#and now i suffer hell bi-weekly

[kaicean]

I normally just draw and not make long text posts but I have bundled up Natsu/Lucy feelings I want to word vomit ever since I picked up the Fairy Tail game out of curiosity (PLS & THIS & ?!?!) and most of all watched the Dragon Cry movie for the very first time a few months ago (July ironically). This movie dragged me back by the neck to this ship I loved several years ago.

Now I own a copy of the movie’s storyboard manga drawn by Mashima himself and the pamphlet. I flip through the pages of these two more times than I can count like-

真島自らが描いた、ナツの回想の中ルーシィ Natsu’s recollection of Lucy, drawn by Mashima himself

I’ve read several essays + interview (i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii to name a few) revolving around the famous nalu scenes in the movie, but I don’t think I ever came across anyone talking about what I think is the ultimate song that perfectly captures them in their entirety—Dragon Cry’s ending theme What You Are by Polka Dots.

There are only two translations I found, one of them being from the wiki but it’s a little off. This one is more accurate. My translation version is a mix of it plus usage of DeepL so it may not be entirely accurate but it’s close enough.

I absolutely see this song as Lucy -> Natsu due to obvious phrases within the lyrics and it fits my headcanon of Natsu being metaphorically Lucy’s brightest star. His name means summer which has ties to the sun, aka the brightest star. The sun is known to be the brightest star because it’s the closest to us, just like the person closest to Lucy is Natsu.

You're still you, no matter what Softly illuminating the darkness You're a star

Self explanatory, first line starts off with Lucy’s answer to Natsu’s “What do I look like?” question. This was first shown to us in the beginning of the movie so let’s keep that in mind.

Where is tomorrow? The past cannot be erased In a pitch-dark world I found a warm, enveloping light "It's gonna be okay" the voice said That voice echoed in my heart I want to believe in you, whatever you are Whatever the road I take, I want to be by your side I want to keep walking Wish on a star Let's find it, let's find it The only light

This can be easily depicted by my favorite scene in Snow Fairy opening, where Lucy’s world was rainy and bleak until a literal light shines through when she looks at Fairy Tail, particularly Mirajane and main team:

She ran away from home, stripped herself from Lucy Heartfilia to just Lucy, and began her own journey. Her world was small and lonely due to her strict upbringing but it was thanks to Natsu, who led her to Fairy Tail, that her world brightened and expanded since that day. Hard as she tried, she couldn’t hide her Heartfilia name for long which led us to the Phantom Lord arc. Here was where Natsu firmly assured her twice that she could stay in the guild and that it is her home that she can come back to, because she’s Lucy of Fairy Tail. These feelings were further cemented towards the end of the arc by Makarov. From then, she stopped running away and faced her past/father head-on, before returning home to the guild.

The cherry blossom colored dusk reflects in your eyes I'm not sad, yet the tears spilled Someone once said that the most beautiful things are fleeting No matter what today is, it has meaning I’ll always be by your side I'll hold your hand tight Let's tell each other The feelings hidden in our hearts You're a star You're a star

This part screams post-Tenrou Island and GMG arc+. One of my top favorite chapters is chapter 257 which happened after the 7-year timeskip. Natsu, Lucy and Happy traveled to visit Lucy’s father only to find out he had passed away just one month prior. Natsu offered her words of comfort and space but it’s this chapter where the lost of time was incredibly overwhelming for Lucy. I truly believe it was after this day (her BIRTHDAY no less wtf Mashima, satanic much???) that “time” was seen more precious and that every day has a meaning. Lucy’s first step of moving forward was tagging along with Natsu and Happy on a job, and her monologue just hits.

The concept of each moment being precious solidified during the GMG arc. Future Lucy lost her life to save her past self before wishing she could go on more adventures. Present Lucy proclaimed she had to laugh, cry, and live enough for both her and her future self. In Future Lucy’s version of heaven, it was Natsu who first called out to her and pulled her hand to say “Let’s continue on our adventure” before they ceased to exist.

And in the current timeline, present Lucy felt what Future Lucy felt in her heart. She then thanked Natsu, for saving her and their future.

You ask, "What am I?" I'll answer, "You're you” That assurance is all we need from each other Let’s make a wish upon the shining stars You're still you, no matter what The one who gently shines in the darkness That's right, my own Superstar A Superstar that lights up this road that goes on and on You're a star

At the end of the song, we circled back to the beginning, just like we did in the movie where Natsu asked Lucy for the second time what he looked like and she assured him yet again that Natsu looked like Natsu, obviously. And this was enough.

Natsu was the one who saved her (unintentionally) back in Hargeon thus leading her to Fairy Tail and stuck with her ever since. He became the person who she was closest to and vice versa. It was thanks to him that she got to experience so many things and came out stronger from it. Without meeting him and Happy, she wouldn’t be the person she was today. No matter what happens, as Natsu told her at the end of the main series, it doesn’t matter because they will always be together, to continue on more adventures!

I love when songs line up perfectly with the theme and this takes the cake. Thanks for coming to my TED talk as I continue to listen to this song on repeat and cry. I can’t wait until I can draw all of this out in the future, something similar to my comic here.

Also if there is an analysis of nalu + dragon cry’s ending theme out there, pls throw it my way thanks I will literally die on this hill.

[shortpplfedup]

Only Friends Character Rankings Pre-Air

Jojo, Ninew, Ninepinta and Vivienne have now presented their stable of hoes to us, y'all have chosen your fighters, and I am gnawing on concrete in anticipation of August 12. Since I'm gonna be doing weekly character rankings, I wanted to set up a pre-air Clown Checkpoint so I can look back later and see how wrong I was. Until that YouTube premiere countdown hits zero, we know exactly nothing, but I'm ready to predict whose gay wrongs I will most support! Here we go!

1. Nick

I just want you to love only me!

Audience ranking: 6

Ever since Mark Pakin showed up in that pilot trailer scheming and sex-taping, Nick has been MY DUDE. I want him to be the most manclown character of all time. I want him to be DESPERATE AND PATHETIC for Boston's dick. ANSWER EVERY BOOTY CALL NICK, I BELIEVE IN YOU. HE WANTS YOU TO DO A THREESOME? NO PROBLEM, WHATEVER YOU WANT BABE. I want Nick to call his bestie (Sand?) crying because Boston came over at 3:02 a.m. and left at 4:37 a.m. and 15 minutes of that was him taking a post-coital shower. I want crying and begging and clinging and devious acts. Khun Pakin has the chops to make my dreams come alive, make it happen boo!

2. Mew

My type is pretty simple. I'm not a picky kind of guy.

Audience ranking: 4

Right up until time of posting I thought my #2 seed would be Boston, but something is telling me that when it comes to manipulation and making grown men cry, Mew will emerge the champion. Something in this butter-wouldn't-melt expression is telling me this man is the true demon from hell whereas Boston is merely a top-tier-yet-still-garden-variety slut. Him shit-kicking Boston into the pool and then jumping in himself to finish the job is the kinda deranged shit I respect immensely. Kill them all Mew. You deserve.

3. Boston

You should be glad to be my favourite.

Audience ranking: 5

I may have called this man a garden variety slut, but I love a good slut though! Especially one who will lend his toys to help out a friend. And then almost instantly regret it. And then cause chaos and problems for himself as a result. And then make it everybody else's chaos and problems. Basically, I expect Boston's job to be throwing hole around Bangkok and ruining lives, and I expect him to do it WELL, and I expect him to do it in the sluttiest rent boy outfits I've ever seen.

4. Ray

You think my life will be better with you? It's only fucking going down to hell.

Audience ranking: 3

Speaking of chaos and problems, OUR BI DISASTER IS HERE GUYS! Bisexual? Bipolar? Why not both? The trailer is letting us know from jump that Ray is A Mess With Money and happy to use that money to buy himself some company, but also not able to keep those lines from getting blurred. I’m expecting this character to make me fall in love with him but also want to strangle him, Teh Krittikorn Saetun-style, so expect this ranking to go up until he is somehow my fave.

5. Sand

Friends don't charge friends. Besides, you should save your money for a shrink.

Audience ranking: 2

First Kanaphan’s job at GMMTV is to rip our hearts out roughly twice a year, and he’s right on schedule. It seems like Sand never learned not to fall for poor little rich boys, so we will all have to suffer with him. Honestly his ranking is this low right now because I see these guitars and microphones and I want no part of them. There is a short list of GMMTV boys allowed to sing at me and as much as I love First he is not on it. Ditch the microphone and bring back the baseball bat bb, I’m ready to see you bust some heads, kneecaps, car windows, whatever in pursuit of your love.

6. Top

When I take aim, I never miss.

Audience ranking: 7

Ah yes, the hoe-turned-seeming-housewife who’s actually still hoeing. The village bike. The community top. Boston basically turns him out and he’s not only fine with it, he falls for the john. Delicious. I desire his ruin like I’ve desired nothing before in media.

7. Everybody we don’t know nothing about yet (Yo, Nam/Syrup, Nes, Lesbian!Nonnie, A Wild Papang, various and assorted surprise guests I’m pretty sure we’re getting)

Friends don't do this to each other.

Audience ranking: 1 (combined score)

We await the tea on all the side characters, but the casting is superb, and I’m ready to see how high in the rankings they can climb.

LET THE MESS COMMENCE!

[roydeezed]

Chainsaw Man-Chapter Round-Up(Chapter 125)

There wasn’t a lot that happened this chapter that we can talk about but it does give us an opportunity to look back and get a bearing on the series so far. The contents of the chapter can be summarized pretty easily. The falling devil harvests some ingredients from humans while leaving them alive and then kills a public safety officer attacking her before being attacked by Denji. One key moment in this chapter is that Asa needs to fall or in another sense the War devil needs to be afraid. Below I go over some key ideas presented in past chapters, more plot than the character stuff I have been focusing on lately, so click on the ‘Keep reading’ to check it  out.

I have to say, the short period where Fujimoto was doing Bi-Weekly releases felt really great as the chapters were always pretty substantial. Though this wasn’t a bad chapter as it built an eerie ambience, I would much rather prefer he take his time and give us a full story beat with each chapter. 

Let’s talk about some of the moments in this chapter, such as how the Falling Devil didn’t outright kill anyone until she was attacked. I don’t see her being a substantial character beyond this little part but I do like how this charecterizes her as someone with priorities and how death isn’t really her end goal. It also highlights something I want to bring up in the context of the whole history of the Chainsaw Man world, and that’s the fact that Devil’s aren’t inherently evil. They're a lot more instinctual than that, as any acts of evil or damage they do commit is a result of them trying to perpetuate the fear that they’re based on. In short, they do what they do to survive. Like humans and other animals. I think it’s a key part of the morality of the world. The Falling Devil doesn’t need people to die to exist, just fear falling. 

Devils don’t want to end the world, they need humans to survive. Devils feed on their associated fears to live and that piece of information helps us understand the motivations of some of the more prominent devils we’ve seen. Especially the four horseman. Though they’re siblings, they have wildly different goals. With Makima, she wanted to make the world a better place. And despite all of her talk about loving Pochita, survival is a key factor in that desire too. Because if the world is that free and peaceful, what can you be afraid of? That’s right, Control. Meaning her end goal would have helped her to stay relevant and get stronger as well. 

We see this with Yoru and Fami as well, as Fami is totally okay with Yoru accomplishing her goals as famine and the fear of famine is quite often a byproduct of war, as most areas in our world suffering from forms of famine were places of armed conflict. Yoru just needs nuclear weapons back as Mutually Assured Destruction causes a great deal of fear in war. Meaning Fami needs Yoru much more than Yoru needs Fami. But despite all of that needing humans to work something is coming to the Chainsaw Man world that is going to introduce a catastrophic amount of death, as can be predicted through the prophecies of Nostradamus and the convicts impending deaths. A great king of terror is coming. One that signifies the end of humanity. And the devils are helping this along as seen with the Falling Devil being the first to shepard this devil in. 

But if humans are to be exterminated where would that leave devils? As they need fear to survive. I see this going two ways. One, which is less likely as I don’t know how sustainable it would be to tell Chainsaw Mans story, is that the great king of terror somehow makes it so that devils don’t need humans to live. And that would be somewhat okay from a storytelling perspective as all of our main characters aren’t strictly human right now. The other more likely scenario is that Earth is made into a living hell, with devils actively living there and becoming either immortal or able to be fully killed(maybe a secret ploy by someone). This seems more likely as a world with humans living alongside devils would always be producing fear, much more than the earth as it is now. Also it would make sense as something Fami could get behind and not Yoru as the world might be too divided to form big enough factions for war. 

I do want to mention a few more things. With the fourth sibling being Death, probably the biggest fear most people have, and also a great king of terror arriving, Death could be this great king and the brother of the other three horsemen. Also I find setting the arrival of this great king being in July kind of odd and it makes me think that the Chainsaw Man story will conclude with the dawn of the year 2000 as it is an alternate universe and Y2K used to be a huge deal. It just fits the aesthetic of the manga. And finally, looking around for information on Makima I found a really fun piece of trivia, where Makima is based on Benten from the Eccentric Family, which is my second favourite anime of all time. In fact my profile picture is Yajiro Shimogamo from the same anime. It was just a really cool coincidence so I thought I would bring it up. But wow, learning that information really makes me look at Makima differently. Benten in The Eccentric Family always had this unfathomable sadness that she hid behind aloofness much like Makima. I guess Fujimoto’s conclusion as to the pain behind her sadness was that she couldn’t connect with others. I believe it’s that she can connect with others but that she is self destructive and self-sabotages those relationships. Wow, this makes me want to talk about Eccentric Family in full, I haven’t visited that in such a long time. 

[the-children]

The Westmoore Tragedies | Chapter 2

[ TW: Gore below the ‘Keep Reading’ line. ]

“Our children aren’t safe!”

“Have they found who killed those poor people?”

“It’s gonna happen again!”

“We want answers!”

More voices soon joined in, eventually creating a dull roar of overlapping panic from a slowly growing crowd of villagers that had gathered before the town hall—it was a bi-weekly occurrence by now since the massacre was discovered. Rodarin shifted his posture against the stone wall of the storefront he leaned upon, watching and listening as they shouted their concerns and pointed fingers. He couldn’t blame them—hells, he sympathized with them. They were scared because no one had answers, and they were angry there was nothing they could do. A gentle sting of pain pulsed through his lower lip as he bit at it in frustration, quickly turning from the crowd as he made his way to the schoolhouse. He needed to pick up his son and daughter early so they could begin packing their clothes and toys. Sarina planned to leave with the twins, take them to stay with her sister in La Noscea while Rodarin stayed a few more nights to find out what he could.

Firm steps echoed along the tiled floors of the hallway, his stare held upon the dull reflections within the tile while he lost himself to his thoughts. Westmoore had always prided itself on its higher educational standards—it was the reason he and Sarina moved here once they learned she was pregnant. It wasn’t a massive, sprawling city like Limsa Lominsa—but it wasn’t some small, run-down village either. There were multiple classrooms, one for each grade. Luckily, his children were only a year apart—their classrooms were directly across from one another at the end of the hall to his left. As he rounded the corner however, a sudden chill licked at his spine, causing him to stop in his tracks. 

He had been so absorbed in his thoughts about the circumstances surrounding the disappearances, that he hadn’t been paying attention to his own. This wasn’t right.. something was very wrong about this. The hallways were unnaturally dark given the time of day—and even more alarming were the sudden lack of windows. His breaths became slightly unsteady as a sense of claustrophobia gripped at his lungs. It was far, far too quiet. There were no murmurs of lectures, nor childlike chatter and laughter. With this level of silence, he didn’t doubt he could even hear the soft scribbling of pencils from the classrooms on the second floor—but there was nothing. He took a few quick steps, which seemed to echo endlessly in this dreadful silence, to peer down the main hallway. The front doors were closed. They were open when he entered—they were always open to help keep the hallways cool during the hotter days. And that was another thing—the cold. The chilled air that sank deep into his flesh that was beginning to make his teeth chatter. This wasn’t right.

His heart began to drum within his chest, heated breath billowing from parted lips as he walked briskly towards the end of the left hallway—he needed to see his children. The doors to the classrooms nearly burst open behind the urgency of his entries, but both would be empty. His heart hammered loudly in his ears, hands lifting to run through and pull at his hair as his mind raced with horrible possibilities. Who took his children? What were they doing to them? And were they even still alive? Soft whimpers and murmured pleads began to dribble from his lips as tears gathered—but fighting through the sickening fear that knotted in his stomach, he sprinted for the other classrooms. With shoulder positioned forward, he burst through door after door—each more violent than the last as wood splintered and hinges cracked. He had eventually searched the entire first floor—even the main office and cafeteria. As he approached the staircase that led to the second floor, the shadows seemed to grow darker. His frenzied pace faltered, shaking fingers resting upon the rail as he peered up into the dark.

He proceeded with caution, climbing the staircase with slow, careful steps as he took this time to try his damnedest at calming himself. Rounding the bend that brought the staircase the rest of the way up, a deep crimson hue began to bleed and taint the shadows, corrupting it into a sickly crimson that tainted his vision—his careful stride pausing a moment to adjust his eyes. His heart skipped a beat as he heard the faint rustling of paper and muffled laughter of children, his pace quickening once more at the mere prospect of finding his son and daughter. Though once he reached the top of the steps, his excitement was quickly crushed by the smeared blood that streaked along the hallway. The first classroom’s door on the right was wide open, blood pooling into the hallway from within. He could make out the smeared drag marks that lead from this open classroom to the one at the end of the hall, with its door closed. Various small shoe prints were left behind in the blood’s trail, all following towards the same closed room. He inched his way down the hall, shaky breaths filling the air between the pauses of muffled laughter and movement that came from the closed classroom. On his way, he carefully inched closer to the open door where the blood trail originated.

His pulse hammered away in his ears as he mustered the nerve to peek into the doorway. The chairs and desks were scattered in disarray while mutilated bodies of adults—teachers and staff—littered the room like trash in pools of blood. Their flesh had been ripped and shredded to literal ribbons, and their faces seemed to have been hollowed out—no eyes, no teeth. “Valrin?.. Mia?..” Rodarin hissed in a pleading whisper, his ears straining as he silently prayed for an answer—only for it to go unheard. Jaw clenched tightly, he stepped back into the hallway and continued to follow the trail towards the closed door at the end of the hall.

His hand hovered over the doorknob as he listened to the commotion within. Occasional laughter, gentle snips of scissors, rustling of paper—if not for the insane circumstances, one would simply assume it was time for crafts. Slowly, steadily, the door opened as Rodarin watched in horror. Various children were scattered among the room, sitting beside the fresh corpses of their teachers—some were still twitching, kept alive to suffer longer. Soft grunts of effort escaped one child as he clipped away at the flesh of a dead woman’s arm. Others were cutting various shapes and patterns into limbs and torsos. Ribbons of skin were used as bindings and plasters for other small crafts. Eyes were scooped from their sockets with tiny fingers as the onlookers cried “Ewwwwww~!” in playful disgust, tossed from one to the other in a sick game of catch. They were playing.. Their faces were lit up in delight, not a care in the world as they played in the blood and gore of their victims. In the obscene horror of it all, Rodarin almost didn’t notice the dark, shadow-covered children standing off to the side, watching the others play with wide eyes and plastered smiles of pure white.

“Mr. Calrise.” He jumped at the formal call of his name, turning quickly to glance down the hall—which was empty. When he looked back, the shadowed children were before him, clawing at his legs as they tried to climb up. He could feel their tiny fingernails digging into his flesh. “Mr. Calrise?” He heard the call again, but was overcome by the weight of the climbing shadows—falling to the ground as his head cracked upon the tile during its whip back. “Rodarin!” A smack stung at his cheek, his eyes bolting open while he gasped and wheezed in panic. Melrin’s hands pressed to his chest, keeping him steady as he studied Rodarin with a worried, concerned expression. Young teens peered past Melrin from the classroom doorway, staring in curiosity and slight fear. “Rodarin, you alright?” Melrin mumbled as he helped him to his feet. “I.. uh..” He was at a loss for words, completely stunned as he looked around. Everything was normal, aside from having woken up on the ground. Melrin gave him a light pat on the back. “You just came to my classroom, stared for a while, then fell over. You feelin’ okay?.. You’re bleedin’” Melrin commented as he gestured towards the bloodstained leggings of Rodarin’s pants.

With tentative fingers he peeled back the cloth, revealing the various tiny scratches that had sunk deep into his flesh. A nauseating panic still gripped at his heart, but for whatever reason, he was back. And he needed to see his children. He needed to leave. “I’m fine. Got scratched up by a damn jackal earlier, must’ve had some disease—feeling all out of place.” He said, fabricating his story quickly as he gave a quick apology and walked briskly towards the staircase with a slight limp. He was on the second floor, and the injuries were still there. It was real, it had to have been. So then why was everything fine now? Back on the first floor, normality had been restored—no busted doors, and only more questions plaguing his mind. He made for the end of the side hall again, finding his children alive and well—and giving them each a long embrace, embarrassing them in front of their classmates. If only they knew why..

He spent the rest of his day with his children, pushing what had happened to the corners of his mind. His children were safe, and he was thankful. That night, he helped them pack their bags, making sure they had enough room for all their favorite toys to keep them entertained while they were away. A restless night awaited him, peeking in to check on them while they slept every ten or twenty minutes as he tried to figure out what the hells had happened. Sleep wouldn’t come until the next morning, Sarina and the kids giving their farewell hugs and kisses as they made off for La Noscea. Rodarin collapsed on the couch, his eyes no longer able to stay open. It was short lived, possibly only three or four hours passing before frantic knocking came to his front door. It took him a moment to heave himself up from the soft embrace of the cushions, the front door creaking open to reveal a captain of the Fleet. “Rodarin, come by the schoolhouse. We found the staff dead.. It’s happened again..”

    to ̗̱b̙̤̟e͍͙̦̬̘͞ ̧̠c̣̪̖̙̣̭̮͟o̳̝͝n̥t̪̳i͙̕n̩͡u͓̝e̜̤̘̙̫̩͕d͔̬̩̠̟͙̭͘                .

[superbadassnatural]

A Lot to Make up For

Summary: Dean threw a fit when he saw something he didn’t like. To say you were angry with him was an understatement. The least thing he could do was make-up for his behavior. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 4,647 Warnings: smut, oral sex (fem receiving), p in v, little bit of spanking, jealous!Dean, mentions of fwb relationship, a bit of crack? A/N: this was written for “SPN Bi-Weekly Challenge” hosted by the amazing @supernatural-jackles. There are three prompts in this one and they are all bolded. I’m trying to understand why tumblr flagged this post when I uploaded the gif I made, which is similar to this one, but not flagged it when I used someone else’s. Either way, at least one of them worked. Please, enjoy it!

(x)

When you decided to come to the bar, you didn’t expect it to be this crowded. Loud conversations competed with the sound of the electronic music. Somehow you managed to find an empty barstool and ran for it. You ordered a beer, sipping at it, unsure of what you were really doing here.

You needed a night out. It had been a while since you last went out by yourself. You usually hung out with the boys, but this time you didn’t want to. It’s not like you didn’t want to be around them, you just wanted to enjoy some quality time alone.

A man sat beside you. He seemed to be around your age and he was definitely a sight for sore eyes. The man turned to you, introduced himself, and started a small talk that turned into an interesting — and mostly funny — conversation.

Andrew was good to be around. He was a stranger, but he somehow knew how to make you laugh. He even bought you a couple of beers and fries.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get out of the bar and have your way with him between the sheets. Or maybe it was the way he was flirting with you that was making those thoughts run through your mind. You didn’t even notice he was that close to you. Your knees brushed each other under the wooden counter. His knuckles ran down your forearm. Every now and then his brown eyes would descend to your lips as you spoke. He wanted it as much as you did.

“You know, I was thinking...” he scooted closer, eyes leaving yours to dart to your painted lips. “Maybe we should-“

“Oh, there you are,” a familiar voice interrupted him.

Dean. He stepped towards you, a smile playing on his lips. Both you and Andrew frowned.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, sweetheart,” his hand made its way to your waist as he planted a kiss to the side of your head.

“Dean, what’re you doing here?” You asked, trying to pull away from his hold.

“I was worried sick, baby,” he said. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” Andrew stepped in just as confused as you. “Who are you?”

“I’m Dean, her boyfriend,” he beamed, holding out his hand, but Andrew didn’t take it. “Listen, thanks, man, for taking care of her. I’m glad you were keeping her company. Who knows what would happen if you weren’t here. Maybe some bastard would’ve tried to take advantage of her.”

“Her boyfriend?” The man was trying to wrap his mind around what Dean was saying.

“No!” You jumped it.

“Yeah,” he said at the same time as you did. “I don’t know why she’s saying I’m not.”

“Sorry, man,” he looked at you as if you were some lying bitch. “She told me she was single.”

“I am single! He’s my friend.”

“Well, I don’t know if she’s told you, but she suffers from short-term memory loss,” Dean pursed his lips.

What the hell is he talking about, you thought to yourself.

“You know, like Dory from Finding Nemo,” he added. “She probably forgot we were dating. She’s probably going to forget about you too so I suggest you go away. If she forgets you and sees you, she won’t understand a thing. It’ll only make her poor mind even more confused.”

“It must be hard to deal with that,” Andrew sighed, buying Dean’s crap. “Well, I’ll leave you guys be. Sorry about that, man.”

Andrew headed out of the bar. You were too dumbfounded by the whole situation to go after him and explain that your best friend was delusional. He probably wouldn’t believe it anyway. Dean burst into laughter.

“Are you out of your mind?” You nearly roared at him, slapping his hands off of you.

“Oh, you gotta admit that was funny,” he gushed between laughter.

“No, Dean, it wasn’t,” you glared at him. “It was ridiculous and extremely disrespectful. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going home.”

You stormed out of the bar with Dean hot on your tail. Your blood was boiling. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he just let you get some tonight? You stopped in front of your car and turned to him.

“Get lost, Winchester. I don’t want you near me tonight.”

“C’mon, sweetheart. I’m your best friend. I’m your favorite person in this whole world,” he bargained.

“Best friend?” You chuckled humorlessly. “Since when best friends do stuff like that? Seriously, Dean, that was low even for you. I don’t wanna see you tonight or tomorrow or for the rest of the week! Not even if you’re covered in gold.”

“Not even if I’m naked and covered in gold with your favorite chocolate?”

“No. Actually, the thought of you naked just made me throw up in my mouth a little.”

“Well, that wasn’t what you said a few days ago,” he had the cockiest grin playing on his lips. Maybe he thought he could charm his way and you would forgive him.

“Fuck you,” you sneered. “If you do so much as follow me, I’m gonna murder you!”

Hopping in your car, you turned the engine and headed home. Your hands gripped tight the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. You couldn’t for the life of you understand what had gotten into him. He’d never acted like that. He didn’t have the right to.

In about ten minutes you arrived at the condominium you live in. Parking in your spot, you let out a frustrated sigh before climbing off the car. You were glad he didn’t follow you. At least he had a little respect for you.

As you stepped foot into your apartment you rushed to the bathroom. A shower would do wonders for your tense muscles. Maybe it would even wash your anger away. You turned on the water and checked the temperature before hopping in. You relaxed immediately as the warm water hit your skin.

Although you felt more relaxed after showering, your mind was still on a thousand miles per hour. Dean had never behaved the way he did tonight. Throughout your eleven years of friendship, he had never disrespected you or crossed any boundaries. But tonight he did. Maybe he was angry because you decided to hit a bar and didn’t invite him. It doesn’t justify his behavior.

You’d be lying if you said you were just friends. Over a year ago, after many drinks you and Dean had sex. It was nice, but you barely remembered anything the following morning. So you did it sober. It might have been a dumb idea, but boy it felt good. Dean suggested you should keep doing that and you agreed. No strings attached. No exclusivity. Just two friends blowing off some steam every now and then.

What you have with Dean doesn’t give him the right to act the way he did. He’s not your boyfriend. Both of you agreed that it was okay to see other people and even have sex with them — always with protection. Aside from Dean, you only had sex with one person since you started to fool around. Now, when you finally got the chance to hang out with some guy, he decided to show up and throw a fit? Who does he think he is?

“Ah, screw him,” you mumbled.

Shifting into your ideal sleeping position, your body relaxed on the mattress. Thank God for memory foam. It didn’t take long for tiredness to take over and for you to drift off to sleep.

The unceasing sound of the doorbell ringing startled you. You stood to your feet abruptly, but soon regretted when you felt dizzy. Putting on your robe, you headed to the front door not even bothering to look through the peephole. It seemed to be some kind of emergency. No one would be ringing the doorbell this late if it wasn’t urgent. Unlocking the door, you opened it.

“Hey. How can I-“ you stopped once you met his green eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Y/N, I’m sorry-“

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” you hissed, trying to push the door close but his feet stopped you.

“I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t care. It’s fucking three in the morning. I have to get up early to go to work,” your hand gripped tight to the knob, ready to close the door in his face if he tried to come in. “I’m sorry, but not everyone works for their dad and can show up late everyday.”

“We both know tomorrow is your day off,” he said. “Please let me in. I need to talk to you. Then you can kick me out and go back to your beauty sleep.”

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes, stepping aside for him to come in. “But only because I’m mad at you and I’m in the mood for a fight.”

“Can we fight so we can have angry make-up sex later?” A smirk appeared on his plump lips.

“Sex with you?��� You snickered. “Never again.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he pleaded. “It’s been two weeks since we had some fun.”

“Did you come here so you could get laid? Did ou wake me up just so you could have sex with me? Really, Dean?”

“No, of course not. If I wanted to have sex with you, I would have texted you first,” he said. “I came here to apologize.”

“Oh, so you know you screwed up. Good.”

“Would you let me finish?” You rolled your eyes crossing your arms over your chest. “I came here to surprise you. I thought we could have a sleepover since you don’t have to go to work tomorrow. I even brought my Die Hard collection so we could watch it tonight. I bought two slices of pie on the way. Cherry for me and apple for you. Imagine my surprise when I open the door and there’s not a single light on.”

“So what? Are you telling me that it’s my fault now? I should have stayed home waiting for you?” You pointed your finger at him. “Is that the reason why you did what you did at the bar?”

“I looked for you everywhere. Then Jess told me you went out for a drink at Hardy’s. So I went after you. When I saw that guy with his hands all over you, I flipped. I knew I couldn’t punch him and start a fight so I did that.”

“You know you’re not my boyfriend, right? Or my father for that matter?” You stepped closer to him. “So why did you have to ruin things for me tonight? I’ve never done anything like that to you. Never! Why did you have to be such an idiot?”

“I was jealous, okay?” He growled.

“It still doesn’t give you the right to do that, Dean,” you yelled at him. “You know, Dean, every time you, Sam, and I go to a bar, you leave us on the table to hit on the bartender. I wouldn’t have a problem with that if your brother was single. Don’t get me wrong, I love Jess, but if Sam was single then he’d hit on someone and I’d be free to do that too. Or even better, I could make out with him!” You exclaimed, knowing it would piss him off. “Oh, Jess told me some things that you probably don’t wanna know, but they were really interesting. In case you don’t know, girls talk about sex too. From what she’s told me, I bet he’s better than you. I mean, he’s definitely bigger so-“

“Shut up!” He yelled. You could see his jaw tightening as the veins in his neck throbbed.

“You know what’s even worse? When Jess comes with us, I’m third-wheeling most of the time. For some reason, they won’t let me get two feet away from them.”

“I hit on the bartenders to make you jealous. It’s all fake,” he nearly barked. “I thought that maybe if I did that I’d get a reaction from you because I’m too much of a coward to do the right thing.”

“You do remember our agreement, right? Just sex. No feelings. We are non-exclusive. We can see other people and even have sex. We made a bunch of rules back in that day. One of them was no cockblocking,” your blood was boiling in your veins. You could feel your anger grow with every word you said.

“I’m sorry, okay? But I couldn’t just stand there and watch that son of a bitch getting all handsy.”

“While you were having fun with bartenders and girls you met every time we went out, I was alone. Since we started this, I’ve only had sex with one person and it was-“

“Terrible. I know you said the guy was awful.”

“It’s not that I think I should be having sex with half of the men in town, but if you can have sex with everyone you want then why can’t I? Every time I try to hang out with someone, I get sabotaged.”

“Ever since we started this, I’ve only had sex with you. I tried to be with someone else but it didn’t work because she wasn’t you.”

“Oh my God, it was you!” Reality downed to you as you ignored him. The sound of your raged heart much louder than his voice. “You sabotaged me every time! The broken lock, flat tires, and all that crap that happened every time I got close to a guy. They were all you.”

“Yeah, it was me,” Dean barked. “You deserve better than those guys.”

“Who gave you the right to do that, you idiot? Why did you have to do that?”

“Because I love you dammit!” His voice was much louder, causing you to flinch.

“Well, maybe that’s the problem!” You yelled back at him.

You spun around completely done with him, your head was pounding in your skull. The last thing you saw before storming out of the apartment was his jaw wiring shut as his eyes filled with rage.

The door slammed with a loud thud, startling Dean. He was pulled out of his angry trance when he noticed he was standing alone in the middle of your apartment. He knew he had screwed up big time. He’d not planned on confessing his feelings to you tonight. Especially not like this.

You stood dumbstruck in the hall just outside your door. Everything happened so fast. One minute you were peacefully asleep, the other you and Dean were almost jumping at each other’s throats. He shouldn’t have said he loves you. And you shouldn’t have stormed out the way you did.

“God, what have I done?” you sighed.

The sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the corridor. You didn’t want to turn around. You couldn’t face him.

“You realize you just stormed out of your apartment, right?” He let out a small chuckle to try to light up the mood.

“You see what you do to me?” You turned around to face him. His green eyes held anything but anger. “You make me so mad that I do stupid things like storming out of my own home when I should’ve kicked you out.”

“Hey, you don’t need me to do stupid things. You can do that on your own,” he held his hands up, a cheeky grin playing on his lips. “Now let’s get inside, shall we?”

You only nodded, following him back inside.

“So what do we do now, huh?” He asked, shutting the door.

“You don’t love me. I mean- you do, but as your best friend.”

“No, Y/N, I love you as more than my best friend.”

“Stop,” you argued. “You can’t, okay? Or you’re gonna ruin everything.”

“Ruin what? We both know this is not a friends with benefits shit. It never was.”

“Dean-“

“This is not one-sided and you know it, Y/N,” he said, voice deeper than usual. “What we did… what we do is not just sex. Or do I have to tell you how many times we actually made love?”

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice wavered.

“Because I love you, Y/N.”

“Then don’t. You’re screwing things up.”

“Why can’t you just admit it? Why is it so hard for you to finally say it?”

“I can’t risk losing you,” you said low enough that he almost didn’t hear you. Almost. “The moment we take that step there’s no going back and I can’t risk losing you. I can’t.”

“You’re not gonna lose me,” he placed his hands on both sides of your hips, his body incredibly close to yours.

“You can’t promise me that.”

“You’re right. I can’t, but I’ll do anything to be with you.”

Fingers curling in the collar of his flannel, you pulled him to you, capturing his lips with yours. Your heart skipped a beat as he returned the kiss. It was slow at first, almost uncertain. The soft press of his lips made you melt into his touch. Your tongue caressed his plump lips in a plea for him to allow you to delve into his mouth. A muffled moan escaped his lips as his hands came up to cup your face, thumb circling your cheek.

You pulled away in need of air. Your eyes were still closed as you rested your forehead against his.

“I don’t know about you but I’m still down for some angry make-up sex,” he said between panted breaths.

“Dean-“

“Stop denying what you want, Y/N.”

Swallowing thick, you opened your eyes only to meet his green orbs hooded with lust. With arms around his neck, you wrapped your legs around his waist, lips colliding with his. Warm hands held you by the back of your thighs as he walked towards your bedroom. He pushed you against the wall, placing you back on the floor. His lips graced the skin of your neck with sweet yet hungry kisses. Your body was pressed flush to him. You could feel his heart beating fast against your chest and his growing bulge against your pelvis. A moan left your lips as one of his hands hiked up your leg and squeezed your thigh over the silky robe. Dean pressed himself to you and you bucked your hips, the feeling of his erection against your soaked pussy setting your body on fire.

Hurried hands fumbled with the knot tying your robe. He pushed it off your shoulders, revealing your naked before him, the soft material pooling around your feet.

“Fuck,” he said in a low grunt as his eyes wandered over your bare chest.

A smile spread on your lips. Always the same reaction from him. You unbuttoned his flannel, dropping it to the floor. As Dean yanked his white shirt over his head, your hands reached for his naked torso, traveling down to his abdomen and stopping over his belt, quickly unbuckling it. He pulled down his pants, standing in front of you only in his boxers. You pushed him towards the bed, straddling his hips as he sat. Hungry lips captured his plump, pink ones, his hands snaked to your back. The soft touch of his fingertips sending shivers down your spine.

“Need you,” a breathy moan escaped your lips.

Dean’s back met the softness of the mattress, green eyes sparkling at the sight of you on top of him. You leaned and his hands reached for your breasts. Fingers nipped at your hardened bud as his mouth enveloped the other. His name escaped your lips in a tiny whimper as you rolled your hips against him. He released your nipple with a pop and planted kisses everywhere he could touch.

You pushed down his boxers, revealing his hard cock in all its glory. Your small hand wrapped around his length, stroking it before circling the head with your thumb.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he hissed. “Want you. I need to taste you. Come up here.”

You crawled up, knees around his broad shoulders. As your hands met the headboard, he lowered your body to his face. Dean wanted to take his time. He peppered open-mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs. He ran his nose over your folds and you let out a frustrated moan.

“Stop teasing.”

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart,” although you didn’t see it, you felt his lips curl into a smirk.

“I need to cum.”

Three teasing licks from your slit to clit caused your breath to hitch on your throat. He wanted to drive you insane and he definitely knew how to do it. Dean licked and sucked your most sensitive parts. Parts he knew by heart. His tongue entered your channel and you saw stars. Fingers finding their course to his hair, gripping it to the point of pain. A guttural grunt from him made your whole body shudder. You tried to buck your hips against his sinful mouth, but his strong grip on your hips restrained your movements. He kept pushing his tongue as far as he could, tasting your sweetness as he feasted. Muffled moans and husky hums escaped his lips, reverberating through your soaked folds. He enjoyed this as much as you did.

“Hmm, yes,” you moaned.

When you felt his grasp on you loosen, you rolled your hips. All your self-consciousness fading as the need to come grew stronger. Your hands dropped to the mattress, ass angling up. His tongue started to circulate your clit, sending small shivers through your body. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes landing on his hand stroking his cock slowly. Your cunt clenched around nothing. His teeth grazed over your bundle of nerves, nipping slightly. The burning coil in your abdomen tightened. Dean sealed his lips around your clit and you went off as a rocket. Your legs trembled around his head as he kept sucking. Waves of pleasure washed over you.

“Fuck, Dean,” you yelled out his name along with a bunch of obscenities.

Dean moaned as he lapped at your juices. He licked you clean until you rode out your orgasm. He kissed your sensitive clit before helping you scooting down so you could meet his face.

“Hi,” you smiled as you laid on top of him.

“Hey,” his plump lips were shining with your release, his cheeks a bright pink.

You leaned to capture his lips. A moan was muffled by his mouth as you tasted yourself in his tongue. The kiss didn’t last though. Both of you were in some serious need of air to make it last.

“I bet the neighbors know my name,” he beamed with the cockiest smirk.

“Oh, shut up,” with a roll of eyes, you started to plant open-mouthed kisses down his throat.

“You know they do. Especially after tonight. The way you-“ he stopped as you sucked at a sensitive spot on the side of his neck. “Shit, Y/N. Need to be inside you.”

He flipped you onto your back, laying on top of you. His lips attacked yours in a hungry, bruising kiss. Your hand reached for his cock, positioning it at your entrance.

“No, not like this. I have other things in mind,” he said with a crooked grin. “On all fours, sweetheart.”

Dean pulled away and you did as told. Your ass perked up and his warm hands gripped your hips. He squeezed your skin and you groaned in anticipation. The tip of his cock circled your entrance.

“Please,” a sweet little cry escaped your lips.

You whimpered as he pushed inside you ever so slow. His massive size stretching your walls to fit him. Dean groaned. He slid out almost completely before thrusting into you with such force that you gasped.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he grunted. “You feel so good. So tight.”

His blunt fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips as he pounded into you relentlessly. Sweat broke through your body as your breath started to come in short spurts. His hand collided with your right cheek, causing your body to jerk. Then he did the same to the other one and you hissed. Dean leaned against you, kissing your shoulder blade.

“You like this, don’t you?” His voice barely upon a whisper, hot breath fanning at your clammy skin. “You like it when I take you just… like… this?” His thrusts matched his words, sending you over the edge once again.

“Yes!”

His hand smacked harder at your right cheek as he pulled away. That definitely was going to leave a mark. Your skin tingling at the stingy sensation. He slammed in and out of you like a madman. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room along with shameless cries and husky grunts. The heat in your core started to grow even more. You fell forward into the mattress, fingers curling the sheets. Your walls pulsated around him as your orgasm hit you abruptly. Dean sent another five deep-seated thrusts and had you screaming into the pillow in pure ecstasy.

You were so lost in the feeling that you didn’t notice Dean flipping you into your back. He leaned down nuzzling into your neck, before sliding back into you. He kept driving in and out of you, his breath erratic. Your hands slapped against his back, nails digging into his skin, heels digging into his ass. You needed as much of him as you could get.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” he nearly pleaded as he pulled away from your neck.

His hips pistoned against yours, sloppy thrusts aiming for the final push. The thumps of the headboard  banging against the wall mixed with the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. Dean delivered three deep thrusts before his body stiffened. He held himself there as he painted your walls white with his seed. Your orgasm rippled through you. You clenched around him so tight, milking his cock for all its worth. His green orbs locked in your lust blown eyes as his lips parted in a perfect “o” shape, mirroring your expression, though no sound came from any of you. Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes as pleasure washed through you.

Dean collapsed on top of you, his head nuzzling in the curve of your neck. He placed a kiss to your skin before rolling to his side. Both of you waited for your breaths to even. Only then, when the room had grown quiet, you noticed the orange glow in the room caused by the strays of sunshine that managed to get past the blinds.

“Hot damn,” he let out a content sigh.

“What we did tonight… it should be illegal,” you half-chuckled.

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” he had a stupid grin on his face the whole time.

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you pouted. “I’m still mad at you.”

“Really? C’mon! I thought I had made myself up to you by making you come three times. Wasn’t that enough?”

“Of course not! You cockblocked me. Who knows how many times I would’ve cum if I was with that guy,” you shrugged.

“None. Plus, he doesn’t love you so it wouldn’t be nearly as exciting as this was.”

“You still need to make yourself up to me. ’Sides, you didn’t even tie the record, Dean. I’ve made myself come more times using just my fingers and a couple of toys.”

“Is that a challenge, sweetheart?”

“Only if you wanted it to be,” you smirked.

Dean rolled over you, his hand making its way to cup your mound. “I bet you still have my cum dripping from this tight pussy.”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

I’d love to know what you think of this one! Please, consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog or ask!

Dean Sweethearts:

@maya-craziness @akshi8278 @spookytaylors​ @thisismysecrethappyplace @witch-of-letters

[prolestariwrites]

Somewhere In Between

Fandom: Devil May Cry Pairing: Dante/Lady Rating: Explicit Tags: Friendship, Friends with Benefits, First Time, Sex Word Count: 3619

Summary: Dante has never had friends, until Lady comes along and changes all that.

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Dante didn't have friends. Friends meant time, and investment, and sharing stuff about yourself. He didn't have time and he didn't make investments and he sure as hell wasn't telling anyone he was the half-demon son of the savior of humanity turned orphaned devil hunter.

Which is why knowing Lady had always been… strange. After Temen-ni-gru, he expected to never see her again considering how much she had suffered. Seeing Dante would surely just dredge all that up; after all, he didn't go around the places he had been chased out of, and visiting his childhood home was out of the question. Why poke at old wounds? Let demons lie, Dante always told himself.

But not Lady. She kept showing up. She was at the Devil May Cry the day after the tower disappeared, laughing with her arms folded at the mess his shop was in. "What the hell did you do?" she had teased as she stepped over the broken billiard table.

Dante had glanced over his shoulder in surprise from where he was trying to patch a hole in the wall. "Demons attacked right after Arkham stopped by. What are you doing here?"

Lady shrugged. "Thought I'd check to see if you were dead or not. Since you're not gonna offer me a seat, do you need some help?"

Not one to look a gift set of hands in the mouth, he had accepted, and together they had loaded up the trash and put all the broken bits of furniture in the dumpster behind the bagel shop on the corner. Again, he had expected that to be it, but Lady came back again, and again, helping him paint over the drywall and put together a new pool table and even sweeping. After about a week the shop was liveable again, and she perched on his desk (which he had told her a hundred times not to do), swiping a slice of pizza from the box (another thing he kept telling her not to do) and said, "So when do I get paid?"

"What?"

Lady shrugged. "I've been working for you for a week. Is this like a bi-weekly thing or something?"

Dante snorted and leaned back in his chair. "I didn't hire you, and I'm not paying you."

She made an indignant grunt and threw the pizza crust at him, hitting him in the chest. "Then why the hell have you been having me do all this?" she shouted.

"I thought you were being nice!" he protested. "Besides, I don't have any money. Have you seen me work?"

Lady flipped him off and stormed out of the shop, leaving Dante with mixed feelings. One on hand it was way quieter, and easier to do what he wanted without her hanging around: namely, sleep and scratch himself. But she was some kind of company, and dealing with her meant he didn't have to deal with remembering Vergil falling off of the side of the tower.

Two days later she had shown up with a wad of hundred dollar bills. "There," she said, pushing it into his hand. "Now you can pay me."

Dante made a face. "Where did you get this?"

Lady rolled her eyes and slipped two bills from the roll. "I did some jobs. I'm a devil hunter, just like you. Only I can't go legit because I can't open a business since I'm not eighteen. So you're gonna pay me, and I'll take a cut."

He had been taken aback by that: he was nineteen himself, and Lady always seemed way older. At least way more mature. He had figured she was in her twenties at least. "No way. I'm not some kind of… demon hunting pimp."

"Are you stupid? We'll make twice as much if we work together!"

"No." Dante handed back the money, but Lady folded her arms and stared at him defiantly. Finally Dante had rolled his eyes and asked, "When do you turn 18?"

"Two months."

"Fine. Work for me until then. Then you're on your own."

"Fine. Want to play poker?"

That's how it started, this weird friendship that wasn't a friendship. Lady worked jobs and he paid her, and she hung around the shop helping with whatever she felt like. In their downtime they traded stories of fighting monsters and playing cards until Dante owed her more than a month's salary. Jobs trickled in, which they took turns doing, unless Dante was busy with the more mundane tasks of management. Being a business owner was more complicated than Dante had figured, and the first time the lights went off, she pitched a huge fit until he conceded and handed the bills over to her to figure out.

She showed up suddenly one day with a bottle of gin and a cake, declaring it her birthday. "Finally," Dante had muttered, even as he gratefully accepted a shot and a slice. Lady just laughed, the two of them getting wasted to celebrate.

But she was back the next day, sunglasses masking a hangover and a grouchy expression. "Don't talk to me," she mumbled as she laid down on the leather couch.

"What are you doing here?" Dante asked.

"I work here, numbnuts," Lady grumbled. "Now shut up, my head is killing me."

He didn't kick her out; instead, he got her an ice pack and a coffee, and they just kept going. Months went by, arguing more often than getting along, working side by side or on their own as the other watched the shop. The business wasn't doing very well, but enough to keep pizza on the table, until in frustration Lady demanded some changes. "We need to advertise, Dante!" she shouted, one hand pressed to the top of his desk as he peeked over his magazine. "We're never gonna get jobs if people don't know we exist. You don't even have a business card or anything! This isn't a damn lemonade stand, this is our livelihood!"

"What do you want me to do?" he argued back, dropping the magazine and folding his arms. "Not like I can take an ad out in the Yellow Pages. 'Got a demon? I'll come kill it for ya.' Yeah, that won't get both of us in jail, or the nut house."

Lady huffed, blowing her bangs out of her forehead, but she didn't offer an argument. Dante smirked at her as she tapped her foot until finally she said, "Then what we need is a broker. Someone to find us work, manage our jobs."

"Yeah okay." He picked up the magazine and opened it, lifting it high enough to block her out. "Good luck, let me know how that goes."

Well fuck it all, didn't she bring Morrison by three days later, and Dante had to admit she was right.

So it was friendship, maybe? A partnership, sure. They are used to each other at least, and Morrison proves to be good at delivering for his fifteen percent. Things go on an upswing, and Dante manages to keep afloat and pay Lady on time.

A few more months go by, and on Lady's next birthday, he surprises her with another bottle of gin.

She gives him her half smile and pulls her own bottle out of the bag. "Let's do this."

Friends, okay, yes. That's what Dante thinks as he watches Lady pour out three shots for him and three for herself, sitting across the desk from one another. He could be friends with her; she knew stuff about him, enough anyway, and had put the investment in, and they had worked together now over a year. Finally comfortable with the label, he lifts his shot and clinks it against hers. "Happy Birthday," he says.

"Thanks." They both drink their shot, turning the glass over on the table when drained, and Lady looks at him pointedly. "So why haven't we had sex yet?"

Dante sputters, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth before gaping at her. "What?"

"You and me," Lady says, gesturing between them. "We haven't had sex yet."

Dante makes a face and picks up the next shot. He knocks it back as she yelps, "Hey!" Lady glares at him and drinks her own, wincing a tiny bit as it goes down before she continues, "What is it? Don't you want to?"

"What?"

"Are you not attracted to me?"

"What?"

"I've had a lot of offers, Dante. A lot. I would think you'd want—"

He reaches for the third shot, but Lady is quicker. She snatches it away, holding both his and hers under her palms as they glare at one another over the table. "I ain't listening to this, not sober anyway."

Lady rolls her eyes. "Come on, I'm serious. We should have sex."

"Why?" he exclaims.

She shrugs a shoulder. "I don't know. It's not like you're seeing anyone. Neither am I. No time to date in this business and they just get eaten anyway. It would be nice to be able to just… let off some steam."

"First of all," he says, planting his elbow on the table and lifting a finger, "you're way too young for me."

"I'm a year younger than you," she scoffs.

"Second, you're not my type."

"Oh really." Lady laughs nodding at the picture on his desk. "What's your type, blonde?"

Dante refuses to take the bait, lifting a third finger. "Finally, I'm your boss. And it would be illegal and inappropriate."

Lady rolls her eyes. "Since when are you legal or appropriate? Besides… here, take the shot."

She hands him the glass, and Dante eyes her suspiciously as they both drink. With the last shot finished, Lady looks down uncomfortably, studying the six empty glasses on the table. "I'm quitting."

"What? Why?" he exclaims. It must have come out louder than he intended, because Lady looks up sharply. "What do you mean, you're quitting? 'Cause I won't have sex with you?"

"No!" she laughs. "I have enough to start my own business. And you need to do this on your own. Morrison has enough jobs for us both, and if I go on my own, I can branch out, do some traveling—"

"Okay, okay," Dante sighs, waving his hand. So much for friends. He should have figured she would be wanting out at some point, and he presses his lips together tightly as they stare at one another. "Fine. I get it."

She smiles unexpectedly. "I'll still be around. You owe me a lot of money from cards." Dante blushes and Lady stands. "Now that that's settled, you've got no more excuses. Let's have sex."

"Wait, this is—" He's cut off when she slides over the desk and lands in his lap facing him, settling on his thighs as her arms go around his shoulders. The wheels on the chair roll a bit with the impact, and Lady perches forward, pressing her chest against his. Dante studies her face, but she's still sober, the telltale shimmer in her pupils not there, no flush on her nose. Besides, he had seen her drink loads of times, and three shots of gin was nothing to a pro like Lady.

"Dante," she says quietly. "You're the only friend I've ever had. I don't trust anybody else, but I'm going a bit crazy. If you promise not to fall in love with me, I will let you rail me any way you'd like. Now what do you say?"

He blinks in surprise. Her crude language barely registered, because she called them friends? That calms his nerves a bit, and as Lady wriggles a bit in his lap, he has to admit, he's intrigued. "Friends with benefits," he murmurs. "How do I know you won't fall in love with me?"

Lady gives a deep sigh and he laughs. "Yeah, okay," Dante replies. "Fine, but just this once."

She grins before leaning in to press her mouth on his. It's awkward for a half second until he remembers to close his eyes, and his hands settle on her waist as he lets Lady take the lead. Her lips slide over his, tugging until they open, and he manages to stop a startled noise when her tongue presses between them.

Her hands slip into his coat, and Dante has a mild bit of panic. The truth is that he hadn't done this before: not even kissed a girl, let alone had one on his lap, pressed against his growing erection and pawing at his chest. His fingers squeeze her hips, not knowing what to do, and when she pushes the fabric over his shoulder he is half dead and half relieved when she pulls back and says, "Let's go to your bedroom."

The room is a mess as always, and he feels a tiny bit of embarrassment as she surveys the dirty clothes strewn around and the mess of blankets and pillows on the bed. "Uh, the sheets are clean—" he tries to assure her, but Lady has her arms around him and pulls him into another kiss, cutting him off.

"Bed," she orders, and Dante obeys. He pulls his boots off before sitting on the bed, and then stops to gape as she unbuckles the belt on her shorts and slips them down her legs. Her own shoes are gone, so she stands in just panties and a loose blouse, which she pulls over her head. She's not wearing a bra, and he gapes at her body.

"You gonna…" Lady prompts, nodding at him.

"Oh. Yeah." He pulls his own tshirt off and tosses it away, then stands to undo his belt. Lady moves in front of him and pulls down his zipper, and Dante swallows thickly as she smiles up at him.

"Let's see what oh my god," she says, her eyes going wide when she slips her hand inside. He nearly jumps out of his skin when her hand closes around his dick, half hard already, and heat flashes up his neck when Lady looks utterly confused. "Are you serious?"

He shakes his head. "What?"

"Take your pants off, I gotta see this."

Alarmed and embarrassed, Dante shucks his jeans and underpants down, leaving him naked to her wide-eyed stare. "Wow," she whispers.

"Is that good?" he asks.

Lady looks up at him and grins. "We're gonna have fun."

And it is fun; Lady doesn't hold back, touching him all over and letting him touch her too, his kisses growing bolder as he gets more comfortable with the idea. He likes her breasts best for sure, sucking eagerly on the little pink buds and kneading her flesh in his hands until she tells him she's not a radio and to give it a rest. For her part, she seems to know just what to do, and when they switch positions so she's on top, her mouth on his chest drives him nuts and he tries to figure out how to ask her to use it on his cock, where her hand is stroking him lightly.

But he doesn't need to, because she declares herself ready and hops off the bed to remove her panties. Dante sits up on his elbows to watch, his eyes focusing in on the space between her thighs. His mouth goes dry when she stands naked in front of him, and he stares so intensely that he misses her question. "What?" he stammers.

"Do you have a condom?"

Dante swallows. "No, I… I mean, I'm half demon, so ya know…"

Lady rolls her eyes. "I'm not risking it and having some weirdo demon spawn." She grabs her shorts and pulls one from the pocket, opening it as she climbs on the bed. "Have you done this before?" she asks, eyeing him.

"Uh…"

"Didn't think so." She gives a little laugh as she rolls the rubber on, and Dante watches closely, trying to follow her movements. Then she swings her leg over to straddle him again, pressing his length between her legs. The rubber doesn't dull things nearly as much as he had assumed, feeling her heat through the condom, her folds softer than he had imagined they would be. "This is lubricated, so it should help," she pants as she grinds against him.

Dante nods, not entirely sure what that means. Before he knows it she lifts her hips to position her body over him, and he watches in a sweet anticipation as his cock disappears inside her. "Fuck," she pants, huffing a laugh as she presses her palms to his chest. "God you are big."

"Should I—"

"Don't move." He nods, laying back, his own hands flat on the bed. Dante longs to touch her, to feel that place where they are joined, or caress her hips, or even grab her chest again. But he is afraid of distracting her, so he stays perfectly still as Lady works as much of him as she can, until more than half of his length is inside. She tilts forward, still panting, and glances down at him. "I think… I think that's as much as I can do… maybe it'll be easier next time."

Dante nods, his eyes wide. Is this it? It can't be, so he waits as she catches her breath. "You alright?" she asks, laughing at his expression.

"Yeah. Just don't want to…" Lady nods, and she pats his shoulder.

Then she moves, and fuck shit son of a bitch it is good. Dante can't stop the groan that leaves him as her body grips him, sliding up and down like a tight, hot glove. It's better than his hand has ever been, even better than hers, and when she finds a nice steady pace his eyes roll back a bit as he fights the urge to thrust upwards into her.

"Dante," she whispers, kissing him, and he eagerly returns it, sucking on her lips as she rides him. Tentatively he reaches up, his palms sliding up and down her sides until he gets the nerve to grab her breasts. She moans when he squeezes her lightly, the sound rocking through him and pushing a new pleasure button, and he does it again, grinning at the pleasure in her voice when he rubs his thumbs on her nipples.

Soon he starts to grow more frantic, the friction proving too much, and despite his best efforts he grabs her hips and thrusts upwards. Lady cries out, but she kisses him feverishly, and he takes that as a good sign. Which is good because he can't hold out much longer, and now that he is bucking under her, Dante can feel himself getting closer to orgasm.

She must sense it, because she whispers, "Are you gonna come?"

"Yeah… yeah…" he pants.

Lady sits up, one hand braced on his stomach as she rides him, and the other reaches between her legs. His eyes go wide as he takes in the sight of her breasts swaying and her fingers quicking stroking herself; it's all too much, and he cries out as the first contraction hits. Dante throws his head back with a hiss as he comes, his seed emptying into the condom as he thrusts with each wave, and when Lady gives a little cry of her own, he can feel himself shake. It's more intense than any he had had before, every muscle tight with the rush.

"Shit.. shit…" she gasps, her head dropping forward and her hand working furiously. His head spins a bit as he watches her, the last of his orgasm rolling in bursts while Lady arches her back, her face twisted with pleasure.

Then it's over, and after she catches her breath again Lady carefully moves off of him. The difference is immediate, his cock softening once the tight grip is gone, and as she sprawls out on the bed with a "Whew!" Dante sits up to try to figure out how to take off the condom.

"You uh…" Dante pauses as he frowns down at his dick, carefully peeling the condom away. "You good?"

"Yeah." He looks around for a moment before grabbing a plastic grocery bag that had been left on the floor. Dante drops it inside and ties off the handles before leaving it on the bedside table. He turns around to see Lady laying on her side, watching him with a chuckle. "Aren't you?" she prompts.

"Yeah," he replies, trying to sound casual. He cocks his hand on his hip before dropping it, trying to mask his embarrassment. "You?"

Lady laughs and rolls off the bed, reaching for her clothes. He gets a really good view of her backside before she straightens, and his brows go up when she pulls her shirt on and leaves the rest on the bed. "Let's go finish that cake, then we can do it again."

Surprised, Dante nods eagerly. "Yeah, yeah, okay—"

"Put some pants on," she scoffs, half teasing and half scolding before heading out the door.

¤━━━¤°¤━━━¤°¤━━━¤°¤━━━¤

Thanks so much for reading! Reblogs are appreciated, and feel free to let me know what you think!

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[mantissword]

Yuri On Ice headcanons 5

I had some help with these from a friend who I think wants to remain anonymous.

So Part Five!

Yuuri and Russian skaters: after Yuuri moves

Yuuri quickly becomes Yakov’s not so secret favorite skater despite him a) not being on the team and b) not being Russian in general. However his first month here it was “yes coach Yakov” and “thank you Coach Yakov” and just general RESPECT VITYA GET OFF HIM AND GET ON THE ICE

But what truly endears Yakov to Yuuri is one particular day where there’s a lovers spat over God knows what. Yakov doesn’t want to know (a straight up lie. He’s as gossipy as the rest of them). Regardless Victor gives instruction for Katsuki to get off the ice if he refuses to listen. Katsuki responds by going through his entire free program as angry as Yakov has ever seen and landing the cLeanest quad flip Yakov has ever see. Yes. Ever.

“Let’s see what Yakov thinks of that display” Victor tries to bate. Yakov looks Katsuki straight in the eye and the man doesn’t even flinch. He likes this skater. “Keep up the good work Katsuki.” And leaves to go wrangle his three other living breathing headaches as Victor squawks in protest. About time someone puts Victor through the shit he made Yakov suffer.

Katsuki brings a harmony to the rink. Yuri works harder with an unknown focus. Mila’s edges are cleaner. Georgi is...well Georgi but Katsuki seems to like him well enough and Yakov has seen them sharing coffee during a break on more than one occasion. Yakov isn’t about to say Georgi seems to have mellowed..but...

And Victor has a focus and lightness Yakov hasn’t seen in years. In the bleakest times Yakov felt helpless on how to help the boy who, except in blood, was a son. He’s not stupid, he knows bad days will come and go. But he’s not as worried now. The apartment is no longer grey and empty with only a dog to come home too.

However it only takes two months for Yakov to learn that, like every other damn skater to exist, Katsuki is as bad as the rest of them. He’s just. Quieter about it.

“Can someone tell me why THE HELL KATSUKI IS SCALING THE SIDE OF THE COMPLEX” the vein is going to burst. Today is the day. He knows it. “I bet him he couldn’t,” Yurio supplies. “God his ass looks divine,” Victor adds uselessly. This is the day Yakov gets a taste for how bloody competitive Katsuki is. And also the day he regrets agreeing to taking Victor back. But it’s not like he had a CHOICE in the matter.

“YOU WERE THE LEVEL HEADED ONE.” It was the bowing that lulled Yakov into a false sense of security. Katsuki at least has the gall to look ashamed once he scales back down, having no regard for the flights Yakov ran to open the roof hatch. Yakov is too old and doesn’t get paid enough.

All is forgiven when Katsuki starts packing him and the rest of the Russian skaters bento boxes. At first Yakov isn’t sure what to make of it. After one bite he learns to stop asking questions.

The bento boxes become a thing every Tuesday and Thursday. Even Lilia can’t help but crack a small smile when her new favorite student offers her one.

As a thank you Yakov invites them over for dinner once.

It becomes a bi-weekly tradition. Yurio protests loudly as he bakes from scratch desserts for these dinners. No one asked him to do this.

[paulwalltran]

Dungeons and Dragons Loneliness

Another interview with lofi music. Today was a pretty shitty day, alot on my mind. Here to unload. 

Today’s mood: Fuck it all...

It’s a mad addiction, a horrendous one. It’s all I think about, it’s all I want to talk about. Or almost anything fantasy related. I’ve recently gotten a little closer with one of my co workers. Delerner Banks, everyone calls him Del. He’s always in the tunnel, and always brings warhammer books to read and do work (whatever it is he’s working on.) We talk about fantasy related things all the time, and sometimes we bounce ideas off each other, feeling out our thoughts of settings and lore. Talking to him about some fantasy before leaving work made me feel alot better. The loneliness inside has been eating at me.

I know it’s salt, I know its jealousy, that I’m mad at my friends. They been hanging out more without me, playing cards and shit. Its not a passion of mine, its fun sometimes, but its still not me. Its what they bond over, its what they do together, and that’s what theyre into. If I had to guess, they’re okay with Dungeons and Dragons, but even my best friend said that I take it too serious. Its fallen out of their favor, it eats up a lot of time, and they each have their version of what a fun campaign would be like. In me, I said to myself, “Fine, fuck it. I’ll have to assemble another crew to play with.” Tough situation then isn’t it? Wanting to play a social game that needs bodies, during an age where social gatherings are frowned upon, because they carry a potential to spread a virus... Still, this is what I want to do. I want a group of friends, who share the same passion I do. My current friends must think ill of me, they may just want to hang out. They think that if they come hang with me, I’ll want a game of DnD without a doubt. They just want to chill and kick it, they don’t want to roll dice. But ask me once and I’ll tell you yes twice, to playing DnD. 

I love it with all my heart, all of the contents and materials are here, ready to play. No extra investments, no money needed to be spent, we can get going off of nothing like we did back then. A table top roleplaying game, we started with cardboard and lego figures, and just two books to share. But there was fun to be had, and a few heated sessions. But fun it was, the more we played the deeper i grew fond of the game. I’m even willing to experiment with other systems if I have someone to guide me. With cards, you gotta constantly update your arsenal to keep up with the meta, and let’s be real, not playing anything remotely close to meta isn’t as fun. Different formats allow different decks, and to keep current you gotta keep up. I dont have the fundings for it, I dont have the luck. I would rather buy a module that’ll last for years, versus a pack of cards. I have two books that have skyrocketed in value, cards go up and down like stocks. But thats the appeal I suppose, I don’t care for it though.

Back to the thing at hand, I’m in their group chat as they make plans. I can’t be there for all that. But fuck it, that’s all Im going to say. Fuck it, on repeat, until its engraved into my head. Pride is getting the best of me, I refused to be denied again. If it’s not something they want to do, so be it, I need to look out for me in the end.  I must muster up the courage to start playing online again, the first one wasn’t bad, but it fell apart. I need to get the courage to be social, and get over the fear that everyone expects you to be a pro player. I’m scared going into this green still, roll20 isn’t my forte. But if I want to play DnD, this seems to be my only option. It may fulfill my wish, to find friends who are just as passionate as I. My other friends, they’re over on the other side. Its fine, it truly is, they have one another, and I need to be strong. I need to find the strength in this loneliness, even though its tearing me apart. My circle becomes smaller, thats just the way of the world. Adapt to survive, be formless like water...

Dungeons and Dragons, my greatest escape. I can be anybody, and do things I normally can’t. I can clobber up bad guys, indecent folk, and finesse my way out of punishment from the law. I can save a village, a town, a kingdom, when I can hardly save myself. I can fly, cast spells, break locks, imagination is my only limit. I can hoard and amass vast amounts of riches, I myself can even become a dragon. I don’t have to be me, although a bit of me resides in everyone I’ve made before. I can never truly separate myself, from those Ive breathed life into. For hours on end, I can go anywhere, do anything, I melt into the world thats placed before me.

 Because the reality is that I’m practically shit, and nobody. The world is fucked up and jacked up and spiraling down the drain. I’m mentally fucked and my physicality is pretty much the same. I’m stuck in place when the world is demanding me to change. I lost with no real direction. No map in hand, no guide, and I’m scared out of my mind. I don’t know whether to trust the process or commit suicide. Im not sure where I’ll end up, if it’s good or bad. Im struggling, I’m suffering, and there seems to be no end. I could say I’m trying, but I would be lying, if I had to look at the brighter side. The positive things in life are so hard to identify. But my emotions are raw and hit hard, slamming against the walls in my skull. Demanding me to give them attention...and attention I give them, as they tear me up. Like being pulled at by the limbs, drawn and quartered is the method it seems like today. I was thinking that I couldn’t drink forever, my body would eventually reject. But what if I drank energy drinks on end, a heart attack to get me out of this place. I can down those all day long, so whats stopping me from taking that way out of it? Less grotesque and violent, it’ll probably be painful as hell. An organ seizing up, as the body ceases the function. I get said thinking about it sometimes, but one day, enough will be enough. But damn that lady...damn her for speaking those words... Tomorrow. If nothing is better by tomorrow, then do as you may. But sleep it off, tomorrow is another day. 

It’s not verbatim, but its the gist. Just wait for tomorrow, and hopefully things will change. The choice is still mine to make, and something in me pushes me forward, keeps me going on. Sometimes I think about who I’m leaving behind, and maybe how much it’ll hurt. The evil darkness inside me says that they’ll get over it, they have to, and time doesn’t wait. I won’t be immortalized, I’ll simply end up a statistic. That maybe itll be a few years the sadness remains fresh, but wounds always heal. Discrediting my actual existence, and any form of relations. Like I wouldn’t have made any actual impressions, people don’t weep for me now. People kind of forget I exist already, what makes me think they won’t after I’m gone? 

I think about my folks, my grandma, my girlfriend, my second family, and other close dear friends. I think about how many last will letters I would have to put out there, before I call for the curtains. Sometimes, I say I will start writing them, but they give me pause. I end up not wanting to leave this world, after pouring out my heart. Because I don’t want to leave any questions behind for people who matter, I want them to know how I felt before I passed. I want to leave with them apart of me, so they would never forget. 

Still it doesn’t change, shit is rough as of lately, work has been eating me up. I feel like Im never hundred percent, and me back on gaming is making it worst. I’ve gotten back onto Elder Scrolls Skyrim, its been my virtual version of DnD. Waiting for the Outer World Expansion, so I can get addicted to that again. All I want to do is play Dungeons and Dragons, the question is how do I make that into a living? I think being a Matthew Mercer is one in a million, I don’t think I’m that great. I’m willing to learn, grow, evolve because it is my passion, but I’m always scared of making mistakes. To be one of the greater Dungeon Masters, to be THE Wizards of the Coast Dungeon Master, it may possibly be the dream. To eat, sleep, breathe, Dee en Dee. My obsession isn’t that crazy though, I’m still behind on the lore of creatures and settings, I haven’t studied at all. But with the right drive and motivation, I would, especially with something as real as a legit group.

Enthusiastic players, who show up every week, bi weekly, once every month even, to play this fantastic game. Group of chill folks who is willing to take the Dungeon Master Mantle with I get burned out and have the desire to be in the player seat. One of those is the driving force, they make me want to plan. They make me want to make the world, the style, everything in general better, with the constructive feedback. I mean it’s been so long as I was a player in a campaign until the end, I’m beginning to think paying for a Dungeon Master wouldn’t be so bad. Once a month? A couple of hours? I mean I’m thinking like seven USD per hour? Eight isn’t bad, but after that it becomes a questionable amount. It repeats in my head, “No DnD is better than Bad DnD”, this much is probably still true. I say still because I still might want at least one session with said game, so I can at least say it was the worst after having attempt it, rolling something. Ha ha, I kid myself, I’m lying because I know the rage would be all to real and caution is my game most of the time. But I mean, I just might have to start exploring the idea, I was definitely going to ask on FaceBook if any Roll20 games was recruiting a newbie. 

Alas, today won’t be the last time I speak on the matter, Dungeons and Dragons haunt me everyday. I stare at minis, I stare at the upcoming books and modules, and I watch youtube where they tell RPG Horror Stories, Its become a huge part of my life, such as dancing once was. It almost links right into my earliest talents...writing. I love to write, just like I’m doing now. Im fairly decent at the writing game if I must say. Hey, real life failed Bard here, I should make one who always ends up playing big bro, and end up being friendzoned by all his interests. Im short, so Halfling is very true. Am I charismatic? Who knows, I can’t say for sure. But yes, I feel like this is what I need, a solid weekly game, maybe once every two weeks, hell, once every month would still be great. Something to look forward to the very least, in this life of routine and mundane. Something to look forward to for me, something that’s my own. Something I don’t need my closer friends to be apart of, since they’re not interested anyhow. I’m really talking shit because I’m hella salty, but at least I’m being upfront. Get it all out now, before the typing is done. 

It’s been a productive session, I may have to attribute it to Lofi it seems. The Lofi Hip Hop Radio on YouTube, also found on Spotify. Some tracks still strike me deep in the chest, giving me horrible flash backs and feeling in my chest. Others keep me going, forward, almost propelling. I’m currently training myself to be accustomed to the sounds, because I at first was very scared. That it would just transport me to a dark place and keep me there. I’ve been trying to confront my feelings more with this music, I think I felt better after last session like this. The more I faced myself, the better I became. Yes, I most definitely referenced Persona 4, another amazing and loved title because of the message it portrays. I always wondered what my shadow self would look like, and what they would say. But eh another time, I’m about to start rambling again. I have to conclude here, before I get off topic.

Until next time Tumblr...

[wroughtbetwixtfanfic]

A Place To Call Home, Ch 2.

Fandom: Rosewell, New Mexico.

Summary: A canon divergent take on Roswell, New Mexico, and the relationships between Isobel, Noah, and Rosa; later parts will shift the focus to Michael and Alex, as well as Michael and Noah. What is it like to share a body with another alien? Can broken trust be mended? Do the ends really justify the means?

Rating: M.

Tags: Canon divergence, minor character death, not really character death, body sharing, polyamory, hurt/comfort, addiction problems, sickfic, revenge, fix it, friends to enemies to lovers, lovers to enemies to lovers, Noah is complicated, cw: dubious age stuff for a little bit considering Nasedo/Noah is who-the-hell-knows how old.

Word Count: 2723

It was his favorite daydream.

He was walking free, bathed in sunlight with the heirs at his side. They were faced with those terrible people from so long ago. The heirs pinned them down as he surged forward, grabbing the leader of their army by the head; he'd dive into the Earthling's mind, tearing through it like the storms Nasedo sometimes heard rolling overhead. He would gift the Earthlings their worst nightmares, castrating their minds before searing through their brain with the killing power in his palms. Each and every single one who had ever harmed his people, each Earthling that even dared think to raise a finger against them, would burn. They would die howling for mercy that wouldn't come.

But then Nasedo realized the screaming in his daydream was real. A scream in his head, desperate and panicked and afraid. One of the heirs. Nasedo struggled against his prison, trying to get out. They needed him. They needed protection. Damn it all, what good was he if he couldn't do what he'd been born to do? Unless...

Nasedo closed his eyes and focused. It was a skill he hadn't practiced much as a young one, and oh how he regretted it. The ability to project into the mind and even flesh of another was a skill inherent in Protectors, but he hadn't needed it. He'd always been better at hand to hand combat. But his charges needed him. If they died, then he had failed, and all of the suffering would be for nothing. He would never escape, he would never get revenge.

Unacceptable.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes, and he could see. Everything was blurry, as if he was staring through a haze, but he could make out a young one. Blonde, fair of skin, a slim but tall frame. She was struggling against an Earthling, a bigger and older one who had hands around her mouth and wrist, dragging her through the dirt. Nasedo didn't need much power to know his intentions.

I'm here, Nasedo whispered into the young one's mind. I'm here. Let me in. Let me help you.

The young one's mind opened to him with unexpected ease, a single question among the spinning thoughts. Who are you?

I'll explain later. I can save you. I can protect you. Let me in.

In an instant, he was there, inside her body as well as her mind. Isobel. Her name was Isobel, she was fourteen years old, there on a camping trip with her brothers Maxwell and Michael. Nasedo settled into her form, jaw setting in determination. Sleep, Isobel. It'll be over soon. Isobel drifted into the back of her mind, asleep, safe. Nasedo focused on the attacker, trying hard to fight. He hadn't anticipated that the weakness of his own form would impact Isobel's well being. He hadn't anticipated just how difficult it would be. He snarled, lashing out and biting, but it did little good. Damn it, damn it.

The attacker was blown back out of nowhere. Nasedo fell to the ground, gaping up at two forms rushing to his-- her, their-- side. The tallest-- Max-- was saying something, but Nasedo couldn't understand it. He just closed the eyes, leaning against the comforting warmth of another living body and shivering from fear and adrenaline. Tired. So tired. But then the one holding them was moving, and Nasedo heard the sounds of struggle.

He could hear Max cry out. He smelled blood.

Nasedo looked to Max, sending a brief flash of an image. A hand on the chest, glowing. On fire. Burning out the life inside the Earthling that dared harm them. Max followed the action perfectly, howling as power surged through his young body and crushed the life beneath him. His first kill. Nasedo smiled inwardly as the other, Michael, effortlessly dug a grave with telekinesis. Oh, they were young, but already so powerful.

It was a few days before Isobel woke. Nasedo kept quiet, playing along as Max took them back to the Earthling family. He bit back his hatred as doctors poked them, prodded them, checked them for injury. He watched, learning the language of the Earthlings as the days went by. English, primarily. They called themselves humans. They were in the city of Roswell, the state of New Mexico, the country of the United States of America. Isobel Evans, the minutes-younger twin sister of Maxwell Evans, adopted by Ann Evans and her husband. Insufferable people, the parents. They didn't know about the young ones' powers. They had no clue how to raise such children. Still, Isobel's memories of them seemed... physically harmless, if not emotionally barren.

No one questioned the body's silence. Trauma, a doctor murmured, often took time to recover from. Max tried to be close, tried to get his sister to talk. Nasedo didn't know what to do. He withdrew, focusing on taking care of Isobel and basking in the Earth's sun, strange and wonderful music piped directly into his ears via something called an mp3 player. Soon enough, Isobel started to stir. Her voice, faint but growing closer, echoed through their shared mind.

What happened?

Nasedo wanted to reply, but couldn't. His hold on the body was slipping, and he was unable to speak; within seconds, he woke in his own body and his own mind. The pain came flooding back, and for the only time in his memory, he wept. To have a taste of freedom, even if it was through another, was almost worse than none at all. To think he'd never again feel the warmth of the desert upon his face... But then it happened again, and kept happening.

The second time he was drawn out, it was without warning. Nasedo woke up in Isobel's bed. It was nighttime, and the body was sweating. Shaking. Heart pounding. A... nightmare? He got up, wandering to the bathroom and gently dabbing Isobel's face with a cool, damp towel. The anxiety wasn't his, though he felt it, and that distance was enough to help calm the body back down. He brought her back to bed just as she came back into her mind; once again, he returned to his prison.

It happened rarely at first, in quick little moments when Isobel was afraid or overwhelmed. Once every few months, at the most. Nasedo wondered if Isobel even realized what was happening. Not that it mattered. It was only five, ten minutes that Nasedo used to glimpse the outside world while he cared for Isobel and soothed her mind. Max didn't understand it, and Nasedo never felt obligated to explain. Michael... Michael was different. He would watch silently, sitting nearby without speaking or attempting to touch Isobel's body. Sometimes, he would offer a cold drink, help Nasedo find a quiet place if they were at school when it happened, or scroll through Isobel's mp3 player to find the songs he knew would be calming. Michael didn't ask questions, so perhaps it was for that reason that Nasedo liked him more.

With time, the shifts in control became more frequent. Lasted longer. What had once been five or ten minutes a few times a year became a weekly habit of an hour or more. Maybe it was because of the stress of High School, maybe it was because Isobel chose the most catty and upsetting human friends possible, maybe it was because their connection deepened as Isobel's powers grew stronger. Nasedo didn't know. What he did know was that nearly two years after the first time, he was drawn to Isobel when he felt her crying. Upset. He glanced around as he came to, wondering what had happened.

They were in Isobel's room, at her desk. A journal lay open in front of them. Nasedo tilted his head, glancing at the writing.

I love her. She's older than me, and my parents whisper about how she's trouble. They don't know how I feel. I'm ashamed. I know Michael is bi and it's no big deal for him, but it's different for me. I have a lot of friends. I'm supposed to be perfect. Everyone expects me to be the homecoming queen with a jock boyfriend, but that's not what I want. I want Rosa.

Oh. Oh, dear. Nisedo shut the journal and slipped it into Isobel's secret hiding place. He mulled that information over as he wandered to the kitchen, drumming his fingers on the fridge door as he hunted for something to eat. Rosa. Rosa... Ortecho. He remembered her, faintly. She had been hanging out with Michael, once, when Isobel had an attack. She'd stood guard with Michael over them. She seemed sweet, warm, with a quick laugh. As far as humans went, well, she was acceptable. But--

"What's up?"

Max's voice made Nasedo jerk their head up. "Just looking for a snack," he said, his voice perfectly imitating Isobel's inflections. He'd been practicing. "Why?"

"We just ate." Max frowned. "I thought I heard you crying."

"Hormones, I guess."

"Didn't need to know that."

Nasedo rolled his eyes as Max made a face and walked away. Men. Such babies. He grabbed a fork and what looked to be a leftover box of vegetable lo mein, and headed back to Isobel's room. It had been two years, and he hadn't spoken to Isobel himself since that fateful night, but he contemplated changing that now. He wasn't sure he could speak to her without losing control, but... Well, there were others ways, weren't there? He nibbled at the food as he fished out Isobel's journal again, picking up a pen and thinking. If he did this, he wouldn't be able to take it back.

But nothing ventured, nothing gained. Right?

Isobel, when you read this, I want you to know that you're not imagining things. I don't know if you remember me from that night, at the camping trip...

It was a short note, just a page. If it worked, if she accepted him, he could always write more later. He frowned, glancing at the journal entry Isobel had written.

... And just so you know, Isobel, you never have to be ashamed of who you are or who you love. - Nasedo

Nasedo felt the world spin as Isobel began to come back to her body. Just in time. He sighed, closing his eyes and hoping for the best as he relinquished control. It wasn't long before he was called back, days at most. When he opened his eyes, he was at school and in the cafeteria. Shit. He forced a smile at her friends, excusing himself from the table and rushing outside to the bleachers. Her next class was gym, and there was no way he was going to be able to handle it. Being in Isobel's body sapped her strength, and he wouldn't risk hurting her. Instead, he rummaged around her backpack looking for astronomy homework. That, that he could do.

His hands landed on a notebook, and he noticed something that made him freeze. His name was written on the front, in tiny letters. Blinking, he opened it.

I remember you.

His heart hammered in his chest.

I thought I was crazy. I never told anyone what happened. Not even Max or Michael. How does this work? Who are you? Why did you save me?

Nasedo grabbed a pen, hope fluttering to life inside his being.

I don't know how it works, exactly. Some of our kind can project themselves into the bodies of others. Especially Protectors, like me. I take control when you need me, and leave when the danger passes. Your mother ordered me to protect the three of you, just after the crash. I protected your family before, on our homeworld. I saved you because I knew you, once.

The next time Nasedo came back, a week later, there was a reply waiting for him.

So that's why I can't remember things? That makes sense, now. You knew our mother? What happened to her? What was she like? What was our home like?

Smiling, Nasedo scribbled in his reply. He told Isobel as much as he remembered. Tales of a beautiful, blonde woman with warm heart and a sharp mind, opinionated yet compassionate. Tales of a plant similar to Earth, laid to waste by greed and power-hungry zealots. Her mother, he noted, died in the crash. A lie, but a soft one. He didn't want to tell her that her mother likely died in pain, gunned down by hateful military men.

They wrote back and forth for ages, and finally, Nasedo felt he had a chance at life. A life in bits and pieces, in stolen moments, but a life all the same. Maybe he could be content, sharing the body with Isobel. She was a beautiful soul like her mother, though less confident and more fearful. Well, that would change with age and experience. Especially with his hand to help guide her. She seemed to welcome his presence, and the connection between them only grew stronger as their third year together began. Isobel made sure to take detailed notes of her classes, homework, things that had happened between her and others. Nasedo, in turn, took notes of things that had happened while he was in control.

Things seemed to be heading in a bright direction. Isobel blossomed into the popular queen bee that she was meant to be, and Nasedo took the wheel when things got to be too much for her. They shared their hopes, their dreams, their deepest secrets; it kept him distracted, busy... happy. Isobel was almost eighteen when, late one night, their minds managed to brush together at the same time. They were conscious at the same time, and they both laughed at the giddiness of the moment.

"We're strong together," Isobel mused. "If we could exist this way, always..."

Nasedo chuckled. "You wouldn't want me around all the time, I'm sure."

"Why not?" "Rosa?"

Isobel pursed her lips. "You said that we can't trust humans. Any humans."

"Well, maybe I was wrong."

It stunned Nasedo to admit it, especially out loud. It had been so long since he'd thought of revenge, that he'd almost forgotten it. Almost. Still, it felt right. He saw the way Isobel looked at Rosa, and he knew what was in her heart. He couldn't deny that connection any more than he could deny their own.

"She's different, isn't she?" "Maybe. Too bad she's high half the time." "And you're not?"

Scoffing, Isobel's mind nestled in and eased into sleep. After that night, it was easier to operate together. Not simple, not flawless, but easier. Blending their lives together gave Nasedo a new sense of freedom, and he gave to Isobel a self assurance that she'd rarely experienced before. Enough self assurance that she finally began to flirt with Rosa on her own, once Isobel was 18 and Rosa had graduated. Not enough self assurance, Nasedo noticed, to tell her brothers their secret.

"I enjoy having you to myself," Isobel said when Nasedo pointed it out. "Besides. They'll think I'm nuts."

Having you to myself. The concept was... strange. He'd never belonged to anyone. Not on their homeworld, and certainly not since. He'd led a secluded life, focusing on his studies and then on his duties; deep friendships had only been a distraction, in his eyes. Now, Nasedo pondered the idea. Friendship. Maybe even love. How would such things even work? Would he be content to exist alongside Isobel, with her friends being his friends? With her love being his love? It was an entire world he'd never considered.

"I can't tell what you're thinking," she added softly.

"What if I can never escape? What if I never have my own body again?"

Isobel shrugged. "What I have is yours." "You won't be able to tell the ones you love about your secrets." "You said yourself, Rosa is different. Maybe... I don't know, maybe there are others out there who are different, too. Maybe the good people outnumber the bad." "I doubt it."

She couldn't touch him, of course, but he felt affection from her directed at him, and it felt almost like an embrace. "At least we'll have each other."

On that, he agreed.

Regardless of what happened, Nasedo would protect Isobel. No matter the cost.

[theworkofxanderking]

Dracula: The Originals (Fanfiction)

Chapter Two: Battle Lines

Warnings: I do not own the original content to “The Originals”, “The Vampire Diaries” or “Legacies” or any of the characters from the television shows.

15 plus, displays of Violence, Gore, Torture, M/M, F/M, F/F.

New Orleans, 1722

It had been almost 2 and a half centuries since Klaus, Rebekah, Elijah and Kol Mikaelson spent that one fateful night in the Transylvanian castle belonging to Count Dracula and neither Mikaelson had seen of Dracula or his brides since although they heard many stories as the myth of Dracula grew larger almost as large as the original vampires themselves which only served to saturate Klaus’ obsession with Dracula.

During his tedious investigative work into Dracula and the brides he claimed Klaus learned that Dracula was witch-vampire hybrid made possible due to his siphoning nature as Klaus assumed Dracula must have had some of his bloods after learning Kol had not so literally handed the brides his own blood to make them what was known as heretics.

Klaus had never come across anyone who had claimed to know any understanding of him until the day he came across Dracula and since that fateful night he had never found another. Sure, he had romances, flings and loves during his seven centuries on this earth but he had never found someone who he believed could truly understand him and this had him intrigued for 2 and a half centuries without any wavering of interest.

Little did he or his siblings know that a reunion with Dracula would lead to a war for the city the Mikaelson’s had claimed as their home.

Long before the Mikaelson’s boat arrived in New Orleans the place had become somewhat of a haven for witches and werewolves thank to a peace treaty kept in place by witch regent Gabrielle LaRue and self-proclaimed wolf king Abel Kenner.

In time they allowed humans to join the peace treaty allowing a human representative Pastor Andreas Labonair into their peace treaty and humans, witches, and werewolves lived relatively quietly in mostly harmony, but nothing could prepare them for the arrival of the family of original vampires.

Klaus knew if he was to claim New Orleans, he had to eliminate any potential distractions to his master plan which meant daggering his chaotic youngest brother Kol and putting his body in a coffin next to their oldest brother Finn.

Elijah was desperate for Klaus to claim New Orleans as his so-called throne as Elijah saw this as an opportunity for him and his siblings to finally call somewhere home once again and set about turning as many humans as possible turning them into compelled undead allies of his family in the process knowing that with enough vampires they would eventually need representation a role which his brother Klaus was eager to accept.

Rebekah even found herself helping her brothers hoping that keeping Klaus busy would be beneficial to her having some sort of life and the prospect of a love her older brother didn’t wind up murdering before marriage. She set about New Orleans looking for secrets the kind of secrets that could used against their owner to her family’s advantage and succeeded one night after hearing rumors of Pastor Andreas Labonair being a werewolf only to later confirm it with her own eyes one moon shining night in a church basement.

Klaus had come up with the master plan to take New Orleans, Elijah had provided him with enough allies to form an army if needed be and Rebekah was ready to out secrets of anyone that opposed them.

New Orleans was there’s for the taking or at least that is what they believed not realizing while Abel, Gabrielle and Andreas played dutiful to the original siblings that they were secretly plotting their downfall not realizing their attempts to save New Orleans from one terror would only serve to unleash another.

Klaus had gathered Abel, Gabrielle and Andreas down to a warehouse near the port of New Orleans where they had their usual bi-weekly meetings to discuss each faction’s needs, responsibilities, concerns and fears although since Klaus had taken over the meetings it was mostly him demanding more and more from the others while continuing to boast about his growing population of vampires at the hands of himself, Rebekah and Elijah.

“You already have property within this area why on earth should we allow you to acquire more?” Gabrielle asked the original vampire as Klaus, herself, Abel and Andreas sat down at a table placed within the dark and damp warehouse.

“I was not asking for permission I was merely informing you that I’ve acquired some space and my vampires have begun work on the property.” Klaus revealed. “It’s a much more fitting location for my siblings and I.”

“Since you have arrived the human numbers are dwindling, fatal casualties have risen and hostility between witches, werewolves and vampires are at an all time high.” Pastor Andreas Labonair told him. “You have brought nothing but misery to Mystic Falls and quite frankly we’ve had enough of it.”

“I am not going to sit here and listen to human rights from a self-loathing werewolf.” Klaus snapped. “You will all smile while I go about my business and if you dare defy me, I’ll kill you all and everybody you’ve ever met.”

“We are not scared of you anymore Niklaus Mikaelson!” Gabrielle LaRue said defiantly as she stood from her chair. “The witches have lived under your reign of terror for too long I won’t allow it any longer and nor will I allow my children to grow up in a world where we kneel before some abomination.”

“I’d be very careful of your next words!” Klaus warned her after rising from his chair. “Or on the other hand don’t I do enjoy killing witches after all.”

“You are no longer our vampire representative,” Abel admitted as he and Andreas both stood up. “We have sought out another vampire more fitting of the role.”

“Who the bloody hell could be more fitting than an original vampire?” Klaus shouted in fury.

“A vampire who is more than a mere vampire, a witch who is more than a mere witch.” Dracula stated in his Hungarian accent after vamp speeding his way into the warehouse. “It’s nice to see you again Niklaus Mikaelson it has been far too long.”

Klaus stood there completely speechless by Dracula’s arrival that night he had longed to be reunited with the man behind many myths the man that lured him and his siblings into a trap two and a half centuries ago and now he had been reunited with his one time lover he wanted nothing more than to rip his bloody head off and make him suffer for ever daring to take his kingdom from him.

Kol Mikaelson had found himself daggered by his older brother Klaus once again despite how many times he had been daggered by his brother Klaus always had a way of surprising him each time.

However, this particular coffin spell proved to be one of the shortest as he found himself awaking in his coffin the color returning to his body before sitting up to find himself in an underground cellar and instantly recognizing the brunette beauty who was stood across from him holding the very dagger that was recently in his chest.

“Well this is certainly an interesting turn of events,” Kol said to her as he climbed out of his coffin. “Forgive me if I’m wrong but we have met before, haven’t we?”

“Yes, we have only both of us were wearing a lot less materials.” The brunette bride replied with a flirty smile. “My name is Zsofia Benedek the bride of Dracula, the first bride of Dracula.”

“And why may I ask have you freed me from my imprisonment at the hands of my bastard brother?” Kol asked Zsofia.

“Well for one we started a little dance I intend to finish,” Zsofia revealed before she vamp sped over to Kol, close enough their bodies were almost touching. “My husband also has an opportunity for you one that will grant you revenge on that bastard brother of yours.”

“Consider me well and truly intrigued.” Kol said with a smile before passionately kissing Zsofia.

Zsofia and Kol continued to kiss passionately as Zsofia pushed him up against his coffin before Kol vamp sped with her across the cellar slamming her against the cellar wall as he began kissing her neck and tearing at her clothing as she began tearing at his.

“You have some nerve coming to my home and attempting to claim my throne.” Klaus snapped at Dracula as it was only the two of them that were left standing in the warehouse.

“Oh, please I’m not here to play king or involve myself in any of this nonsense I’ve been a king before, and the crown may have fitted nicely but it only led to the beginning of an eternity of death and despair.” Dracula explained to him. “I’m hardly a fan of the undead or witches and yet I find myself both. However, I am somewhat a fan of yours.”

“If you’re such a fan of mine then why the bloody hell are you trying to take my city from me?” Klaus shouted as he stormed his way over to be face to face with Dracula.

“Because Niklaus Mikaelson you are a worthy opponent and last time I encountered you I had the unfair advantage.” Dracula replied with a wicked smile. “My brides are my companions the only light in my never-ending darkness, but you make me feel like setting light to that darkness and along with it the world.”

“If you think you can trick me, I swear I’ll take great joy in removing you from your eternal darkness and straight into a bloody coffin.” Klaus warned the prince of darkness.

“There’s no trickery this time around Niklaus merely just a test,” Dracula admitted to him. “You want this place to be your home then prepare for a war if you win I’ll leave never to return if you don’t kill me of course and if I win I burn this place to the grounds and you leave with me as my first groom.”

“You are well and truly completely insane.” Klaus said in shock before looking at Dracula with his devilish grin. “Consider me well and truly ready for war.”

“I thought you wouldn’t be able to turn down a good proposal.” The undead Count chuckled away to himself.

“Just so you know I don’t play fair in war,” Klaus replied as he grabbed Dracula by the waist and pulled him in for a kiss. “It’ll be a shame to have to kill you in the end, but I’ll make sure to make this a battle you’ll never forget.”

“Now Niklaus no pre-showings before the wedding.” Dracula laughed as he brushed Klaus’ arms off his waist. “Although I never was one for keeping a tradition.”

Dracula and Klaus began passionately kissing each other and tearing at each other’s clothes before vamp speeding over to the table in which Dracula threw Klaus down and began kissing his way down Klaus’ toned and muscly chest causing Klaus to groan in pleasure louder with each kiss Dracula placed on him the kisses going lower and closer towards the original vampire’s waist.

Elijah looked out of the window of the Mikaelson family home, which was located on the outskirts of New Orleans, the same home from season one although more fitting to the era of 1772. Upon looking out the window in the living room area he saw a blonde-haired beauty standing in the garden looking straight at him with a knowing smile before waving at the Mikaelson brother without fear which amused Elijah tempting him outside.

“We don’t get many women stalking our home especially considering most of New Orleans are terrified of me and my siblings.” Elijah said upon opening the front door of his home and walking over to the blonde-haired beauty.

“I’ve seen many horrors in my life, and you are one of the more pleasing to my eyes.” She admitted to him. “You’re the noble Mikaelson am I correct?”

“That has been said once or twice, who are you?” Elijah asked her.

“My name is Evike Arvay and for the last two and a half centuries I have been one of Dracula’s brides.” The blonde-haired bride revealed. “Dracula is a cruel and tedious husband more like a master than a companion and I need your family’s help to rid me of him once and for all.”

“Why on earth would you come to me and my siblings for help?” Elijah quizzed.

“Dracula has arrived in New Orleans eager to claim it as his own only to burn it to the ground for his own amusement and destroy your family in the process,” Evike replied leaving Elijah no time to adjust to the news. “I’ve heard that you Mikaelson’s value family above all else.”

“And what do tell do you value most of all?” Elijah asked her, uncertain whether to trust this stunning yet mysterious bride of Dracula.

“Freedom and revenge.” She admitted causing Elijah to smile at her honesty.

“You should come inside and fill me in on everything Mrs Arvay.” Elijah said to her.

“Call me Evike I am nobody’s Mrs.” Evike replied.

Rebekah walked into the Rousseau’s bar which design was very fitting of the 17th century era but at the same time had similarity to what it looked like throughout The Originals TV show. She spotted a red woman girl sat in a booth and found herself immediately drawn to her walking over to sit down next to the mysterious red headed woman she had never seen in New Orleans before.

“Not many women roam New Orleans without a suitor present well except for the witches.” Rebekah said to her. “Although I’ve made it my everything to know every witch who resides within this city and you are a new face.”

“That’s because I’ve only just arrived here Rebekah and I’m not your typical kind of witch.” The redheaded bride replied to her noticing the original vampire’s shock at her knowing her name. “Don’t be so surprised miss Mikaelson that people know of you and your siblings after all you have are the original undead family.”

“Fair point, what do you mean when you say your not a normal witch?” Rebekah asked her.

“My name is Wilhelmina Helsing I am what is considered to be a bride to the infamous Count Dracula I believe the two of you have met before.” Wilhelmina revealed herself to the original female vampire.

“You’re one of the three brides that got the better of my foolish brother Kol two and a half centuries ago,” Rebekah realized. “I’m going to take a wild guess and assume all his brides are heretics like himself.”

“You are correct I always told my husband you were the smartest Mikaelson, but he seems to have some morbid fascination with your brother Niklaus.” Wilhelmina explained to her. “I do love my husband dearly he freed me from a miserable existence, but I desire much more than to be somebody’s bride.”

“What exactly do you desire Wilhelmina?” Rebekah asked her curious to know the answer.

“This city,” She replied with a sinister smirk. “Dracula and Niklaus will destroy New Orleans long before they’ve finished their romantic little dance in the darkness whereas I’d rather lay claim to it. After all Dracula is no older a vampire than I nor is he any more powerful a witch than any of his brides why can’t I become this city’s queen?”

“Your delusional if you think myself or my siblings would ever allow anyone to take claim of our home.” Rebekah warned the redheaded bride.

“I guess you haven’t been informed that the battle for New Orleans has already begun,” Wilhelmina informed her as she stood up from her seat. “Boys are nothing more than children and they’ll gladly burn their toys instead of allowing others to play with them it’s our mission as women to teach them how to behave.”

“And how exactly do you intend to teach them?” Rebekah quizzed her as she too stood up from her seat.

“One bride is foolish following her master’s orders while the other plots to murder our husband I on the other hand have a much more delicate plan for both my husband and your brother one that includes neither of us having to ever wield again to any man!” Wilhelmina declared. “Tell me Rebekah are you tired of falling onto a dagger every time you dare to disagree with your brother?”

Dracula had set his sights on Klaus his brunette bride Zsofia had freed Kol and aligned herself with him while his deceiving brides Evike and Wilhelmina were seemingly plotting against their husband.

One thing was for sure neither Dracula nor his brides were to be fully trusted although after over seven hundred years of squabbling the Mikaelson’s didn’t fully trust each other.

Kol wanted revenge for Klaus’ cruel ways towards him, Rebekah wanted freedom from her siblings, Klaus wanted the throne at all cost and Elijah wanted nothing more than for his siblings to be happy despite how difficult a task it had proved to be.

Kol and Zsofia just lay there on the ground of the abandoned cellar using their clothing as sheets to cover their naked bodies.

“I always imagined sleeping with an original would be an extraordinary experience, but I must admit that was truly beyond my wildest dreams.” Zsofia admitted as Kol climbed on top of her and began kissing her neck.

“I guess this Count Dracula isn’t too good between the sheets so to speak.” Kol replied with a cheeky smile before kissing Zsofia on the lips.

“My husband sees his brides more like sisters than wives,” Zsofia revealed. “He saved us all from terrible fates and he can save you too.”

“See that’s the problem my darling Zsofia,” Kol told her before launching his hand into her chest causing her to choke up blood while looking at her lover in shock. “I don’t need saving and when I seek revenge, I seek it family style no outsiders allowed.”

Before Zsofia had a chance to respond or even defend herself the original Mikaelson vampire had ripped out her heart and her body began to desiccate.

[daresplaining]

A Daredevil Comics Introduction for MCU Fans

    I imagine a lot of MCU Daredevil fans are feeling pretty lost right now. The first thing the Iron Fist twitter account did after the show ended was provide a link to the comics, and since the Daredevil account wasn’t kind enough to do the same, I wanted to put together some basic information for Netflix show fans who are unfamiliar with the comics and want to keep Daredevil in their lives post-cancellation! 

    To start, there are a few basic continuity/character differences you should know about: 

    1. Matt has beautiful red hair. (This isn’t an important detail, I just... wanted to make sure everybody knew). Sticking with the theme of superficiality, he’s also significantly taller than Foggy. 

    2. Foggy was one of the last people to find out about Matt being Daredevil (though he is currently one of the only people who knows, thanks to a recent universe-wide mindwipe). Foggy also didn’t grow up in Hell’s Kitchen. He is from out-of-state and from a semi-wealthy family. He has a crusading party-girl younger sister named Candace, and his biological mother is the ruthless attorney Rosalind “Razor” Sharpe, with whom he has a distant and shaky relationship. 

    3. Karen Page is sadly no longer living. She was killed by Bullseye during a 1998 story arc. She was also never a journalist; rather, she was at various points Nelson & Murdock’s office manager, an actress, a social activist, and a radio talk show host. She and Matt dated on-and-off for a very long time. Matt has also dated many, many other people, and most of his girlfriends have died/suffered horribly in his presence. He is currently (and uncharacteristically) single. 

    4. Conversely, Ben Urich is very much alive. He was one of the first people to figure out Daredevil’s secret identity, and this formed the basis of what became a long-held and emotional friendship. (However, thanks to the recent mindwipe mentioned above, he no longer knows.)

    5. Elektra and Matt dated in college, where Elektra was a political science major. She was born and raised in Greece, and her father was a Greek diplomat. When he was killed thanks to Matt’s amateur heroics during a botched hostage situation, Elektra left the country and trained with both the Chaste and the Hand, which sent her down a painful path that molded her into the expert assassin she is today. She was killed by Bullseye back in the 80s, but she got better. 

    6. Matt is a swashbuckling, fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants adrenaline junkie, which is why he’s called “the Man Without Fear” and... well... Daredevil. He chose/reclaimed the name Daredevil as an act of empowerment during his first superhero outing (“the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen” is not a thing in the comics). He became a superhero to avenge his father’s death, which occurred when Matt was in either college or law school, depending on which writer you ask. Both Matt and Foggy attended Jack Murdock’s final boxing match.

    7. Matt is much more religious in the show than he has ever been in the comics, since in the show he was raised in a Christian orphanage and in the comics he was raised by his father. There are a few story arcs that depict him as religious, but they are vastly in the minority.  

    8. This is true in the show too, but since it was sometimes unclear, let me reiterate: Matt cannot see. He doesn’t perceive any light. All of his sensory input is non-visual. He has superhumanly-enhanced senses, and something he calls his “radar sense”. The actual nature and parameters of the radar sense vary between creative teams, but it’s best to think of it as something like echolocation. It allows Matt 360 degree perception of solid objects up a certain distance from him. He could clearly do this in the show too, but it was never actually mentioned.

    I could keep going, since there are plenty of other differences, but you should be able to catch on without too much confusion!

Where Should I Start?

    You should start with Matt’s origin story, since there are a few key differences from the show’s version (some of which I mentioned above). The very first issue of Daredevil is quite good. However, if you’re put off by 1960s comics, you don’t need to start from the beginning. A really good retelling that is modern reader-friendly is Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale’s Daredevil: Yellow. It covers all of the basics, and is a very nice read. You may also see people mention Frank Miller’s Man Without Fear mini-series. It’s also good, though PLEASE NOTE that it was intended to be an alternate version of the story, and thus isn’t entirely canon. 

    Once you have the origin down, you can move to the main series. Don’t be intimidated by the 55 years-worth of comics-- again, you DON’T need to start at the beginning, and you don’t have to read everything if you don’t want to. All huge, decades-spanning series like Daredevil are filled with different jumping-on points in order to remain accessible to new readers. This can sometimes create confusion-- Daredevil will have been re-started six times as of February 2019, so if you look for Daredevil #1 you’ll get a whole bunch of different issues. Each of these re-starts is generally referred to as a “volume”, and if you follow this blog you’ll notice mentions of Daredevil volume 1, volume 2, etc. For the purposes of simplicity, in this post I’ll just be identifying the volumes based on the year they began, because that’s how they’re labeled in Marvel Unlimited. Marvel Unlimited is Marvel’s official digital archive, to which I highly recommend subscribing if you’re interested in reading a lot of back issues. All of my comics links in this post will take you there. 

    There are two starting points in particular that I recommend. They are both very good, but they're tonally different, so you can pick whichever suits your personal preferences. 

     1. If you crave more of the gritty noir of the Netflix-verse, I recommend starting with Daredevil (1998) #26. This is the first issue of the main thread of Brian Michael Bendis’s run, which is a phenomenal run that provided tonal inspiration for the show. At that point in continuity, Matt is still recovering from Karen Page’s death. He and Foggy have started up a new iteration of Nelson & Murdock (there have been many) and are doing very well; the run starts with them winning a multi-million dollar court settlement. The other important piece of context for this first arc is that Wilson Fisk was shot in the head in a previous story, while left him blind and weakened his criminal empire. Bendis’s run is quite long and will lead you directly into Ed Brubaker’s, which picks up immediately afterward with issue #82 and is also very good. 

    2. If you want something a bit lighter and more swashbuckley, I recommend starting with Mark Waid’s run. It’s my personal favorite Daredevil run (and I like a lot of Daredevil, so that’s saying something), and it’s a great jumping-on point because it starts a new volume. It kicks off with Daredevil (2011) #1 and goes through #36-- at which point the comic got another new #1. Thus, Waid did a little mini-series called Daredevil: Road Warrior to bridge the two volumes, then carried on the story with Daredevil (2014) #1. Context for this run is a little weirder. Matt has just recently returned to NYC after getting possessed by a demon and then taking a mental vacation to get over it. Upon his return, he and Foggy rebuild Nelson & Murdock yet again, and Matt decides that after all of the pain and suffering he’s been through, he’s going to be happy and enjoy life no matter what. It’s also important to know that his secret identity is basically public knowledge at this point, since a newspaper got ahold of the information and outed him during Bendis’s run. 

    From there, there are any number of places you can go. Here is my big post that goes into more detail about other recommended and essential Daredevil reading! And if you’re looking for other characters and/or other specifically-themed reading guides, here is our whole archive so far. (I also have an Iron Fist blog-- bookoftheironfist.tumblr.com-- for anyone looking to break into that area of the comics.) 

What’s Going On Right Now?

    As of right now (December 2018), Matt is in an exciting position! The latest Daredevil run (AKA Daredevil (2015) or Daredevil volume 5) just ended with issue #612. Currently, Matt is in Marvel Knights 20th, which is a six-issue bi-weekly mini-series about an alternate universe-type situation in which the world has been made to forget superheroes. Matt, Frank Castle, Elektra Natchios, Bruce Banner, T’Challa, and various others have to regain their own memories and figure out what happened.  

    Then in January 2019, we’re getting a five-issue weekly (yes, that’s right, weekly) mini-series called Man Without Fear (not to be confused with Frank Miller’s Man Without Fear, which I mentioned earlier). This will be a retrospective, with each issue covering a different significant person/group of people in Matt’s life. 

    And as soon as that ends, in February 2019 the next volume of the main series will begin, with Daredevil (2019) #1! GET EXCITED!

Where Can I Get Comics?

    I already mentioned Marvel Unlimited, which is attached to the Marvel website, through which you can purchase digital issues in addition to subscribing to the archive. Another great source for digital comics is Comixology (though sadly, just like everything else on the planet, it’s owned by Amazon). And of course, you can buy physical copies. Don’t hesitate to visit your local comic book store, because they are great resources and can also be nice places to connect with other fans. To find stores in your area, check Comic Shop Locator, and to make sure they’re good ones, check Hater-Free Wednesdays. 

    New comics come out on Wednesdays. 

Other Daredevil Resources

manwithoutfear.com This is an invaluable resource for everything Daredevil-- information on each issue, up-to-date news, comic previews, creator interviews... everything. If you ever need to know what’s going on in the world of Daredevil, this is the place to go. 

The Other Murdock Papers This is everything our blog pretends to be. Christine Hanefalk, who runs The Other Murdock Papers, is a Daredevil expert who has written essay after essay over the years on everything you can imagine, from detailed storyline analyses to tracking Matt’s shifting hair styles. She is a particular expert on his hypersenses, and her work formed the basis of our own understanding of Matt’s powers. Do yourself a favor and browse through this website. You won’t regret it.  

Daredevil 101 @pluckyredhead is in the process of tirelessly summarizing every single Daredevil story arc. Go have a look!

    And of course, never hesitate to ask if you have any questions or want more recommendations or advice. I love getting people into Daredevil comics-- they changed my life, and I hope they’ll do the same for others!

[ettadunham]

A Buffy rewatch 6x01 Bargaining Part 1

aka friends who resurrect their other friend together, stay together

Welcome to this dailyish (weekly? bi-weekly?) text post series where I will rewatch an episode of Buffy and go on an impromptu rant about it for an hour. Is it about one hyperspecific thing or twenty observations? 10 or 3k words? You don’t know! I don’t know!!! In this house we don’t know things.

And today’s episode starts us off on what’s decidedly the most controversial season of the entire show. I’m so excited!!!

Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I ever watched Bargaining Part 1 on its own. The show has plenty of two-parters during its run (some named, some not), but Bargaining has the distinction of also being aired on the same night. As a result, many of its digital copies you can find will also have Part 1 and Part 2 together as one single episode.

So for me, talking about the first half of this season premiere only, feels even more stranger than usual, but that’s mostly because of that viewing history. This episode really isn’t worse at being the set up for its next chapter than a What’s My Line Part 1 for instance; in fact, it has its work cut out for it as far as set ups go given the time jump. As a result, even if the story is incomplete, there’s a lot to chew over still.

Let’s see some of the things we got here.

First, I want to address a costuming choice that I absolutely adore and that I tried to draw attention to in my chosen screencap as well. Willow and Xander are both wearing numbered shirts with sequential odd numbers on them. Meaning that there’s a missing number between them.

See, this is exactly the kind of on-the-nose visual storytelling that I love in this show. Buffy is layered with meaning and themes, and sometimes that just means adding tiny details for your audience to interpret with the text.

I’m not sure if the numbers themselves have that much meaning - but no one can stop me from assigning meaning to them if I want either, so... 11 and 13 are both prime numbers, and as such can only be divided by themselves and 1. Possibly a foreshadowing to one of the season’s theme: this year the Scoobies are their own worst enemies.

And if 12 is Buffy, then we can take that as a reference to the fact that she’ll be resurrected at midnight. Or, we can also dig even deeper into the number 12, because oh boy. While 11 and 13 are prime numbers, 12 is a superior highly composite one with no less then 6(!) divisors. That means that unlike its neighbors, 12 can be divided and expressed through a number of combinations of its prime factors.

(Also, apparently 12 is also a “sublime number”, which of course it is.)

In other words, you can take 12 apart and put it back together in multiple ways.

Which brings us back to the show from our weird segment of me trying to math interpret costuming decisions. What the gang does here will have lasting consequences on Buffy’s mental health, and she’ll internalize that by believing that she ‘came back wrong’ for quite a while.

So it brings up the question. Why do it?

We don’t really see how and when the gang decided to bring back Buffy of course. Which as far as a storytelling device goes, is the right choice, but I still kind of wish that we knew more. Resurrection was broached as a subject in Forever back in season 5, and Tara then was like “No, no and also, NOPE” while Willow seemed to have been already considering the logistics of it all.

In the present, Xander appears to be the most uncomfortable about the idea, backtracking as the actual reality of what they’re about to do starts to hit him. Anya seems hesitant too, but she doesn’t argue. Tara still maintains that it’s wrong, but she also says that it’s what they agreed on, and so she stands by it now.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Willow that pushes the idea the most, as the resident elected team leader. (Xander apparently made a plaque and everything? It’s kind of adorable.) Alyson Hannigan really adds on to the emotional impact of Willow’s speech, so me copying in that quote won’t have quite the same effect, but I wanted to have it here regardless:

XANDER:  We saw her body, Will. We buried it. WILLOW:  Her body, yeah. But her soul, her essence... I mean, that could be somewhere else. She could be trapped, in some sort of hell dimension like Angel was. Suffering eternal torment, just because she saved us, and I’m not gonna let... I’m not gonna leave her there. It’s Buffy.

Now, we, who have already seen the show, know of course that that’s not the case. That wherever Buffy ended up, she’s at peace. And one could ask the question, why the Scoobies wouldn’t consider that option and the consequences of their actions if that’d be true?

And the answer is rather simple - because they don’t want to. They miss Buffy and they refuse to move on with their lives without her. They need her, so it’s easier to believe for them that she must need them too.

Back in season 3 I applauded Willow for having self-awareness when it came to her own motivations and biases. But power does strange things to people, and Willow’s been getting worse and worse about justifying and lying to herself about her own intent.

At her core, Willow wants to do good. That’s why she stayed in Sunnydale even though she had the opportunity to go to college anywhere in the world. But she also wants to be special. To be loved. To matter.

Bringing back Buffy is about the Scoobies needing their friend, but for Willow, this is also an exercise of the limit of her powers. Her defying the laws of nature and accomplishing something that’s barely even possible. That’s why she also pushes for secrecy, and why she keeps hidden from the rest of the gang, what she did to get the last ingredient for their spell.

Deep down, she knows that it’s wrong, and she doesn’t want anyone else to challenge her own justifications.

(Also, the CGI snake is really rough on the HD version. Yikes. I really do need to do another rewatch after this with the standard DVD edition.)

On a happier note, season 6 aired on a different network with looser restrictions, and they were allowed to have Willow and Tara kiss every once in a while. The kiss that they share here is actually the SECOND ever we see between them on screen in the twoish seasons they dated so far, so that’s some TV history. It still won’t happen all that frequently, but it’s a step forward.

I also mentioned before that I adore Tara and Dawn’s relationship, and this episode showcases that. Tara made funny-shaped pancakes for her! (Well, she aimed for round ones, but Dawn didn’t mind.)

I love them.

Also, I just noticed that in the above screencap Dawn too has a numbered shirt, and 7 is another prime number? In fact it’s the prime number preceding 11. So I guess the main theme is that they’re all a team, wearing numbered shirts akin to a sport team garb, and yet are all alone? It’s probably not that deep but that never stopped me from overanalyzing.

I do question the flimsy plan of pretending that Buffy’s still alive through BuffyBot, but I guess they were counting on bringing Buffy back from the start. In the meantime, Dawn has two witch moms, a robot sister and a vampire babysitter to look out for her. That’s not so bad.

Plus Tara is wonderful, and was probably able to help Dawn with her grief through her own experience. No wonder that they’re so close now.

Dawn of course still misses her mom and her sister, and I’ve had a lot of feelings seeing her with BuffyBot. When BuffyBot hugged her and you can see all the emotions passing through in Dawn’s eyes... What is Michelle Trachtenberg up to these days?

Plus we’ve got the scene with Dawn cuddling up to the charging BuffyBot when she’s unable to sleep. Gets me every time.

There’s also Xander refusing to announce their engagement with Anya, which... I’ll probably talk about later, and Anya directing her frustrations and anxiety with everything towards Giles, and his inability to make up his mind about leaving.

Now, I used to be frustrated with Giles for leaving, both here and later on; but I think I get it better now. When I think about Giles, I see him as the adult in this group, so it feels like he’s leaving all the kids to fend for themselves. In reality though, the Scoobies are all adults at this point. One can even make the argument that Giles is no more adult than them.

Well, okay, let’s not go that far, they’re like 20-21 at most, but they’re making their own life decisions at this point. Meanwhile Giles is in the middle of a midlife crisis and doesn’t feel like he has a life, independent from these young adults, on his own.

But we’ll get back to this subject later on.

Overall, I like this episode. A lot. There’s plenty of excellent dialogue and interaction between the gang, and we’re setting up things nicely for the season.

I’m ready for Part 2!

[punkpoemprose]

Siege of Arendelle- Chapter Fourteen

Universe: Canon- Post Film Rating: M (Mature) Length: 3172 Words

Something like nine months later I’ve finally written the next chapter! I’m hoping to get back on a weekly or bi-weekly update schedule for this fic if I can help it, especially because there’s some stuff coming up in the next couple chapters that I’m really quite excited about. Thanks for sticking with me guys!

There’s a little flashback sexiness in paragraphs 3 & 4 if you want to skip them.

Previous Chapters

One day’s journey had brought them further than they had thought it would. The forest around them had been eerily quiet as they climbed up higher into the mountains. Like the environment, all had been silent between them as Sven pulled the wagon along dutifully. Gone was their usual playfulness, and Anna’s heart already ached to be back at the cabin. She had spent years without physical affection, without someone looking into her eyes and seeing something more than a Princess there, and now she could hardly stand a moment without his fingers intertwined with hers.

There was the comfort of her thoughts that once they stopped for the night, he would be sleeping at her side just as he had in their shared bed. There were to be few moments of comfort on their trip as they were both thoroughly shaken by even the mere concept of what they were attempting, and so Anna had to look forward to the small, simple moments of intimacy that she could count on at the end of the days before them. It paled in comparison to the nights she’d experienced with him previously.

Her birthday was the night she summoned to mind most often. It was the second and last time they’d been intimate, and he’d brought her to climax twice with his mouth before they’d even truly begun. He’d had her moaning out his name and all but begging for him to fill her. She remembered how he’d looked in the candlelight looking up at her with mussed hair, his mouth still working away on her lips in a way that made her legs quiver involuntarily with even the thought. He’d turned and smiled against the skin of her inner thigh, expression debauched as if he had felt her pleasure himself. His hair had been so mussed by her fingers that pieces stretched out in all directions.

He’d given in to her pleading. He could deny her nothing, even this insane trek into the Hinterlands. He’d brought her thus far, always doing what she asked of him. He would not abandon her or drag her back to the safety of their home despite his clear longing to do so. Her whims, logical or not, seemed of great importance to him. He’d tell her that she was crazy and speak logic to her, but he’d follow her to hell and back or make love to her from dusk to dawn all by her command.

Despite the chaos that was crashing onto their shores, she couldn’t help but be thankful for the way the situation had given him to her and her to him, fully and without reservations. He’d wanted to marry her. It was a truth that made her ache for the refuge of his home, their home where she could make love to him and unabashedly return all of the kindness he had shown her.

She promised silently as he helped her from the wagon that if they survived this, she’d be married to him by whatever means possible and as quick as could be. He’d shown her what true love was. She’d felt it in his touch, she’d seen it in the bruises he’d earned in his active refusal to leave her behind, she’d heard him speak it and she was determined to show him in return that she understood.

When his fingers slipped between her own she felt the air around them calm. It would be dark soon and it deepened the uncanny feel to the woods around them that continued to creep ever closer and more intense despite the pair of them still being on the beaten path. It became marginally less frightening when he helped her out of the wagon and smiled.

“I hope you know how to set up a tent,” he teased, “because I’ve decided I’m too tired to help.”

Anna shook her head in return, knowing that he was only teasing. It was a comfort to hear his voice after travelling so long in silence. She hoped that the unknown ahead of them didn’t encourage an increase in their taciturnity.

“If you’re too tired to help me set it up then you don’t get to sleep in it.”

He put his hands up, defeated, and pressed her knuckles to his lips.

“I’m suddenly feeling very energized.”

                                                         ***

Anna smoothed the hair from Kristoff’s forehead. He was asleep, and despite his assurances that they were safe and that she would need her rest she couldn’t seem to do the same. There was a voice in the back of her head that was wailing out with inexplicable dread. She was afraid, of what she wasn’t certain, but there was plenty to be concerned with. There was an invasion behind them that threatened their home, her kingdom, the land she held in her blood. Before them were the lands of her darkest childhood tales.

“Alves” he had said, and she’d immediately recalled all the tales her nursemaid had whispered against her parents wishes.

Alves stole away little children in the night and replaced them with their own, changelings, dark children who cared little for the wellbeing of others. Alves trapped men in spell circles and poked them with tiny knives, making them dance until they died. Alves were mischievous, violent, and cruel. They loathed humans, and they loved to trick them into causing their own suffering.

The stories she knew so well could be rationally explained as tales to keep children in line. Fantastical myths that were terrifying enough to heed were wise tools to employ when one wished to keep children in line and out of danger that was much earthlier than the ethereal creatures. The tales kept children from going deep into the wood where they could get lost or injured, it all made logical sense.

Logic, however, meant little when she had a sister who controlled ice and a lover who was raised by trolls. The rejections of the supernatural by her many childhood tutors were quickly replaced by Kristoff’s judgement. He knew the mountains far better than they did, far better than any man she’d ever met. His fear meant that she had every right to be scared.

His fitful sleep gave her no comfort. For the second night in a row he was tossing and turning, calming only slightly under her touch and calming words. He did not wake regardless of how much he fought against sleep and she found herself unable to shake the fear from him either. It only added to her dread.

His lips parted for a moment from their grim pressed line and she swore she heard him say something. Her ears strained to capture the sound, but she couldn’t understand it. It was then that she heard something else, a rustling outside the tent that made her hair stand on end.

At first she tried to tell herself that it was Sven, but there was no way that the massive reindeer was capable of making such a small sound. He was bedded down beneath a tree nearby anyhow, so it didn’t seem logical that he would be the source of a sound so close and in the opposite direction of where he lay.

A sort of nervous energy pooled in her gut and she couldn’t do what her brain was pleading with her to do.

Stay put Anna.

Just months before she might have done just that, but she couldn’t afford to be afraid of what went bump in the night anymore. She couldn’t afford to fear anything when her country was on the brink of collapse. Still she was quietly terrified.

She took a deep breath and shifted away from Kristoff, feeling the sense of unease grow deeper as she pulled away from his side. The sound was closer now, but only marginally louder, it would have been impossible to hear if it weren’t for the eerie silence of all else. Even the rhythmic sound of Kristoff’s breathing quieted to a barely audible level as her focus shifted to the noise outside the confines of their shelter. It sounded a bit like the rustling of leaves and grass, almost like footsteps, but too soft.

She was reminded of a dancer she had once seen as a child. A travelling troupe had come to the castle just for one night, for some celebration when she had been no older than five, a momentary relaxation of her father’s policy of closed gates and empty rooms. The woman had been rail thin, and when she danced, she did it all on her toes, creating the sort of soft, almost footfall-like sounds that had made her recall the dance in the moment. Anna had tried to emulate the technique for weeks to the distain of her dance instructor at the time. Princesses did not dance ballet, they danced ballroom.

She wondered what creature in the wood was not given the same prohibition.

Close to the mouth of the tent was where Anna had chosen to store her bow, and with her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she reached out for the well-worn wood of its grip. She knew that she would feel better as soon as it was in her hands, and that once she ducked out of the tent and nocked her arrow she would feel something akin to security.

She held tight to the bow and pulled an arrow from her quiver before reaching for the ties securing the tent’s flap. It was difficult to untie and release them singlehanded, but she could not bring herself to set down her bow even for a moment.

It was more comforting than it was logical. Any threat would have to be at a relatively far off distance for it to be useful, and while Kristoff had given her a knife, it was in her pack in the wagon. She wasn’t nearly so secure in her use of a blade as she was with a bow, something she owed to her many late night and early morning practice sessions with the latter over the former. Whenever she held her bow aloft, ready to fire, it felt as if she still had Kristoff’s hands guiding hers, that it was both of their strength keeping them safe. With a blade, albeit far more useful to defend herself up close, it was only polished metal in her own trembling palm.

When she edged out of the tent, the light of the moon caused her eyes to have a split moment of readjustment. The cold air hit her face, and she saw nothing before her but the same open space edged by woods that she and Kristoff had agreed would make a fine location to camp for the night.

Still though she nocked her arrow, pulled back and held her weapon aloft as she stepped, more-or-less gracefully out of the tent and into the surrounding space. Her bare feet met frost glazing the foliage and detritus below. The cold stung her warm toes and a chill shot up her spine. They hadn’t expected the temperature to drop so quickly, and she had been holding out hope that they would be able to get to their fated autumnal equinox meeting with beings unknown before the first frost. She should have known better than to rely on her luck.

“Anna?”

She jumped, but relaxed and lowered her bow. The soft surprised exhalation she made was visible in the chill night air as she turned to face Kristoff.

He was staring at her with concern from the entrance of the tent. There was no bleariness of sleep in his expression as she had become used to when he was awoken. He was on high alert as well and she, despite the emptiness of the space around them, was not yet fully comforted.

“Is everything alright?”

Anna flushed and took a step back towards the tent. She knew that for all intents and purposes had been spooked by nothing. While she was certain he wouldn’t shame her for her concern and vigilance, she didn’t want to tell him just how afraid she had been in the moment she opened the tent’s flap. The sense of dread that had been overwhelming moments before was fleeting quickly, as was her body heat, her shift doing little to keep the cold air from sapping warmth from her flesh.

“Yes. Everything’s fine. Sorry I woke you,” she said as she returned to the tent and to its relative heat.

Kristoff gave a questioning glance between the bow in her hand and the look upon her face but was kind enough not to ask her why she had felt the need to stand nearly naked in the cold with her bow drawn. He was wise enough to know that it was something she did not want to discuss, and so instead he reached out to her, uncurling her fingers from the weapon and intertwining them with his own instead.

Quickly the bow was rested back where she’d first placed it and the lacing keeping the tent’s flap closed was retied. The air within the tent quickly rewarmed to its original comfortable temperature.

Anna let Kristoff guide her back onto the large fur that made up their shared sleeping roll. It was an insulation from the ground that Anna knew was going to be even more useful than it already was in the nights to come. It would only grow colder from here, but as Kristoff wrapped her in both blankets and his arms she knew that she would not suffer the cold for very long despite the early frost.

“It’s going to be okay.”

Anna was once again uncertain if the affirmation was meant to calm her or him, but she nodded regardless and nestled her face into his neck. The sensation of unease buzzed in the fringes of her consciousness, and in Kristoff’s embrace she found enough peace from the feeling to fall asleep.

                                                          ***

Kristoff sighed in relief when he heard Anna’s breath even out and felt the tension leave her body. She was asleep, and he had the feeling that it wouldn’t be particularly light. She was exhausted, as was he, and for good reason.

Yet, he knew that he would find no such rest, a sense of anxiety had him imbued with a sort of frantic energy that didn’t lend itself well to falling asleep. He knew that he had awoken from a nightmare to find Anna outside their tent, but for all the feeling of nervousness and fear he felt, he couldn’t remember for the life of him what he’d seen in the dark dream.

He smoothed his hand over Anna’s hair and pressed a kiss to her temple before beginning the slow and careful process of extricating his body from hers without causing her to wake. It was simple enough due to how deep the Princess slept and in a few moments of shifting, tugging on boots, untying and retying, Kristoff found himself half naked in the cold air of the clearing outside of their tent.

The frosted grass crunched softly under his booted feet. He found that this didn’t disturb Sven in the slightest, the sleeping reindeer’s ability to remain unconscious was only rivaled by Anna’s. He padded a few feet further than where he’d watched Anna walk and surveyed his surroundings.

The pale moonlight lit the space well enough for him to make note of some of the smaller details of the space. Though the shadows were deep, he could make out the first rows of scrub brush around them, the silhouettes of the rows of trees beyond them and the tallest blades of grass that grew sparsely on the forested terrain. The dark sky was unclouded and full of stars in a manner that may have been peaceful if the light it cast on the earth below didn’t make everything appear quite so uncanny and foreboding.

Undeterred he continued through the blue-white landscape before him.

The frost had been disturbed just ahead of where he stood. When he moved closer, he saw that the tracks were much like those Anna had made, but that they stretched from one side of the clearing to the other, perpendicular to the line he and Anna had walked with the steps never meeting or turning as theirs had.

He followed the prints to the edge of the wood, but despite their clear human shape, he saw no one. It did little for his unease.

He peered into the dark wood before him and had the sensation that something was staring back at him, although he could not meet its gaze. While he’d never been the sort of man to consider himself wise, he knew enough from his raising and a sense of self preservation to not seek out whatever was looking at him. He and Anna were vulnerable in their tent and that they were both still breathing was enough for him to know that whatever it was in the dark, it had no interest in killing them. At least not yet.

A cool breeze struck him as he turned away from the wood and back towards the tent. Out of the corner of his eye he thought that he saw a flash of white-blonde hair, but he did not turn to see if he could spot its owner. He might have thought for a moment that Elsa had come for them, to check in on her sister, to somehow dissuade them from their fool errand deeper into the hinterlands, but the foreboding that was all but tangible in the air was enough to make the thought laughable. He did not turn. Sometimes it was better to not see, to not know.

Sometimes it’s ignorance that keeps you alive.

When he returned to the tent, he tied the fastenings tight, as if the closely tied lacings could keep out anything beyond the cool night air. He was soothed somewhat by the sound of Anna’s easy inhalations and exhalations and by the knowledge that Sven, at least, was safe from whatever was prowling in the wood.

He knew without a doubt that they were being watched because they did not belong. The reindeer would not be considered an affront to the natural order of the wood, but he and Anna, despite their time living in the mountains, all but reeked of foreignness to whatever was viewing them from out of his line of sight. He could not explain how he knew this, and yet he did.

He removed his boots and shifted himself onto his side. Anna was warm and soft and safe. He kissed her temple again, grateful that her sleep was deep and that she wasn’t disturbed by his exit and subsequent reentrance or by the cool touch of night that lingered on his skin.

“It’s going to be okay,” he repeated, and it tasted sharp and acrid on his tongue.

He’d promised to never lie to her.

[khadij-al-kubra]

A Round of One-Shot-Shot-Shot-Shot-Shot-Shots

(Part of the Bar & Grill AU)

Pairing: Roman/Patton

Characters: Roman, Patton, Logan, Virgil, Thomas, Joan, Talyn, Terrence, Valerie, Calypso, (and a bunch of O.C’s.)

Summary: A collection of scenes from the view of Sanders’ Bar & Grill regulars and employees. a.k.a. Place your bets on your favorite clueless love struck bartenders. a.k.a. JUST KISS ALREADY!

Author’s Note:

Hey friends! I promise that a new chapter is on its way, but for now, here’s a little one shot intermission for you. If you’d like to be in the tag list for future chapters in the Bar & Grill AU or other works by me, let me know. And as always feel free to leave a comment in the messages or reply if you have any notes or constructive critiques. I’m always open to writing advice. Enjoy!

<--PREVIOUS

(POV- Sean & Nellie)

“Here are your drinks you two,” said Roman, handing the two regular customers their usual orders.

“Thanks man,” said Nellie, taking a sip from their whisky on the rocks.

“Thanks Roman,” said Sean, taking his mojito. “My throat is seriously so dry from the slam tonight.”

Every Thursday night the vegan café around the block held a bi-weekly open mic/poetry slam. And every Thursday night the two spoken word poets went out for drinks afterwards at Sanders’ Bar & Grill. It was a chill and affordable place that suited their poor as penny behinds perfectly. Plus, they loooved watching the slow burn drama between the two bartenders.

“You two spit some good poems tonight?” Roman asked. “I’m sure you both blew the audience away.”

“Let me put it this way,” Sean paused to take a sip of his drink then smacked his lips. “There were bars for days.”

“Oh my god,” Nellie groaned at their teammate, dreadlocks jangling as they shook their head.

“Good one kiddo!” Patton said passing them by from behind the bar.

“Well, let me know if you young wordsmiths need anything else.” Roman winked and left them to get back to work.

“Oh you know I will,” Sean said in a low voice.

Nellie lightly smacked his shoulder. “Down boy, I know you’re a thirsty bitch but settle for your drink.”

“Bitch, you have no right to talk!” Sean gave a grin that reached his too sharp cheekbones.

It was no secret that the Pilipino boy found the bartender attractive as all hell. Not that Nellie could blame him; the man was all kinds of fine! Yet neither of them made a move because of his obvious feelings for Patton and vice versa.

“So what’s the bet tonight Sean?” Nellie took a drink and chewed on an ice cube. Sean hated that.

“I’ll bet yoouuu,” Sean twirled the ends of the two thin braids at the base of his shaven head, “It’ll be 25 minutes before Patton starts giggling at something that comes out of Romans mouth.”

“Please, this is Patton we’re talking about. It’ll take 15 minutes max.”

“Loser pays for tonight’s drinks?”

“You know it.”

About three more rounds of drinks, some notes exchanged on each other’s newer poems and 20 minutes into the night, they heard a small laugh coming from Patton. They saw the adorably goofy grin he gave to Roman, who was also blushing. They were too drunk to catch what he had said, but his hands were in that fancy dramatic pose he likes to do.

“Ha!” said Sean, his voice slightly high pitched from being tipsy. “I win!”

“Like hell you did!” Nellie said loudly. “That was a chuckle, not a giggle.”

“Bitch, where? That wasn’t a damn chuckle. Chuckles are all like, hmmmhhmm. A giggle is like, giheeheehee. Patton giggled. I win.”

“A’ight, a’ight. Damn you’re a lousy winner.”

Roman must’ve noticed the poets getting a bit wily and came over.

“Uhh everything gucci over here?” he asked.

“Yep,” said Sean, popping the p.

“Need anything else?”

“Nah, just the check. Nellie here is paying tonight.”

Nellie handed over their card to Roman, shooting playful daggers towards Sean’s cheeky face. However, Sean was at least good enough to take care of the tip for them both, dropping the last $2 cash he had on him. They were still broke poets after all.

“Thanks! Be right back with your card.” Said Roman. “You know, it’s really quite nice how the two of you always seem to take turns paying for drinks.”

The two gave each other a knowing look. “Riiight.”

* * *

(POV- Valerie, Jasmine, and Calypso)

It was a tradition for the three friends to go for happy hour drinks after work every Friday. They’d been doing it since they were young post college graduates suffering through the same two-year internship, always opting to go to the same local bar and grill. For them, drinks at Sanders’ was a tradition that kept them together and maintained the little bit of a social life they could squeeze into their busy schedules. Each women looked forward to seeing their friends, venting about their co-workers, and having a good laugh over drinks. Most importantly, they loved watching the slow burn romance between the cute bartenders that worked there.

“Here you go ladies!”

Patton beamed, handing the three friends their second round of drinks; a martini for Valerie, a scotch on the rocks for Calypso, and a merlot for Jasmine.

“Thank you my dear,” said Valerie.

“Thanks Patton,” said Jasmine.

“You’re the best Pat,” said Calypso.

“Aww you too kiddo! Now if you need anything else I’ll be over beer.”

For the sake of their favorite bartender Valerie and Jasmine fake laughed. Calypso was the only one that actually found his puns funny. As Patton got back to work, the three of them went back to slyly spying on him and the other more handsome bartender as they interacted behind the counter.

“Ugh, they are seriously too adorable,” said Jasmine.

“I know this is gonna sound really high school of me,” said Calypso, “but those two are seriously my OTP.”

“That was a super high school-y statement, but honestly, same,” said Valerie, sipping her drink.

She sighed fondly as she watched Roman’s turned back, his muscles flexing beneath the black work shirt. Patton was adorably cute with his sun-shiny smile, smattering of freckles and dad-bod. However, Roman was straight up (the only thing straight about him) gorgeous!

“Oh Roman, if I’d been born male and homosexual…”

“Don’t you dare Val, not even in a fantasy,” said Calypso, lightly poking her arm.

“Obviously I would never!”

“Just saying.”

“Hey, I’m way too invested in this thing to get between it, even in a fantasy.”

“Good, because those two clearly belong together. I mean have you ever seen two people with more chemis—

“Shush, shush, girls! Look,” said Jasmine, frantically waving to her friends.

“What? What are we looking at?” asked Calypso.

“Look-but don’t look-to the left.”

Valerie and Caplypso discreetly glanced at where their friend was nodding towards and had to stifle the squeals in their throats. Both Roman and Patton had been reaching for the same bottle of whisky and their hands had touched. Neither bartender was pulling away. It was like something straight out of a rom-com that could rival even Patton’s level of cheesiness. All three girls leaned closer at the bar quite literally on the edge of their seats as they saw the two look at their hands, then at each other, saw their faces slowly draw closer to each other and…pull away again.

All three let out a collective groan.

“Uuggh, so close!” said Calypso, taking a big gulp from her glass.

“Seriously,” said Valery, nursing her glass, “this is worse than The Office.”

“Just wish they’d kiss already…” Jasmine mumbled.

They watched Patton hand the bottle to Roman and then promptly go to his end of the bar with a wet rag over his shoulder. The girls quickly proceeded to act casually as he came their way.

“Still good here ladies?” he asked.

“We’re okay Patton, thank you,” said Valerie.

“Alrighty! You know, it is always so nice to see you three. It makes my hour all the more happy.”

He smiled at all three of them then went back to work. Patton really was such a sweetheart. He deserved someone strong and charming like Roman to sweep him off his feet. Why do boys have to be so clueless?

“Well ladies, looks like we’ll have to come back again next Friday,” said Jasmine. “Those two are bound to get together eventually, and we’ll be here when they do.”

Valerie and Calypso agreed, then the three ladies clinked their drinks.

* * *

(POV- Terrence, Imani, and Dakota)

“I’m telling you, Roman blushed first!” Terrence said to Dakota over his place of Buffalo wings, taking a drink from his rum and coke.

“And I’m telling you Patton blushed first!” said Dakota, spilling a bit of his whisky as he gestured vehemently.

His service dog Braveheart barked in agreement. Dakota reached down and fed the black Chihuahua an artichoke dipped chip.

“Guys, you’re both wrong,” said Imani, twirling the last cherry in her Shirley Temple. “Neither one of them has actually blushed at something the other said or did yet.”

The three regulars were an odd group to see, being so vastly different from one another. Terrence was a short black police officer; Dakota was a pepper-haired biker/pianist; and Imani was a hijabi optometrist. They never saw or spoke to each other outside of Sanders’; heck they never even sat at the same table. Still they’d all been coming to the bar & grill long enough to know each other by name. As well as make regular bets with each other on the two bartenders whom the three agreed clearly had a thing for each other. Seriously, it was so obvious Stevie Wonder with a frigging blindfold could see it!

“But you saw how red Roman’s face was when he came in for his shift. He saw Patton at the bar and it clearly made him blush. So I win,” said Terrence. “That’ll be five bucks please.”

“That wasn’t a blush, his face was just red from running over here from rehearsals,” said Imani. “He started that play or something, remember?” 

“How could we forget? He practically stood on top of the bar and shouted it to everyone in here,” said Dakota. “Talk about dramatic.

“Well this is Roman we’re talking about,” Terrence smirked.

“True. Ahh if I were 30 years younger,” sighed Dakota.

“Hell, if I weren’t straight I’d hit that,” said Terrence.

“Ugh. You guys are making me happy that I can’t date,” said Imani.

“Aren’t you ace anyways?” asked Terrence.

“I never said the rules didn’t work in my favor.” She downed the last of her non-alcoholic drink and fixed a loose pin in her head scarf.

“Okay well what about Patton? I know I saw a reddish tint on his freckle covered cheeks,” said Dakota.

“That was clearly from the ambulance that passed by outside,” she said.

“Ha! Told ya. So we’re still at an impasse,” said Terrence, crossing his arms over his uniform. The biker responded with a grumble.

“Buuut I’m still holding out my bet against both of you that Roman is going to kiss Patton’s had sometime tonight,” said Imani. “He’s been extra princely to him since Patton’s boyfriend called and cancelled their date tonight.”

The three groaned almost simultaneously, and even Braveheart growled. They had eavesdropped seen Patton talking on the phone earlier that night. Right afterwards the poor guy’s shoulders slumped and he was munching on one of the ‘cheer-up’ cookies he often gave to customers if they were sad. Only one person could do that to their friendly fatherly figure. The one thing they all could agree on was that Patton’s tattooed boyfriend who came in occasionally was a raging douchbag.

“Man I hate that guy!” said Terrence.

“Same,” said Imani.

“Patton deserves so much better,” said Dakota. “He deserved Roman, and Roman deserves him!”

“Speak of the wannabe Disney prince…”

Imani pointed to Roman coming around from the bar. He walked briskly towards Patton, who was struggling with what seemed to be a complicated and large order of drinks from a loud group of young hipsters. None of them recognized the new faces and Patton was so off his game it was visible from across the room. Terrence, Dakota and Imani leaned in to get a better look.

“Greetings young travelers!” Roman said, coming to Patton’s aid. “I’ll be happy to take the rest of your drink orders. My partner here is needed at the bar.”

Patton smiled, following the others lead. “Don’t worry, my friend here will take good care of you. I’ll be right out with this half of all your orders. You just hang tight kiddos.”

The two tag-teamed mixing and bringing over the drinks to the rambunctious group. Soon they were all satisfied, and the three regulars could only gape in amazement. They really were a power couple team.

“Thanks for the help Ro,” said Patton, whipping his brow with the sleeve of his black cardigan around his neck. “That was a tall order. Heck, I almost lost my glasses ‘cause they were stacked against me!”

Terrence rolled his eyes, but Roman merely chuckled. “All in a nights work Patton. Besides you did look a bit overwhelmed.”

“Lucky I can always count on my partner Mr. Prince to come to my rescue.”

At this Roman very clearly blushed. “Naturally, I am in-Clined to assist.”

Roman grinned at the laugh he managed to coax from the other’s lips. Then he took Patton’s hand in his and lightly placed a kiss on the back of it. Then the two went back to work, although Patton was much more smiley and red-faced than before.

“Ha! Roman blushed first! Pay up,” said Terrence. Dakota grumbled as he slapped a $5 bill into the cop’s outreached hand.

“Ah-ah. Don’t forget about my little wager,” said Imani. “Pay up boys!”

Both men groaned audibly as they handed her $5 each. She pocketed the cash into her purse.

“I thought you Muslims weren’t supposed to gamble,” said the biker, scratching his dogs ears.

“Betting on the inevitable isn’t a gamble. It’s an investment. Now, $20 says Patton will confess to Roman first.”

The two men said, “You’re on.”

* * *

(POV- Joan & Talyn)

The dinner rush at Sanders’ was keeping Joan and Talyn plenty busy. All night they’ve been taking orders, clearing plates, bringing checks, and dealing with the rare bitchy customer. Talyn was clutching their lapis lazuli necklace, hoping that the stone really would help to keep their headache from turning full-blown migraine (they’d also taken two Alieve earlier to be safe). Meanwhile Joan was simply fighting the urge not to snap back salty yet well deserved insults at the pickier customers. Logan was out of his office tonight and while the boss was a nice guy, he didn’t take kindly to customers being insulted (even if they deserve it; undercooked my ass, you entitled pricks).

Even as the two waiters crisscrossed each other while working, they found a way to make the rush more bearable: The puppy love longing count! They both had made the game a while back after they realized how totally gaga their co-workers Roman and Patton were for each other. Aaaand they both may or may not have gotten the idea for the game after re-watching Lord of the Rings together for the fifth time.

“14,” said a passing Talyn balancing a tray on their arm.

“17,” said Joan in passing, carrying a checkbook to one of his tables.

Four minutes later…

“21,” said Talyn grinning.

“18,” said Joan, pouting.

Ten minutes later…

“24,” said Talyn.

“26,” said Joan.

“No way! You had to have fudged some of those numbers.”

“I counted every one, no fudge pudge face.” Joan booped Talyn’s nose.

Their significant other’s jaw dropped and Talyn glowered at them. Joan couldn’t help but grin like a Cheshire cat. Even when they were mad Talyn was still undeniably adorable.

“Oh fine!” Tayln said. “But I’m definitely going to win again.”

“Not a chance. By the end of tonight, Patton will have sighed longingly at Roman more times than Roman does with Patton.”

“Tonight’s loser is on dish duty. Team Pun Papa will win!”

“You’re on babe. Team Drama King all the way!”

Although both waiters shipped their friends hard, each of them had their favorite. It kept things entertaining and fun at least. They were so busy talking that they didn’t realize Logan had come over. That is, until he cleared his throat. He pushed up his glasses and adjusted his tie, going into full-blown Mr. Shapiro boss mode. Not fun.

“Joan. Talyn. While I do not mind idle chatter when there is a lull I will remind you to stay attentive with your duties. This is still a business after all,” he said.

The two gulped audibly. “Yes boss.”

Just then they both saw Logan suddenly stand up straighter, his face tense, almost fearful. Talyn was about to ask what was the matter when suddenly they heard a faint siren in the distance; a telltale sign that an ambulance or police car or something of the sort was about to drive by Sanders’. The two waiters looked at each other then at their boss worriedly. Logan did not do well with sudden loud noises and sirens could send him straight into a sensory overload. His hands were already twitching at his side, prepared to plug his own ears.

Joan was about to offer Logan the ear buds in their apron pocket, but someone beat them to the punch. Patton reached Logan and covered the bar & grill owner’s ears with his own hands right as an ambulance blared by loudly. He even gently turned Logan’s head away from the windows so that the flashing blue and red lights wouldn’t hurt his eyes. Once the sirens could no longer be heard, Patton carefully removed his hands from his head. Logan’s shoulders immediately relaxed and he let out a shuddered breath.

“Thank you Patton. I truly appreciate your assistance,” he said, his voice gentle.

“No problem kiddo-I mean Logan,” Patton smiled sheepishly. “I know how badly sirens get to you.”

“Yes, well, think I’ll just go sit in the quiet of my office for a bit.” He placed a hand on Patton’s shoulder for a moment then left. “Joan, Talyn, as you were.”

The waiters let out a sigh of relief. Over Patton’s shoulder they saw Roman also sighing, except his was clearly directed at Patton. Roman was leaning his elbow on the bar top, head in his hand and metaphorical hearts in his eyes. However the second Patton looked back at him Roman was standing straight, looking off to the side and whistling. Joan rolled their eyes at the dramatic co-worker.

“Well kiddos, back to work!” said Patton, re-joining Roman behind the bar.

Joan felt Talyn grab their hand and give it a quick squeeze. When they looked down at them their tongue was sticking out playfully.

“25 bitch!” said Talyn.

Joan grinned. “Oh this isn’t over yet!” Not by a long shot.

* * *

(POV- Virgil, Alex, & Thomas)

“So I was thinking of doing something like this,” said Alex, showing Virgil the latest sketch in their notebook. “What do you think Virge? Is there too much going on? Not enough? Give it to me straight.”

“That’s gonna be hard since neither of us is,” said Virgil, looking over the drawing with the critical eye of a fellow artist.

Virgil had come into Sanders’ again on one of his parkour/mozzarella runs and Alex had just happened to be at the bar in their usual spot. Neither Virgil nor Alex was much for excessive socializing, unlike Virgil’s stepbrother Patton, but somehow the two immediately clicked. Probably because they were both artist and anxiety-ridden introverts, so there was an unspoken lack of pressure. At least that’s how Alex felt. Virgil was the only person Alex felt comfortable showing their sketches to, and he had even shown Alex some of his own pre-mural sketches. While Alex’s style was more on the Escher side, Virgil’s was like the lovechild of Picasso and Tim Burton. So they bounced off ideas pretty well.

“Okay, so, this part looks a big too crowded so it’s hard to see all the little details,” said Virgil, pointing to the picture, “and this part feels a bit empty in comparison. But aside from that, I think it’s one of your best ones.”

Virgil gave them one of his rare smiles and handed Alex back their sketchbook. Alex thanked him for the advice, but then they both flinch-turned at the thunder-like sound of knocking on the aluminum kitchen windowsill.

“Order up Virgil!” said Thomas, cheerful as ever. “Here you go bud.”

Virgil took the to-go bag of mozzarella sticks. “Thanks Thomas.”

“How’s you’re mural going?” Thomas asked.

“Pretty good actually. Alex gave me some good tips for the light and shadowing snag I’d hit, so hopefully I’ll be finished with it soon.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” said Alex.

“You’re one of the very few exclusive people invited dude,” said Virgil. “Hope I’ll get to see yours when it’s done too. Only if your comfortable with it though!”

Alex smiled. “Definitely, if I ever finish it. Though I’ll be honest, it’s more likely the Rapture will happens sooner than that.”

“Or Patton and Roman admitting their feelings for each other,” said Thomas. Both Virgil and Alex busted out laughing.

“Oh man, yes! Geez those two dorks, I swear. At the rate they’ve been going lately though, I give it two months.”

“You underestimate my brother dude. I give it the end of the month tops. Hopefully he’ll wise up and dump that douche Dio by then. Unless Roman confesses first. Then I give it a week.”

“Wanna bet? Loser has to buy the winner new art supplies.” Alex said.

“You’re on. Hey Thomas, you want to get in on this?” Virgil asked.

“Oh heck yeah! $20 bucks says Roman either confesses or kisses the other in eehhh two weeks. He looks like he’s about to crack any day now.”

“Deal,” said the two artists.

“Hey fellas!” Thomas shouted back into the kitchen. “We’re placing new bets on the Roman and Patton romance. Anyone want to join in?”

“Oh hell yeah,” shouted Enrique, followed by the other cooks.

* * *

(POV- Joan and Logan)

Joan had been about to tell Logan that they were going on break when they both heard the shattering of glass from by the bar. They caught the flash of worry in Logan’s eyes as he rushed over to find the source of the noise, Joan following behind. What they saw was a broken bottle of Jack Daniels spilled on the floor, glass shards everywhere. Standing over the mess was Patton and Roman. The latter was pressing a rag into Patton’s right hand and, ah geez, was that blood!?

“Everybody stay in your seats please,” Logan said to the surrounding customers. Luckily there weren’t many in the bar tonight and they’d all been smart enough to not get up.

“I’ll go get the mop and broom,” said Joan, heading to the supply closet, careful of the glass shards.

“Patton what happened?” asked Logan, his voice stern yet still held tones of concern.

“I-I was getting a new bottle of Jack Daniels since we were running low. Did you know those things are heavier than they look?”

Logan could tell from his shoulders that poor Patton was trembling. Alternatively, Roman’s face was scrunched up in what appeared to be worry. Or possibly constipation, but that seemed less likely.

“I would’ve gotten it myself but I was busy with drink orders and Patton insisted,” said Roman.

“And I had just finished washing some glasses,” Patton said. “So I guess my hands were still a little wet and, well, it slipped…”

“Logan please don’t blame Patton. I’m the one at fault here,” said Roman, straightening his back and wrapping a protective arm around Patton.

“No Roman, you are not at fault here. This was Patton’s doing, however unintentional it was.”

“I’m sorry Logan,” said Patton.

Joan returned with a mop in one hand and the broom/dustpan in the other. They looked up at Logan waiting for the owner’s response to the damage.

“Well, this is certainly a gross inconvenience on my part and an unprofessional slip up on yours—“

“Dad joke?” asked Patton timidly.

“Uh, not a good time Pat,” Roman said gently.

“But, given that this is the first such incident that you’ve had...I shall let it slide this time. However, the cost of the alcohol is going to be coming out of your next few paychecks.”

Joan winced. That was definitely going to take a dent out of his Vet school funs.

Patton sighed, “That’s fair. Ow.”

Patton winced at his hurt hand. Heck, you could see the tears threatening to spill from behind his glasses. Seeing this, Logan softened back up a bit, like how he did when Talyn wasn’t feeling well. He stepped over the glass to place a gentle hand on Patton’s shoulder, giving him a small genuine smile.

“Now go take care of that cut on your hand. Attending to your injury is far more important than fixing an accident. You can use the first aid kit that I keep in my office. Joan and I shall clean up out here.”

Patton smiled up at him. “Thanks Logan. I appreciate that.”

“Please Patton, allow me to assist in taking care of your wound,” said Roman.

Before Patton could say otherwise, Roman was literally sweeping him off his feet. Patton’s face went completely red as the overdramatic actor carried him bridal style towards the back of Sanders’ where Logan’s office was, closing the door behind them. Joan, Talyn, Thomas and all of the regulars either snickered or looked worriedly at Logan. Some even seemed to be exchanging money. They waited for a reaction from the robotic boss, but none of them expected to see him shaking his head at the scene with a smile on his face.

“I do wish those two would just copulate already,” he said.

Everyone’s jaws dropped. Joan looked at their boss, not even bothering to hide the grin that split across their face.

Logan adjusted his glasses. “What? I’m on the spectrum, not blind.”

He took the broom and dustpan from Joan’s hand and began sweeping up the broken glass. Once it was cleaned up, Joan got to work mopping the spill.

Yep, Joan thought. The only blind ones around here are those two.

NEXT-->

Tag List: @altruistic-skittles @thekeytohappiness-is-you @canadian-crofters  @icecoldparadise @bluebloodstains @purpleshipper @patchworkofstars @axyzel @hissesssss @beautifully-terribly @pink-and-purple-flowers @jynxlovesluck @thatsanswitch @6tick6tock6 @hanramz-the-fander @azlinne @helplesscreator @thestoryofme13 @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @accidental-sanders @moonstonefox12 @hissesssss @smokeyrutilequartz @phlying-squirrel

[your-friendly-neighborhood-sc00t]

Mighty Magiswords, A Show Horribly Mistreated by Cartoon Network

So recently, it's come to my attention that Cartoon Network is cancelling Mighty Magiswords after only two seasons.

And you may ask, well, why?

Well, to be blunt, if your show isn't Teen Titans Go, then CN doesn't give a shit about it.

And I suppose we really should've seen this coming, considering CN has been blatantly mistreating this show for quite some time, let's look into that, shall we?

1: Long, unnecessary hiatuses, and Piss-Poor Scheduling

So in the above images I have some air dates listed, more specifically, the various hiatuses this show has suffered over it's 2-season run.

So the first hiatus starts with Grup Jam, we're not even halfway through the first season and we already have a hiatus, this'll be fun...

After this episode aired, we don't another new one for over 4 months, and if your show is already getting hiatuses during it's initial season, that's a huge problem.

The second hiatus is the absolute worst, we consistently get new episodes for 3 weeks, and then we get literally nothing for about 8 and a half months, this is pretty much twice the amount of time we waited last time, and despite premiering in 2016, for some fucking reason, CN decided to drag this shit out allllll the way into 2018.

The last hiatus, (which still hasn't ended, lmfao...) Takes place a fucking month, after the show just got back from this shit.

And also, no fucking reruns have been aired at all during this (so far, 3-month) hiatus.

Then CN decides to just dump all the remaining episodes on the app and website, almost like they're fully aware of how fucked up this whole situation is, but don't actually care enough to fix it.

Instead, they just wanna shut us up and pat themselves on the back, and be like:

"Yeah, we'll uh, get around to airing those... At some point...?"

And it's so easy for them to just dump it on the app and site because they think that'll satisfy us, and so they can say "HEY WE GAVE Y'ALL THE REST OF SEASON 2 NOW FUCK OFF". And hey, gotta make sure Teen Titans Go always makes up the majority of the schedule, right? Can't be having any other show have any sort of screentime at all, right? Nooo, that'd just be inhumane not to let fans get their daily fucking dosage of Toddler Titans Go.

The last one isn't much of a hiatus, but I just thought I'd point out how that small group of episodes aired in an extremely awkward fashion, kind of like on a bi-weekly basis, which was also bad.

And from what I heard, reruns that did air were around the 6am timeslot, and who the fuck is awake at that time, let's he honest.

2: Non-existent Advertising

The show was never fucking advertised, plain and simple, literally no publicity for this show, at any point in time.

Y'know how you see a commercial for an upcoming show, or new episodes for that show, and that's what initially grabs your attention and gets you to watch the show?

Yeah, that didn't happen for me, and probably not for you either.

I'm literally just flipping through On Demand's CN section, and I randomly stumbled upon Mighty Magiswords, literally never even hearing about it until that moment. And that's how I was introduced to the show.

Also, I'm not even sure if this show has had any proper marathons, at all? Please correct me if I'm wrong.

I'm not asking for the show to take up 99% of the fucking schedule, all week, but a few short marathons would've been much appreciated, and would have given the show some much needed publicity.

3: Lackluster Merchandise

CN didn't even bother making much merch at all, literally all I could find was 3 books, a few generic t-shirts (and I literally mean 3 or 4) on the CN store, and I think I heard that the Pumpkin Magisword was made into a toy? Not entirely sure.

And please, correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe that they have yet to release any of the episodes/first season on DVD, which is fucking obsurd.

Considering TTG already has all 4 of it's fully aired seasons on DVD already.

So there's just a lack of any merchandise at all, which is incredibly disheartening, because some of us fans would actually like some plushies, or comics, or proper DVDs to show our support for the show, but nope.

CN's too busy excessively pumping out TTG toys, books, water bottles, watches, shirts, hoodies, phone cases, Funko pops, DVDs, buttons, etc.

Truly sickening.

4: Cancellation

Unfortunately, this show died as soon as it started.

It was doomed to fail, due to airing on a network that only gives a shit about excessively jerking off their single cash cow.

Had it been picked up by Disney or Nickelodeon, it likely would've had a much better shot.

Fingers crossed that Neflix picks it up and continues the show, but the chances of that happening are about as likely as pigs gaining the ability to fly, unfortunately.

CN is legitimately hurting me at this point, I used to absolutely adore this network, but it's just fallen off so fucking much in recent years.

So, I'd like to give a personal fuck you to Cartoon Network, for completely neglecting one of their legitimately good, original shows, and just blatantly disrespecting the living hell out of Kyle Carrozza, and everyone who ever even worked on the show.

This has me incredibly concerned for any future shows to air on this network, as long as TTG is around.

Infinity Train is one show coming up that I'm absolutely hype for in 2019, but I am viciously afraid of how CN is going to handle this show, they'll probably just slap it into the 6am - 7am timeslot when most people are sleeping and never even advertise the show.

I'm so horribly disappointed in Cartoon Network, it's truly a dumpster fire, and doesn't care about any of it's other shows.

That being-said, I'd just like to quickly say how much I adored this show,

I loved everything about it, the characters, the voices, the setting, the Magiswords, the pacing (yes, I didn't mind the quickness), it never failed to give me a few good laughs per episode. And, to see something I loved so dearly, be ripped away from me, due to coporate greed and negligence, is absolutely devastating and disgusting.

It was a fun ride while it lasted, but it just ended too soon... :(

R.I.P

Mighty Magiswords

2015 - 2018

[chubbychasershortstories]

Early Lessons - Chapters 5, 6 & 7

Chapter 5: Linda, John and Butch

There was a sweet girl about my age working at BK at that time named Linda. She always seemed to smile through the grueling work and I had no idea how she managed it. I worked really hard, but I wasn’t particularly happy while doing it.

We ended a dinner shift together at 10pm and as we left, we headed down the same street. I offered to escort her home as we didn’t live in the safest of neighborhoods. She accepted, thanking me, and asked me in when we made it to her apartment.

We chatted and got to know each other better while sipping on sodas. She was a very warm and caring person. I suddenly had a strange urge and just blurted it out, “I’m gay.” I had never admitted this to anyone I wasn’t in love with. Her response was, “Wow, I’ve never had a gay friend before.” She called me a friend on our first meeting and it felt great. She seemed totally intrigued and asked me questions I hadn’t even considered and couldn’t really answer, given my limited experience.

She opened up to me too and told me she was almost 18 now and had been kicked out of her home for dating someone her parents disapproved of vehemently. The two were married in a civil ceremony 2 months later and shared this apartment. He worked construction on a 10 days out - 4 days in schedule. I really liked John when we met and the three of us would party together and shoot pool at a nearby hall.

Linda had already explained to John that she had a gay friend now and he took it in stride and never made any untoward comments about it. I really respected him for that. We were in Texas after all. The second time we met, John gave me a hug when he got home right after giving Linda a hug and a kiss. He thanked me for being a good friend to Linda. He said he felt better about leaving her alone knowing I would be there for her. It felt really good to have close friends from whom I didn’t need to hide anything about myself. It felt very liberating.

I soon met Linda’s ‘lover on the side’, Butch. He was a reform school kid about our age. He had a very lanky build, weighing barely more than I. He had reform school tattoos that looked horrible and a peculiar haircut with the straight bangs cut at an angle across his face, high to low. He was an exhibitionist as well and I ended up watching him plow Linda with his massive cock on the day we met. Massive didn’t cover it. His cock looked to be 14 inches in length and as thick as a can of beer. I’m not exaggerating. Linda had her head thrown back in a rapturous pose. Butch kept looking back at my awed expression and looked quite pleased with himself at my stunned reaction. Afterward, he would often come by my garage apartment on his own to chat and party and we had a decent friendship of our own going.

John’s current work project finished before the 10-day mark. He arrived home at mid-day unexpectedly and heard a huge commotion in the bedroom. Butch had barely scrambled out the 2nd story window leaving the screen in tatters. John pressed Linda for what was going on and why the window had no screen left.

I heard a knock on my door. It was John with Linda in tow. She was staring at the ground. “Did you just jump out of my bedroom window?” he asked, incredulously. Linda had fumbled for her explanation on his return and resorted to accusing me since John knew I would not have been screwing her behind his back. She really didn’t want to admit to the truth.

I answered, “No?” wondering where the question would have come from. Then the pieces fell into place in my mind. “You LIED to me!” he directed at Linda as she started to cry. “Who WAS it?!?”

I asked them to come inside and talk about it. I don’t know where I found the “wisdom” having no experience, but I sat them down and walked through having them explain what their needs and expectations were. I told them I could feel that they belonged together and that they should work on accommodating each other’s needs to make their marriage work. Otherwise, one or both of them would be suffering until they would inevitably have to break it off. They agreed and worked out a new set of boundaries that they could both accept so that they could remain together in a more honest arrangement. They both hugged me hard and thanked me before leaving for home, hand in hand. Who would have thought that an inexperienced, gay 16-year-old could be a successful marriage counselor?

Chapter 6: The Descent

At work, I continued to outpace every other worker with at least twice the production. I learned my work ethic with my first job at age 5 reclaiming salvaged bricks from demolitions with a hand hatchet and huge screwdriver for a penny a brick.

I had been closing on the weekends for 3 years now. I always hustled while others plodded overnight. I was a smoker and really needed at least a drag or two but wasn’t going to ask for a break. So, I had my smoke in my mouth and lighter in hand as I hustled out the back door with another full trash bin on wheels, headed towards the dumpster in the back of the parking lot. Without missing a beat, I lit the cigarette and enjoyed a partial smoke while quickly dumping the trash and bouncing back. I stomped the smoke out in stride as I hit the back door buzzer.

The closing manager was a tall, skinny Hispanic guy who really didn’t like me for some reason. I think it was straight up racism, but I had tolerated his “white boy” comments and extra assignments without protest. He called me into the tiny back office as soon as I cleared the door. “There was a District Manager parked down the block and he saw you smoking and told me I needed to fire you right now.”

It was 3:30am and I knew he was lying and that he had seen me go out prepped for my partial smoke and was just using the situation to harass me again.

“I know you’re a fucking liar, but here, let me save you the trouble.” I spit my words and pulled my dorky BK uniform off in one motion and threw it into his chest and left. I had another kitchen job in 2 days. Unfortunately, they failed to let me know it was only seasonal and would end with the University’s home-game football season. To my complete surprise, I was laid off in mid-December. This time the job market sucked and no one was hiring. I was set to lose my lease on New Year’s Day.

Chapter 7: Rock Bottom with Butch and Richard

When I let Butch know I was unemployed and about to be homeless, he talked with his roommate and benefactor Richard. Richard decided to take me in, as he had Butch, although neither of us had any resources. He said it would be fine. He laughed and told me I could ‘sing for my supper’ and sleep on the couch. He liked my jokes and loved to hear me play and sing. Richard was very average looking and about 23 years old, I believe.

I was wondering how he could be so generous on his meager salary as an electronics assembler at the Texas Instruments plant. He arrived home on the afternoon of our first Friday as a household grinning like the Cheshire Cat holding his $120.00 weekly paycheck. How could he be so pumped to be holding a weekly check that only covered a third of the rent on his 2-bedroom apartment? I soon found out.

“Come on!” he shouted on the way to his old beater of a car. We piled in and drove by the bank to cash his check then on to his “connection’s” place. With $100.00, he purchased 20 ¼ gram packets of what I later learned was some of the purest crystal meth to hit the city in ages. They called it ‘Crank’. I was clueless but didn’t let on. We sped over to Party A and quickly unloaded the stash for $200.00. We repeated the process, doubling up leaving Party A with $400.00. Back we went to purchase twice the volume then and headed to Party B. $800.00, then $1600.00. I couldn’t believe what I was a part of. I had seen the stuff being snorted at Party A, but at Party B the product seemed to disappear into a back room where the door was always kept closed. I found out later that the users in the backroom at Party B were injecting the stuff. 7 of the IV users migrated to Richard’s apartment to continue the action. I had been given lots to drink and smoke at these parties and was fairly well lit when we got home around 1am.

There was a guy that I was attracted to among the 7 tagalongs. Feeling very uninhibited, I was deep in conversation with him when Butch moved into my side with his back to me while grabbing my right arm off the back of the couch securing it out of my sight in front of him. I tried to finish a thought I was expressing to the cute chubby guy when I felt a sting at the crease of my elbow. Butch held my arm tightly so I couldn’t move. Without my knowledge or consent, Butch and Richard had just mainlined me with 5 of the individual user packets worth of the stuff prepped for a syringe, 1.25 grams. This was apparently my “cut” of the action, along with $50.00 cash.

Before I could get an explanation, the solution pumped through my heart and up to my brain. It felt like being strapped to a rocket. I could feel my rapid, pounding pulse at my temples, ears and neck. After maybe 15 minutes, the initial rush was replaced by a complete sense of euphoria that lasted the majority of 2 days before subsiding. Day 3 was HELL. Every cell in my body ached and yearned. I was grateful that the supply was exhausted or I would have begged, borrowed or stolen for another dose to regain the euphoric effect.

Butch and I were home alone having not slept or eaten yet on Monday, Day 3. That’s when I found out that Butch was Bi. He asked if I would have sex with him. He told me he had wanted to ever since his exhibition show with Linda. He had helped me out of a tight jam and I felt obligated but uninspired as I agreed to try. I warned him there was no way I could take it like Linda had. He assured me he didn’t expect that. Surprisingly, he wanted me to screw him. Try as I might, I couldn’t get my equipment to function for him in my compromised and unenthused state and he settled for a combination BJ and two-handed jerk. I could barely get the head of it in my mouth while guarding my teeth. The experience made me feel hollow inside. I vowed to never have that sort of sex again. Neither Butch nor Richard were my type and I figured they’d expect me to pay for my room and board by having sex with at least one if not both of them. I knew I couldn’t continue down this road. Staying with Butch and Richard would turn me into a meth addicted sex toy.

Stay tuned. More to come.