 

“Your secret is safe with me,” Aspen assured him with an amused smile. What a surprisingly useful idiot, he thought. “Begging your pardon, but I should be going now--I was hoping to offer some prayers in the cathedral before dinner. It was an honor to make your acquaintance, Ignatz.” He dipped into a cordial bow. “Give my regards to the Archbishop.” 

“Of course,” Ignatz said with a warm smile.

*****

Unbeknownst to many, Aillell Grass was an herb that held many curious qualities. Processing the plant took quite a bit of patience and effort, but the end result was more than worth it; a clear, nearly-odorless liquid that, when mixed into healing tinctures or poisons, would greatly enhance their effects. Aspen always kept a small vial of the stuff among the other tools of his trade. And not for the first time, it was proving to be the most valuable weapon in his arsenal. 

Lacing the Archbishop’s tea was laughably easy. There were only two maids working in the kitchens so late at night, and both were the type of silly, tittering airheads that were easily distracted by a charming face and a few insincere compliments. Ignatz came to collect the sleeping draught for his wife, and one of the maids was kind enough to shove Aspen into the pantry before Lord Victor spotted him. Lady Ordelia was with him, and, after examining the cup via magic, she concluded that it was devoid of any harmful substances. Technically, she was correct--Lady Byleth was in no real danger from the drink itself. It would merely put her into an especially deep sleep, one that Aspen could reasonably hope would be enough to keep her from sensing his presence. Ignatz thanked Lady Ordelia, and graciously suggested that the blushing maids return home for the night. 

The chimes of the clocktower echoed through the deserted courtyards and hallways. It was now two o’clock in the morning. There was always a rotation of guards near the Archbishop’s quarters at this time, which offered Aspen the perfect opportunity to slip unnoticed through the shadows and climb up onto the terrace. The night was warm and breezy, and the doors to the terrace had been left wide open. The Archbishop’s room was silent and still as Aspen crept along the floor, keeping close to the wall. In the flickering light of a low-burning lantern, he could just make out Lady Byleth’s figure, lying peacefully on the right side of the enormous four-poster bed. Another breeze rustled the curtains by the open doors, and the moon came out from behind a cloud, casting its ethereal light across her sleeping face. 

Aspen had never noticed it in the village, but there was truly something otherworldly about Lady Byleth’s appearance. Her mint-colored hair, draped gracefully across her pillow, seemed almost iridescent. Her chest rose and fell with her soft breathing. Her left hand lay on the pillow beside her head, her wedding ring glinting in the moonlight. Seeing her like this, Aspen had no trouble believing that she carried the spirit of the goddess within her. It was almost a shame to kill something so beautiful. But it would be an even bigger shame to not be able to pay his tab at the Withered Rose, and so, with the gentle hiss of steel sliding from its sheath, Aspen readied his blade. 

Thwip!

Red-hot pain exploded across his left arm. The knife clattered to the floor, and it was only then that Aspen realized, with a strangled cry of agony, what it was that he had been missing all this time.

Ignatz Victor stepped out of the shadows on the other side of the room, bow still in hand, his usually placid gaze now cold and sharp as a spearhead. Aspen’s blood trickled down his arm and dripped to the floor, reflecting the silvery moonlight like stained glass. Ignatz’s arrow had pierced right through the miniscule joints of Aspen’s shoulder guard and dug deep into his flesh. That should have been a near-impossible shot to make, even at close range. What had happened to the loose-lipped, vacantly staring idiot from the stables?!

“...Let me paint you a picture,” Ignatz murmured, crossing the floor in three long strides and hauling Aspen to his feet. The assassin bit back a yelp as Ignatz’s hand closed around his injured arm. “A lone pilgrim from Gautier territory arrives at Garreg Mach and lodges there for three days.” Lord Victor’s voice was no longer warm and gentle--it was steely and authoritative. “During his stay there, he devotes an unusual amount of time to watching the Archbishop--he spends no time in the greenhouse or library, speaks to none of his fellow pilgrims, and never once offers prayers in the cathedral. Instead, his gaze is always fixed on the Archbishop, always searching for her amid the crowds of believers. But unlike them, he does not look upon her with reverence and love. His gaze is cold. Calculating. A predator watching his prey.” Still reeling from the pain in his shoulder, Aspen was unable to struggle as Ignatz dragged him across the room with surprising strength. “He is so intent upon his mission that he fails to notice the humble painter at her side. And when that humble painter offers him an easy opening, the lone pilgrim takes it without hesitation, and in doing so, reveals himself for the assassin he is. 

“You have my thanks for improving my wife’s slumber,” he finished in a chillingly cordial tone. He opened the door to the Archbishop’s chambers, and Aspen screwed his eyes shut as he was thrust into the brightly-lit hall. Iron-clad hands closed around his arms and pinned them behind his back. “Aillell Grass, wasn’t it, Lysithea?” 

“Yep.” Lady Ordelia was standing alongside the two knights gripping Aspen’s arms. “It was quite difficult to discern, but certainly no match for me.” She tossed her head and fixed Aspen with a haughty glare. “Really, how stupid do you have to be, thinking you can get anywhere close to the Archbishop without us knowing? Honestly, that might’ve been one of the most pathetic attempts I’ve ever seen. At least the others put up more of a fight before they were caught.” 

“That’d be ‘cause Lady Byleth was awake to fight ‘em,” one of the knights said. He spoke with an  Almyran accent, and wore a boyish smirk as he relieved Aspen of all his remaining weapons. “But Ignatz always takes care of these things real quick and quiet-like. Still, that was awful cowardly of ya, puttin’ her to sleep like that,” Cyril remarked to Aspen. “Even if she does need the rest.” 

“Take him to the dungeons and have Manuela tend to his wound,” Ignatz instructed. “I’m sure Lady Byleth will want to question him tomorrow.” 

And that was how the long and, up until that point, illustrious career of one Aspen Caecius came to a most abrupt and unexpected end.

“You know,” Lysithea began, as Cyril and the other knights dragged the shocked assassin away. “I thought you were just being paranoid when you told me about him. All that stuff about him looking at Byleth funny--but you were right! You knew exactly what he was going to do just by looking at him. Are you sure you don’t have the gift of foresight?” 

“Oh, no, nothing of the sort,” Ignatz said quickly. “I didn’t really know anything, I was only suspicious. That’s why I told Byleth not to waste any time worrying about it, and why I told him about the sleeping draught. I figured if he really was just a pilgrim, he wouldn’t do anything with that information, and then Byleth would be spared the trouble of investigating him.” 

“But how did you even know to be suspicious in the first place?” Lysithea prodded. “To be able to discern someone’s intentions with just a glance--that has to be some kind of magic.” 

“No, no magic,” he replied with a smile. “I just notice things that others might miss, that’s all. The way he always looked at her....it was just like the way enemy soldiers used to look at her on the battlefield.” His smile faded, and for a brief moment, an ember of fury flickered in his warm brown eyes. “...You’re sure--absolutely positive--that the draught won’t hurt her?” he asked anxiously. 

“I am certain,” Lyithea assured him. “In fact, I wish I’d thought of Aillell Grass extract earlier. This will probably be the best night of sleep she’s had in years. Goddess knows she needs one for a change. And so do you,” she added, patting him on the shoulder. 

“I am rather exhausted, yes,” he laughed. “Let’s all turn in for the night.” He bid Lysithea goodnight and went back into the Archbishop’s chambers, sighing with contentment as his gaze landed on her slumbering form, still bathed in moonlight. He slipped out of his cloak and boots silently, and laid his quiver down on one of the sofas. Byleth stirred slightly when he settled into bed next to her. 

“...Mmmgh,” she mumbled, opening her eyes a fraction. “Ignatz...? Is something h-h-happening?” Her question was stretched across a yawn. 

“Just a minor scuffle. Everything’s settled now,” he told her, folding his glasses and setting them on the nightstand before leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. “Go back to sleep. I’ll tell you about it in the morning.”

“Mmmm, my hero” she mumbled, turning over and nestling against him. She smiled sleepily as she felt his chest stutter with a quiet laugh. 

“Not really,” he whispered into her hair. “Just a painter who fell in love.”

[donseo]

A Review Of Best DarkWeb Markets On The Deep Web

Live Darknet tor encrypts the applying layer of your respective activity and redirects your transactions by way of a worldwide network developed up of A large number of relays or nodes.

This suggests creating encrypted email that has a new email tackle, encrypting messages with PGP, employing a pseudonym (so no one appreciates who you might be), starting an nameless bitcoin wallet (you'll be able to’t use a similar a single as your daily checking account or else, it would depart evidence on banking institutions’ servers), other protection precautions like disabling javascript in Tor Browser.

Gun store – The store has nearly 10 differing kinds of guns as well as their ammunition listed up on the market. Almost everything from SMGs to AR rifles appear to be accessible. Payment is just approved in Bitcoin.

Like any place where by human beings gather, You can find an criminal activity.

There are actually underground markets marketing medicines, and many of these, such as the Silk Highway, fundamentally market marijuana completely. They provide a small portion on the Actual physical drug trade.

As I currently explained in the following paragraphs, unlawful routines occur within the dim web, and many of the most vital crimes at any time happen there.

Dim World wide web gun retail store url – Gun Shop 2020 – The store has 17 products and solutions shown as of these days. Says they supply from ten distinctive nations.

Primarily stocked with Pistols, on the other hand several rifles too offered. Completely no automation. Orders is usually put by way of E-mail Wicks and shockingly

The apparent or surface area World wide web may be the portion that is certainly open up to indexing for serps which include Google. The area web is the world wide web that the majority of people know and use Live Darknet

Even commerce internet sites that could have existed For several years at times vanish because the entrepreneurs opt to cash in on their scheme and flee once they accumulate adequate cash from their victims.

In spite of a long history, it’s feasible for sellers to abruptly vanish with their customers’ cryptocurrencies only to indicate up again underneath a special alias afterwards.

Potential check here buyers ended up in a position to leave reviews of sellers' products on the internet site As well as in an affiliated Discussion board, where crowdsourcing provided specifics of the best sellers and worst scammers.

The Department of Defense at first funded the net. Because it grew to become publicly facing the world wide web, new technologies on the net ended up designed to be sure its use for defense.

The phrase dark Website arrives up a lot of new stories and article content speaking about ransomware together with other cyberattacks, frequently alongside the deep Internet.

In the 2nd 7 days from the trial, prosecutors presented documents and chat logs from Ulbricht's Laptop or computer that, they stated, shown how Ulbricht had administered the site .

For several months, which contradicted the defense's assert that Ulbricht had relinquished Charge of Silk Road.

 Market – Black Market – It’s an entire-fledged market which sells Nearly every one of the darknet solutions, shockingly will allow weapons as well. Has a “Guns on the market” class in which the items can be found.

The serial range continues to be scrapped off. seven 19mm bullets offered Along with the gun Live Darknet . A Be aware claims “Auction Expired” but I’ve seen This web site for approximately a yr now, for this reason, I’m guessing the e-mail ID that’s shared can be used to obtain other guns.

[trampplanet89]

4 Advice For Getting More Cash For A Junk Car

Selling your car fast is another story as well. This is something that everyone will hope for, but very seldom happens. The jobs, and the economy are making selling a car almost a full time job. If you place an ad or have a sign with your phone number on it, you will have to be available to show the car, and answer many questions. So should someone buy my car, the money may not be there for a few weeks, but do not give the title or car until you are paid in full.

In order to sell my car, I first did it the normal way and advertised in the newspaper. I also placed some advertisements on the internet, on a few good websites and waited patiently to hear something from potential buyers. I had to look up different advertisements which were selling a car that was the same as mine. This helped me to get a good idea of what price I should ask for and what the market rate was. Quoting a price in the advertisement and putting a picture, really proved to be helpful because a lot of people read my advertisement regarding the sale of my car and responded. But not everyone has some good things to say about an auction like a police seized car auction. This group of people usually states that a person will only get junk on an auction like this. Is this true and will a person really get a worthless car? Well this cannot be denied; in fact the law enforcers don't screen all the cars that they sell. how to sell junk car Get your tow truck company in the Yellow pages. I know, I know who uses the yellow pages. Well, you will be surprised. A lot of people work in offices that don't allow their employees to use the internet. In these cases they have to go old school and get the yellow pages book. This is your chance to draw up some business. When putting an ad in the yellow pages you will want to have a large ad with pictures and toll free phone numbers. This expense may cost a little more money but it will be worth it. Did you know that the yellow pages are also online? Yes, yellow pages is moving along with the times. They are now providing offering in their books and online to draw even more business. Find a charity organization that accepts junk cars. There are several of them that can take your junk car even if it is not running. Most of these companies do not take cars directly, but you can go through a car donation company which accepts the cars on behalf of the charity. junk car for cash require you to complete a donation form which is available online. You will find a list of charities on the form, and you can choose the charity you want to benefit from your donation. If the charity of your choice is not on the list, you can give the company the contact detail of the charity and it will make sure the charity will receive your donation. It may not feel like your doing much for charity when you donate a car. But think about this. The proceeds that are made from the auction of your car, are given straight to a charity of your choice. This means a couple of things. First off, your simple auto donation helps ANY charity that you choose. This means you're helping a cause that you actually believe in. You can donate it to a large charity, or a local animal shelter. Whatever you believe in. This means the power is in your hands. Your turning an automobile donation into hope for whatever it is you want to benefit.

[seyaryminamoto]

Yakuza Sokkla AU headcanons?

Well, for starters I can point you to a Yakuza AU fic that already exists and features Sokkla, though it’s not the main pairing... here you go!

Now then... let’s toy around with a set of headcanons, shall we?

Azula of course belongs to the biggest baddest yakuza clan in the nation, spanning back who knows how many generations, probably since the Edo period. It’s a pretty violent clan, with complicated and gruesome rites of passage. For instance, Zuko could’ve even been burned in this setting for the sake of proving himself a worthy successor to his father :’D it may sound insane, but there’s a real-life yakuza tradition of amputating their pinky fingers to settle conflicts or as punishments... so in their case, the burning is a rite done to the clan’s heir -- if the heir survives, he’s proven himself, so, strangely, in this AU Zuko’s burn is a mark of pride rather than shame :’D (and Ozai probably has a burn of his own too). Theirs could be, perhaps, the Homura clan (as a reading of Homura 炎 would mean “flames”).

Sokka would belong to a smaller yakuza clan, but his father could be a little like Hanzo and Genji’s father from Overwatch, a wise old man who actually reels back his more criminal and wild associates, who surely want their clan to outdo the Homura at all costs, even if by breaking their more traditional and respectful (and samurai-ish (?)) approach to their work. I’d think their clan can be the Kawakami clan (written  川上, means “above the river”).

The Kawakami are renowned for having THE coolest tattoos so that’s one nice thing they have over every other Yakuza clan around, bahahaha. Sokka has been learning (amongst other things) how to make tattoos of his own too, so he gets plenty of art education here and is damn good at what he does because this boy has the soul of an artist and if it were nurtured properly he’d go the distance with his talents, MARK MY WORDS!

Eh-hem, Sokka fangirl rant over... as they’re from rival clans, Sokka and Azula have bumped into each other on occasion, whenever friction rises between their groups. They’ve known of the other’s existence (and their respective siblings) all along, and they’ve been raised to hate each other’s guts :’D as kids they probably only saw each other on a few occasions, but once they’re old enough to take up missions of their own, their paths will cross more often.

The Homura clan traditionally handles most the drug trafficking and arms trading, and of course, the Kawakami are trying to deal in those things too... which results in frequent spats over suppliers, even outright fights between group members, until Hakoda Kawakami decides he’s had enough of the nonsensical rivalry and determines their clan will benefit most from a truce and an alliance with the Homura clan. He tasks his son and heir with arranging it, since this could be their rise to yakuza glory!

Of course, Sokka Kawakami has a lot of possible ways to achieve success at his father’s request. He starts by making peace offerings to the other clan, yielding some suppliers, for instance, in a show of good faith. But Ozai Homura is not amused and not impressed because he can tell these people are up to something: as he wants his heir Zuko to stay focused on learning the elements of the business that matter, such as learning to read stock markets and such (legit, it seems the Yakuza do this to find out which companies to extort :’D), he dispatches his daughter to handle the lesser threat of the Kawakami clan.

This means a huge cat and mouse struggle begins between Azula and Sokka: she decides to turn his displays of generosity against him, by extending Homura “protection” AKA extortion to people within Kawakami territories, arguing that the Kawakami’s displays of weakness these days mean they’re no longer upholding their duties to “protect” their people as they should. Naturally, Sokka is outraged that she’s fucked up his plan but he counterattacks by reaching out to the people she’s trying to steal away to prove that he’s indeed going to protect them. From HER! :’D The people in question are just plain confused because who should they believe at this point? xD

After a few weeks of this pretty pointless tug of war, Sokka decides he needs to step up his game and take a new approach to fulfilling his father’s request: he asks Azula for a peaceful private meeting in an empty park at night (and by private I mean they’ll talk alone while about 20 members of each clan point guns at each other from the shadows of the park), and he explains what’s going on and why he’s been up to what he’s up to. Azula is uninterested in any alliances, for the Homura are perfectly strong as they are, but Sokka points out... their tattoo game ain’t as good as the Kawakami clan’s. Azula is confused but intrigued.

Next thing Ozai knows, Azula is offering to take one bullet for the clan: she will receive a tattoo from the Kawakami heir to see if they have ONE worthwhile thing to offer their clan or not. Ozai is utterly uninterested but fiiiiiiiiiine, their artists have been pretty lackluster lately and it’s known decent tattoos are needed for people to respect a yakuza clan as it should be.

As these tattoos are very difficult, painful and time-consuming, it takes more than one session. Sokka of course insists he must be alone with Azula or he won’t be able to focus -- not that he’s focusing too much while she lies down naked to the waist on his tattoo parlor and he works on inking her back as best as he can :’D the very FATE of his clan rides on whether he can do wonders on Azula’s body or not... (?)

... Obviously, this ends up taking a whole other meaning when it’s time for him to work on other, more intimate parts of her body...

Ehem. Things are no longer PG-13. Not that they ever are when it comes to the yakuza. Or to me writing these two.

Azula goes home after the final session of her hugely-detailed epic tattoo with the biggest, stupidest smile on her face because ahaha that tattoo was good “ahaha yes father he’s TALENTED I mean, very talented, the things he does with his HUGE needle...! Um, y-yeah, I’m totally talking about tattoos, not about anything else, that’s not it (?)”

A temporary alliance is crafted then, despite Ozai thinks Azula’s approval of the Kawakami clan is super weird and isn’t exactly crazy about allowing this puny clan to even breathe in his direction, but he’s always had a weakness for his daughter + has no idea she’s doing the tattoo artist so he lets everything run its course (?)

I guess one day he finds out and legit war blows up between both factions (?) buuuut that’s too much plot to plot and I have enough big stories in my head as it is x’D feel free to imagine that war and its outcome for yourself, anon (?)

(as a bonus, looking into the yakuza wikipedia article revealed that, amongst their TONS of criminal activities, the real life yakuza actually offered relief and assistance during big catastrophic events in Japan, like the Kobe and Sendai earthquakes? How epic would it be for the Kawakami clan to offer relief and earn the loyalty of a fuckton of people, turning them into a clan big enough to rival the Homura before Ozai is the wiser... :’DDDD further spice into the clan war, eh, ehhhh?)

Well, that was fun xD I hope you enjoyed it too, Anon xD

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#232

This is a direct follow up to Story #223.

“Hey faggot! Come into the maintenance area now. You look beat up. It’s been a while. Come closer and kneel. I want to check out that collar around your neck….

"A little bit of chafing. Here I have this cream for you. Put it on three times a day. Whenever you eat, put it on. Speaking of which, I brought you your week’s rations of MREs. You really need to be eating them. I know how much you were restocked with. You should be down to three day’s worth. But now I’m seeing enough for a week and a half. You need to be healthy for what you are doing. With the weather changing, I’m going to tell Coyote to turn on some heat for you.

“That shouldn’t be a problem. Let me look at that eye of yours. The bruising is clearing up good. Black eyes can take a long time, but yours is clearing up good. Open up your mouth. Good, any problems with swallowing?… How is your tongue?… Good. The rest of you looks good. Your titties are nice and red. They must get a lot of working over.

“Your cock looks bruised up, but no surprise there. When was the last time you jerked off?… A few days?… Let me see you get hard. That’s it. Glad to see that it still works. Those balls seem to be well worked over. Sensitive? Oh they are! That’s good to know. Turn around. When were you last beaten? These welts are almost gone.

“Show me your cunt. Bend over and pull your cheeks apart. Damn. That’s one puffy cunt. No one could claim you were a virgin. When was the last time you were fucked?… A couple hours ago?… Did he breed you? Never mind, I see you are leaking his jizz. Hold still. And clamp down hard on my fingers. As hard as you can. Well damn, you need some work on your cunt muscles. Stand up and let’s get you back in the Women’s Room.

“Don’t give me that look. Faggot, you weren’t seriously thinking that I was here to rescue you away from here. Do not assume my caring about your safety and well being means that I’m going to unlock your collar. Fuck that shit. If it was up to me, I would shorten it and have your get your drinking water from the toilets.

“No, I was told by Big Hog to come and inspect you. I rode three hours to get here. It’s going to be three hours back. But first I’m going to enjoy myself. I’m going to take a massive shit, and you are going to clean me up. Then my arm is going into your cunt. Deep. And before I get my nut, I’m going to add some fresh welts to on top of the ones already there.

“Back into the bathroom. No there’s no arguing. IN! Damn this place smells nasty. You’ve been in here for how long?… Thirty-seven days? Wow! You must be going crazy being locked up in this shithole of a former rest stop bathroom, with only horny bikers and drivers using your holes throughout the day and night as your only contact with the outside world.

“Well that’s going to be coming to an end soon. You are going to be sold in the next week or so. Big Hog wanted you evaluated. I’m going to tell him you are good to go to be auctioned off. Lil’ Hog will put the word out. Then you are going to get a parade of potential buyers showing up here to take you on a test run mixed in with the regular riders. I don’t know when the bidding will close, but I know they want you out of here.

“Coyote has his next victim almost lined up. So be extra attentive to every man that walks in this nasty shithole. You want to be purchased; trust me, you do not want no bids on you. I’ve got a massive dump to take, crawl over here and give me some head while I do. Damn faggot you really know your place.”

This story continues in Story #341.

[revenantghost]

@equinox-vixen​  I hope you don’t mind me giving a long, rambling reply in a post instead of a comment! I actually already wrote a long post and then Tumblr was garbage and lost it :’) Now take two! So, from MAL the summary is:

Tensai Ouji no Akaji Kokka Saisei Jutsu/The Genius Prince's Guide to Raising a Nation Out of Debt

The King of Natra has fallen ill, leaving the only hope for his kingdom to his son, Prince Wein Salema Arbalest. Known to be capable and wise, he is the perfect candidate to become the prince regent. However, if the prince has anything to say about the matter, he would rather sell off the Kingdom of Natra to the highest bidder! Since he wields the authority of the throne, no one can stop Wein from auctioning off the country and using the profits to retire in comfort. All he needs to do is raise the value of the small kingdom to maximize his gains. But whether Wein's grand plan will succeed remains to be seen, as his wit often surpasses even his own expectations—much to the benefit of the oblivious citizens of Natra.

I honestly can’t say the plot itself is too much more complicated than that! I had started watching because I was minorly intrigued and hoped it would be a fun time (I nicknamed it “Budget Code Geass with humor in fantasy land” pretty quickly; it has that same format of BIG PROBLEM, then BRAIN GENIUS TIME, and GRAND FINALE, but that’s about what they share). From the first episode I knew I’d at least give it a decent shot because I adored the character dynamics.

Prince Wein just wants to be able to chill and be lazy and it’s a MOOD. He isn’t obnoxiously whiny or annoying about it, mostly just moments of WHY IS LIFE AND POLITICS SO HARD AND WHY DO THEY KEEP HAPPENING TO ME??? every now and again. Which, again, MOOD. It would be far easier for him to increase the worth of his country and just be done with it if he didn’t have a really good heart and genuinely care for others (though he wouldn’t be eager to admit that he does care). And then we have his right-hand lady, Ninym. She’s mostly chill and puts up with exactly 0 of Wein’s shit in the best of ways, I love her and simp her. She’s just as smart as Wein, and Wein knows this and respects the hell our of her--he honestly loves her as a human being, no romantic attachments needed (though the ship potential is there if that interests you, this is just what’s been shown in the anime), they have each other’s back where it counts and genuinely care in the most subtle but meaningful ways, I LOVE them.

(There are like five gifs total of this show and doesn’t fit the above paragraph, but I loved this moment so I’m adding it)

What you also need to know about Ninym is that her white hair marks her as a race pf people who suffers from extreme prejudice--we don’t see the atrocities done to them in the show so far, but what we hear of their treatment is horrific. Wein shows he refuses to treat these people like that, but because he’s so adept at political plays and games and that garbage I had assumed when push comes to shove... We’d see some of the typical tropes. But nope. No matter their rank or who they are, if someone says shit about Ninym or her people? That’s it. They’re dead. 0 racism is tolerated. I’m not even exaggerating. It’s to the point where, if someone talks shit, I start getting excited because I know what’s coming.

And from the premise, you may make the assumption that I made, “Here we go, another harem plotline.” The summary seems kinda isekai-trope adjacent, right? So when we eventually had an old female acquaintance show up with some history and a marriage proposal in hand, I thought ah yes. This is it. Here we go again. But it didn’t turn into the usual, tired tropes? Ninym and this new character actually got along great outside of political conflict, and obviously had an established history as well. In fact, when this new character leaves the story (I assume only for now), she says loosely that her endgame is an OT3 with Wein and Ninym.

It isn’t a show that’s going to blow your mind or anything, the plot isn’t super complex and the characters aren’t overly intricate. But it’s so much fun and it keeps surprising me with how they handle cliche situations. Even while playing up other cliches at the same time. I just watched episode 7 yesterday, and though the antagonists aren’t about to blow my mind with their endgames, the stakes are so much higher and more complex than I was anticipating at the start of this, and I care so much about how all of this will end. I highly recommend it if you’re looking for something fun to watch! (In other words: pls join me, the tag is full of cobwebs and I need more people to scream with.)

Here’s a cute and ominous Ninym to help me sell my point:

[photogirl894]

"Sun and Rain"

Chapter 34

"A pain in my neck"

A "Bad Batch" fanfic!

Pairing: Hunter x fem OC, Echo (more best friend pairing)

A/N: Welcome to the story, Commander Wolffe! I'm excited about this one 😁 this is going to be another long one, so I hope you all enjoy it!

Taglist: @the-sad-batch , @nimata-beroya , @green-arrows-of-karamel , @mrskenobi677 , @tech-aficionado , @ladykatakuri , @d1n0-dan , @sammi9498 , @darthzero22 , @scarlettroseog , @tech-deck

《 Chapter 33

》 Chapter 35

All chapters

Explanation: Aid comes to Kimber from an unexpected new ally: Commander Wolffe and the Wolf Pack. However, her return to the Bad Batch is unfortunately sidelined when they reach the nearby system of Falleen.

Kimber was now in the medical bay of the Triumphant Venator-class cruiser, the ship Commander Wolffe and his squad were assigned to. It didn’t take them long to get to the cruiser, which was just hovering in space above the planet. Once the gunship landed in the docking bay, Wolffe ordered two of his men to escort her to the medical wing while he went to report to his General. 

The medic seated her on a bed, helped her remove the upper parts of her armor so she was just in her blacks and then cut the sleeve off just above her wound to get better access to it. Then he unwrapped the bandage the Weequay had put on her and discarded it, afterwards covering the blaster wound with a faster-acting bacta patch.

Just as the medic had finished applying the patch and she thanked him, the door to the medical bay opened and Commander Wolffe came in, carrying his helmet under his arm. Kimber noticed that he had a bit more of a hardened and stoic demeanor than either Rex or Cody. He didn’t look mean, but definitely intimidating. He looked like someone she suspected anyone wouldn’t want to make angry. However, there was still an appearance of concerned kindness in his eyes as he made his way over to her. This Clone Commander was definitely an interesting one, in her mind. 

“How are you feeling, miss?” he asked her as he came in front of her. 

“Better, now that I’ve had time to breathe and I’m more properly patched up,” she said, casting a grateful smile to the medic, who gave her a nod and then moved on to another patient. 

“That’s good news,” said Wolffe. “What is your name?”

“Kimber,” she told him. 

The corner of his mouth twitched up ever so slightly upon hearing her answer. “Well, Kimber, I have a question to ask you. Your armor…it’s the same as the armor we Clones wear. Where did you get it?”

For a second, she got slight deja vu back to when Hondo was asking her about the armor, as well. She replied, “I am actually part of a squad of Clones; Clone Force 99.”

He hummed slightly. “Never heard of them,” he answered. 

That, to Kimber, seemed curious.

“Odd for a woman to be in a group of Clones,” he stated, “but I suppose that must mean you have talent and potential they think is useful in this war. Though, that’s between you and them. It’s not my business.” Then he proceeded to inquire, “Where is your squad?”

“I was last with them on Alderaan. I don’t know where they are now,” she answered.

“Then how did you end up on Mon Gazza?”

Kimber explained to the Commander, “I happened across a secret spice deal going on back on Alderaan, but I was caught and incapacitated. I woke up on the ship of Hondo Ohnaka and his pirate crew. They took me to Mon Gazza where they were a part of a black market auction and they decided to sell me to a Zygerrian.”

Wolffe hummed once more and nodded in understanding. “We made it there in good time, then. Zygerrians are nasty business,” he commented.

“You can say that again,” she responded. She then told him, “I didn’t know there were other groups of Clones in this part of the galaxy.”

“We were on our way to the planet, Falleen, in a system not far from here when we picked up your beacon and then my team was dispatched to find you,” he informed her. 

Kimber couldn’t help but sigh with relief. Her plan to use the distress beacon had worked; someone else close by had caught wind of it and had come to her aid, just like she had hoped. Though, she hadn’t been expecting another group of Clones, so that was almost extra comforting, considering she was already pretty comfortable around them. 

“I can’t thank you enough, Commander,” she said to him.

With a nod, he said back, “Just doing my duty, miss. You made a good call activating that beacon and hiding it was a clever move. It’s a good thing we were nearby and able to get you out of there.”

“Indeed. This would be the second time a group of Clones has rescued me from captivity,” Kimber told Wolffe.

His shoulders noticeably slumped a little and, even though he didn’t show it much in his face, she could see a touch of melancholy in his eyes, which amazed her that he could even emote through his cybernetic eye. 

“I am sorry that’s happened to you,” he apologized.

"It's all right. My life is better now. Is there a way I can get in touch with my squad from here?" she asked him. "I have my comm, but I don't know if it will reach them and I'd prefer to use a holo-frequency, if possible. I just...I need to see them."

With a nod, he told her, "Follow me."

Kimber hopped off the bed and followed Wolffe out of the med bay. A few minutes later, they came to a set of large doors that opened up to a room with a holotable in the middle of it.

Wolffe pointed to a console on the side closest to them and instructed, "Just put in the comm channel frequency here and it should be able to reach them. I'll give you your privacy and be right outside the doors if you need anything."

"Thank you, Commander," she said gratefully as he stepped out of the room.

Once the doors were shut, she typed in the comm channel for the Marauder, hoping she would be able to get through. Some seconds passed until the hologram activated and she saw a figure appear; the one she wanted to see the most.

"Hunter! Thank the stars you're there!" she exclaimed with relief.

"Kimber! I'm so relieved to see you!" he cried back.

Seeing him and hearing his voice again brought immediate comfort to her heart and mind. "I'm happy to see you, too. Are the rest of the lads there?" she asked.

"Yeah, they're all here," he replied. "Are you okay?"

"I'm all right. One minor injury, but otherwise, I'm still standing. Where are you guys?"

"We're in hyperspace right now. We're tracking your comm."

"Good! I was hoping you'd pick up my signal."

"What happened, sweetheart? Where are you?"

"I'm on a cruiser right now. I got picked up by another Clone squadron heading to--"

"Ki-Kimber?"

Right then, the hologram started going static and was glitching. Hunter was still trying to talk to her, but Kimber wasn't getting anything he was saying.

"Hunter? Hunter, do you read me?" she questioned.

"Kimber, can you hear--?"

The transmission suddenly ended and Hunter's holographic form disappeared.

"Hunter!" she cried. What was going on? Why did she lose the connection? This couldn't be happening. She had just gotten to see her Sergeant after believing she wouldn't see him again and he'd been ripped away from her again.

She turned to the door and yelled in alarm, "Wolffe!"

Right away, the door opened and Wolffe came jogging in at hearing her distressed call.

"The transmission glitched out and got dropped. I don't know what happened," she told him.

Wolffe's jaw clenched. "Ugh, blast it! Not again," he groaned.

Just as Kimber was about to ask what he meant, another Clone trooper came running into the room, declaring, "Commander! We just came out of hyperspace into Falleen's atmosphere, but all communications are being jammed. I'm afraid there may be another attack."

Wolffe rolled his eyes and growled in frustration. “I was hoping this was over. Looks like we’re going to have to go down to the planet.”

“What’s going on?” Kimber inquired.

“Our battalion, the 104th, went to Falleen to deal with a Separatist Droid incursion that we thought had been taken care of not long before we left to answer your distress call,” he explained. “Though, it would seem there’s another wave coming because they jammed our comms last time, too.”

The other Clone stood at attention and asked, “What are your orders, sir?”

“Get the boys and tell them to gear up and report to the gunship. We’re heading down,” answered Wolffe. 

Kimber stepped forward and spoke up, “I can help, too.”

The other Clone asked her, “Do you have any weapons?”

“I…had some,” she answered, her tone faltering as she remembered where they were. “They’re still back on that pirate ship I was on.”

The Clone looked to Wolffe. “We have extra weapons in the armory she could use, if she’s willing to--”

“No,” he responded right away. Then he turned to Kimber. “You’re not a soldier and besides, you’re injured. I won’t throw a civilian into the middle of a fight.”

Taken aback at his abruptness and claim that she wasn’t a soldier, she fired back, “I am a soldier, Commander, and I can assure you, I would not be in a Clone squadron if I wasn’t. I have been trained with sniper rifles, blasters, carbine rifles and hand-to-hand combat. If you need help, I want to offer my assistance.”

He turned to fully face her and said back in a stern voice, “Apologies for my assumption, Kimber, but the fact still remains: you are injured and as long as you’re under my protection until you can contact your squad again, you are staying in the med bay.”

“But, Wolffe--” she tried to argue.

“That’s an order, soldier,” he interrupted her firmly, emphasizing the last word. 

She wasn’t used to such firm authority being used against her and she was speechless for a moment. The hard look in his face told her that he was completely serious about keeping her there. He seemed like someone that wasn’t easy to argue with when his mind was made up. 

With an irritated groan, she replied, “Yes, sir.”

Wolffe tucked his helmet under his arm and he and the other Clone ran from the room, leaving Kimber alone. As she made her way back to the med bay, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling lingering in her chest. She had to help Wolffe. It felt wrong for her to just sit in the medical wing while there were people; Clones, even, who needed help. She didn’t care that she was hurt; the injury she had was already feeling fine with the bacta patch, plus it was really nothing in comparison to ways she’d been hurt before. She knew she could help him and his team.

In that moment, she remembered something Hunter had told her a while back, when they were on Kamino: "What sets our squad apart from the regs is our affinity for disobedience."

It was those words that caused her to make up her mind.

She ran to the med bay, found the medic just finishing up with a patient and told him, “I need a new undershirt…and I need to know where the armory is.”

Wolffe and his three other troopers, Comet, Sinker and Boost had just collected their gear and were making their way to the gunship in the hangar of the cruiser. 

“That woman…she’s an interesting one,” commented Wolffe. 

“It would appear so, sir,” Comet agreed.

“Here’s hoping we can help sort out this incursion quickly so we can get her back to her squad soon,” added Boost. “Who knows how long she was with those pirates. They’re probably worried about her.”

“Which is why I ordered her to stay on the cruiser,” stated Wolffe. “After we deal with this problem on Falleen, our objective is to get her back to her squad. If something were to happen to her while on the planet, it would be on my head and I don’t need that responsibility right now.”

“Understood, sir,” said Sinker.

It was then that they had reached the gunship, its side door opened up ready for them to board. Comet, Sinker and Boost boarded the ship while Wolffe ordered the pilot to get it powered up before climbing aboard himself. They could hear the engines firing up and kicking the ship into gear. However, just as the ship was lifting off the ground and the door was beginning to shut, someone leapt in through the crack of the door just before it shut, startling them all.

It was Kimber, fully donned in her armor and her helmet tucked under her arm, with a sniper rifle on her back and two blasters in her holsters. 

Wolffe groaned and rolled his eyes in disbelief at seeing her suddenly appear on the ship. Unfortunately, the door had already closed and the ship had lifted off out of the hangar, so now, they were stuck with her. 

“You’re not very good at following orders, are you?” he asked her, annoyed.

“That’s what sets me apart from everyone else, Commander: my whole squad isn’t good at following orders…and neither am I,” she stated in answer, her voice laced with confidence and even a touch of pride.

Wolffe raised his eyebrows at her while the other three all looked to each other under their helmets.

She continued, “I couldn’t just sit by in that medical bay when I knew you guys might need help. My wound is nothing; it’s not going to hinder me. I can help, Wolffe. I want to and I’m going to, whether you like it or not.”

While Wolffe continued to stare at her through narrowed eyes, Comet turned to him and said, “Well…you’ve got to admit: she’s got spirit, Commander.”

“So she does,” Wolffe agreed, still eyeing her curiously. After a brief moment of contemplation, he then stated, gesturing to his men, “This is Comet, Sinker and Boost. Boys, this is Kimber.”

The other three all nodded at her with their corresponding names and she nodded back, recognizing them as the other Clones that had helped rescue her.

Then, to her slight surprise, a small grin appeared on Wolffe’s face as he told her, “Welcome to the Wolf Pack, soldier.”

With a grateful smile of her own, she replied, “Thanks, Wolffe. I promise, I won’t give you any cause to worry about me.”

He let out a “humph” and said back, “Famous last words."

Suddenly, they heard a boom outside, the gunship swerved and everyone’s balance faltered. Kimber realized she wasn’t holding on to any of the handles hanging from the ceiling, so she quickly reached up and took a hold of one to keep herself from falling straight onto Boost. 

“Corvis, what’s going on?” Wolffe spoke into his wrist comm. 

The pilot, Corvis, replied, “We’re taking fire! They’ve got air support now! Vulture Droids!”

Wolffe rolled his eyes again and, now even more frustrated, proclaimed as the ship shook again, “Great…this day just keeps getting better and better!”

Right then, there was an explosion and the ship rocked back and forth again from something impacting the outside.

“You spoke too soon, Wolffe!” called Sinker. 

Kimber put on her helmet in fear that, with how much the ship was shaking, she was sure to drop it.

There was another sound of an explosion and, all of a sudden, the side door right behind Kimber and Wolffe was blown off. The impact shook the ship hard, causing Wolffe to lose his grip on the ceiling handle and he staggered backward towards the now open side of the ship. Kimber was fast and swiftly caught him by the wrist, helping keep him upright before he could lose his balance and fall. Though, on instinct, she had reached out with her injured arm and the pull on it from him holding onto her wrist caused her blaster wound to twinge a little and she winced in pain, but then quickly ignored it for the sake of saving the Commander.  

“I’ve got you, Wolffe!” she cried out, pulling him back in along with a little help from Comet and Boost. 

Just as Wolffe staggered back in, Corvis’s voice called out on his comm, “We’re taking too many hits, Commander! We’re going to go down!”

“Then eject, trooper! Get yourself out of there!” Wolffe ordered him through the comm.

“What about you?” asked the pilot.

“Don’t worry about us. Just go,” the Commander replied. Then he looked to the rest of them and stated, “Looks like we’re going to have to jet down to the surface, boys.”

With a salute and activating his jetpack, Comet replied, “You got it, sir!”

Sinker and Boost did the same and powered up their jetpacks. Then all three of them leapt out the side of the ship and flew down into the clouds as it then seemed the ship was beginning to take a nosedive.

Wolffe donned his helmet and then said, looking to Kimber, “You’re with me.”

Before she could respond, he put an arm around her waist, pulled her flush against him, flipped around to the open side of the ship and the two of them jumped out into the open air, his jetpack activating. Kimber’s arms wrapped around Wolffe’s neck and she clung tightly to him, freaking out a little at the sudden sensation of freefalling through the sky.

As the two of them flew down towards the surface, Comet, Sinker and Boost all flew up past them, their rifles and blasters drawn and they fired at the Vulture Droids that were hot on their tail.

“I never liked these flying clankers!” cried Boost as he shot one down.

“You said it, Boost!” Sinker agreed as he too started firing at another Droid. 

Wolffe yelled out loudly to them before they got too far, “Don’t dawdle for long, Wolf Pack, and get to the surface as soon as possible!” As they continued downward, he asked Kimber, “You doing all right?”

“Hanging on for dear life and hoping I don’t plummet to my death, but otherwise, I’m fine,” she replied.

His hold on her waist tightened ever so slightly. “Don’t you worry, Kimber. As long as you’re with me, you’re not going anywhere,” he reassured her. 

To Kimber, Wolffe really was a curious Clone who continued to astound her. He seemed kind yet stern, could be authoritative yet gentle and was perturbed yet protective. He was like a walking contradiction and he intrigued her. Though she doubted her time with the Wolf Pack would be long, if her boys were still tracking her. They’d find her eventually. 

They maneuvered around a few Vulture Droids and before long, they broke through the clouds, beholding a mountainous valley below them that was being overtaken by a firefight. A wave of Droids on one side with a mountain behind them were firing at a smaller battalion of Clones on the other that were trapped behind some barricades and in a trench. On the Droids’ side, there were up to five large Droid carrier tanks.

Comet, Sinker and Boost appeared on either side of Wolffe, now having caught up with them. 

"Looks like they've got our battalion pinned down, sir" Sinker observed.

"Let's get down there," said Wolffe before pressing forward and increasing speed down towards the ground.

They made their way towards the trench where a lot of Clones were crouched down firing at the Droids on the other side. Comet, Sinker and Boost landed first and then Wolffe touched down next, a little more gently so he could let Kimber down, as well, before ducking down into the trench. Kimber pulled out her sniper rifle before getting into the trench herself.

Wolffe approached one of the Clones off to the side and inquired, "What's the situation, trooper?"

"Those Droid carriers keep spawning more Droids and are overpowering us," answered the Clone.

Another trooper added, "Not only that, but their Vulture Droids are keeping us from reaching their communications outpost where they're jamming our comms and preventing us from getting air support."

"Where's the outpost?" asked Wolffe.

The Clone pointed up towards the mountain. "It's up there on that ridge."

Kimber looked up to where he pointed and could see the edge of a building up on a cliff that jutted out from the mountain. How would they get up there without taking fire from the Droids?

Right then, a small wave of Vulture Droids flew overhead and attempted to shoot at them, but missed, causing the Clones and Kimber to duck and cover their heads with their hands and weapons as debris flew around them.

"I doubt we can even get up there with jetpacks without getting shot down," stated Comet.

"We're trapped, sir," said Boost to Wolffe. "What do we do?"

Kimber watched the line of Vulture Droids and saw that they were circling around close to the the ridge where the communications outpost was and then were coming back around towards them.

Which gave her an idea.

She switched out the head of her rifle for a tow cable and then climbed out of the trench.

"Kimber, what are you doing?" Wolffe demanded as he saw her climbing.

"Getting your communications back, Commander," she replied as she fired the cable at a Vulture Droid that came flying back around overhead.

If her hunch was correct, the Droid would fly over by the ridge where the outpost was. She would attach the cable to the Vulture Droid, fly up that way and then detach up by the ridge, where she would get communications back up and running.

The cable shot attached itself to the underside of the Droid and Kimber quickly removed the cable from the rifle, attached it to her belt and put her rifle on her back.

"Stop, don't!" cried Wolffe.

"Too late, sir!" she replied with a salute before being jerked up off the ground and hurtling through the air on her cable.

They all watched her go soaring off on a line that was attached to a Vulture Droid, shocked at her tenacity.

The other Clone trooper turned to Wolffe and asked, "Who was that, sir?"

Wolffe sighed and groaned, "A pain in my neck."

Kimber held on tight to the cable with both hands as she flew through the air. The Vulture Droid was coming up towards the ridge and she was almost there. From up above, she could see a small handful of five Droids patrolling the cliffside as well as a tactical Droid manning a computer panel on the outside of the outpost. She figured that would be enough for her to handle.

Timing it just right, Kimber waited for the Vulture Droid to turn and then unhooked the cable from her belt, sending herself soaring towards the edge of the cliff jutting out from the mountain. She came down into a tuck and roll onto the stony ground in front of the computer panel and rolled up to her feet, drawing her blaster as she did so. The tactical Droid looked in her direction and she fired straight into its head, knocking it off its feet.

"Intruder!" called out one of the battle Droids as they all turned and started firing at her.

Kimber leapt behind the computer panel for cover, pulled out her second blaster, popped back out from the other side and fired at each Droid. Within seconds, each Droid was taken out with ease. Once they were handled, she removed her helmet, went around to the control panel and tapped in the sequence to enable communications once more.

Just as she hit the last button, there was the sound of a small engine approaching and she withdrew her blaster, only to find herself facing Wolffe using his jetpack and landing in front of her. Comet had thought they wouldn't be able to use jetpacks to get up there, but it seemed the Commander had no trouble.

"The jamming signal has been disabled," she told him before he could scold her, which she assumed was what he was there to do.

He removed his helmet, his face skeptical, and looked to her for a second, but then lifted his arm with his comm device and said, "This is Commander Wolffe to Triumphant. Do you copy?"

There was silence.

"We read you, Commander. Looks like comms are back online."

They both heard a Clone's voice come through on his commlink and Wolffe's surprised eyes met Kimber's. Then his lips turned up into a smirk as he looked at her and also took in the sight of the downed Droids.

"Well...color me impressed," he commented.

"What, did you doubt me, Commander?" she replied with a grin of her own.

He narrowed his eyes at her, though still slightly grinning, before speaking into his comm, "We need air support down here. We've got Vulture Droids swarming and Droid carriers that are overpowering our defenses."

"We'll do what we can, sir," said the Clone on the other end. "We weren't certain how many men you'd need, so it may take a few minutes to prepare and deploy."

"Copy that. Just get here as fast as you can," Wolffe responded. He turned back to Kimber. "Well, it's going to take time for backup to arrive. Got any other bright ideas until then?"

Kimber went over and crouched at the edge of the cliff, reattaching her scope to her rifle. "I don't know...," she answered, looking around at the valley below, "...hopefully we can hold off long enough, but those Droid carriers are going to be our biggest problem. Up here at this vantage point, though, we have a better chance at dealing with the Vulture Droids. At least, I can."

"You seem confident," he pointed out.

With a small, devious grin, she took a knee, raised her rifle up and took aim at on oncoming Vulture Droid. She waited a couple seconds for it to get closer and then fired two shots. Both shots hit the Droid square in the center, making its internal systems explode, and sent it hurtling towards the base of the mountain, where it crashed and blew up.

Wolffe once again raised his eyebrows, impressed, and Kimber said to him proudly, "I've had years of sharpshooter practice and I've been trained by an expert sniper. I've got this."

He huffed in amusement. "Don't get cocky, girl. That's going to get you into trouble someday."

"Duly noted, sir, but it's not going to be today," she said back to him, donning her helmet once more, raising her sniper rifle and taking another shot at a second Vulture Droid, hitting its wing and causing it to lose altitude and also crash to the ground below.

Wolffe couldn't help but watch her for a moment as she continued to shoot down the Vulture Droids. This woman was fascinating. She was a civilian, now supposedly in a squad of Clones and she was actually intelligent and skilled. She came up with a clever plan off the cuff to get up to the outpost and then had been able to get the comms back up. That and she was admittedly a pretty good shot. Just who was she? Where did she come from?

Figuring he shouldn't leave her to fight on her own, he put his helmet back on, pulled his blasters out and started firing at the Vultures to help her out.

However, a group of them came flying their direction and all simultaneously began firing at them and also at the cliff's edge they stood on. Their fire caused the edge to crumble and fall apart and suddenly, the cliffside fell from beneath them, taking Wolffe and Kimber down with it. Wolffe activated his jetpack to halt his descent and then immediately flew down after Kimber. He caught her in his arms and flew right off to the side to avoid the falling rocks.

"Are you all right?" he asked her as they flew back up.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she answered. "Take me back up to the outpost. I've got one more thing to do."

Wolffe gave her a nod and they zoomed back up to the cliffside, where he set her down on her feet as they landed and she jogged forward a few steps.

Looking at the outpost and after putting her rifle on her back, Kimber reached into a pouch on her belt and pulled out a pyro denton explosive that she had taken from the cruiser armory. This would ensure they couldn't jam communications again.

"This one's for you, Wrecker," she spoke out loud.

She gave it a squeeze, activating it, and threw it at the building, watching it attach itself to the outer wall.

"All right, we gotta go!" she cried, running back to Wolffe.

He was quick to realize the situation, took her back into his arms and jumped off the cliff just as the outpost exploded behind them, his jetpack bursting to life and carrying them through the air over the valley.

"Nice move," he commented to her.

She was going to respond, but he had to quickly maneuver around to avoid the blaster fire coming at them from the ground. To keep from getting shot herself, she clung tightly to him, pressing herself as close to him as she could get. He felt this and held her tighter, ensuring he would protect her. They kept flying this way for another minute until they came back around to the trenches where the rest of the Clones were waiting for them.

"Did you get comms back up?" asked Comet when they landed.

"Kimber did," Wolffe answered. "Reinforcements will be here eventually, but it's going to take some time."

Another wave of Vulture Droids came flying above them and fired down at their position, causing them to duck and get up next to the edge of the trench. When they peered over the edge, they saw one of the Droid carriers open up and some more rows of Droids came rushing out.

"So what are we going to do?" asked Sinker. "They just launched another wave of Droids coming this way!"

"We need to just hold on here as long as we can," Wolffe responded.

Kimber took up her rifle and braced it up over the edge of the trench, firing at the wave of the Droids coming for them. Wolffe, Comet, Sinker and Boost did the same, taking out their weapons and taking shots at the enemy while also trying to keep from getting hit by the Vulture fire. The firefight was starting to get hot. They all could only hope that reinforcements would get there soon.

A few moments later, another Clone trooper spoke out to Wolffe, looking at a datapad next to him, “Sir, we’ve got a ship approaching…but I don’t recognize this one.”

Just then, they heard cannon fire in the sky above the clouds followed by some explosions. Some Vulture Droids flew up in that direction and were quickly shot down...as, to Kimber's surprise and delight, the Marauder came bursting through the clouds and soared overhead.

“That’s them! That’s my squad!” she exclaimed.

“That’s your ship?” questioned Wolffe.

“Yeah! It’s my boys…Clone Force 99!" she answered, a huge smile of relief on her face underneath her helmet.

"Looks like they were able to track you," Sinker added.

Kimber put a finger to the side of her helmet, activating her comm, and spoke, "Lads, it’s Kimber! Can you hear me?”

A second later, she heard Echo's voice in her ear, “Loud and clear, Kimber!”

She let out a small sigh of relief. It was so good hearing her best friend's voice! “I’m in the middle of this Droid skirmish and we’re going to need your help," she replied.

“Yeah, we can see that,” she then heard Wrecker say.

“Tell us what you need,” then came Hunter's voice, which brought even more calmness to her heart.

She told them, “First, I need you guys to take out their air support.”

“We’re on it!” replied Echo.

She and the others looked up and watched as the Marauder flew around, shooting down each of the Vulture Droids. The ship easily maneuvered through the waves of Droids, taking them out one by one. Before long, all Vulture Droids were destroyed.

"Huh...not bad," Boost commented upon watching the Marauder.

“Air support is down,” Tech informed Kimber.

“Excellent!" she replied. "Now, if you could do us a huge favor down here and take out those Droid carriers? They’re really becoming a pain in the neck spawning more Droids.”

Then she heard Crosshair say back, “No problem, sunshine.”

The ship hurtled up through the air towards the Droid carriers. Kimber, Wolffe and the Wolf Pack watched them do one sweep over the tanks, firing their guns, and blowing up each tank in one strike.

Comet exclaimed, "Whoa! That was impressive!"

"Who are these guys?" inquired Boost.

"Clone soldiers who just saved this operation," answered Wolffe. Then he turned to Kimber and said, “Go and get out of here, Kimber. Get back to your boys.”

Astonished, she replied, “What? No, I can’t leave you guys now.”

“Your squad’s already taken out our biggest obstacles and the rest of our air support is arriving soon. We can handle the rest," he said back. He stepped forward and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You’ve helped enough already, soldier. Now, let me do what I set out to do and return you to your squad."

While she wasn't fond of the idea of leaving Wolffe and his men in the middle of a fight, Kimber at least had the comfort of knowing they had a better chance now that the enemy air support and Droid carriers were no longer a problem. There was a higher chance they would get out of this alive.

She reached up and laid a hand on his wrist. “Thank you again for rescuing me,” she told him.

“Just doing my duty, miss,” he replied, removing his hand.

“I hope our paths cross again, Wolffe…and next time, you can meet my squad,” she said to him kindly.

However, he groaned in response and said, “I don’t know about that. You were already a thorn in my side; I don’t need anymore.”

Kimber chuckled, amused. “You know you like me.”

Wolffe just groaned again and she could perfectly picture him rolling his eyes under his helmet.

She looked around at Sinker, Boost and Comet and told them, "Well, gentleman, it's been a pleasure."

"Same to you, miss," replied Comet while the other two nodded.

She climbed out of the trench on the opposite side of the battle, turned back to look at Wolffe and saluted him. “Take care, Commander.”

With a salute back, he replied, “Until we meet again, Kimber.”

After that, Kimber took off running away from the battle through the valley, the sounds of blaster fire going off behind her.

Activating her helmet comm, she then said, “Guys, it’s Kimber. Do you have eyes on me?”

Then Tech's voice answered her as she caught sight of the Marauder circling overhead, “Indeed, we have a visual on you.”

“I’m heading your way. Get the Marauder low enough for me to board and let’s get out of here,” she instructed as she kept running.

A few yards ahead of her, the Marauder lowered itself close to the ground without actually landing, hovering a couple feet in the air. Kimber saw the ramp open up and Echo stepped out, catching sight of her and holding out his hand as he cried out her name. She picked up speed towards the Marauder and leapt up onto the ramp, grasping Echo's hand as he pulled her in.

"She's clear! Let's go!" Echo called out.

As she felt the ship lift off, her helmet was removed by Echo and right away, he tenderly grasped her face with his hand and scomp link, looking into her eyes with both sorrow and relief. Then he firmly kissed her forehead and pulled her into his embrace, his flesh hand cradling her head as she gladly hugged him back tightly.

"Oh Kim...you're okay," he gasped.

"I am...," she reaffirmed, looking out over his shoulder at Hunter, Crosshair, Tech and Wrecker, who were all smiling with gladness at her return, "...and I'm home."

[colorsunimaginable]

the spare // chapter fifty-five // death eater ! tom hiddleston oc x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au

story summary: 

While on a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord's triumph, she's being sold at an auction with other muggle borns and blood traitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy's younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance's greatest weapons?

*a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist* *takes place in The Auction universe by Lovesbitca8*

words for this chapter: 4.3k warnings for this chapter: shoulder dislocation, idk what else

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Chapter Fifty-Five:

It’s not long until my sobs turn into whimpers of pain. Thomus is holding me so tightly it’s making the pain in my shoulder worse. I still can’t move my arm.

I sniffle. “Thomus, there’s something wrong with my shoulder.”

He pulls back immediately, eyes and hands scanning my body. He brushes over a particularly tender spot and I hiss.

“Ow,” I whine.

“Sorry,” he mutters, releasing me and casting a diagnostic charm. “Your shoulders been dislocated.” He sounds angry, his face tense, but I know he’s not upset with me.

“Can you fix it?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I’ll have to take you to St. Mungo’s.”

“Ugh, fine,” I huff, making a face. “Let me put on some pants.”

He nods. “Let me just – “ He casts the same numbing charm he’d used on my arm to fix Bellatrix’s scars. I sigh with relief when the pain eases. Now my shoulder and arm just feel heavy.

Thomus turns to the door. “I’ll meet you upstairs in a moment. Reparo.”

I don’t stay to watch the front door fix itself. Upstairs, my shorts come off easily, but when it comes to the pants, I struggle. They’re lopsided and halfway up my legs when Thomus comes in.

“I, um, brought you this,” he half-laughs. I pause my struggling and see he’s brought a sling. He comes up to me and gently places it around my neck, settling my arm into it.

“Am I gonna get high off the drops again?” I ask to distract myself from my embarrassment as he grips the waistband of my pants and hikes them up.

“No, I gave you the correct dosage this time – did you have to pick the tightest trousers the wardrobe could offer?”

“They’re leggings,” I huff, feeling my face heat as he uses some real umph to get it over my fupa and ass. “I hate baggy pants. Anything that swishes around my ankles makes me feel fat.” I step away from him when he’s gotten them close enough. Using my good hand, I jump and wiggle my hips to get them into place. I go to the wardrobe to find socks and glance at myself in the mirror.

I do a double-take.

I’ve got a fucking black eye. It’s on the left side, the side Rodolphus had shoved into the ground, along with a couple of shallow scrapes along my temple and cheek. My tears had made paths through the dirt. I feel disgusting.

I rush into the bathroom, yanking off my glasses to splash water on my face. My breaths turn shallow and I feel a sob rise in my throat, more tears threatening to spill. The water makes the cuts sting as it flushes out the dirt.

I feel Thomus’ hand on my back, his other pulling my hair out of my face.

“The Healers aren’t going to care what you look like,” he murmurs.

“I care,” I reply firmly, shaking my head. I run damp fingers through my hair, watching a few leaves fall to the floor. “Fuck, my shirt’s dirty too. I’m totally taking a bath as soon as we get back.”

He murmurs an agreement as I pat my face dry with a towel. He heads back into my room and opens the wardrobe. I sit on the bed to put on my socks. It’s a fucking struggle to do with one hand.

Thomus lays a dark green mass of fabric next to me and kneels at my feet. “Here, let me.” He takes the socks from my hand and slips them up to my ankle with ease. Then he shuffles back to the wardrobe. “I’m assuming you want the trainers?”

“Yeah, the black and white ones.”

He comes back over and starts getting them on my feet.

“Okay, this is weird,” I say. “I can’t remember the last time anyone put my shoes on for me.” He glances up at me, the corner of his mouth turned up. “Okay, not weird, but definitely embarrassing.”

“Not weird and not embarrassing,” he says, shifting to the other foot. “Just a bit of a role reversal. I’m accustomed to taking your clothes off, not putting them on.”

I let out a faint laugh. “Yeah, that’s true.”

He stands and grabs the lump of fabric he’d laid next to me. I realize it’s a cloak when he opens it by the shoulders and holds it out for me. I stand and step into it.

“Thinking green again?” I tease as he secures the clasp.

“It’s a good color on you,” he remarks casually.

My face falls and I look down. “I probably shouldn’t be making jokes… after what just happened.”

Thomus sighs, tucking my hair behind my ears. “I believe you called it a coping mechanism once or twice.” He steps back to summon his own cloak. “There’s no wrong or right way to react to something like this. You cry and make jokes, while I practice anger management and self-control.” He gestures for me to leave first.

“Anger management?” I question as we descend to the living room.

Thomus steps up to the fireplace, summoning the bag of Floo powder. He looks me dead in the eyes, a dark and murderous expression marring his lovely handsome face. Then it’s gone, replaced by his literal Death Eater mask materializing onto his face with a wave of his wand.  

It’s enough to strike a spark of fear and unease in my chest and make me not ask about it again.

He pulls up his hood and slips his hand into the sling so he can touch the tattoo. He calls out for the Leaky Cauldron and we step through the fireplace, emerging into the dimly lit pub.

Few heads turn in our direction, none too surprised to see a Death Eater. The few that do stare, stare at me.

“Master Malfoy!” the old innkeeper calls from behind the bar. “Come for a drink?”

“Just passing through.” Thomus’ voice isn’t muffled by the mask. Must be part of the magic.

He takes my good hand and guides me through the pub, out onto the streets of No-Maj London. Dark blue clouds cover the sky, pink light peaking through the gaps casts a soft glow. We remain in the shadows of alleys and back passageways, small dark courtyards not yet lit with lamp posts.

I’m a little taken aback when I realize he seems to trust me not to run away. The simple act of holding hands wouldn’t do much if I really wanted to escape. Still, even with the option presented to me once again, I don’t feel inclined to leave. The hustle and bustle of the city noises just make me want to return to the peaceful quiet of the cottage.

There aren’t many we pass that look our way. Being in the middle of the city like this, everyone’s minding their own business. It gives me some relief, because that’s just how things were before. No one’s shying away from Thomus’ scary masked appearance, which makes me believe it’s either a sight they’re used to or it’s got an anti-No-Maj charm on it.

Eventually we turn a corner onto a main street and the large red-bricked building of St. Mungo’s is at our feet. We ignore the department store’s front doors and instead step straight through the large display window next to it and into a waiting area. It’s full of old wooden chairs that look like they’d snap under my weight and lit with blue and green crystal bubbles filled with candles floating towards the ceiling. I do a quick glance at the half-dozen waiting patients, but my gaze doesn’t linger for fear of being caught staring.

Thomus releases my hand, but I stay close by his side as he walks up to the reception desk. The lady is short with broad shoulders and seems to shrink further into her seat when she gets a look at Thomus’ mask. The fear I see in her round blue eyes doesn’t surprise me. Even before Voldemort won, the Death Eaters reputation wasn’t exactly a secret.

“How can I help you?” she squeaks.

“I have a witch with a dislocated shoulder,” he says. “I need her seen immediately.”

She blinks, her eyes flickering to me, then she nervously clears her throat. “I need the name and status of –“

“You don’t need a name or her status,” Thomus cuts in.

She closes her mouth and visibly swallows. “If you’d take a seat, I shall see who is available –“

“I said immediately.” His tone leaves no room for argument, and the receptionist’s pained expression implies she’s trying not to say the wrong thing. I frown and bite my tongue. I don’t need special treatment, but I have a feeling I shouldn’t argue with the man wearing a Death Eater mask.

“Sir, please take a –“

“I’ll take them, Mathilda,” a male voice says. We turn to see a short balding wizard with a briefcase approach from behind us. He’s tucking a pocket watch into his waist coat and stops at a pair of double doors leading to some stairs. “Barely 7 o’clock – you couldn’t have waited until I’ve had my coffee, could you Mr. Malfoy?”

Thomus takes my elbow and we follow the man. “I shall send an owl next time there’s an emergency.”

The man scoffs. “I believe merpeople will grow legs and walk on land before that happens.”

We follow the man up the stairs to the first floor, which is labeled CREATURE INDUCED INJURIES. We pass a few doors down a wide corridor before entering a small office. A brass card-holder on the door read: Healer-in-Charge Hippocrates Smethwyck.

The room has a desk, a small window, and two chairs that line one wall. A cluster of the blue floating crystals light the room. The Healer, whom I assume is Hippocrates Smethwyck, pulls out his wand and changes one of the chairs into an exam table.

He closes the door behind us and smiles at me. “Please have a seat.”

As I settle in on the table, the Healer puts down his briefcase and takes off his overcoat and jacket. “So what ails you, my dear?” he says as he rolls up his sleeves.

I clear my throat to answer, but Thomus does it for me.

“Dislocated shoulder.” Thomus is standing near the door, leaning against it with his arms crossed.

“Merlin, Thomus, take a seat – and have that mask off, would you? There aren’t any muggles for you to scare in here,” the Healer says, using his wand to move the remaining chair closer to Thomus. It nudges him until Thomus begrudgingly sits, pulling his mask off and resting it on his knee.

“Alright, let’s have a look at you.” The Healer casts the familiar diagnostic charms I’d seen Thomus use. He nods after a moment of careful peering at the colors. “Dislocated shoulder indeed. As well as a cracked clavicle.”

I notice Thomus shift in his seat before the diagnostic lights fade. A muscle in his jaw ticks.

“If I may,” the Healer says, his hand reaching for my glasses. I nod and he pulls them off, setting them aside before saddling closer to examine my face. His eyes scan my face and he frowns before meeting my eyes. “My, my – have a nasty fall, did we?”

“I was… attacked,” I reply slowly. Then quickly clarify. “Not by him.”

“I would assume nothing less of our mutual friend,” the Healer replies. He steps back and signs. “You should consider yourself lucky. Normally the others don’t even summon a Healer for them.”

My eyebrows pinch together and I look at Thomus, whose arms are crossed again saddled with a solemn expression.

When I look back at the Healer, my expression mirrors my words. “That’s really sad.”

“Simply put,” he agrees.

“Let’s get on with it,” Thomus snaps.

I glare at him. “You’re managing very poorly.”

He gets my meaning and scoffs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

“Please remove your cloak,” the Healer instructs, ignoring Thomus. I can easily unclasp the cloak with one hand and the fabric falls from my shoulders, pooling on the table. He helps me remove the sling. “I will not lie to you, the procedure will be quick, but it will also hurt. Especially with an injured clavicle.”

“I’ve given her Lenios drops,” Thomus says, straightening his posture.

“The banned drops?” the Healer questions, raising an eyebrow.

Thomus shrugs. “Surely me not following rules doesn’t shock you.”

“Good point – alright, dear, now lie back.”

I do as he says, trying not to let my fear of the potential pain take over. He holds my dislocated arm out straight, casting another diagnostic charm over my shoulder. My eyes seek out Thomus and with one pleading look, he stands and comes to my side. His warm fingers find mine and I squeeze them.

“Are you ready?” the Healer asks gently and I nod, squeezing my eyes shut.

With a tap of his wand on my shoulder, the joint pops loudly back into place. I don’t scream, but I let out a painful whimper. The pain doesn’t last long and I can breathe soon after.

Thomus helps me sit up and the Healer places the sling back around my neck. He pulls my hair out of the way and he pauses.

“What’s this?” he asks, gently pushing at my chin with his wand to turn my face away. He touches something on my neck and it stings, making me wince. “A bite mark?”

I sense rather than feel Thomus stiffen next to me. His hand still holding mine turns rigid with anger.

The Healer can see Thomus’ change. “It’s a simple healing spell, Thomus. I can –“

“Don’t,” Thomus bites out. “I’ll take care of it.”

There’s a pause to see if Thomus means now, but he only pulls at my hand, getting me to stand. I keep my eyes down as he puts on my cloak. I only get a glimpse at his face before he puts on his mask again. It’s that same expression from before – dark and murderous and, honestly, a little scary.

The Healer gives Thomus a bottle of Skelegrow for my clavicle and sends us on our way.

~*~

As soon as we step through the fireplace of the cottage I start stripping. It’s a slow and awkward process to do one handed, but I manage to get to the bathroom clad in just my dirty t-shirt to start filling the tub. I pull my arm out of the sling long enough to get my shirt over my head and down my arm.

Thomus had disappeared into the kitchen upon our arrival and I think I heard him come up the stairs to his room. The door to it from the bathroom is closed, so I don’t know for sure.

The bath is hot and feels luxurious after the day I’ve had. I spend several moments just leaning back with my eyes closed, sorely tempted to nap, before reaching for a wash cloth.

The door to Thomus’ room opens and he slides in carrying two empty whiskey glasses and the bottle of Dragon brandy. He sets them on the floor next to the tub and retreats back to his room, returning with a wooden stool. He places it next to the tub and sits heavily, sighing.

“Rough day?” I ask dryly.

He sighs again, nodding, and turns to pour some brandy into a glass, then downs it in one go. Then he straightens his back and begins rolling up his sleeves high up his arm.

My mind scatters with dirty thoughts watching him expose his slutty forearms, but I still manage to find my voice. “Whatcha doin’?”

“I figured you might need some help.” He tries to take the soapy wash cloth from my hand, but I pull it down, making it disappear beneath the water.

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m not that helpless.”

“I know you’re not.” He rests his hand on my knee peeking out from the surface and gives me a pleading look. “I just… I just want to.”

“Okay,” I reply softly. “Can you pour me a drink before you start?”

“Of course,” he says, turning to fill the other glass and hand it to me. I trade it for the soapy wash cloth.

When I’m settled with my glass, he plunges his hand into the water, feeling around my legs until he grabs an ankle and pulls it up out of the water. First he washes my foot, then my ankle and slowly works my calf, minding the scrapes on my knees. It feels nice and I release a contented sigh.

“Will there be any other surprises?” he asks as he moves on to the other leg.

I tilt my head. “Surprises?”

He doesn’t answer and I take two long sips of my drink, making a face at the taste. I haven’t eaten since lunch, so the alcohol hits my empty stomach with a warm tingle.

“Do you think I’m hiding a third leg down there or something?” I press.

There’s a subtle disgruntled shake to his head. “You should’ve told me he bit you.”

“Honestly, I forgot about it,” I say, my voice quiet.

With my feet propped on the edge of the tub, Thomus focuses on my thighs. The soapy water ripples to my chin as I sink further into it. I take another long sip before leaning my head back and closing my eyes. Unwanted images from the day flash across my mind and I focus on Thomus’ hand brushing near my core as he makes laps across my thigh.

After a while, I notice the movements become repetitive and robotic. I take a peek at him to see him just staring at my scuffed up knees, his free hand moving suds over the marks.

“Tell me about what happened,” he murmurs into the silence. “Don’t spare me any details.”

I swallow hard around nothing. “Even the gory ones?”

“Even the gory ones.”

I take another drink and lean back again, staring at the ceiling. “He came knocking. I kept locking the door, so he busted it open. I’m pretty sure I fell on my arm wrong which is how my shoulder got dislocated. Then I ran and he chased. Pretty standard stuff.” I pause to take another drink. He’s getting the short version and I’m doing my best not to fully relive it in my head any more than my mind is already forcing me to.

“You… ran outside?” he prompts.

I nod. “Yup. Ran to the creek to look for a good rock to throw at him. He finds me, tells me to run, and blah blah blah.” My tone is apathetic as I’m relaying the details, because I’m trying really hard not to get all worked up again. “He tackles me, shoves my head into the ground, continues monologuing. I throw dirt in his face and kick him and run into the house to hide in the attic. The end.”

I open my eyes and look at him, taking in his handsome profile still staring pensively at my thighs.

“When did he bite you?”

I shrug my good shoulder. “Does it matter?”

He blinks and finally looks away from my legs. He doesn’t answer, but has me sit forward so he can scrub my back and lord, I nearly moan at how good it feels. His free hand lifts the band of the sling so he can get under it, and I can feel him pause at the sight of the bite.

“Look, if it bothers you so much, why don’t you just heal it and forget about it?” I snap, a bit irritated.

“That’s not the point,” he fires back.

I glare at him over my shoulder. “Then what is?”

He meets my glare with a dirty look of his own, but seems to be struggling with his explanation. “He – he…”             “He what? He marked me? Claimed me as his? Is that the bullshit you’re struggling with?” I turn towards him more, unwittingly pushing my face closer to his. “Newsflash, you’ve already claimed me – or have you forgotten your name’s tattooed on my arm?”

“That’s different,” he sputters.

“How?”

“It just is.”

We glare at each other until an idea pops into my head. I roll my eyes at the absurdity of it as I finish the rest of my glass and put it on the floor.

“Well, you know what the solution to this is?” I ask.

“What?” he snaps.

I slip the strap of the sling over my head and pull my hair to the side. Then I look him dead in the eyes and say with all seriousness, “Bite me.”

His eyes pop into circles for a moment before he blinks. “What?”

“You heard me.” I cup water in my palm and splash it against the spot to rinse the soap. I turn my face away, exposing my neck to him. “Have at it.”

I might be grumpy and headstrong on the outside, but as I sit and wait for him to touch me, I realize how much I need this, too. Rodolphus biting me was primitive and inherently sexual in nature and I’m sick to my stomach at the thought that it was him. Yeah, I called it bullshit, but I won’t admit to Thomus that I really want him to… reclaim me.

I’m nearly panting with anticipation when I feel his lips brush over the curve of my ear.

“You want me to bite you?” he whispers.

“Do I need to shout it from the rooftop? Get a microphone?”

Thomus chuckles and I nearly melt with how the sound sends shivers down my spine. He lets the wash cloth sink and threads his damp fingers into my roots at the base of my skull. He balls his fist with my hair and angles my head just how he wants it.

My core clenches when his teeth scrape over the old bite. I gasp and moan when they sink into my skin. He bites hard, sucking at the flesh between his teeth. His tongue laps at my skin as if to soothe the irritation, the intrusion.

My chest shudders with the unbridled relief flooding my veins. Relief that I’m fully his again.

He relinquishes his hold, unlocking his jaw, peppering kissing up my neck to my cheek.

With a grip still in my hair, he turns my head until our lips meet and I sink back into the water with a sigh. His other hand runs down my chest, cupping and kneading my breasts before dipping his hand directly to the junction between my legs. His fingers slip through my folds where he encounters slipperiness of another kind.

I whimper when he removes his hands from me, one of them feeling around for the wash cloth. He finds it and brings it up to my chest, gliding along my skin.

“I think I want you to bite me again,” I sigh. “A lot. Everywhere.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he reassures me with a kiss to my crown. “But in the meantime, just relax.”

And oh boy, do I relax. He makes sure to get every nook and cranny on my body. From armpits to navel and even behind my ears. I dip my head into the water so he can lather shampoo in, massaging my scalp and I nearly fall asleep with how relaxed I am.

Nearly.

Almost. Not quite.

Not nearly enough to keep certain questions at bay.

Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe I just feel safe. Maybe I feel he’ll answer me honestly if I ask him now.

“Thomus, why did you buy me?”

His hands in my hair freeze and I’m afraid to open my eyes to see the effect my question had on him.

The room is so quiet I can hear an owl hoot from outside. I’m scarcely daring to breathe.

“I… don’t know,” comes his soft voice in the silence.

Okay, now that makes me straighten and turn to look at him. Because of anything he could have said, that was not on my list of possibilities. He doesn’t seem angry at my question at least. His eyebrows are pinched together and he looks… lost for words.

“You don’t know?” I ask.

He looks down. “I was merely at the auction to support Draco.”

My eyes widen and I gape at him. “So… there wasn’t like a plan or anything?”

“Of course I didn’t have a plan,” he hisses. He quickly dips his hands into the water and pulls them back out to pat them dry on the nearby hand towel. “I didn’t give a single fucking thought to you until you walked out on that fucking stage alive.” He whips the cap of the bottle off and pours three shots worth into his glass, a sneer curling his lips. “And then Goyle put his fucking hands on you and the next thing I knew, I’d placed a bid.” He gulps down the amber liquid in one go.

My mind whirls, traveling faster than the speed of light, jumping from one conclusion to the next. My mouth, however, does not travel that fast. “So… you bought me on a whim… because you were jealous?”

He scoffs. “Are you trying to point out how ridiculous and irrational that was? Believe me, I’m well aware none of my thoughts about you are bloody rational.” He pours another unmeasured dose into his glass and chugs it.

He stands, wobbly on his feet now. “Can you finish up yourself? I – I need to –“ he doesn’t finish his sentence and leaves.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading! 💕

[ladyloveandjustice]

Spring 2021 anime overview: Quick Takes

Now for my Spring 2021 anime thoughts! I’ve decided from now on if a season’s like, 20- to-24 episodes I’m just going to wait ‘til it’s done to review it unless I feels super passionately, so though I watched To Your Eternity (it’s good!) and MHA (eh), I’ll comment on them next time. Also, for the record, I watched the first eight eps of Joran: Princess and Snow of Blood but I dropped it because it had clearly crossed the line from entertainingly dumb to boring dumb. 

I will probably give Supercub and some other stuff a shot later, this was a stacked season! May give updates on all that later, but this is what I have for now.

ODDTAXI

Quick Summary: A mild mannered middle-aged walrus taxi driver is drawn into a case involving a missing girl, yakuza, Youtube clout-chasers, manzai comedians and idols with big secrets.

It’s rare to walk away from media and be like “that is a singular experience I will definitely never see repeated again” but ODDTAXI is definitely one of those. A tense noir thriller murder mystery starring cartoon animals that spends an entire episode detailing the one (cat)man’s very fall into darkness triggered by addiction to gacha games and an online auction for a novelty eraser? Also there’s a porcupine Yakuza who speaks entirely in rap? Also there’s tons of meandering conversations about stuff like manzai comedy and the struggle to go viral on Twitter?

Admittedly, I had a hard time getting into the first episode, the dry meandering humor not being enough to hold my attention while I was sitting still, but once I watched this while I was working out at the end of the season, I found it an easy binge. A ton of characters with dark secrets or dangerous ambitions, each with their own part to play in a tableau of intersecting events- and it all actually comes together really well.(As for the female characters, it’s a pretty dude driven story, but they do get nuanced characterization and even some good heroic moments from one of them.)

 It’s a great example of a carefully planned narrative paying off, with all the twists appropriately seeded and foreshadowed to reward viewers who paid attention. Even when it ended on a perfect “OH SHIT” moment and denied me closure, I couldn’t help but respect it. If you that all sounds interesting to you, definitely check out the first couple episodes and see if you like it- you’re likely to have a memorable, satisfying experience!

Shadows House

Quick Summary: Emilyko is a ‘living doll’ who’s told she was created to act as the ‘face’ of her shadow master, Kate. The shadows and their ‘dolls’ all reside on the mansion and are required to pass a ‘debut’ to prove they’re a good pairing. If they don’t pass, they might be disposed of. And so the mystery of the Shadow mansion grows...

This slice of gothic intrigue was my favorite of the season, tied with ODDTAXI. With an interesting premise, slightly tense undertones and a strong focus on character building and relationships, it kept me hooked the whole way through. And for any squeamish fans put off by the hype about it, don’t worry, while there are some suspenseful elements, I wouldn’t qualify it as horror. I thought the relationship between Kate and Emilyko might end up being a completely sinister one, but it’s thankfully a lot more complex than that and it’s really interesting to follow how both their characters and relationship grow. The focus of the show is, unsurprisingly, on the “dolls” slowly discovering their autonomy and personhood as they struggle under the rigid system imposed on them by the mysterious elders of this weird Victorian mansion. Can they develop a more equitable relationship with their shadow “masters” (who are also shown to suffer under this system)? There’s a lot to dig into there, and the show has the characters develop through learning to understand and appreciate each other, which is pretty heartwarming. Our hero, Emilyko, is the typical plucky ball of sunshine (they even nickname her sunshine), but she’s also shown to be clever in her own off-the-wall way and she bounces off the far more subdued and cynical Kate well, not to mention the other ‘dolls’ she ends up befriending. 

What’s more, the show spends plenty of time to developing several other character pairings and combinations, and they all have their own interesting dynamic that makes you want to see more of them. Same-gender bonds are at the forefront of this show, and many of them are ripe for queer readings (I definitely appreciated the healthy helping of ladies carrying ladies), but even outside that it’s nice to see a show where a strong, complex bond between girls is at the forefront. My only real complaints about the show are the anime original ending is noticeably a bit rushed (though it’s not too bad, and leaves room for a season 2) and I wish the animation used the whole “shadow” theme more strikingly (like the opening and endings do)- instead the colors are a bit washed out which makes the shadows blend into the background sometimes. The “debut” arc also drags a bit in places, but it makes up for it by having a lot of good character integration.

I hope to check out the (full color)! manga soon and see more of this quirky, shadowy story. There’s some physical abuse depicted, sad things happening to characters and naturally the whole “oppressive familial system” thing, but otherwise not much I can think of to warn about. I give this one a big rec, especially If you’re a fan of gothic fairytales and stories of self discovery.  

Zombie Land Saga Revenge

Quickest summary: In this sequel season, everyone’s favorite zombie idol group must claw their way back into prominence after a disastrous show- the fate of the Saga prefecture LITERALLY depends on it!

This was a fun follow-up to the first season- if you liked the first zombie-girl romp, you’ll probably enjoy this one. In fact, there were a couple areas it improved on- namely, Kotaro failed, ate crow and embarrassed himself a lot more this season, which made him more likeable (as did the fact the girls gained a lot of independence from him). This season also shed more light on what the ‘goal’ of this zombie raising project is and what kind of shit Kotaro got involved with to make this happen, and it’s appropriately off-the-wall and ridiculous. We finally got some backstory for Yugiri too! I wish it had focused on more of her interiority, but she got to be a badass in it, and it was a treat to see this zombie idol show turn into a period piece for a couple episodes (also her song ruled).

 Tae also got a cute focus episode and there was a particular SMASHING performance early on! Also That revelation last season that had the potential to turn creepy hasn’t yet, and hopefully never will. The finale was heartwarming with big hints of more drama to come- I’m definitely down for more zombie hijinks!

Vivy: Flourite Eye’s Song

Quickest Summary: A songstress AI named DIVA (nicknamed Vivy) is approached by another AI named Matsumoto, who says he’s from the future and they must work together to prevent AI exterminating all of humankind 100 years from now.

This show is absolutely gorgeous visually with some really nice action scenes, but when it comes to the story my feelings basically amount to a shrug. It’s fine! I guess! Vivy starts out as an interesting layered character- and I guess still is by the end- with her stoic but stubborn determination bouncing off her fast-talking bossy partner Matsumoto well. She never listens to him, which is delightful. The way the show took place over the course of 100 years was an interesting conceit as well. However, it bought up a lot of themes and then sort of... dropped them. For instance, Vivy interprets her mission (PRIME DIRECTIVE if you will) as protecting humans at all costs, no matter how destructive said humans are or what their fate is supposed to be, and is perfectly willing to murder her fellow androids to do this, showing she inherently thinks of androids (herself and her own people!) as less worthy. Which is a little alarming! There’s a very dramatic point in the show where they bring this up as a potential conflict for her character but then it’s sort of...dropped. Pretty much.

Actually, despite the premise, the show doesn’t dip into the “AI rights” as much as you think it would with the main theme being more about Vivy’s search to find her own creativity and discover what it means to ‘pour your heart into something’. Vivy herself doesn’t actually care if she has rights or anything. Which is in some ways fine, because ‘AI as an oppressed class’ has been done to death, but IT’S ALSO KIND OF IN THE PREMISE, so that means that the show just shrugs really hard at a lot of the questions it brings up  basically just going “humans and AI should work together probably” and that’s it. There’s a lot that feels underexplored. The antagonists in the show also either have motivations that don’t really make sense or have boring hackneyed motivations. In the finale in particular, it feels like a lot of things happen “just because” and it falls a little flat.

I also have to warn that one of the arcs focus on a robot ‘pairing’ where the dude-coded robots actions toward his partner are straight up awful and rob her of her autonomy, but it’s played like a tragic love story. I suppose you could read it differently too, but it definitely made me go ‘ew’ the story seemed to want me to sympathize with this robo dude,

Overall, I wouldn’t anti-recommend this show, it’s an all right little sci-fic romp (and definitely SUPER pretty). My favorite element was definitely the episodes where Vivy develops an entirely new (an loveable) personality, because it played with the idea of of an AI getting “rebooted” really well and interplay between her two “selves” was done really well. But there are a lot of other parts of the show that just feel...a little underexplored and empty, making me have an ‘eh’ feeling on the show overall. It’s definitely an ambitious project, and while it didn’t quite stick the landing, there’s something to be said for a show that shoots for the stars and falls short over a show that just languishes in mediocrity.

Fruits Basket The Final

Quick summary: The final season of that dramatic drama about that weird family with a zodiac curse and the girl who loves them.

It’s very weird that after not cutting a lot out, they kinda sped through some material for, you know, the finale. I guess they thought they couldn’t stretch this final arc to 26 episodes? Or weren’t cleared for another double cour? However, though there were a couple places that felt awkward, despite being a bit condensed it mostly held together pretty well for a D R A M A T I C and ultimately heartwarming conclusion. I was really disappointed they kept the part where Ritsu cut their hair for the ‘happy ending’, I thought  their intro episode not showing them in men’s clothes meant the anime had decided their presentation didn’t need to be “fixed” but WELL I GUESS NOT. That was the only big upset for me though, otherwise the adaptation went about how I expected, sticking to the source material. Furuba has a lot of bumps, from weird age gap stuff to ...gender, but it also has a lot of important feels and great character arcs. It was a gateway shoujo for many and has its important place in animanga history, so I’m glad it finally got a shiny, full adaptation.

[obsessivelycapricious]

Got an idea for a reader insert fic for the DC universe. I'm probably not going to write it so I'm putting it out there like this instead. Hell if anyone wants to run with this then brilliant. Just shoot me a message and we can talk. Its female reader insert and can be for many different pairings. Male/female/platonic. Mostly with villains.

Shes an artist and her paintings aren't really very popular as they tend to depict the underbelly of Gotham and usually feature a villain or two. the Elite don't like to dwell on such things so theres a bunch of canvases in her apartment unsold.

Shes also got a dark past and made some dumb romantic choices when she was younger. Sionis almost ran her out of town but Gotham is her home and she has nowhere else to go. Batman had to save her. It was a whole thing. She's still terrified of the black mask.

But then we reach an anniversary of Batman and his fight to protect the poor defenseless citizens of the city and someone picks one of her paintings to be on display at the gala. Its not even her favourite painting because to her it just isn't quite finished yet.

So she attends, rather reluctantly putting on a dress and everything. any interested potential buyers decide not to after hearing her describe the rest of her collection which is predictable but disappointing but at least she can admire the pretty people.

Just as things get interesting and she meets the one and only Bruce Wayne - did he just flirt with her? - disaster strikes as the joker and his goons interrupt the event with some typical scheme. Joker throws one of his blades into the heart of her painting during his dramatic monologue and she stares at the painting. Realising its finally complete.

She gets home safe from the gala after batman swoops in and saves her again. But at least this time its by proxy so she can keep some of her dignity. But when she gets home all of her paintings are gone and her apartment has been turned over. She finds out days later that the painting in the gala has also been taken.

A few weeks later she is walking home from work and is kidnapped and bundled into the back of a van. She's terrified its Sionis catching up to her again but they drag her into the basement of a seemingly random club and when they take the bag off her head she is sat at a table with Gotham's infamy elite. Cobblepot, the riddler, two face, mr. freeze, the list goes on. It could also include ivy and Selena kyle maybe harley too? At the top end of the table in command position sits the joker.

They explain, through no small amount of bickering and insults thrown between each other, that they have a proposition for her. They want to give her the opportunity to deal her paintings exclusively to them. First refusal goes to the villain that features in the painting and after that they'll arrange an auction. If no one wants the painting then it can be sold elsewhere.

Our reader is no meek and mild wallflower and can hold her own in the room negotiating a fee for herself for the paintings already stolen and future installments for exclusivity and convincing them to offer her protection. They laugh at first and wonder why she would need protection when the worse gotham has to offer is in the room with her now but she shudders and suggests that if Sionis is no match for them then they won't mind making sure he doesn't get near her again. Her one caveat to the deal is that if the batman shows an interest he gets first dibs. He did save her life after all.

And so begins an unlikely partnership with Gotham's criminal underbelly. Because they arent house trained and dont seem to understand how to use a door properly, her appartment keeps getting broken into when a new batch of paintings is ready to go. Johnny frost is usually the one who drops off her pay.

Sometimes she comes across her new clients in unexpected places. She meets Edward Nigma while out to buy the paper who spent his morning coaching her through various riddles. Sometimes she finds a car waiting outside to take her to Penguins club or on the very rare occasion she finds an errant joker in her apartment, constantly keeping her on her toes with his bouts of madness. She gets to know a few of them on an almost intimate level though she is vigilant enough to never cross that line. They somehow always keep her out of the mob business they conduct so she always has plausible deniability and so they dont have a good reason to kill her.

Meanwhile, Sionis hears from Victor Zsaz that our reader is flourishing rather than hiding away scared for her life like he left her. Whats more she is painting again and for other people?? This wont do. She belongs to him and only him.

So begins our final act where sionis carries out his diabolical plan and the readers favourite villian swoops in and saves the day. This could be a choose your own ending sort of thing where the reader can pick who she wants. Including batman and a version where the villians all team up and work together. Or yknow. Writers choice if youd rather just write one. Im a fan of it being the joker or batman or nightwing/robin (if you fit some interaction in between the plot so theres enough intent there)

Then the finale to it may be romantic and may end with the reader and their fave releasing the pent up tension between the two. Or if youd rather have a more platonic non relationshipy ending you could have the reader finish off sionis and take that step into villainy herself.

Ta daaaa! The end.

Message me if you wanna use the story! I would love to read it or see stuff about it.

[traincat]

I know the comic piracy debate is a never-ending cycle, but in India where I live, you can't get western comics (or manga for that matter). There aren't comic book stores. Sometimes on Amazon you can find collected editions worth more than INR 1000 at least, for the paperbacks. Most older collections, even from the early 2000s, will be upwards of INR 6000. And sure, it's because the exchange value is so low for Indian rupees, but that's still a LOT of money to Indian citizens. You can get digital editions of random odd issues for approx. INR 150, so that's there. But overall it's really a huge investment to buy a physical comic. So yes, I pirate. But I get so guilty when this debate rolls around, every time. I just don't see any other alternative.

I debated whether or not to answer this considering I haven't really addressed the comics piracy issue before so I'm not sure I'm the right account to talk about it, and also because my askbox is not a confessional and I am not a priest, but then some Spider-Man news broke that I feels ties into it this so whatever, we're going for it. The comics piracy debate comes up every couple of months and will probably continue to come up every couple of months until forever and all of these points have been stated before by others because nothing in this debate is new. First things first, you shouldn't feel guilty. I'm going to suggest actually that nobody should feel guilty, unless you are like, a millionaire and you're exclusively pirating indie books. The prices you're quoting are prohibitively expensive but I have some unfortunate news for everyone involved: the prices are really bad in the US, too. If you want good collected editions, especially in hardcover, they're going to run at similar if not quite equal prices. Comics have gone from a cheap hobby to an overwhelmingly expensive hobby.

This is a good article comparing to the cover costs of American comics since the 1960s adjusted for inflation which I think puts some things in perspective. Comics currently cost roughly $5 USD per issue, which doesn't sound that bad, even though most of my monthly streaming services are roughly that price for a whole month's access to a library of content. But it only doesn't sound that bad if you're not buying special issues (the Marvel Pride book retailed for $10), and if you're only reading one or two books a month. The problem is, American superhero comics are specifically designed so you're not reading just one or two books per month -- this is why we have events! And crossovers! Not for the story potential but because it forces the consumer to purchase more product. This is why there's constantly an event running with a checklist of tie-in issues in the back. So now you're spending probably at least $20 a month. If you're a fan with a lot of interest in different titles, and in different publishers, this can easily hit triple USD digits. It's a money pit. It's not affordable to most people. And this is where that new Spider-Man news comes in, because it was announced today that Amazing Spider-Man is going back to a thrice monthly schedule like it used to operate on during Brand New Day. Which sounds good at first -- more comics, yay -- until you realize that's probably going to be $15 USD a month for a one title. That's $180 a year for one title, not including annuals or special issues. That's not feasible for a lot of fans -- young fans, poor fans, fans with other financial obligations etc. And most people aren't reading just one title. I don't know how the X-Men fans are currently financing their Krakoa habit and I'm afraid to ask. There are services like Marvel Unlimited, which make things slightly more affordable, but I imagine the wait for newer issues to hit the service can be alienating for some fans who want to join in current discussions, the library has some incredibly massive holes in it which is unacceptable when it's coming from inside the mouse house, and I believe, although I could be wrong, that it is not available in all countries. Comics are no longer an easily accessible hobby, if you're paying for everything you read.

"But the creatives deserve to get paid" is the common argument and yeah, they do, I'm not arguing that point. They should absolutely get paid and they should get well. I'm a writer, I'm a published writer even, and I want to be a published novelist, and I definitely want to get paid, and I'm reserving the right to be a complete hypocrite about this, as I do with everything in my life, but this is where the difference between indie publications and Marvel publications comes in: Marvel is owned by Disney. There is absolutely no excuse for Disney not to pay their creatives. If they are not getting paid fairly, it's not because you pirated a book -- it's because Disney has a vested interest in not paying their creators, as evidenced by Alan Dean Foster's lawsuit claiming that they are withholding royalties from him. Fans pirating these books are not the reason the creatives are not getting paid fairly -- the creatives are not getting paid fairly for the same reason that Disney park employees experience homelessness, and it's because Disney would rather put that money into the pockets of their executives. There is no debate on that subject. It's easier and perhaps more convenient to blame fans for pirating comics rather than putting all of their money into what has been for years now a prohibitively expensive hobby to keep up with, but the fact of the matter is Disney could pay all of their creatives what they're worth without hurting their bottom line and instead chooses not to. That is not on you, as an individual reader. You have no reason to feel guilty about that, no matter what your circumstances are, and you do not have to justify your actions to either me or the House of the Mouse. I'm with you, and Disney ultimately doesn't care. They're making that money up elsewhere and then not distributing it fairly to the people who create the properties their media empire is built off of. But especially if you're buying older books, you should know that your money is not going to the creative team -- once it's out of publication, they're not going to get any of the money you spent on it. The argument then becomes that you should be supporting local comics stores which yes, is true, but also doesn't apply to everyone, like anon who doesn't have access to local comic book stores. And again, this can become prohibitively expensive -- collections are expensive. Older, hard to find collections can be very expensive. Once something is out of print, all bets are off on what it might be selling for. Buying single issues is only affordable if the single issue isn't desirable or sometimes if it's in exceedingly bad condition. For the sake of transparency, I have a fairly big single issue collection because it's my preferred format, but I had the time to bargain hunt, access to local comic book stores and large comic conventions, and I'm very good at sniping eBay auctions. The most I have ever dropped on a single issue was expensive for me -- and still under three digits USD -- and it's for an issue from the '60s that is not in great condition.

The problem with this debate is that it is generally a nuanced issue that always gets boiled down to "piracy bad" in a way that makes a lot of well meaning and well intentioned fans, especially the ones with extenuating circumstances, feel bad. It's not your fault. You shouldn't feel guilty. There are a huge amount of reasons why someone might pirate something that are not bad reasons and do not make you a bad person who is personally withholding money from the creators -- because you're not. I don't publicly tell people where to pirate comics, mostly because I really don't think it's that hard to find out for yourselves especially because several creators involved with Marvel themselves have, I suspect accidentally, posted pages of their work to social media WITH THE BANNER OF A WELL KNOWN COMICS PIRACY SITE STILL IN THE IMAGE please learn how to crop, so maybe my standpoint on the issue wasn't well known, but there it is. I think readers should, if they are able to financially and otherwise, support the creators they like, but that it should be acknowledged that this is a more complicated issue than it's commonly made out to be on Twitter and that the largest part of the blame needs to be put on the companies making these comics inaccessible to many and who refuse to pay their creators fairly, not on individual fans. Don't feel guilty, anon.

[fuckingthefictional]

Red Stained Dress

Request: “I hope you’re having a wonderful day/evening/afternoon/night! May I request Reader being a cousin to the Shelby’s (mother’s side) and being very very like lady-like, clean, expensive clothes. And one of the boys gets blood on her dress? If that’s alright? Thanks in advance.”

A/N: I made this entirely too angsty for my own good, either way hope you enjoy!

Warning: Graphic descriptions of violence, swearing, blood.

“Mummy what is falling in love like?”

“My darling, it is one of the best things in life. It is special and sacred. It makes life worth living, it makes the world that little bit brighter.”

“When will that happen to me?”

“Time will tell my sweet girl, but be patient- love is always lurking around corner, where you least expect it.”

Your mother was right. It did lurk around the corner and it caught your heart in its grasp and lead you to love. To your husband.

At the age of 20 you went from Y/N Strong to Y/N Massey. Wife of James Massey. You were happy, at peace.

But your mother had failed to explain the complexities of love. That it didn’t come easy. There was darkness and rockiness. And love didn’t always last.

For you it broke in front of you. When your husband was taken on the battlefield- somewhere in France.

And suddenly you were a widow, you were alone.

Your mother and husband had passed. The only person left was your father (if you could even call him that)- Charlie Strong.

On her deathbed your mother had begged you to go and make amends with him. Even going as far to write down his address on a piece of paper for you to keep.

But you hadn’t plucked the courage to do that yet. To you your father was just a man who ran from his wife and child at the first moment he could.

There was only one trait that you shared with that man. And that was your love of horses. You had always had a connection with animals. Horses and dogs in particular would just flock to you- who knew maybe it was in your blood.

“Ms Massey?” A quiet voice interrupted your heavy stream of thought, looking up you saw one of the many maids that worked at the house standing in the entry way to the library.

“Is everything alright Mary?” You asked.

“Ms Carleton has just arrived for you ma’am, she’s waiting for you by the car.”

You nodded, rising from your armchair and taking one last glance at his armchair before you left for the day.

May and yourself were going to a horse auction, you’d been looking forward to it for weeks.

You were both looking for some new horses to take on and train, as well as some new potential clients.

“Stop dallying Y/N!” Your friend’s familiar voice rang out, “The auction starts soon, we’ll miss out at this rate!”

You rolled your eyes towards May, silently dismissing her joking jabs at you.

“We won’t be late May,” You reprimanded, “stop fretting.”

“The clock says otherwise.”

“Ladies like us are never late,” You waves your hands to prove your point, “everyone else is simply early.”

May giggles in response, “if you say so Y/N/N.”

You swatted at your close friend jokingly, you were hoping for a successful, calm day- but trouble always did seem to follow you every place you went.

-

“Ladies and Gents we will start our bidding at 50 pounds.”

The horse auction was surprisingly crowded, it seemed that quite a few people had come to see what breeds could be found at the auction house that afternoon.

It was dwindling down to the last few stallions and the occasional mare. All in all you had been successful in purchasing two stallions and a mare of your own.

The last horse on auction in question was beautiful, it was a stallion- dark and shiny in colour, its legs were long but muscled. A perfect contender for you to train for the races.

You raised your hand in interest.

“50 pounds here,” the auctioneer spoke, looking around at everyone else, “Going once, twice-“

“150 pounds.”

Your head whipped round, looking for the man who was trying to outbid you.

“300” you spoke again.

“500” A murmur rippled through the crowd.

You weighed up your options, it was a lot of money for a single horse- you didn’t want to blow through every single penny you had to your name.

“Going once, going twice-“

“1500 pounds.” A new voice had cut out, there were shocked murmurs erupting throughout the stands of people.

The gavel banged on the table, signifying the final action of the day, as people began to disperse from the auction house- you could finally see the man that had snatched the last horse up.

You knew who it in an instant- it was Thomas Shelby. Your cousin Thomas.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you began to make your way down the stairs with May. Silently you found yourself praying that he hadn’t taken any notice of your presence.

God didn’t listen of course.

“Y/N?”

You took a deep inhale, as you rushed down the stairs to try and escape.

“Y/N!”

Fuck, there was no chance of outrunning them.

You quickly murmered that you would catch up to your friend, before you slipped through the doors arena like stage.

The doors itself open and closed behind you, before it was repeated again.

Here goes nothing I suppose.

You breathed in a shuddering breath as you turned to face your estranged family members.

They were all there. Thomas, John, Arthur, as well as another two men that you didn’t recognise. Not to mention the man that you had long since called your father.

You put on a polite smile, which probably looked far too forced, “Good Afternoon Thomas.”

“What are you-“

“What are you doing ‘ere ‘ey?” Your father cut Tommy off, questioning your motives as his piercing eyes stared into your similar ones.

The action only caused a swell of anger to swirl in her belly.

“I assume the same reason that you are- business.” You spoke simply, biting down on your tongue to keep any more words at bay.

“And what ‘business’ do you have here Hmm?” Tommy’s gruff voice asked.

“Jesus I’m just here to purchase any horses that look good enough to ride professionally- what is your probl-“

“Mr Shelby.”

Everything that happened next, happened all too quickly. Because before you could even register what was happening there was a yell coming from one of your cousins.

“Get down!” John’s voice had cut of your own with a loud yell, as you were suddenly tackled to the floor.

A loud crack rippled through the air as the wooden banister above you splintered into two, a bullet lodging itself in the wall behind it.

You peeled up behind the curtain of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes, “What the fuck?” You screamed in fear, shock melting into every nerve and muscle in your body.

Another gunshot pierced out, as it shattered the large window close by into thousands of shards.

A part of you didn’t want to believe that this was happening- surely it was just a dream? A terrible, horrific nightmare?

Another crack of a bullet being launched sounded close to you, peeping up from behind your quivering hands you saw that it was Thomas who had fired it.

Thomas who had fired a fatal shot into another man’s head. Thomas who had caused the death of a man, who may have had a wife, or a child or a family.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight that was to come next. The sight of your eldest cousin brutally throwing punch after punch after punch at another man’s face.

The sickening sounds of flesh hitting flesh and bones shifting and cracking under the weight of Arthur’s meaty fists continued to echo around the room.

The man’s face slowly becoming mangled into mush, the sand below him becoming stained with crimson blood - you knew you couldn’t take it for a moment longer.

Swallowing your fear, you jumped off of the ground, screaming desperately for Arthur to stop.

You tried to pull him off, only to be knocked backwards onto your back. You felt the air leave your body as you collided with the ground.

You shifted back onto your feet, ignoring the pain surging through your spine. Watching as your father, Tommy and another man ripped Arthur away from the scene.

Crawling over you to the motionless body, you lifted two fingers to his neck. Frantically searching for a pulse. After a few seconds you found one, “He’s still alive- but his pulse is weak, he needs-“

Once again you were cut off by your father, “John take Y/N to the car.”

“What? No!” You protested, “did you not hear me- that man is dying he needs a doctor now.”

Within seconds you felt your body lift off the ground and over someone’s shoulder.

“Stop! You can’t do this!” You were screaming desperately, you voice becoming hoarse “What is wrong with you?”

The feeling of tears running down your face, alerted you to just how upset you felt. You just watched your family kill- like they were predators.

A few short minutes later, you felt your feet finally hit the floor. Looking around you grasped onto the nearest solid object that you could find.

The car was cool to touch and it calmed your raging thoughts for a second before a swell of nausea hit. You wanted to be sick, to cleanse the memories of what you had just witnessed away.

“Y/N...” John’s voice held care, like he was tiptoeing around what had just happened, “About what you just saw.”

“You didn’t see anything.”

You’re head shot up angrily, Tommy stood in front of you, with the rest of the group of men behind him.

“Really because the blood on my fucking dress says otherwise,” you fined, lYou’re fucking insane- you just killed two men, two men who may have had families that will never see them again.” Tears welled up in your eyes, “You should feel ashamed.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, “If we didn’t kill them, they would have killed us.”

“We all have a part to play in this world Tommy- you don’t get to decide who lives, who dies and who tells the story. You’re just a selfish coward who shoots first and asks questions later.”

“Y/N you can’t say that- he’s your family.”

Your head whipped around, quick enough that you swore you could’ve gotten whiplash. It was your father who had spoken those words.

“You don’t get to say anything to me- you do not have that right anymore, you lost that a long time ago,” You jabbed a finger into his scrawny chest, “Family Hm? You lot stopped being my family years ago. None of you came to my wedding, none of your cared when my husband was killed, and you ‘dad’ disowned me before I could walk- so don’t you dare lecture me about family.”

“You’re still apart of this family Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes, “Well if that,” you pointed back over to the auction center, “is what being apart of this family is then I have no fucking interest in being apart of it.”

Family isn’t always to do with fucking blood- it is what you make it.

[justcourttee]

Could I request when Marinette first meets the Batfam (One as Marinette meeting the Wayne's, one as Marinette meeting the Batfam, one as Ladybug meeting the Wayne's, and one as Ladybug meeting the Batfam)

I’m so so sorry it took so long. I loved this so much and grossly underestimated how long it would take me to do this prompt justice. I decided on a whole bunch of short stories that tied together and several days of editing and rewriting left me with this. 

I hope you enjoy it! @elements1999

The First Time

The first time Marinette met the Wayne’s was at a charity auction that she dragged Adrien too.

With her first year of earnings beyond her imagination, Marinette wanted to donate some to charity and who better than Bruce Wayne. She read all about his many donations and auctions, how he came to the rescue of orphaned kids and hospitals struggling to stay afloat. She might not know much about charity, but she knew this man would put her money to good use.

It didn’t take long for Adrien to wander off, his hopeless romantic self trailing after every beautiful person he saw. He advised her to find her own beautiful person, after all, this world revolved around connections, and she needed more than just Adrien.

She set her eyes on a prominent looking man around her age. His attention seemed fixed on the older men he was entertaining, their conversation dragging, but the more she watched, the more she could recognize his own boredom. If anything else tonight, at least she could save him from succumbing to social suicide.

“Excuse me sir, but I was wondering if I could steal a moment of your time. I had a question about, uh, the stocks of your business.”

His eyebrow cocked as a playful smirk pulled at his lips. He knew that she had no intention of doing such things with one glance. She was impressed. As he excused himself from his company, the man offered his arm which she readily took.

“Now Miss, what questions could I answer for you?”

“Hmm, well, we could start with how do you put up with such dreadful conversations for hours on end? You looked like you were five seconds away from passing out.”

Tim, she soon learned, was the business partner of Bruce Wayne and his adopted son. He mostly dealt with the partnership side of Wayne Enterprise which meant enduring boring old man for hours on end at these types of events. They continued on with small talk as they walked the ballroom, but eventually, Tim had to excuse himself to yet another group of old men.

Marinette shook her head, slightly amused at the sight of him putting on a game face. Maybe she could ask Tim to help her with the partnership side of MDC. Right now, her current co-owner was off making plans for an after-party, not a sponsor.

“This is outrageous! I have my invite right here, what do you mean not invited? Brucie gave me this,” he shoved the piece of paper into the guard's face, “this morning.”

“Sir, a paper that says, Jason, my favorite son, this is an unlimited pass, does not count as an invite. Sorry.”

“You know, something tells me you’re not really sorry.”

Marinette bit her lip trying to hold back her laughter. For the second time in one night, it looks like she would have to be the knight in shining armor stepping in to save the damsel in distress.

“Jason? I told you not to leave your invite on the counter!”

The man widened his eyes at her as she crossed her arms, a fake disappointment monopolizing her face.

“Excuse me sir, but this is my date. He didn’t arrive home on time for work, so I left his invitation on the counter! I didn’t think he would be dumb enough to forget such a small piece of paper.”

“Oh yes, I’m sorry babe, please forgive me?”

The security guard didn’t look convinced, but he sidestepped allowing Jason to enter. Immediately he threw his arm over her shoulders as he dragged them away from the entrance as quickly as possible.

“First off, thanks for getting me in small fry. Second, who are you? The guards aren’t that stupid, they know we’re not together, but for some reason, it only took one look at you and they let me right in. Are you like sleeping with Bruce or something?”

Marinette’s face paled as she tried to stutter out a denial.

“Oh God,” Jason bursted into laughter, accidentally dragging her down with him as they doubled over. “Oh god, I’m sorry. It was too good, your face was too good.”

Marinette landed a punch in the man’s side with a sickening thud, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he had the audacity to ruffle her pristine hair while wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“Anyways, fess up, who are you really?”

Her time with Jason was much different from Tim’s. She honestly couldn’t believe that they were raised by the same man. Tim was constantly calculating his every sentence, watching her for signs of a slip-up or lie. He was composed the entire time, careful not to insult her as if she was a potential business partner. Jason? Not so much.

They traded insults and jabs at each other before turning their attention to the room insulting anyone who dared to step into their line of view. Marinette would be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit disappointed when he had to leave to find Bruce.

She spent the next few minutes wandering around the room until another damsel caught her eye. To put things lightly, Marinette was a little confused about who she was saving. The smaller man was maybe a couple inches taller than her and while the taller man was looming over him. However, it was the look in the smaller one’s eyes that screamed danger.

“Hello sir, I seem to have wandered off from my group, would you happen to have the time? I wouldn’t want to be late to the auction.”

Whatever argument the two were engaged in instantly came to a standstill as they seized each other up before turning to face her. The taller one flashed her a blinding smile before introducing himself as Dick.

“My son here is Damian and I’m sure he’d be glad to show a beautiful woman like yourself back to the auction site.” He placed a hand on Damian’s head, giving his hair a ruffle for good measure.

“You are not my father Grayson, unhand me at once.”

Marinette covered her mouth slightly trying to hide her giggles. She knew these two. They were the few exceptions to the press rule, always doing interviews as a brotherly team, maintaining the loving family image.

“What is so funny woman?”

Marinette cleared her throat trying to swallow any remaining laughter.

“Oh nothing, it’s just, you all are so different than I imagined, it’s quite refreshing.”

Damian shot her a quizzical look as if he wasn’t sure whether to be complimented or offended.

“Well, if you like little bird so much, we should definitely get you back to the auction! This year, he graciously volunteered to be the surprise celebrity date.”

“Gracious is not the correct word Grayson. You all blackmailed me.”

“Details, details, so what do you say, Miss?” Dick waved off the accusation before offering his hand to her.

“Marinette and I would be delighted to save him from the woman here.”

They chatted idly as they made their way back, neither oblivious to the slight red tinting Damian’s cheeks. When the time came, Marinette made sure to place the first and last bid for Damian Wayne. And before the end of the night, she had four numbers to match her four new friends.

“Marinetteee, I didn’t find a single soul tonight that was there for a good time. What a bunch of sticks.”

Marinette chuckled as she slid into the limo, patting Adrien’s head with fake sympathy.

“A bunch of sticks indeed.” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The first time Marinette met the notorious Batman, she had gotten herself in over her head.

She had just wanted to find this new fabric shop that Jason had suggested, who would’ve known that one wrong turn in Gotham and she would end up in Rogue territory.

It had started just a handful of punks, intent on robbing her. Sure they had some knives, but she wasn’t worried at all. She only started freaking out when they seemed to duplicate right before her eyes. At the rate she was going, she was going to be overrun, no question about it.

At least until the man dropped from the sky. Marinette didn’t have time to process what had happened, instead she used the distraction to knock out the nearest goon. Even with the new help, they were still being overwhelmed.

“It’s time to get you out of here Miss, unfortunately, the two of us are not going to be enough for this guy.”

“This guy?”

Surely he wasn’t insinuating these masked men were one guy, right? He didn’t answer her as he pulled her into his side, sending his grapple into the dark sky. The landing was slightly rough as Marinette rolled to a stop, stumbling to her feet to get a good look at the man.

His suit was odd. Everything was fine from the coordinating red and black to the yellow robin perched on his breastplate, but what really did it for her was the spandex black hood covering his hair and eyes seemingly connected to his cape.

“My God, Is that connected to your hood?” Marinette pinched at the material covering half his head, amazed as it snapped back into place immediately. “You know you could really hurt yourself like this?”

She paced around him admiring the handiwork of his suit. If she had to make a guess, this was most likely Red Robin. Her eyes narrowed in around the neck, a small string almost unnoticeable sat at the base.

“Ohh I get it now, you pull this little string right here and it’s like an emergency relief. Okay, I’ll let the weird hood slide.”

He seemed to pay her no mind as he slipped the small device in his hand back into one of his many pockets.

“Ma’am, backup is on the way, I’m going to have to ask you to stay right here until one of us lets you down.”

“Hmm, would this be considered kidnapping?”

Red Robin stumbled over himself trying to explain that it was for her own safety, that Batman would never kidnap her. It took everything in her not to bust out laughing from his distress. She waved off his rambling as he watched him jump back down into the herd of men below.

Now that she was alone, maybe she could transform, help him. She turned from her spot only to come face to face with another superhero.

“Oh no, you can’t skip away, I’m pretty sure Red told you to hold your position.”

“Dude, I just really was trying to get to this 24-hour fabric shop that my friend told me about. I can’t help that danger just seems to follow me.”

The man clicked his tongue before reaching out to ruffle her hair in an annoyingly familiar way.

“Sorry small fry, just you and me until Red down there can relay a plan.”

Small fry? Only one obnoxiously fun person in Gotham City has referred to her like that and the more she stared him down, the more the gears started to turn in her head.

“Do I look good from that angle? Am I mesmerizing to you? Is the moonlight reflecting off my hair blinding you?”

If she had any doubts before, the ridiculous poses from the man in front of her only confirmed what she had thought. Before she could ask, the man quickly placed his finger up to his ear, his face dropping to deadly serious.

“Okay, so princess, I’m going to have to ask you nicely to stay up here. Robin should be here at any moment to make sure of it, but the situation just got a little bit more dire. Nice meeting you though, try not to fall in love with me when I save your life.”

Marinette wouldn't even respond as she leaned over the edge watching the fight ensue down below. Another two heroes had arrived, one in a blue and black suit, the thin mask concealing his eyes. The other?

“Oh mon Dieu, that’s Batman!”

“Are you always this obvious?” A hand barely touched her shoulder and on instinct, Marinette gripped it, pulling the attacker over her back and slamming them into the roof.

“Oh, oh, oh, I’m so sorry Robin. I guess I got a little spooked from the fight down below.”

The man stared at her with an unreadable expression before adjusting his hood, scooting a couple inches back before standing. He kept one hand on a small piece jutting out of his ear that she only assumed was a comm as if waiting for instructions.

“Hey, do you know the identity of the other’s down there?”

“Tt, of course I do, what kind of question is that?”

She shook her head, a small smile pulling at her lips.

“Nothing much, just wondering. You know, Red Robin said something about those goons being one guy, does that mean you guys are looking for one person in particular to stop the clones?”

“How do you know so much about Multiplex?”

“I don’t,” she shrugged her shoulders as nonchalantly as she could. “I’m just trying to get a grasp of my situation. If you were to ask me though, they’re not going to find him in the crowd down there and even if Batman is looking for the direction they could be coming from, he has no vantage point to see.”

Robin paused for a moment as if he was going to regret the next words that came out of his mouth.

“Fine, if I were to ask you, where do you think the main copy is?”

Marinette pointed wordlessly to the building they were standing on. Reaching out, she grabbed Robin’s hand pulling him to where she stood.

“Unhand me wo-” Marinette placed her finger on his lips waiting for him to silence before motioning over the edge to where the alleyway entrance was propped open.

“When I first got here, that’s the direction the first three came from. Now if my theory is correct, this Multiplex guy doesn’t need to be on sight to create copies and once he creates a copy, that copy can multiply no matter how many times it’s beaten down. So him sending only three out, can make six men minimum, right?”

Robin simply nodded, but she could see the wheel’s turning in his head, matching her own.

“You’re saying that if I enter that door down there, he should be somewhere in this warehouse that we’re standing on.”

“I’m saying if we go down there with an inhibitor collar, we can help Batman.”

“Absolutely not Mar-Miss. It’s too dangerous for a civilian. You can stay right here.”

All it took was one reminder that she had flipped him on instinct and he was the trained one for Robin to bring her down with him. In a matter of minutes, Robin had taken down Multiplex, surprised that she was right.

They were in the middle of an argument when the others stepped through the door, all wearing the same shocked expressions.

“Miss, what were you doing here this late at night?”

Marinette paused, the sudden realization that she was indeed standing in front of Batman, arguing with his sidekick that she was more competent than he was, how embarrassing.

“I really was just looking for this 24-hour fabric store that my friend Jason told me about. Do any of you know anything about that? Oh, better yet, can someone take me there? I really have so much work to be done and so little time to do it in.”

The five of them exchanged glances as if they weren’t sure who should go. It was like watching an involuntary ‘nose-goes’ game.

“Robin will take you.”

There was a slight grumble, but even he couldn’t hide the blush peeking out from under his mask. It only took five minutes by grapple and as he sat her down on the pavement, Marinette pecked his cheek.

“I think you might need a new disguise little bird,” she sent him a wink before turning to enter the store, unable to hide her own blush forming.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The first time Ladybug met the Wayne’s, she was in the wrong place at the right time.

She just wanted to drop off a new Lgeimat recipe that she had definitely not been trying to perfect ever since Damian mentioned his middle eastern heritage. So, you could imagine her surprise when she found Poison Ivy standing on the mansion’s doorstep.

Setting the plate on top of the call box, Marinette wasted no time transforming. Slinging her yo-yo, she pulled Ivy off her feet, landing on top of the woman as the door swung open.

“My lord, what do we have here?”

Alfred stepped backward, his eyes scanning over the scene in front of him. Marinette wanted to shove her yo-yo into Ivy’s mouth to end the string of curses falling out. Honestly, it was enough to turn the tips of Marinette’s ears pink.

“Master Bruce, your visitor has arrived and with a friend,” Alfred called behind him, stepping out of the door frame only to allow Bruce to fill it instead.

“Mr. Wayne, I was patrolling and a young woman came running up frightened for your safety. She said she was on her way to surprise you when she caught sight of this rogue on your doorstep.”

Bruce looked slightly amused. Marinette wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or worried at that fact.

“What may I call you Miss?”

“Uh, Ladybug.”

“Miss Ladybug, Dr. Isley here was my guest tonight, not an enemy, but I can understand the confusion. We had a new arboretum to talk about. Would you please release her?”

Marinette was sure her face matched her suit. She quickly withdrew her yo-yo, offering her hand for Ivy to stand. The woman ignored her, still cursing under her breath as Alfred led her inside leaving Bruce to stand with her on the porch.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Wayne. The young woman sounded frantic, I was only trying to help.”

Bruce waved off her apology, even going as far as inviting her inside. She politely declined, trying to escape before she could embarrass herself even further. But it was futile. They finally settled on a picture with his sons who all were apparently big fans from her Paris days.

Marinette tried to feign ignorance to who the boys were, but it was so hard as they fawned over her outfit, asking her a million and one questions about Hawkmoth and Chat Noir. Even Damian seemed impressed by her standing in front of him.

“Oh my, I almost forgot.” Marinette took off in a jog to the front gate. “The young woman asked if I could deliver these to the youngest Wayne and I’m assuming that’s you.” She returned, handing off the plate to Damian whose eyes instantly softened.

“Lgeimat” it was barely a whisper, but Marinette felt her heart flip at how fond his voice sounded over the fritters. “If you see her before I do, please thank her.”

Marinette nodded, too scared of her own voice to answer. Bruce motioned for them to gather together as he pulled out his phone, snapping several photos at once. When she left, Marinette was jealous that she could never ask for a copy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The first time Ladybug met Batman she had accidentally landed in the middle of their meeting on top of Wayne Tower.

As soon as her feet hit the rooftop, all voices silenced, five sets of eyes landing on her position.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize this rooftop was taken, I’ll be on my way.”

She quickly unwound her yo-yo, ready to take off when a hand grasped her wrist, forcing her to stand down.

“Please, Ladybug, we actually have a few questions for you.”

It was Dick, no, Nightwing. She was sure without even having to look him in the eyes. No one else ever used such a soft gentle tone with her. Securing her yo-yo back in its rightful place, she nodded, walking over to where the rest of the group stood.

“Nice to finally meet you Ladybug, how long have you been in my city?”

The only thing holding her back from her theory that the Wayne brothers were the bat boys was the idea that this crude man in front of her was really Bruce Wayne. She had heard of split personality, but he took it to a whole new level.

“Quite a few months now. I try not to go out much considering this is your city to protect, but I had to out myself the other day to save a civilian. Turns out he didn’t need my help, but I figured it was in the open now that Paris’ hero was in Gotham City. Surprise?”

Red Hood looked like it was paining him to try and not laugh as she and Batman continued their staredown.

“When will you be leaving?”

“I’m not sure, I’ve started to grow fond of some people here, makes me want to settle down.”

She heard the hitch in Robin’s breath making her smirk stretch even further at the idea that he liked the thought.

“Would you be willing to reveal your identity to me? I don’t like unknowns in my city.”

“Only if you reveal yours first.”

She crossed her arms in mock defiance as Batman’s lips pulled into their own smirk.

“You’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“You’re Bruce Wayne.”

There was a moment of silence where neither party said a word. The others seemed to be glued, unsure who was going to move first. With a great sigh, Bruce reached up, pulling back his mask to reveal his face. Marinette smiled as she called off Tikki, revealing herself in the middle of the rooftop.

“I knew it. See, pay up Timmy boy.” Jason threw off his mask before lifting Marinette in the air in a bone-crushing hug.

“I was dumb to bet against it,” Tim pulled off his hood, a smirk monopolizing his face.

Dick didn’t even bother to let her regain her footing before sweeping her into a hug of his own. As he sat Marinette down, she couldn't help the nervous chuckle that escaped her lips as she turned to face Damian. His face was unreadable as he pulled back his hood. Slowly he reached forward, his hand tentatively touching her cheek as if to ensure that she was real.

“I, uh, wanted to thank you for the dessert. Nobody has really gone that far for me before and I, uh, appreciated it.”

He took a step forward, his whole hand cupping her cheek sending the butterflies in her stomach into a frenzy. Just as she thought something could happen, an arm around her shoulder pulled her swiftly out of Damian’s reach.

“Okay lovebirds, not in front of his dad! Princess, you can’t steal this boy’s first kiss in front of his daddy.”

The first time Marinette cried in Gotham City was that night. Her laughter turned into tears of joy as she watched Damian and Jason nearly kill each other while Dick and Tim placed bets. It would be the first time she felt this kind of joy, but far from the last.

After all, surrounded by Gotham’s biggest idiots, her friends, there were sure to be many more firsts.

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