#her husband usually fields the pick up interaction

[stellamancer]

Like, I'm sorry, but the moment any customer tries to use their patronage (i.e. "I've been coming to your store for ××× amount of time!!") as leverage then I just lose sympathy. Especially when, as I explained three times, I literally cannot do anything to fix the problem.

[sl-ut]

buzzed

pairing: marc spector x fem!reader

description: marc is lucky enough to accompany y/n to her cousin’s wedding, and even luckier to be the one to take her home. (this is sister fic to 'tipsy' but can be read as a standalone)

warnings: no smut but definitely nsfw, alcohol consumption, swearing, talk of weddings

words: 3.1K

date posted: 27/02/23

The wedding was beautiful, in the unreasonably expensive, terribly stuffy kind of way. Marc tried his best to not show it too much on his face, but this wedding was the exact opposite of anything he wanted to have if–when he and Y/n finally settled down. He’d decided that he didn’t want anything big, hell, he’d be happy with a quick visit to the courthouse before a weeklong honeymoon on a beach somewhere. But he knew that wouldn’t fly with Y/n, or more specifically, with her family, so he would settle with a small ceremony and reception before he got to steal her away.

He did have to compliment the newly wedded couple on their choices of His and His cocktails; Y/n’s cousin opting for the classic negroni, while his new husband made the much more intricate choice of a fruity white sangria, both of which Y/n had taken great pleasure in sampling before she kicked off her shoes and took to the dancefloor.

Marc enjoyed seeing her this free–it was something he got to see all too rarely. Her job had been a consistent thorn in the boys’ side since she’d gotten her most recent promotion. As the tour supervisor at a tour company based in London, Y/n figured that she would have been able to explore her chosen field of history on an everyday basis, though she was sorely disappointed when she discovered that she rarely would get to interact with the centuries of conflict and victories that the city faced when she was jammed into a smothering hot office and berated for making any complaints or requests. Steven had been the first to encourage her to hand in her notice of resignation, but he was very heartily supported by his alters, who both promised to support her until she was able to get back on her feet. Jake would then remind her that she’d earned her Master’s degree for good reason and would soon enough be drowning in job offers–a fantasy, which they were all aware of, but the boys were more than willing to say whatever she needed to hear when she needed to hear it. 

Right now, Marc was willing to tell her that she was dancing wonderfully and that she wasn’t being stared at like she had two heads by most of the other wedding guests just to see her smile just as she was for just one moment longer. The cocktails that she’d drank caught up to her quickly; her cheeks burned hotter than usual, eyes hooded, and a smile appearing lazy on her face as she whirled around the dancefloor with various relatives. 

Marc smiled to himself, ignoring the other who pushed past him to lean on the bartop as he quickly became entranced by her. She halted on a moment’s notice, the flowy shirt of her dress fanning and twisting itself tightly around her hips before falling limp once again. Her body turned quickly as her eyes scanned the crowd, first falling on his empty seat at their assigned table before they began to flicker across the room hurriedly. A calm expression crossed her features once she finally picked him out of the crowd, only lasting a moment before the grin returned and she began her beeline towards him.

He began forward through the crowd to shorten her journey, dropping his now empty glass on a random table as he passed. She stumbled into his arms with enough force to cause him to take a step back, giggling to herself as she wrapped herself around him snugly. 

“I was just looking for you,” she slurred slightly, gazing up at him with a starry look in her eyes, “Thought you left me.”

“Leave you?” He scoffed, hands rising to rest on her waist to hold her steady, “Baby, you gotta give me a little more credit here, I’m not that stupid.”

She laughed, leaning closer and nudging her nose into his a bit more roughly than she would have had she been sober. He did his best to hide any surprise on his face, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“Come dance with me,” she tugged his wrist, “I love this song.”

“I know you do, but you know I’m not much of a dancer.”

She frowned, “Marc, please?”

“You don’t want me up there, I’ll end up crushing your pretty feet. Why don’t you go dance with your aunt again, huh?”

“I can’t,” Y/n whined, voice lowering into a whisper, “She’s such a bitch.”

He let out a loud huff of amusement because, though he’d not voiced his opinion because Y/n had always had a good relationship with her aunt, he wholeheartedly agreed.

“Please?” She begged his, grasping at the lapels of his jacket and shaking him lightly, “If you do, I’ll–” Y/n tucked herself against him as she whispered breathily into his ear, painting a foggy image in his mind of what she could offer in return. 

The tips of his ears burned in arousal, breathes deepening as his grip on her waist tightened. She snorted at his physical response, ripping herself out of his grasp and slowly backing away from him towards the dance floor, seductively shaking her hips to the beat as she did. He scowled at her playfully, remaining rooted in his place.

Pursing her lips, she slowly turned, continuing to move her hips from side to side. Marc groaned to himself, but still didn’t take any steps towards her. 

If you don’t, Jake grumbled to him through the reflection of the glossy window pane next to him, I most certainly will.

The song had changed to one of a slower beat with hard bass to support it. Marc already knew that, combined with the light push of the alcohol in his bloodstream and the way that her body moved along with the melody, he stood no chance, his feet already moving before he was even fully aware of it. 

His hands landed on her hips while she had her back turned, pressing his chest against her back snugly and pausing her movements. She smiled at him over her shoulder, tilting her head back to press a kiss to his jaw. 

“I knew you’d break,” she smirked knowingly up at him, glazed eyes twinkling with mischief, “Well, you or Jake. Steven’s not much of a dancer.”

Marc smiled, sliding his flattened palms around to the front of her dress and smoothing them along the plush of her belly, “You know us better than we do. It’s scary.”

“I bet,” she hummed, turning in his arms to wrap her arms around his neck, “But it’s not as hard as you might think, you all have a tell.”

“Oh yeah, what’s mine?”

“Well, then you would stop doing it, huh?”

“Or maybe you could learn to have some more faith in me, baby.”

“I’ll do that when you two start telling the truth every once in a while.”

“Two?”

“Steven snitches on you two every chance he gets.”

Kiss ass, Jake grumbled.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be honest with our girlfriend, Steven defended himself, though it did nothing to stop Jake’s verbal assault. ‘Sides, I’m the one who she wants around when you twits do something stupid. 

Marc shook his head, ignoring their bickering as he brought himself back into the present, heart clenching as he took in the dreamy stare that watched him so closely.

“Are they fighting?” Y/n whispered, trying to not make her boyfriend seem crazy in front of her relatives.

“When aren’t they?” He joked, “Jake called Steven a kiss ass.”

“Well he’s not wrong,” she shrugged, turning her gaze to the impossibly clean window pane along the edge of the dancefloor, “Steven, baby, you know I love it when you kiss my ass.”

A cough forced its way out of Marc’s windpipe with force, a result of a laugh that he had not been physically prepared for. He cleared his throat, “Do you now? What about me?”

Y/n scoffed, “You don’t kiss my ass. You quite literally do anything but.”

“I would if you really wanted me to,” he leaned closer to rest his forehead against hers, his voice lowering to get his message across.

The muscles in Y/n’s face tightened as she realised the meaning of his words, shaking her head at him as she began to giggle nervously, “Maybe someday. You’d have to give me a little warning ahead of time though. If we’re doing that, we’re doing it right.”

“I wasn’t aware that there was a right and a wrong way.”

She shrugged, “Well, I mean there’s a right and wrong way for the other stuff, at least there is for me.”

“I guess so,” he nodded, “Wait–what’s the right way?”

She chuckled, “Trust me, if you didn’t already know, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

One of his palms smoothed down the small of her back, pausing at the curve of her behind and massaging the flesh within his meaty paw. 

“You’re starting to sound a little superficial there, baby. You saying that you’re only with us for the sex?”

She shook her head, “No, no, of course not. Steven is so smart and sweet, and he’s very funny. Jake's got this sexy little mysterious thing going on, plus he’s very romantic. And you…” she paused, a small smirk growing on her features, “Well, maybe I’m with you for the sex.”

He dug his fingertips into her flesh a bit harder, feeling her warm skin pool out between his thick digits. She squirmed in his grasp, pressing herself closer to him than she would have been comfortable with had she been completely sober, but did not ask him to remove himself. 

“That so?”

“You’re very talented,” she hummed, raking her fingertips down the back of his neck, “Grumpy, sometimes a little mean, and you hog the blankets, but talented all the same.”

“Well maybe me and my talents will go elsewhere,” he loosened his grip, preparing to let her go and watch her scramble to be closer to him once more, though she didn’t even give him the chance.

Fingers curling around the lapels of his jacket, she held him in place, “Elsewhere… as in our hotel room? Because I wouldn’t exactly be complaining.”

Marc laughed, “Maybe, maybe not. I might need some convincing to stay, now that I know that I’m just some glorified booty call.”

Y/n leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his own while refusing to break eye contact. His breathing laboured as she invaded his personal space even more so than she already had, watching through hooded eyes as she nudged her nose against his playfully and tugged her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I could convince you. You wanna go to the bathroom?”

Marc broke his facade, bursting out laughing at her question as she fell victim to her own giggles. The pair must have looked foolish–standing in the middle of the dancefloor, neither of them actually dancing and just laughing maniacally at one another and acting as if no one else in the extravagantly decorated ballroom even existed. 

The upbeat music began to slow, and the other dancers on the floor paired off into a slow dance. Marc easily recognized the song; he’d heard Y/n singing it countless times in the shower, while she was cooking, and even sometimes in her sleep. She wouldn’t necessarily classify it as her favourite, but Marc was positive that it was a pretty damn close second. 

“Hang on, baby,” He spun her into his arms and held her tightly to his chest, hands settling on her waist as he began to move the both of them into a slow, simple, side-to-side motion, “Just one more dance.”

She nodded softly in agreement, resting her forehead on his shoulder, “One more dance.”

They stayed like that for the majority of the song, swaying side-to-side lazy while they remained entirely wrapped up in one another’s arms. Occasionally Marc would nuzzle his nose into her hair or press a soft kiss to her temple, and she would respond each time with a squeeze and a kiss of her own pressing into his shoulder.

“You know I love you, right?”She whispered as she pulled back slightly, staring up at him as if he’d hung the stars in the sky, “I love all three of you the same, you guys know that, but right now I’m just–”

“I know,” He silenced her with the gentle press of his lips to her own, “I know baby. We all do.”

Tell her I love her too.

“Steven says that he thinks you smell weird and snore. Babe, I think you should dump his ass, personally.”

Steven blubbered out a protest, all strung together and slurred as he struggled to make a solid threat to the man who currently had control over their body. 

She frowned, “Tell Steven that I love him too, and that he’s quickly becoming my favourite.”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke again, “This is really nice and all, but I think I really just want a small little thing for our wedding.”

Marc chuckled, “Our wedding? I didn’t realise that I’d asked you yet.”

They hadn’t explicitly spoken about the prospect of marriage yet. Of course, she had spoken to all three of the boys about what kind of future they had envisioned for themselves, and all three had enthusiastically told her that she was certainly in it, but marriage was a complicated thing in itself, not to mention how it would fair when one woman had married three different men who all shared the same body. 

Would she marry Marc? It technically was his body to begin with, but Steven had controlled the body probably just as long as Marc did, all things considered, and Jake would never allow such an argument to persist without throwing his own cap in the ring. Perhaps they could be common-law, so none could be considered to be any more of her husband than the others–one small ceremony to themselves where all three boys would have the chance to read their own vows and kiss you as their wife for the first time. Regardless, Marc was simply glad to hear that she had been thinking about their future together. 

“You haven’t, yet,” she hummed in amusement, “Jake got pretty close a few times though.”

He shook his head, “I know, asshole never stops thinking about it. If he had it his way, he’d have Steven and I locked away in the back of our mind so that he could have you all to himself.”

She raised her brow, “Not such a bad idea… maybe if I didn’t love you all so much.”

Marc smirked at her, placing a careful peck to her lips. Neither spoke another word, simply swaying side to side along with the melody, eyes locked on one another and entirely ignorant to anything else that may have been going on around them. 

As the song came to a close, Y/n fluttered her eyelashes up at him, eyes glittering under the ambient lights above as she whispered to him, “Marc?”

He hummed in response.

“Take me to bed?”

He resisted the small smirk that edged its way onto his face, squeezing his fingers tighter around her waist as she trailed her hands up the front of his chest, working soft patterns into the fabric of his suit. He leaned closer to her, his voice meeting her ears in a low grumble, “Go say goodbye and meet me at the door, I’ll grab your coat.”

Marc Spector was nothing if not efficient, making his way through the crowd with expertise that only an enhanced individual might have, finding his way to the coat check area while making sure that Y/n was always within his line of sight. He watched from the corner of his eye as she hugged each of the grooms, then one of her aunts, and endured an uncomfortably long and wet kiss from her uncle who had been cut off by the bartender. He slipped a five into the palm of the young man working the coat check and took off, stealing Y/n away from her family members before they had a chance to stop him.

Y/n giggled at him, slipping her coat on with ease and allowing him to guide her out through the front doors and cross the street to the hotel that they were staying at. Once they were in the privacy of the moving elevator, she made quick work of unbuttoning his jacket so that she could slide her palms across his firm midsection and pressed herself against him as she began to nip and kiss up the expanse of his thick neck. He groaned under her touch, leaning his back against the wall and gliding his own palms around the back of her neck to pull her in for a long, passionate kiss.

She sighed into him, pushing her hips forward to rock against his own and giggling girlishly as she bumped the tent that had begun to form in his pants. He hissed at the contact, hands pulling her face away from his own so that he could stare directly into her eyes. 

“How are you feeling, baby?”

“I think you already know how I’m feeling.”

He rolled his eyes, “I mean, are you sober enough for this? You had a lot to drink today.”

She shrugged, “No more than you.”

“I’m also not a lightweight.”

“Oh please,” She scoffed, swatting his chest lightly, “I’m a little buzzed at most, I’m totally fine.”

“You’re sure?”

Y/n grinned, stepping away from him as the elevator doors slid open. She slowly backed away from him, turning on her heel and calling out to him over her shoulder, “I can always take care of myself, if you don’t feel up for it.”

[a-very-fond-farewell]

Hello!! I'm very curious about the Far From the Madding Crowd draft (also I see that Auditors/Unicorn crossover) 👀

I am ashamed to report that the Far From the Madding Crowd project was mostly inspired by the movie rather than the book, but this didn’t stop me from reading the book after me watching it (for Researching™️ purposes 💪😤)... but my writing project never got to ch3 even ahah 🤣 mostly bc I wasn’t confident in my English and bc Hardy likes his fictional places too much and I got distracted learning about all the fancy names he used for his beloved Wessex.

so. it was supposed to be set after the end: Gabriel and Bathsheba manage to dig Boldwood out of prison through a royal pardoning and make him their gamekeeper.

since Boldwood has not being sentenced to death and was made to stay in “confinement during Her Majesty’s Pleasure” (so, technically, indefinitely) after claiming insanity, I figured he would have been sent in one of those forced labor prison quarries for debt-collectors (or something on those lines) known in the Victorian era to be awful places to be at the time. I researched the system of the allotted working hours a day to earn “tickets” to get out of prison, the eventual move to Australia for the luckier ones, how life was shaping up to be for someone getting out of prison etc...

I wanted to explore the concept of a land-owner turned prisoner as he struggles to find his way back to his hometown. the people who found a way for him to get out of prison are well-meaning, but they don’t know what he went through. it’s unheard of for a murderer like him to have been granted to leave prison too, so the people who used to work for him in the fields are wary of him now, new workers adding to the fuel of the rumors being spread about him.

moreover, I still wanted to show how the church usually was made to be in charge of a reintroduced criminal’s redemption, asking him to sing in the choir and do errands for the poor, forcing him to go to mass and then listen to Sunday lectures in the afternoon with the local children as if he were not an adult anymore. in this situation, Boldwood would have felt less than human, his mind spiraling back to his prison days, especially his first few years of confinement in isolation. so I would have liked for people who had known him for a long time to be kind and understanding to him despite the social stigma, while newcomers would have been less eager to be associated with him.

the married couple now handles both of the neighboring domanins, but the larger one is mostly empty for the majority of the time. Boldwood is made to live in a small cottage away from the rest of the townsfolk and the workers, so he is able to see his old house only occasionally, feeling like a ghost haunting it’s grounds when keeping watch. he cannot handle kindness anymore and feels out of place with new clothes and good food on his plate, his body arguing with him due to his new limitations.

feeling misguided anger towards the woman he went to prison for while feeling unworthy of her, Boldwood can’t stand the sight of her and only manages to interact with her husband due to his gentle and understanding nature, but he still cannot fathom why they have picked the smaller residence rather than the larger one to live in, or why they wanted him back to begin with. he feels mocked and wronged and lonely above else.

in truth, after getting their happy ending, the Oaks had started to feel guilty about living there while he rotted in prison, feeling indebted to him for freeing them from Troy’s poisoning presence in the past. they thought that bringing him back from his confinement would have eased their conscience, but they found themselves unable to handle his new temperamental nature and mood swings, only hoping to treat his newly acquired illnesses after years of forced labor as a way to welcome him back into their lives.

it was meant to be a healing journey through kindness and simplicity, while still eyeing the changing expectations of society at large with a focus on how even someone of the gentry like Boldwood would have struggled to be back into the world.. especially since he was not that well bred to begin with and only had barely enough connections to survive the death penalty. still a murderer, no matter the circumstances, Boldwood would try to atone for his sin by denying himself happiness, feeling guilty for having wished for love when that should have been precluded to him long ago.

I wanted it to be a mixture of Crime and Punishment and Elective Affinities, and if the poly agenda won in the end.. what then?? XD

but since it didn’t happen.. now I have a bunch of trivia about Victorian prisons to yap about to unsuspecting friends :D

[floralcrematorium]

How do you decide what expression/body language you want to give to your next drawing subject? Inspired by music, something that you read about, someone you saw in real life, etc?

Hey, thanks for the ask!

When I draw, my starting pose very rarely is the end pose. That happened with the Nyo!FrUK valentine’s day piece. I have the original thumbnails on paper, and at one point they were sitting down??

I tend to photobash references I find online or take my own reference pictures. When I draw Amelia, I’ll usually use myself as reference.

Music does inspire me to a certain degree. I’ll loop the same song for HOURS.

I will say usually when I’m drawing Belarus, it’s because I am GOING THROUGH IT. Like. It’s either uncontrollable rage or the feeling of a deep hollow pit in my chest that I then turn into putting Bela through the wringer, lol. The last time that happened, I ended up with the piece of Belarus lying in the field of flowers. The pose was completely made up, I just slapped that onto the page, aside from the hands which I referenced from my own body. I think I felt more rage when I made that piece, but I know I listened to “The Diner” by Billie Eilish around 200 times and “Fire and Ice” by the Nova Twins nearly 100 (I have this song counter thingy connected to my spotify.)

Here’s a screenshot of the bot receipt from the week I did the flower field Belarus if you don’t believe that I listened to that song 200 times, lol

A piece I haven’t gone back to I genuinely remember feeling genuine rage and anguish while working on it. Here’s the WIP of the piece and the four songs I had on repeat:

I was actually thinking today of going back into this piece and changing the composition a bit - make it more tense and connected. The composition feels too separated between the foreground and the mirror at its current state. I also overworked her face when I was trying to render (you can find it somewhere on my blog) and that’s when I dropped it.

I would like to sincerely apologize to Nat for putting her through the wringer when I cannot verbalize my extreme emotions, lol. I don’t know why I pick her every time.

As for other illustrations… the scene kid platonic Ameripan piece was inspired by “Faster n Harder” by 6arelyhuman. The strawberry bikini Amelia was inspired by a strawberry bikini I saw made by mochipan. The pop art FrUK piece was “Me and My Husband” by Mitski. The gangster AU Czechia piece was something I did when I saw an 1899 art nouveau poster by August Patek (you’ll see instantly what I mean with the black framing elements and the yellow background.

My most recent FrUK sketch with the smudged lipstick was something I saw on pinterest and wanted to practice with because I’m actually terrible at drawing people interacting, so I did a quick study. That sketch has since inspired an entire fic that I keep sacrificing my sleep to work on.

Otherwise, sometimes I just draw because something popped into my head or other times there’s a concept I want to work out.

[blixarchiviumofwishes]

You can't escape it.

The behavior I will call "human reaction to circumstance", is everywhere. It cultivates the way you think, respond to situations, evaluate them, etc, and the same for those around you. Of course everyone is different, and has been brought up and impacted differently by their surroundings.

What I find intriguing is an individual's response to a certain situation. Let's look at a few examples.

Joe is a teenage boy, just about to start his senior year of private highschool. Joe is well liked by his teachers, and earns good grades. He is also an athlete on the school baseball team. During the final game of the season, Joe strikes out, leading his team to a crushing loss, or so he views it. Joe's Coach tells him not to be bothered by it, he can try harder next year. However, the teenager beats himself up about it, saying he should have done better, he shouldn't have missed the pitch, and that it's all his fault, despite there being several strikes during the game.

Tyler is an older man searching for work. He's single, with only a widowed mother to take care of. Tyler has sent in multiple applications to many firms of varying fields. He believes he can master any field if someone just gives him a chance. When a few of his forms are rejected, he picks himself up and tries again.

Ann is a working mother of three, and has been married for ten years. She is very lenient with running her household, which leads to messes around the house, and her children leaving work undone. She makes several attempts to train them how to be responsible with the help of her husband, but the children always revert to their bad habits, leading to arguments and punishment.

I apologize if these examples are unrelatable or bland.

After reading the scenarios, ask questions. What led Joe to react to the team's loss the way he did?

Why did Tyler respond the way he did after getting rejected?

Why is Ann blatantly hypocritical?

"Human reaction to circumstance" defines how and why these people reacted the way they did. The University of New Hampshire provides a means of understanding this phenomenon with a simple acronym.

A - Activating event (usually imprinted in the memory): what happened in either of the subjects past that may have influenced their interaction with the people and circumstances around them?

It's possible Joe's parents have very high expectations of their son, and have strict boundaries on what is success and what is failure. Living under such conditions would either put Joe under constant stress, or desensitize him from their demanding mindset.

It is possible that Tyler was taught at a young age, either by more experience, or his parents that life won't always work out, and that he must keep trying, even when everything seems to be going wrong.

It is also possible Ann's parents never paid attention to their daughter's uncaring attitude when it came to cleanliness, and she, as a result, unknowingly passed it on to her children. Since her parents never saw a problem with her messes, she doesn't realize she's the reason her children are messy the way they are.

B - Belief: religion often has a part in how devoted a person is to success, or traditional values, such as persevering and cleanliness (or lack thereof.)

C - Consequences: How the figures presented deal with their situations based on what they've gone through in the past, and the events, good or bad, that follow as a result.

It all stems down to the mind. The mind is easily moldable, especially during vulnerable periods of our lives. Combined with your personality (influenced by experience to a degree) this creates this psychological reaction.

Thank you for reading, if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask, I'll do my best to answer.

Please don't quote me, I'm not a trained Psychologist.

UNH PACS. “What Triggers Your Emotional and Behavioral Reactions?” Psychological & Counseling Services, 15 Feb. 2023, www.unh.edu/pacs/what-triggers-your-emotional-behavioral-reactions.

[smallraindrops-blog]

Hii! If requests are still open (totally cool if they aren’t, congrats on ur new job!!) may I request simply anything with Sergeant just kinda interacting with Hypnos and all the others in the house? Maybe Sarge talking about his memories from when he was living? Tyy and I luv your works!

The Morning Lasted All Day

Fandom: Hades

Rating: G

Word count: 900

Warnings: no beta

Summary: Sergeant hates paperwork.

Notes: Hey, I hope this was close to what you wanted. Thank you so much for waiting! <3 and thanks for the fun request and kinds words! <3

Enjoy!

~

Sergeant still felt like he was about to wake up at any moment in some muddy field, a bright blue sky overhead and surrounded by his fellow soldiers. Even the weight of paperwork felt too heavy to be a real thing.

He didn’t realize the ancient world would even have such things. Bureaucracy seemed like just a modern thing. A headache created by greedy business owners and politicians.

“Yeah, the amount of paperwork will take some time getting used to. But hey, now you got all the time in the world! Being dead and all that fun stuff.” Hypnos rambled on, unsuccessfully fighting off a yawn.

A moment later, Sergeant found himself having to fight off his own yawn. He sighed, “I don’t suppose you have stuff in a language I might know? Like English?” 

Hypnos shook his head, a bemused grin on his wide mouth. “Nope, but don’t worry, we can help. Languages aren’t an issue for gods you know.”

“Oh.” 

With a grunt, Sergeant placed the paperwork on a table and picked up the first paper on top. It was a shame some country boy like him ended up here and not one of the actual smart folks who would understand this stuff. The foreign letters stared up at him accusingly.

Education had been important but so was putting food on the table and as soon as Sergeant was able, he was working on farms and doing whatever odd jobs that would take him. 

Then war came. 

“Just put your name on the bottom, it is just asking if anything broke or whatever.” Hypnos said, leaning back in the middle of the air like there was an invisible pillow. 

Sergeant obeyed, his writing clumsy with the quill. “I don’t reckon ya’ll got pencils I could use?”

Hypnos blinked those heavy lidded eyes at him, and it reminded Sergeant of an old dog woken up from a deep nap. “Pencils? What are those?”

“Uhhh… it's like a stick with some lead and you use the stick to…” Sergeant paused at the deepening confusion on Hypnos’ face. “I am not explaining it properly.”

There was a pause, wheels turning in Hypnos’ mind. “I can have Charon ask around. He can usually find that kind of stuff. He got friends all over the place.”

“Alright. Thanks.” Sergeant went to the next page and it was just confusing as the rest.  Thankfully Hypnos just pointed to where to write and explained the writing. 

“You know, we have language books. Maybe one of those can help.” Hypnos offered. 

“Can’t hurt. But honestly, I never took to book learning. Gimme something to do with my hands and I can do it. Used to work on the farms with my Pa so I missed school.” Sergeant shrugged. “I appreciate it though, friend.”

Hypnos was quiet as they went through more paperwork, almost towards the end. And Sergeant eyed him. 

Hypnos was an oddity in a house filled with odd beings. He was cheerful in a way that didn’t always reach his golden eyes. His Ma was similar in that way, busy and exhausted, hunched over the bills while the house slept. Yet she always had a smile for each of her children and husband. 

“You’re a god right?” He asked and Hypnos grinned, perking up. 

“Yeah, you could say that.” Hypnos said. 

“Of what? Each one of ya are a god of something right?” Sergeant asked.

“Oh that right. You weren’t around for all that. I am the god of Sleep and Dreams.” Hypnos said with a shrug. He yawned again and this time Sergeant couldn’t fight it off. 

“Is that why you are always napping?” He asked bluntly, blinking at the paperwork and went to the next page.

“Hhmm.” Hypnos tapped on the paper, showing him where to sign which Sergeant did immediately.

“Does this mean you could see my dreams?” Sergeant asked, not exactly sure which answer he wanted. The idea of someone able to look inside like him that kind of creeped him out even if that someone was Hypnos who was trying to be friendly.

“If I wanted to. Or I can create dreams for you. Why? Got a request?”

It came in a flash, the words thick on his tongue. He could ask for any dreams, of his family, of his childhood home or of his favorite meal or the low, sweet hymns he grew up with or maybe the life he could have lived if he didn’t die in some damned muddy fields, so far away from home. 

“Nah. Maybe next time.” Sergeant repiled, proud that his tone was normal. 

Controlled. 

Hypnos only raised a brow, his mouth pursed thoughtfully. Hypnos saw something but he wasn’t sure what. 

The last page came and Sergeant was thankful for it.  He let out a breath. 

“Thanks, this would have been impossible without your help.” Sergeant said. 

Hypnos didn’t respond and Sergeant looked up only to see Hypnos dozing. His cheek resting on a palm, white eyelashes flushed against his cheek. 

Sergeant grabbed a blank paper close by and wrote, ‘Do Not Disturb.”

He folded it up into a sign and left it right next to Hypnos, who slept on. 

Later, Sergeant dreamt. He dreamt of everything, of the past and future and everything between. Of songs, and touches, of warm sunlight and cool nights.

He woke with a jerk and closed his eyes. 

“Thanks friend.” He whispered into an empty room, his eyes burning with unshed tears. 

[sabineelectricheart]

Alex's Outdoors Training Regimen

Summary: Estella has to work her fields, but the view of her husband exercising so close to her is distracting. Very distracting.

Rating: MA - Content is only suitable for mature adults. May contain explicit language and adult themes.

Words: 2000

Notes: God, I want to be ravished by a himbo today...

If there truly is a god, he clearly means to test Estella today.

A veritable feast of sweat-sheened skin over powerful muscle continuously pulls her gaze toward her lover at the other end of the estate grounds, right by their farmhouse. His gaze is fixed firmly on the exercise equipment he is using, and as Alex throws blow after blow at the dummy with his blood red boxing gloves, she can already see the odd sweat droplet go flying skyward, shining on the clear spring sun.

More impressive than his technique in her eyes is his physique. It is thoroughly exposed, almost sensually, as he wears only shorts, trainers, and the aforementioned boxing gloves. From bulging arms to tight, hard abs, and even the artfully defined contours of his back, it is simply too much to keep her focus on her farmwork.

Estella had known that he would make for an unbearable distraction the moment she glanced over to her house to find Alex mid-workout. Her crops would have to go without sowing today, unfortunately.

The front gate down the road is locked, as today is a holiday and no-one would be coming around to the farm, nor would the couple leave home for whatever reason. As he often does when he emerges from the front door, he immediately searched for her on the fields and greeted she with a broad smile, a shout and a wave.

She usually wakes up earlier, as the sun rises, while he spends a few more moments in bed, so this is usually their first interaction of the day. He does not usually wear so little in the way of clothes as he does it, nor he makes that much of an effort to showcase his physique to her outside of the bedroom.

Well, running away on her horse now seemed off the table. With a heart-fluttering fifteen minutes later, Estella is not nearly as far along in her work as she ought to be, and his muscled body is looking more and more tempting. Before long, she has set aside her tools, and her legs are carrying her to Alex despite herself.

With her hands clasped behind her back as she reaches him, she says, “Hey, uh, Alex?”

“Hey, babe!” He says with a smile, casual as can be.

She picks up his subtle, masculine scent, and at this proximity, the difference in their heights and size is wonderfully apparent. Yoba, she is acting like some blushing maiden, as though she and her lawfully-wedded husband had not already shared a bed many, many, many times. Damnit, thinking of that is only making it worse.

“I was hoping, if you’re not busy, that maybe, if you wanted, you’d help me out a bit with, er, harvesting crops? My back is aching a little from these days, lots of vegetables to deliver at Pierre’s, so…” She realizes she is rambling, so she lamely finishes with, “Yeah.”

Alex gives a good-natured chuckle and turns fully towards Estella while removing the boxing gloves.

“Of course!” He beamed. “No need to be so dodgy about it, you know? I love that you can depend on me, and I’m glad to have the opportunity to carry my own weight around here.”

For some time, she makes an admirable effort to keep it on her pants. He keenly watches as she explains the tools for him and demonstrates how he should shear each plant to harvest the plant without killing it, guaranteeing another yield before the season’s end.

However, the moment her lesson becomes more hands-on, her restraint starts to bend. One hand at her lower back and another along his arm, he observes with care how he should take care of the fruits of her labour. Other than her pulse, she still manages not to react to his hands on her body at first.

Then, they kneel to take care of the roots. He holds onto her waist, hoping to give her some support.

“Be careful, babe! If you crawl around too much, you’ll only feel more pain.” He comments.

At first, Estella simply nods. Then, the warmth of his touch trailing up her inner thigh and hovering over her legs apart very nearly causes her knees to go weak, and for her backside to rub against him. Alex hums for a moment, low and unusually contemplative. Then, he leans over her, and his hands slowly run up along her sides.

“You’re acting a whole lot like you want something, babe.” His low voice rumbles against her ear, using his upper body strength to pull her to her feet and position her right in front of his hip. “Maybe even like if you needed something.”

“Alex…” She tries to say it as sternly as she is able.

He merely chuckles, sporting a devilish expression and turns her by the waist to face him. “I had a feeling you were looking my way earlier. Guess I was right. C'mon, you can admit it, you just couldn’t keep your eyes off of me.”

She pouts and turns her face from him, mumbling, “We’re supposed to be working…”

Estella has barely gotten the words out when his powerful arms sweep her up off her feet, and he heads toward the edge of the fields, towards the bench he keeps by his training equipment.

He laughs loudly. “Don’t you worry, babe. I’ve got a hell of a warm-up in mind for us.”

Alex carries her around the small fence of ropes surrounding the perimeter of the training area, which he built to keep the animals from chewing on his bench-press, and sets her on her feet, though only for a moment. He could take things to their bedroom, but it felt as if it was a mile away, even if he probably was able to traverse the distance in less than a hundred steps.

With a hand on the equipment at her back, he wears a charmingly slanted grin and says, “Want me to show you what these muscles can really do?”

Surely, he can see the blatant lust in the way her eyes scan his body. Her face and body burn, but she swallows then wordlessly nod. His eyes guide hers down his torso to where his hands undo the front of his shorts, freeing the veined, thick length of his manhood. Her breath catches for a moment seeing him so hard and ready for her in the open like this. Perhaps her lesson had more of an effect on him than he had let on.

A hand gripping under her thigh and an arm around her waist, Alex lifts Estella up against the warm metal, and her legs naturally wrap around his hips for leverage. It is nearly an unnecessary effort, though, as he is easily strong enough to support her all on his own.

With one hand, he tugs her breeches down her thighs just enough to have access to her needy little hole. Her lips part, allowing a soft, sighing whimper as the warm tip of his cock presses against her entrance, though not yet pushing inside.

“Mmm, you’re really hot and ready for me, aren’t you?” He groans into her ear, his breath heavy against her skin, a humorous, teasing lilt to his words.

Her arms draw around his broad shoulders, bringing her body flush to his. She could make it a thing, tease him back or even deny his assertion, but she had no patience for any of it. She wanted it, and she wanted it now.

“Alex, please.” She whines softly. “I need you.”

“Didn’t know a good workout could get you so riled up!” He says with a chuckle, firmly rubbing the length of his cock between her thighs. “Guess I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get it, though.”

The throbbing head of his cock begins to push into Estella, the incredible girth of it stretching her out around him. Alex grits his teeth and groans as she squeezes around him. She is already panting aloud, the feeling of his hard, sweat dewed body against hers, the shifting and flexing of his muscles as he holds her in place, it is simply too much for her to bear.

Her fingers tangle into his messy mane of hair, clinging to him as the careful but firm thrusts of his hips push him deeper and deeper into her. He gradually works her around his cock until he is sheathed fully inside of her warm, tight body.

He pulls away, then bucks his hips towards her, stuffing her full of his length so hard and deep that she gasps and her nails rake along the back of his neck. Even at the pain, he does not let up, his new pace firm and steady, fucking into her while trapping her between his body and the equipment behind her. He moans for her, his voice low and husky, and she feels his biceps tense as he holds her in place to be filled with him over and over.

“You… You looked so damn good working up a sweat before.” He says amidst his relentless thrusts. “Your body drives me completely crazy… Ugh, damn! You just squeezed around me, babe.”

Alex breathes out heavily, managing to keep the luscious sounds contained through the guise of heavy physical exercise. Estella has no such constraints.

“You feel… Uh, so good!” She moans between panting gasps of pleasure.

She feels his huge member throb and swell out against her constricting walls. His hold on her tightens, lifting her up a bit and holding her close. Her thighs tremble around his hips as he pistons like a fuelled-up machine into her, powerful, constant and precise. Her insides cling and coil around him in turn, as he hits just the right spot every time. Finally, with a rush that travels up her spine, she feels her climax take her and her eyes roll back.

“Alex!” She whimpers his name as he fucks her through her orgasm, his pace never easing for a moment.

“Don’t… Don’t you think that you can relax j-just yet…” He groans into her ear.

His breathing is heavy and uneven, less like the well-oiled sex machine and more like the desperate man, and his thrusts become deeper and faster. He only pulls out of her just enough to give them both the friction they need so badly, as though he simply cannot bear to leave her warmth even for a second.

Her weight and the strength of his abdomen keep her firmly against him, wrapped around his full length. Yet, eventually, she feels him shudder, his posture tightening. It takes all of her focus to help even a little to keep herself in place for him. She still feels weak and hazy from her own climax, but her husband is close, and she desperately needs to feel him cum for her.

He moans her name, then presses his lips to hers. His kiss is all passion, graceless and intense, and Estella cannot help but match his pace. Their tongues wrestle and she moans against him as, at last, his hips falter and his cock twitches, pulses.

With one last strangled moan, Alex begins to pump her full of an incredible amount of cum. As though bolstered by the physical exertion, he cums harder than she has ever felt before, mindless thrusts coating his cock in their combined release. At last, with one final push, the rush of his orgasm gradually begins to subside. Then, with a sigh of relief, he carefully pulls out from her, but holds onto her waist for a moment longer.

“You… You good to stand?” He pants out.

“Yeah, I think.” She stutters out.

He gingerly sets her on her feet, keeping an arm at her waist to support her on the way down.

With a heavy exhale, Alex gives a short laugh and says, “Damn, you’re definitively the best exercise partner I’ve ever had.”

*_*_*_*_*

Stardew Valley Masterlist

[shegore]

What is Karin's role in her Death Note verse? And how did she meet Light? Was there a spark from the beginning? Does she know about Ryuk and the Death Note? I am curious about her role in the story!

it took me literally seven months to answer this but let me use bullet points for this , i'm really over doing dramatic asks with fancy things during the work week!

Q1: HOW DID SHE MEET LIGHT :

karin met light her first year of university ( light's second year. ) they were in a philosophy class together - karin's STEM degree required it because they were sick of STEM students never picking up a book and reinventing physiognomy or some shit.

the professor noted that they were both unusually bright - light was the first academic challenge she'd ever had. ( & to her dismay, he won that challenge, by a hundredth of a point. she was so mad. )

they shared no classes for a while. they would run into one another around campus. light was usually surrounded by people, while she was not. it was also muttered that she was a very pretty girl, but her personality left a lot to be desired.

at some point they started interacting again . . . and eventually sleeping with one another. one thing lead to another and by the time light was an official spk member, they were actively dating.

Q1.5: WAS THERE A SPARK FROM THE BEGINNING:

this question assumes karin actually 'loved' light. and that's complicated. karin enjoyed the intellectual stimulation she received in her conversations with him. she enjoyed being able to talk about her work and maybe only having to explain the most complex of topics - and even then, only having to explain it because it wasn't his field of study. ( and vice versa for her )

but karin absolutely did not feel the same 'love' for him as misa felt for him. that's partially light's own fault. he made it very clear he wasn't in love with her. it's also her own fault, karin refused to love him after that acknowledgement.

it's also important to recognize - karin has never actually been loved by someone. so i doubt she could recognize even if there was a spark between them; she would spend her time attempting to dissect her own emotions.

HOWEVER - after his death, karin is grappling with complex emotions. she hates light immensely for breaking his promise and leaving her in this situation with a child? but that hate can only come from a place of trust & wanting the promise to be fulfilled.

Q2: DOES SHE KNOW ABOUT RYUK / THE DEATH NOTE:

karin has synesthesia - specifically chromesthesia aka the association of sound with color. therefore, when someone speaks . . . often times a color is associated with that. it's a bit odd to describe, but a person has an overarching hue and then the words themselves are shaded. ( as an aside, it's typically why she gets headaches / is annoyed by drawn over conversations. )

before it was even revealed to her, karin was aware that there was something else surrounding light. there would be TWO colors associated with certain conversations instead of just one. she chalked it up to being haunted.

at some point during their marriage, light did reveal the existence of the ryuk and the death note. she was furious to know that ryuk had just be floating around and i can't say she didn't punch her then husband in the jaw upon finding out.

regarding the death note itself, i'm sure she knows it exists and has pieced together enough to know how it works and that light was kira. what is critical is that information never came directly from light before his death. hence, she can honestly say she didn't know. and ultimately, she really wasn't involved with his plans.

Q3: WHAT IS HER ROLE IN THE STORY (assuming normal roles):

i'm not sure necessarily. it's likely to help facilitate more misdeeds by light because ultimately, should he choose to confide in her, she is a much more capable ally than either misa or mikami & she really would've assisted if he'd have killed a single person that she asked him too.

the field would have been far more level because it would've been a 2v2 genius off, with one that's completely unrelated and out of left field.

it's also an interesting side bit to see her discuss the physical impact of 'death by death note.' let her see how the heart reflects the heart attack or the brain reflects pre-death mind control. how could she NOT be fascinated.

she's also there to absolutely disrupt any sense of peace that gevanni has from now on. simply by virtue of her looking at you. she's got one hell of an unreadable gaze. i think i can say this because @lifesliced lets me say whatever but gevanni really did break her heart ( making him the second one to do so ) and she's not going to admit it.

i like her more in the aftermath of the whole thing. since we don't really get to see anyone picking up pieces of everything that light (and the others) destroyed during the whole shebang.

she's ultimately not interested in the actual death note but manages to get tangled right on it it!

[gundamcalibarney]

@standswap-september

This is the most on the spot shit i made for the Romance prompt so have this minimal effort doodle of an AU version of an OT3 because i’ll do some prompts but not all i guess/ended up finding out.

OKAY SO as i said in Josiah’s second art page i stated that most of the characters that aren’t Stand users will also be getting standswap counterparts and that honest to god made me think about these buddies’ regular Stand counterparts.

///💚💜🧡///

Rita Prudence was a nurse, one from a relatively middle class society and a moderate girl who just hangs around the area near the Joestar estate. After she ended up getting bullied Josiah stepped in basically beat the living shit out of said bullies and that was the beginning of a friendship when she returns the favour by giving him apples.

Then Dante proceeds to ruin everything because “Josiah is too happy.” and then assaulted her, she once again returned the favour by kicking him in the secret section. Because of her mother’s area of field being somewhere around America she had to move there to the great sadness of Josiah, she would return after her own nursing degree she finds a very familiar man (and a smaller one) at need of aid.

Josiah and Rita then become officially romantically involved but then Dante decided to ruin it AGAIN by blowing up the honeymoon passenger liner and then killing her newly wed husband, after saving a baby then jumping into a coffin for safety and Then getting picked up by another passenger liner she lived out her days in relative melancholy in care of her grandson John Joestar.

In melancholy and anger she privately grieved as the day she finally gets to be with the one she truly loved it gets swiftly taken away by the same man that wronged her, she has written letters and book loads of diary entries addressed to him that she know will not be received and it can by no means can completely replace interacting with her husband it would at least help even for just a little bit. Talking with Maverick has also helped them both with it since they were both hit the hardest with his death.

She was a kind and compassionate woman under that somewhat cool exterior, known for a dry yet sharp wit that Maverick says would often compliment her husband’s own quips. Rita was also had a bit of that hot bloodedness that her future bloodline would exhibit, she too is also very willing to throw herself into danger though force isn’t usually a first option. As she grows this fire in her only grew when she heard the news of her daughter and son-in-law’s deaths and gained a bit of a protectiveness over her grandson.

Maverick C. Fleetwood was a crook from Liverpool, hanging around the slums and committed a Hell of a lot robberies alongside his brothers. However on one particular night a purple haired man from Scotland walks in and as one usually does he attempts to rob the man which failed because he beat the shit out of them but not hard enough for a murder to happen. Why? His reasoning was because he no one should face the death of a loved one like he has and y’know what? That made sense and what was he gonna do next? Help him out of course!

For a really long time he journeyed beside Josiah Joestar and the latter’s bravery made him swoon, what gentleman be as compassionate and attractive brave as him! Maverick has often tailed behind and helped alongside him in combat with his trusty rifle which he absolutely did not steal from a soldier that passed by and had wanted to train in Hamon to help him before Mrs. Springsteen said no and then punched his gut.

When news struck of Josiah’s death he was one who was hit the hard, even though he had spent 3 months with the man he still considered him a close friend (and also his best man at the wedding). Maverick had begun drinking at pubs as a result in hopes of drowning those feelings all away however having conversations with Rita has helped him cope and would later open the Fleetwood foundation to support the bloodline while also improving worldwide resource managing and medical needs.

Maverick is a rather jumpy fellow but it wasn’t exactly his fault since these events are too bizarre for him to comprehend. Despite being a crook responsible of multiple armed robberies he doesn’t exactly participate in the things Mr. Joestar gets involved in because compared to him and Mrs. Springsteen he’s under qualified. However like many people he too tends to jump into danger despite that under qualification, he also tends to follow others in lead due to the latter.

As Stands, System of a Down (Rita) would primarily be like an in between of Crazy Diamond and Gold Experience, like a fast attacker but can be used as a support Stand that can heal people cause y’know Erina is a nurse.

Little Lies (Maverick) is basically a lie detector and what one can say would be a general improvement over Speedwagon’s truth sniff. But it’s also a weapon i.e a sledgehammer.

[okay-j-hannah]

Devout Hands & Rubied Apples

The Lord of the Rings : Fic

Faramir x Reader

Word Count: 3241

Warnings: Man I’ve always loved Faramir but holy frick I think he’d be such a loyal and caring husband 😭 I love wingman Boromir too 

Request: “I’d love to request a Fic with Faramir where he and the reader (who was also apart of the fellowship) spend Aragorn’s coronation and the party that takes place after together. He’d slowly be building up the courage to confess how he feels while Boromir tries to be a good wingman. At the same time, Merry and Pippin are scheming ways to get them together. Just lots of fluff involving dancing, drinking, and cute interactions :)” @whitewolvesandwitches​

A/N:​ In light of the Ring being destroyed, the fellowship find themselves in need of a new task. One appointed by Boromir to aide his brother in winning over the heart of their healer and friend

(Y/N) took it upon herself to assist in the infirmary as much as she could. After leaving the battlements relatively unscathed, ensuring the remnants of her fellowship were all right, she turned her attentions towards the wounded.

Upon entering the rows of stretchers enveloping the interior of Minas Tirith, she was quick to notice her companion Boromir. Strong and steady, the warrior was knelt over a makeshift cot wielding a man of similar fair hair.

“Boromir,” she muttered, resting a hand along his shoulders, “He will recover.”

The older man reached to touch her hand behind him, “I know. How could he not with you watching over him? You saved my life against the Uruk-hai, and you will save his life against my father’s poor judgement.”

(Y/N) frowned at the memory of being told the Steward had made Faramir’s condition worse even after sending him to his death at Osgiliath.

“I am flattered, but I’m sure he draws strength from your constant visits.”

“I would beg to differ,” the man she saw as a brother stated. He drew another stool closer as she took a seat to stay. “He is just as comforted by you as he is by me.”

(Y/N) moved a hand to feel the sickly brothers forehead. When she moved it towards his cheek, there was the smallest of movements as he nuzzled her palm in his sleep.

Boromir rested his elbows on his knees, covering his mouth with both his hands. His knowing eyes flickered to (Y/N)’s face, wondering if she’d have a reaction.

“What are you looking at with such a smile?”

“Oh, simply pondering your verdict.”

(Y/N) grinned back, “His fevers broken. It won’t be long before he’ll be walking about.” She let her hand linger perhaps too long on the scruff of Faramir’s cheek, for Boromir was clearing his throat and standing to leave.

“I must get back to the front. Aragorn is holding a council for his coming coronation.”

“Then get at it, Steward.”

Boromir flashed a grin, taking a light bow, “As you wish, Healer (Y/N). Keep my brother alive for me, will you?” He turned on his heel, trying to hide that smile that almost gave him away.

And watch over Faramir, (Y/N) did. Though attending to other duties with the quickly recovering survivors, she spent every sparing moment at his bedside. With him out of immediate danger, Faramir was moved to his own chambers, a soft pillow beneath his head and plenty of books for (Y/N) to choose from.

She became accustomed to a schedule of attending the infirmary then grabbing a tray of food and making way for Faramir’s room. She’d share a meal with him, trying to keep him awake longer and longer each day before he fell into another unconscious stupor.

When he did, she simply picked up the nearest book and read passages from it, sometimes saying them aloud to him. She found peace in those moments alone by his bedside. Chaos was attempting to be reined in by Aragorn, Boromir, and Eomer – the new lords of Middle Earth. And the sanctuary of Faramir’s chambers was always sought after a long day.

Though she was never far from boisterous visitors.

“Evening, (Y/N),” came the cheery voices of Merry and Pippin. “How are you?”

“Perfectly content,” she mused, placing a book marker on her current page, “What can I do for you?”

Merry put his hands behind his back, taking slow steps to Faramir’s bedside, “We were simply wondering when the last time you saw the light of day was.”

She laughed, curiosity peaked, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“By our reckoning,” Pippin continued, at the foot of the bed, “You’ve done nothing but move between the infirmary, kitchens, and this room every day. You’ve done hardly anything else since the war.”

“We,” Merry gestured between himself and Pippin, “Are here to rescue you.”

(Y/N) sighed a smile, “I told you I am perfectly content sitting here. But thank you for showing such concern.” She had an impish tone to her words, “How are you healing, Merry?”

“Don’t you change the subject,” the hobbit retorted, “There is to be a party after Aragorn’s coronation, and you’ll have no one to see if you don’t leave this room to meet them.”

Pippin flickered his gaze between the bed and (Y/N)’s puzzled expression, but he added quickly, “There are many soldiers dying to meet the one that healed them after the field.”

She couldn’t see how Merry stamped on Pippin’s large foot. They weren’t supposed to encourage meeting other men of the field.

“You know I’ve got plenty of friends that’ll be there.” She thought of the fellowship and how joyous their reunion had been when the Ring was destroyed. “And I don’t much fancy being sought after by a handful of injured soldiers.”

“And why not?” came Faramir’s quiet voice from the bed covers, “Surely these soldiers have won the honor to seek your hand.”

“Oh, Faramir!” she said, standing to reach his forehead, “How are you feeling? You slept far longer this time.”

The young captain, though healed of his injuries, was still pale and weak from weeks stuck in a bed. “I’m all right. Your book reading keeps me well asleep.” He lingered his weary blue eyes on her expression, not wishing to do anything that would make her retract her hand from his face.

She was oblivious to how he was looking at her.

“Well, aren’t you going to answer his question?”

Merry stamped on his companions foot again.

“Oh, well…” (Y/N) seemed a bit flustered by the question, “I’ve never been one for courting, especially by strangers.” She moved her hands back into her lap and Faramir felt his brows slant in longing.

Merry and Pippin flipped their gazes between the two, peculiar smiles on their faces. Similar to the one that Boromir usually bore when he visited.

“What are you up to?” She questioned, “There is more than simply getting me out of this room.”

“You got us,” Merry resigned in mock defeat, “We need to get you out for a particular reason.”

“We need to speak to Faramir,” Pippin said in a rush, unable to conceal his excitement. A swift smack from his friend made him yell out, “Ow! What was that for?”

Merry sighed, “You have no tact, Pippin. Must be a Tookish trait.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh at her friends banter. The lovely sound made Faramir return his tired gaze to her.

“You could have just said so,” she said. “I have made promises to set up the festivities with Eowyn. Perhaps I’ll seek her out and start early.”

And once she had left, the hobbits were quick to let out the breaths they had been holding. Faramir, though still exhausted from his lack of energy, laughed at them. “I have a feeling Boromir has something to do with this.”

And speak of the man, Boromir inched his way into the room, looking around him as if to see if someone had spotted him yet. “Are we alone?”

“Completely,” Merry muttered, “(Y/N)’s off to find Eowyn.”

“Don’t worry, Faramir,” Pippin consoled his friend, “We’ve been putting in the good word for you the entire time you were ill.”

The poor man appeared entirely bewildered, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, “Good word?”

“Listen to me, brother,” Boromir said, a kind of light in his eyes. “The opportunity is almost ripe for the taking. The coronation is in just a few days, and that will be when you strike.”

“Strike?”

“We’ll all be there if you need us,” Merry continued, “We’ve just got to get you up and about. You still look like death.” Him and Boromir offered to help Faramir into a sitting position.

Such small a movement and it had Faramir straining, “I still don’t understand.”

“(Y/N)!” Boromir stated with such excitement, “Now is the time to confess your feelings for her.”

That woke him up real quick. “(Y/N)? Have you three been scheming behind my back?”

“Only because you were on your deathbed,” Pippin shrugged.

Faramir ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath, “I couldn’t possibly… how would I… like (Y/N) would actually…”

“Relax, Faramir,” Boromir smirked, “I don’t believe you have anything to worry about.”

“You should have seen her,” Merry sucked in his lips in exuberance. “She paid such special attention to you out of all the survivors.”

“Which brings us to why you have to get up, Faramir,” Pippin stated, “There’s a lineup of soldiers talking of charming (Y/N) at the coronation. You have to be better by then to take them on!”

Boromir raised a hand, seeing the slight panic entering his brothers face, “There’s no need to pick a fight with every man that comes her way. Because I am sure (Y/N) will pick you regardless.”

“You’re sure?” Faramir asked, almost breathless in his growing anxiety. “How could you possibly be sure?”

“You were not awake,” Boromir had a wicked grin, “She clearly has feelings for you. She is simply not as vocal about them.”

Merry urged him on, “I don’t see (Y/N) staying in any of her other injured soldiers rooms.”

~~

The coronation was a celebration beyond anyone’s wildest imaginings. Aragorn was crowned King Elessar amongst a flurry of pale petals and ecstatic subjects. Friends and acquaintances gathered from every stretch of the map, offering bows of good faith and trust.

(Y/N) stood diligently beside those members of the fellowship she cherished most. Boromir clapped boisterously, whistling loudly above the cheers. It made (Y/N) smile.

Amongst the chaos, Boromir leaned around to get a better look, grasping someone near him and trading places. This new person bumped right into (Y/N), stumbling and finding that it was Faramir his brother had traded places with.

He gave her a sweet, apologetic smile, as if to say, “My brother is a menace.”

She blushed back, taking a step away from brushing shoulders with him only to discover Legolas standing steadfastly beside her. She caught a questioning, slightly smug, look on his face before retreating back to being shoulder to shoulder with Faramir.

She couldn’t possibly have noticed the minute glance the elf gave to Boromir over their heads.

And the newly made King Elessar came walking among his subjects, the fair lady Arwen on his arm. He peered at her delicate, radiant face with such devotion that it made (Y/N) blush. She could feel heat radiating off Faramir’s body against her shoulder.

She sneaked a glance and caught him staring at her, even as the King and his Queen trailed past. Faramir couldn’t seem to look away and in an attempt to appear normal, started clapping along with the crowd. (Y/N) couldn’t put her finger on it, but the expression on his face reminded her of the look on Aragorn’s only moments before.

When he looked upon his queen.

The festivities that followed were as celebratory and raucous as you’d believe, especially with friends such as Boromir and Gimli around.

(Y/N) had quietly followed Faramir and Legolas into the throne room, which had been decked especially for the occasion. A large feast surrounded them, fiddlers and minstrels in the corner, and grand chandeliers of candles above.

She found that within an instant Legolas had mumbled an excuse to leave, putting her and Faramir alone and at the edge of the party. She kept her hands folded and in front of her, a shawl gracing her back and elbows. A circlet of golden leaves and rubied apples surrounded her head, an extravagance that Eowyn insisted upon.

“Healers,” she had said. “You never do anything for yourselves.” And she proceeded to dress her friend in fine white gold and cornsilk trimmings.

It was Faramir that attempted speech first, “The crown you wear, I recognize it.” He had to lean forward slightly to be heard over the feast. “It is quite beautiful.”

(Y/N) hoped the dimness of the candles hid the crimson on her cheeks, “Thank you. Eowyn took it upon herself to dress me. She says infirmary aprons are not acceptable.”

Faramir laughed, “It suits your complexion.”

She swallowed hard; there was no way her cheeks were as red as those rubied apples. In a moment of silence she straightened the circlet nervously. Faramir appeared to notice as he opened his mouth to speak.

But (Y/N) got there first, “Eowyn told me of the summer wine.” She gestured to a table across the hall, “I simply must try some.” And she vanished in a flurry.

It was incredible how quickly his companions surrounded his shoulders.

“That could have gone better,” Boromir stated grimly, clapping his brothers arm. “I approve of the compliment though.”

“How could you possibly hear us over this crowd?”

Merry pulled himself onto a table of desserts, Pippin not far behind with a fruit pie in hand. “You’ve got her all in a tither already.”

“I’m scaring her,” Faramir frowned, trying to glimpse her golden crowned head amongst the wine glasses.

“You’re flustering her, brother, there’s a difference.” Boromir stroked his scruff, observing the surroundings. “We’re going to have to evade her defenses.”

Pippin popped a blueberry, “Back to the ways of the Green Dragon.” The hobbits shared a gleeful glance, skittering off towards the minstrels.

“What are you planning?” Faramir fretted, not wishing to frighten (Y/N) further.

Boromir waved an impatient hand, apparently deep in strategic thought, “It was not my idea. Though a clever one.”

“Must you be so vague.”

The line of fiddlers shifted in their seats, a new merriment in how they held their bows. Their hobbit friends trailed from them, grasping mugs of ale and finding the tallest table they could stand upon.

A quick, rousing tune filled the air and Faramir recognized it immediately as a sort of line dance. One that included trading partners and flying feet.

“Dancing is not…”

“It is exactly how we’ll sneak you into (Y/N)’s arms.” Boromir grasped his brothers shoulders and shoved him towards the forming circle of people. Merry and Pippin were on their stage, beginning a drinking song of the Shire.

He could already see a pale faced Eowyn greeting (Y/N) and gesturing towards the center of the room.

“Excellent,” he muttered, much to Faramir’s anxiety. “Hold her swift and don’t let go.”

A billow of fabric and laughs consumed Faramir, quickly caught by a fellow Gondorian. He looked at her petite frame surprisingly but recognized her friendly face. They danced a few paces, him memorizing the moves before passing her along – this new partner an acquaintance from Rohan.

Clapping and cheering surrounded them, the hobbits hyping the crowd with bellowing lyrics and chugs of ale. Faramir felt himself loosen as he grinned and tapped toes with different partners. He recognized many friends and shared a few laughs, though an old arrow wound flared in his leg.

He spun and found himself in front of (Y/N) – she was flushed from the dancing, but a delighted twinkle was in her eyes. He continued to smile brighter, taking her hand and twirling her as the dance instructed.

A laugh came from her strawberry rouged lips and he relished the noise, less afraid to grasp her waist as they danced about the hall. When the time came for him to pass her to the next soldier, he found himself simply trading places with him.

(Y/N) peered at him with a comical gaze, “That is cheating.”

Faramir shrugged, taking the liberty to twirl her again, “I simply could not let you go.”

This time she did not mind the butterflies in her stomach, choosing to grin back at him instead of running away. They danced like that, Faramir continuing to jump places with the soldiers so she only partnered with him, until the music died away with a flourish.

Everyone clapped, (Y/N) and Faramir included, neither seeming able to remove their eyes from the other.

“Your shawl,” he pointed out. It had fallen on one side and dangled from one arm onto the floor. (Y/N) twirled to grab the end, but Faramir lightly grabbed her shoulders, stopping her, “Allow me.”

He stood behind her, draping the fallen end around her elbow, smoothly linking their arms together as he did so.

She gave him a suspicious brow, though smiled.

“Care for a drink?” And he led her towards the refreshments arm in arm.

Behind them was a rally of stunned cheers from a certain fellowship as they watched the motion.

“Was the summer wine to your liking?” Faramir continued, not wanting the momentum of his confidence to falter.

(Y/N) was still marveling at the smoothness of Faramir’s actions, allowing him the grace of keeping her arm delicately through his. “It was far too sweet. A pity.”

He charmed her, “Perhaps the elven made wine, then? I can attest to its richness – I’m sure you’ll prefer it.”

She nodded, finding herself intrigued by the bubbling drink, golden in the candlelight. It was crisp and tangy on the tongue, a look of delight on her face as she smacked her lips. Faramir watched her, releasing her arm to find a glass for himself.

“It is delicious.”

He grinned, “I’m glad.” And his gaze lingered as she enjoyed her drink. It lingered so much that (Y/N) chose to stare at the bubbles in her hand then at that look. She was correct in believing it reminded her of the King and Queen.

It was a look of devotion.

“Earlier you told me you recognized my crown,” she spoke towards her toes, “What do you recognize it from?”

He settled his wine glass on a nearby table, “It’s Gondorian made – it comes from our family stores.”

(Y/N) grimaced, “Oh, I told Eowyn not to go snooping. I didn’t realize she took it.”

“It is no trouble,” Faramir stated lightly, “It had belonged to my mother.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened, “I didn’t realize…” she immediately went to take it off, holding the circlet with a newfound gentleness. “Forgive me.”

“There is no need to return it now.”

She skewed her brow in apology, “This is far too precious an object, I should not be wearing it.” She offered it to Faramir, “Your mother was an honorable woman.”

Faramir held the golden crown with sincerity, gazing at the worn leaves welded upon it. He smiled sweetly, turning to (Y/N) and placing the circlet once more on her head. “My mother would be glad it was worn by someone as strong as her.”

He brushed her hair away, keeping his hands on either side of her face. “There. Beautiful.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth but found herself with no words to say. This time she returned his devoted stare.

“I have found myself growing very fond of you, (Y/N),” he whispered, “It would be shameful to leave this night with your face so apologetic.”

In an instant she was clear of the emotion – it was replaced with mingling shock and another delightful light in her eyes.

“The shame would only be my own; for my own misguided affections – I thought your fondness was only in gratitude for my healing.” That’s when he began to smile, “Then perhaps for the tolerance of your brother.”

He laughed, adoration plain in his features, “Perhaps I do feel those things. But first and foremost has always been for your heart.”

“My heart has always been open to you, Faramir.”

~~~

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[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Random Headcanons for Mary Elizabeth Lloyd Grayson, mother of Nightwing

....because Dang It, someone has to do it

- While naturally a redhead, Mary often dyes her hair with a variety of other tones to match the touring schedule per year. Hence, on one tour she can appear blonde while on others have jet black follicles. Sometimes though, she removes all dye to show her dark red hair proudly

- Due to traveling very much around the globe, she and her family often find themselves visiting theme parks. Probably due to experiences with heights and flips, Mary’s particular fond of roller coasters, no doubt the material being wood or steel or the amount of loops on them. The only one coaster though she just can’t seems to get on no matter how hard she tries is X2 at Magic Mountain in California.

- Once during a tour in Kuwait, Mary while enjoying a stroll through the streets of Kuwait City notices a passerby drop her purse but didn’t pay attention to pick it up. Mary let the woman know About it and gave the purse back. The two women had a nice yet brief chat before going about their days. That woman whom Mary befriended that day...Talia, unknown to the former, daughter of the mythical Ra’s Al Ghul. - Often times due to her Romani heritage, Mary always at one city or another unfortunately got either heavily suspicious looks from the adults in the streets when passing by or genuinely misinformed and misunderstanding comments from little kids visiting her post-show asking if she can tell their fortunes. Nonetheless, Mary always has her husband and especially her son Dick, her Little Robin to cheer her up every single day. - After a show the Flying Graysons put on at Metropolis when Dick was 6 years old, Mary was asked by Mr Haly for an interview with two local newspaper reporters if she can. She accepts and meets said interviewers, Lois Lane and Clark Kent of the Daily Planet. Clark was especially curious, politely asking of her Lloyd family history of performing acts on the flying trapeze across the world ever since the end of the First World War and how in spite of all they face from suspicion, prejudice, hatred and all sorts of bad things happening just because of being Romani, the Lloyds, the tribe they hail from and now Haly Circus itself always manages to bounce back and put on quiet a show like this one. Mary tells Clark the secret of doing all that is simply the bond and loyalty of family that drives her into being the headstrong, caring, passionate and kindly woman she is today because for all the bad in the world, there’s about 20 signs of good. Just then, some mayhem erupts at the Circus grounds due to some of the animals escaping. Mary and her son Dick charge in bravely to tame said animals and get Lois to safety. Just when the group are however cornered by the tigers, an all too familiar figure in blue and red with a S shield arrives....Sometime later, the animals are all calmed and now the Circus can rest for the night. Mary gives her thanks to Superman for basically saving them all, but then Superman just smiles back saying if anything, she and her son were the true heroes tonight, he was just there to help.

- Mary’s side of the family including herself is fluent in the lovari dialect of Romani Chib. - For Mary, her mother’s side were the acrobats. However, on her father’s side, a good portion of those family members had a very differing trade in comparison; a lot of family members Mary’s father‘s side were experts on the fields of medicine and...pathology. Indeed, a handful of her cousins, aunts and uncles are either medical examiners, morticians and/or even funeral directors all across the world and many varying countries. Her own father though was a dentist so ironically the least morbid of the bunch. He actually wanted Mary to take a career in life as a medical examiner though her heart was set in being a trapeze acrobat instead. One can imagine the surprise on John’s face when Mary told him of this during their dating years.

- Often times in the trailer they live in, Mary insists on a ‘no footwear‘ rule since while the carpet on the floor might not be the prettiest, she still tries keeping it clean as possible just in case the Graysons have guests come over. As such while John is usually the sock wearer and Dick alternates between socks, clean sandals and slippers, Mary usually goes all bare when walking all around the trailer, a feeling she’s actually quite used to given that during her youth, footwear was an absolute rarity for her family. - John might be the inventor of the quadruple flip and his son Dick inherits it, but Mary not only perfects it but even can perform five flips in a one swing if taps into her full potential. - Mary is not only fluent in the lovari dialect of Romani Chib but also knows to speak English, Russian, Persian, Hindi, Afrikaans, French, Italian, Finnish, Romanian, Spanish, Portuguese, and Greek. As of the Gotham performance, she’s learning Malay. - One of her wishes in life is that Dick would be a big brother, either by blood or by adoption, and a good one on top of that. - While a worry wart and even now and then stern with Dick’s mischief, she does fully understand whenever he makes choices for himself that make him happy and will not want to get in the way of them. Had she seen her son in his teen years meet of all people a redhead alien warrior princess and ask for her blessing in dating her, she would approve almost immediately after meeting and interacting with said princess.

If you can like this, they’ll be wonderful. Reblogging it and adding a bit more though would truly make my day.

this is dedicated to my favorite Nightwing Stan @hood-ex

May God bless you XD

[willow-salix]

How about I throw out a new chapter?

That'll be nice for a Saturday, right?

Meh, have one anyway.

Here's a snippet:

Selene grabbed a slice of pizza from the box on the table and dropped down onto the couch next to Gordon, uncaring as to the fact that he was barely dressed. When you watched him dive in and out of the pool in his Olympic issue swimming speedos just because he felt like it, you were pretty much desistized to anything.

She took a bite and made a face, it wasn’t the best pizza she’d ever had, not that that would stop her, she started to chew. Tonight was definitely the time for comfort food and pizza, even when bad, is still pretty good.

“Why are you in my flat?” she asked around a mouthful. She chewed some more and swallowed quickly when she saw the look on his face. “Not that I mind you letting yourself in, you know you’re always welcome. But I thought you were with Penny for the whole weekend.”

Gordon shrugged casually, but his eyes flickered towards the discarded pile of clothes on the floor beside the couch. It looked like one of his new suits and really shouldn’t have been treated in such a way. The jacket was scrumpled in a ball and the pants left where they had fallen, the shirt lay tossed over the arm of the couch and the shoes had been kicked off haphazardly, one lying under the table while the other had flown clear across the room to land by the dresser.

“Didn’t feel like it once I got there, I left Penny to her networking and caught a cab back here as I wouldn't have been able to get into the manor.”

Selene scowled, that wasn't like him, he was one of the more social Tracys and, since he was still relatively young, he usually jumped at the chance to spend time off island if he could. A party or a dinner was usually greeted with great enthusiasm. She decided to ignore that for now, he'd tell her in his own time. Years ago she would have pushed him more, but now they all knew her well enough to know that she was there to listen whenever they needed her and would seek her out if they wanted to.

"How was the conference?" she asked instead, swiping his bottle of beer, one of John's he had obviously liberated from the fridge, and taking a sip. "You must have been so excited to be asked to speak."

Again he shrugged. "It was OK, I'm pretty sure they only asked me out of courtesy for Penny and because it looked good to have someone from International Rescue on the schedule. It was pretty boring really."

"Why did you say yes then? It's not like you don't have a good excuse to get out of anything you don't fancy."

"Penny said it would be good for me to start making a name for myself, she's right, I'm not getting any younger-"

Selene snorted at this, Gordon was only 26, he had his whole life ahead of him. Although, if anyone knew that your life could be changed or even snuffed out at any moment, it was Gordon, so she kept quiet.

"She said that I should start thinking about my long term plans. We can't be doing International Rescue full time forever and, while we do have enough money to never have to work, you know we'd all get bored. Everyone else seems to have a backup already, John does his remote lectures and writes his books, and you know that he's always being called on to consult or collaborate with someone for something or another. Virgil has that fancy engineering degree of his, he's always tinkering around with Brains and the things they invent together could keep them busy for years to come. Alan is all fresh and new, he's already making a name for himself online with his team ups with Brandon, and Scott could walk into a job with the air Force or the GDF without even pausing to ask, then there's me, no college education, no specialist subjects-"

"Bullshit," Selene cut in. "A college education isn't for everyone, just because you don't have a piece of paper doesn't mean you aren't smart or an expert in your field. Someone once told me that, because I didn't have that kind of higher education I wasn't as smart as them, that I wasn't capable of making decisions because I didn't have the same knowledge they did. But knowledge is subjective, babe."

Gordon snorted at that, he knew what it was like too, he knew how people would judge him as the dumb brother because he'd chosen a different path than the more academic one the others had taken.

"It's true," she insisted. "Look at John, as much as I adore that man, he's proof that all the book smarts in the world can't always compare to common sense or life experience. You can know all about astrophysics but if you don't know how to interact with people or how to survive in the world then you're fucked either way. You are amazing, you know science and biology and genetics or you wouldn't have made those beautiful fish or done so much for marine conservation and, no matter who you're dating, the Friends of the Ocean yearly conference would not have let you speak if you didn't know your shit."

"I know," he sighed, "but it doesn't always feel that way, you know?"

"Oh, believe me I know," she rolled her eyes and reached for another slice of pizza.

"I guess it's just hard to be surrounded by such high achieving brothers. I look at Penny and I think what is she doing with me? She would be much better suited to someone like Scott, or John, you know."

"I'm pretty sure that Cat and I would have something to say about that. Besides, look at me and John, it's not like anyone would put us two together. On paper we shouldn't work at all, we're far too different. Yet we do. You can't help who you fall in love with."

Gordon's eyes slid sideways to watch her, the tone in her voice telling him that she wasn't just talking about his brother at that moment. There was something there that spoke of past experiences that didn't hold good memories for her.

He frowned, a thought occurring to him, one that he just had to voice.

"Sel, why are you here? You don't have any clients booked, I know because you said that was why Scott had to drop me off, because you weren't heading back for at least a week."

Selene kept quiet, her eyes on her pizza slice. This wasn't like her, she usually needed to be prised off his brother and dragged away kicking and screaming. She liked to spend the majority of her time on the island with them even if John wasn't home.

"Did something happen?" Gordon's voice was quiet, comforting, not pushing her to speak but inviting her to confide in him if she wanted to.

"I just needed some space, some time alone," she finally admitted, still not looking at him as she fiddled with the crust of her pizza.

"Oh, do you need me to go? Sorry, I know I should have asked but I didn't know where else to go and I couldn't really face the questions back home." Trust him to burst in and make himself a nuisance when he wasn't welcome, it seemed to be the story of his life.

"No, you're fine," she assured him, patting his bare knee. "I get it. I don't need space from you, just your idiot brothers."

"Which ones, I have a lot," he grinned, relaxing a little now that they were back on more familiar territory.

"John and Scott."

His eyebrows rose at this. Scott he could understand, but she never needed time away from John, in fact she was always complaining that she didn't get enough.

"I walked out on my husband," she whispered, the slice of pizza hanging limply from her fingers. "He was upset and so was I but I left him, I walked out."

Gordon could not have been more shocked if she had suddenly grown a fishtail and whacked him in the crotch with it.

"Tell me what happened," he said, it wasn't a question, it was a silent demand, showing him to have the same authority that his father had, just in a more laid back package.

She didn't want to talk, she didn't want to drag it all up again now that she had finally calmed down from her breakdown at ten thousand feet. She didn't want to start thinking about it all again, but Gordon was there, all endearing face and big brown eyes that implored her to talk to him, to trust him. Maybe he wouldn't judge her too harshly, maybe he would understand. She risked a glance his way, seeing the firm set to his jaw, letting her know on no uncertain terms that he was not prepared to let this go.

"John punched my ex-fiance in the face and broke his nose," she answered, knowing she had no other choice.

OK, if he had thought her last statement was shocking this little revelation shot it into orbit.

"He…what? John? My brother John?"

"Yep, with the other dumbass tagging along for good measure apparently."

"OK, OK, give me a second to get my head around this, I need to process. My brother, the one that is usually so against violence of any kind, straight up punched your ex?"

Selene nodded.

"Come on, surely you aren't pissed off at him for that? He must have had a good reason for it!"

"Well, Nathaniel isn't a good guy at the best of times..."

"Nathaniel? I don't know about him."

Selene frowned, glancing his way again. Was he being honest with her right now, did he really not know? Surely if Penny knew then she would have told Gordon too?

“Penny didn’t tell you?” she asked, needing to clarify.

“One thing to remember about Penny is that she's very good at keeping secrets and knows how to keep things close to her chest. She only ever tells what she thinks you need to know,” he chuckled lightly but to Selene's ears it lacked his usual humour, sounding a little flat. “So, spill, I’m all ears. You know that a problem shared is, well maybe not a problem halved but at least you won’t be suffering on your own.”

Selene smiled softly, he really was the best boy. She'd admit that if she had to pick someone to open up to and talk to about her problems, Gordon probably wouldn’t be at the top of her list, but in times like these he reminded her of just how awesome he really was. It was easy to forget that he could be serious, it often got lost in the bad jokes and his general enthusiasm for life, but that didn't mean that he wasn't as dependable as the others.

"It's a long story."

"I've got time," he gestured down to his almost naked self and the half eaten pizza. "Not like I'm going anywhere."

Selene paused, did she really want to dredge it all up again? The answer was no, but, whatever Nathaniel did as retaliation, and there was no question that he would, was bound to spill over into all their lives. They would all find out sooner or later, hell, it seemed like half of them knew already, it would be better for it to come from her in her own words.

"We're gonna need more beer,” she sighed, tossing the half eaten pizza slice back in the box.

Read the rest here on Ao3 ➡

[jamieatthebarricade]

Maids to Wives / Chapter 5

In 1619, one hundred and forty-four English women from good families crossed the Atlantic in response to the Virginia Company of London’s call for maids “young and corrupt” to make wives for the planters of it’s new colony in Virginia. One in six of the maids could even claim gentry status. Although promised a free choice of husband, they were in effect being traded into marriage for a bride price of 150 pounds of best leaf tobacco, the profits to flow to individual investors

In 1619, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp made the voyage to do one thing: marry a man she’s never met. But when she arrives, she comes to the startling realization that her heart belongs to someone else, a certain James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.

Chapter 5/? : A Known Stranger

Previous Chapters : 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Find Maids to Wives on Archive of Our Own!

May 22nd, 1619, Claire’s POV

“Dear diary, 

As time passes by here, I find myself enjoying life here more and more. I’ve been less than a week, and since arriving I’ve made a goal for myself to discover something new everyday. Whether it’s a new tree I didn’t notice before or a currant in the river. Yesterday I discovered a field of wildflowers a little aways of me and Frank’s house. I hope to go back there one of these days, maybe take Frank there and have lunch.

Frank and I haven’t had too much time to converse with each other, aside from small pillow talk at night. I ask about his day and he asks about mine. Usually he’s away during the day, in town with peers or overseeing the farms. I suppose I had an unrealistic romantic idea of marriage, that we’d be with each other more.

That’s not to say I mind. Being able to think by myself is a privilege I’m happy to keep. This whole experience has been incredibly overwhelming, so not feeling smothered by my husband is somewhat of a plus, although I’m smothered by a different thought.

The man at the docks. His red hair. His tall statue that stood over everyone else. Since last seeing him I couldn’t stop thinking of him, and guiltily I don’t think I mind. The feelings I have for him aren’t like anything I experienced before. It’s the type of attraction you read about, but never live through. He was this erotic thought in the back of my mind I could pull out whenever I wanted to escape. He was the forbidden fruit, and I wanted nothing more than a taste.

I need to stop myself. As pleasant as those thoughts were, I had a husband. A good husband who was kind and gentle, and who provided graciously for me. I had a roof over my head, and all the free time to frolic and read. I’d been doing better than many of the other women, from what I had observed. Mary was the only other one who seemed happy to be married.

I am seeing Geillis tomorrow, so I’ll ask her then. Although, I can guess her answer. From what she told me of her dream man, her current husband didn’t fit the description. He was old, bald, and fat. From what I observed from far away, she always pulled back when he kissed her. It made me fortunate to have Frank.

I suppose I should stop for tonight. Frank will be home soon, and still have our bed to make. Thank you for letting me release my thoughts.

Love, Claire”

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

May 23nd, 1619, Claire’s POV

“What are your plans for the day?” For the first time in weeks, Me and Frank were able to sit down together for breakfast. I had opted to prepare a simple meal of bread and milk, as I still had yet to learn to integrate recipes for my husband. I made a mental note to myself to start that.

“I’m visiting Geillis, my friend from the ship” Frank just smiled and sipped his milk, gazing between me and his food. I found his look charming, and I was happy to receive it. He looked at me with a nurture that was warm and inviting, that said ‘I’ll protect you,’

As he looked at me, I took the opportunity to look at him. Everytime we interacted, it seemed like I was noticing more about his features. His face was quite square, and he had these lines along his cheeks that trailed from the bottom of his jaw, and which became more defined when he smiled (thankfully, he did that a lot). He was balding slightly, but I suspected he’d be one of those men who balded nicely. He had a nice face, and I smiled to myself as I looked at him.

Suddenly the door opened, and Frank’s lesser twin came in. I hadn’t seen Jonathan for a while, as he usually kept to himself for the most part. Sometimes I saw him when I went out for a walk, but I always tried to avoid him. There was something about him that caused me to move away from his presence. It was strange, even though him and Frank looked the same, I knew deep down they weren’t the same person at all.

Frank was annoyed at his brother’s outwardly intrusion, and made no effort to hide it. “What can I do for you?” although the question wasn’t ill-spirited, the annoyed tone of his voice gave away his true feelings.

“There’s a shipment down at the docks. We need to help unload,” Jonathan returned with the same annoyed energy, and I saw the sibling tension between them. Growing up an only child, I’d always wanted a sibling of my own. Living with Jonathan and Frank rid myself of that dream.

Frank turned to me, giving a small smile. “I’m sorry our breakfast had to be cut short, we should try doing this more,” He smiled, and leaned in for a kiss. I happily returned it, and we shared a short peck before he was out the door. I hadn’t even noticed Jonathan was still in the room before I heard his voice,

“Goodbye Claire,” He said. I hated his voice so much, because it sounded so much like Frank. If any part of them shared likeness, it was their voices. Though, Jonathan’s always sounded like it was laced with something. Villainy? That’s what I suspected. 

I gave him a short nod, and thankfully he was out the door. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was keeping in, and looked around the small room. Me and Frank’s half eaten breakfast, a small table with 3 chairs, and a hearth. It was quaint, but it was home.

‘I should meet Geillis,’ I told myself, taking off my apron and looking at myself in the window. My hair was pulled up, and I was hesitant to change it as my hair tended to be untamed down. It wasn’t like I was meeting the queen or anything, I kept it the way it was.

The walk to town was longer than I was expecting. I’d only ever ridden on horseback, but figured today was a good day to take a scenic route. It was sunny, and quite warm. Some of the wildflowers I passed were blooming, and birds filled the sky and sound with their presence. Everything was peaceful until it wasn’t.

It was like a dark cloud came over everything, and the perfect day turned to something worse. Behind me, I heard the rustling of bushes, and slowly the movement of feet. I didn’t even notice my own starting to pick up the pace. A part of me wanted to keep walking. I’d be to town eventually, it wasn’t too far away. I heard the footsteps getting closer and my other thought was to turn around and fight whoever this demon was.

I chose that option, turning around and screaming, at the same time punching whoever was my chaser one. The person fell to the group, clutching his nose in his hand. It was an old man, with a bushy beard and a smell of alcohol that filled my senses quite quickly. I didn’t recognize him, and surely thought that whoever it was meant to hurt me.

Before I had time to breath, I heard another pair of footsteps being him. ‘This can’t be happening’ was I being set upon by highwaymen? Were these a band of bandits intending on stealing or hurting me? I quickly ran the opposite direction to my house, but whoever was chasing me was faster. At some point I would need to fight and that time would be now. 

I turned, and punched at whoever it was quickly. He doubled over, but didn’t fall like the other. When I looked at who it was, my breath caught in my throat. The man had bright ginger hair, and I’d only ever seen that color on one other person.

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

A/N Thank you all for reading!! I’ve been in a writing mood lately so hopefully expect some new stuff out! Have a great day yall :)

[avversiera-writes]

try again; in every day we breathe life [tobirama senju/you] - EPILOGUE

Chapter 10: Epilogue - The World As He Fixed It

Summary: A new member is added into the Senju family, and you finally find out what your husband is up to. 

Word Count: ~5k

also available on AO3. 

Chapter 1 - Now | Chapter 2 - Then, part 1 | Chapter 2 - Then, part 2 | Chapter 3 - Now | Chapter 4 - Then | Chapter 5 - Then | Chapter 6 - Now | Chapter 7 - Then | Chapter 8 - Then | Chapter 9 - Then | 

“We do not have to go,” Tobirama says quietly as he shuffles around behind you, as you put each clothing material you have under scrutiny. 

 You whirl towards him in confusion. “Why not? This is concerning your nephew. And your newborn grand-niece .” 

At that, your eyes perk up in excitement for him. Tobirama has actually long lived enough to witness a new generation of his family, and his brother’s grandchild, and you reckon there will be more to come. 

 You step closer to him, and he watches you intently as you do. “You are now a grand-uncle.” 

Tobirama’s hands come up to your elbow gently. “You know why I am thinking twice about visiting.” 

 Your eyes wander down to his collarbones and you find yourself unable to meet his eyes. “Tobirama, I will be okay. I am happy for you.” 

Tobirama’s hands fall away, and you turn away from him to look at your clothes once again. You can feel his eyes poring over you, but you shrug it off. 

 “Besides, they are your family,” you say to him, and then, the two of you leave it at that. 

The walk towards Tobirama’s nephew’s home is peaceful, but you walk with trepidation. You are not sure how you will react once you finally get to meet Tobirama’s grand-niece, though you have been managing quite well enough until that day you passed out in the street. Sometimes it is hard to control what enters your mind or what your body decides to react to. You are not the fortitudinous shinobi you once were anymore, even if you have kept close to its principles. Your thinking has changed, and despite the painful reminder, your body has never been the same as before either. 

 However, in every breath you take, a will so resilient keeps you going. 

“You know,” you start, your mind making up the words to say as you speak. However, you keep going and it feels just right. “There are many civilian families that have shinobis as their family members, and are unbelonging to any clan. I think we must...do better in supporting them.” 

Tobirama glances at you, letting you know that he is listening. 

 “What I mean is. I know that we cannot replace lives, but we must offer some relief to those who have lost their children, their parents. We must do better. I know that I no longer serve as a shinobi, and I may never get to know what our people go through, but we must start somewhere.” 

 Tobirama nods, and you can practically see his mind brainstorming for ideas, but then he stops and he gives you a small smile. “I think that it’s brilliant. Since it is your idea, I will help you instead. You can take the reins on this one. All the directives are yours. I only serve to make your vision happen.” 

 You look at him in surprise, but it is fitting in a way. Tobirama has always been the one with the plans and the oversight to everything, but this, giving you this to work on, is a bigger step closer to share his ambitions. Even if you have been helping Tobirama as Hokage, there are times where you cannot do so, but this is different. This new goal requires Tobirama to step back a little. 

 Tobirama is doing something for you that he once solely reserved for his brother, and maybe, maybe, despite all these years of serving the village, the two of you can finally do something for each other.  

You cannot help your smile widen in excitement. “Thank you. I will blow your mind!” 

 Tobirama narrows his eyes at that. “Not exactly the words I want to hear. A thank you is enough.”

 You roll your eyes, and nudge his arm with your elbow. “Have you no faith?” 

 Tobirama raises an eyebrow. “Well, for one. You are quite disorganized sometimes.”

 “Okay, okay,” you let out a chuckle. “But I have learned a lot from you. There is order to my chaos, too, you know.” 

 “Tell that to my alphabetized files in my office,” Tobirama immediately retorts. “And my color-coded books and scrolls. My labelled drawers and boxes.”

 “I get it, my gods, you and your drive to just be the best at everything!” 

Tobirama had the nerve to look smug. 

“Wow!” You exclaim sarcastically. “You are liking this, aren’t you? Bragging about yourself? Your ego knows no bounds.” 

 “Well, I am the best at everything. That is a fact, my darling,” Tobirama mockingly says, and you freeze at the endearment. 

Tobirama rarely says these things, and it has caught you off guard. He keeps on walking ahead, widening the gap between the two of you. 

 “Do you see me right now?” You yell towards him. “I am shaking my fist at you!”

 “Get in line, my love,” Tobirama says again and your mouth drops, aghast. 

 “Who are you?!” You cry out. You jog towards him lightly to catch up. 

Tobirama actually laughs, the sound small and a little rough, but it sends you to roll your eyes. 

“Gods, you have changed,” you comment under your breath. 

 Tobirama shrugs, and then he bumps his shoulder against yours. “In more ways than one, but we are always evolving. We never stay stagnant for long.” 

 You spot the house of Tobirama’s nephew, and for once, you do not feel like something is pressing on your chest to make it cave in. Maybe Tobirama had used this moment to lift your spirits up in the way he knows how. 

 You are grateful for it. 

//

When the two of you had arranged your slippers just outside the door to the main living room, the two of you immediately heard Hashirama’s booming laughter. You share an amused look with your husband, and together, the both of you made your way over to them. 

 You see Hashirama holding his newborn grandchild, and you cannot help the smile spreading across your lips. The wonder in his face is infectious, and the room lights up in excitement, as Hashirama beckons his brother to come closer. 

 Tobirama hesitates, but when he gets close enough, Hashirama reaches over and pulls his hand, and proceeds to deposit Tsunade into his arms. 

You watch as Tobirama’s eyes widen a fraction as he stares at his grand-niece in his arms. He touches her forehead gently with a finger, and he immediately looks at you. His face may look indiscernible to others, but you can tell that he is excited. He beckons you to come closer, and you do, and the two of you look at the new addition to the Senju family. 

“She is beautiful,” you comment quietly. 

 You are aware that others look at you with some degree of alarm, but you pay no mind. Of course, they are allowed to feel that way, given that you had moments where you freak out, but you are completely calm now, and you are just happy for your husband and his family, even if there is a tone of bittersweetness catching at the back of your throat. 

“Would you like to hold her?” Hashirama inquires, as you place the back of your hand on Tsunade’s cheek. 

 “Maybe later,” you reply, seeing how taken Tobirama is with his grand-niece. 

After meeting Tsunade, the rest of the family gather at the dining table while the parents attend to their newborn. Tobirama excuses himself, having to run to his Hokage duties for the rest of the day, and after chatting with Hashirama and Mito, you also leave to get home, suddenly feeling exhausted from the many interactions with people. Usually, you are able keep up appearances in long social events, but now, every word you utter is exhausting. You wish that you can go back to how you were, and you hold on to that, trying your best to pull up the charisma you once wielded, and while you are victorious in putting up such a convincing facade, you cannot control what seeps in through your wall. 

 When you step inside your home, it is quiet. It is the kind of quiet, where you know that you are totally alone. There is no breath of a sigh, no footsteps, no doors sliding open and close. You stare at the winding hallways of your house as you pass by them, noting how undisturbed they look, how blue and cold. 

 Then you head upstairs, taking it step by step, until you are passing by your bedroom, and towards the room designated to your firstborn. 

You stop by the door, and when you finally enter, the sight immediately brings tears to your eyes. The folded blankets, the stuff toys, the crib, the rocking chair, and the books in the room remain untouched, and they have been gathering dust for a while. 

 Your palm grazes across the surface of the crib, and rests on the tiny pillow situated on one side of the crib. The mobile that hangs above the crib, filled with dangling cranes and dragons spin aimlessly and without sound. 

You let out a sob that you have been holding, but they are not from anger or bitterness. They are to mourn what could have been, what you have lost. 

 You let your tears run, and you let it go and course through you. You feel more of what you have been trying to run away from, because you know that sooner or later, you would have to face it. 

 The pain does not let up, but you feel something . It burns and soothes you at the same time, picks at scars but slowly heals it, with time. 

Your eyes go around the room, where dust motes swirl where the light rays are beaming upon a surface. You spend a few more minutes in the room, but when you begin sneezing, you finally decide to leave it and opt to study up on the new project you proposed to Tobirama earlier. 

 You want to give your all on this one, and besides, you know you can use the work. You need to pour your effort and your restlessness into a new direction, because you never want others to feel as you do, as Kimiko does. 

Maybe in a way, you no longer know what goes on in the lives of those who go into the field, but you were there once, and you understand the difficulties of just trying to make it out alive. 

 It is always life we cling to, and what makes us driven to preserve it. It is our silent prayer, even at the brink of death. 

//

After jotting down your ideas and the beginnings of a plan for this new project of yours, you take a break to wander around the house aimlessly. You go into the connected rooms where you and Tobirama are currently building an extensive library and a personal museum for arts and Tobirama’s inventions, taking mental notes on what you ought to change later, when the two of you get the time to uncover more of the artifacts that your husband and his clan has collected over the years. 

 There are some weapons and supplies gathered in the last room, since the two of you shared the obsession of collecting them and learning how to use them. 

 Then, you make your way to your husband’s study. You stop by the threshold, not really stepping in just yet. 

 This room definitely speaks for Tobirama. It is neat and clean, and just as he had bragged, his books and his scrolls are all organized, and in alphabetical order. The files are labelled with his best handwriting, since he has a gorgeous penmanship. Better than yours, in fact. 

 You smile at that little detail about him. Even now, you are amused by all the qualities that he has. You should be used to him by now, but every day is a new day with him; re-learning him is not exhausting to you. 

You opt not to go in, and instead, you go back for your things downstairs, and take it up to your bedroom to work on. As you lie on your bed and draft your official proposal for this project, your eyes flit to the ceiling and the papers around you. The day feels slow, and the heat of the afternoon sticks to you like a daze, and the next thing you know, your eyelids are feeling heavy, and your limbs give to your side, wrinkling a few papers. 

//

Tobirama stares at the corpse in front of him, covered in tags that are marked by his own handwriting–they are his seals, and they are intricate and sprawling across the tags. They fan out, connecting to the next seal, and to the next one, until it is covering the whole corpse. Tobirama takes a deep breath, and he releases it slowly, focusing his chakra. 

 He closes his eyes, willing this to work, because it has to. 

 He takes the DNA of the corpse and smears it to a scroll, and he brings his hands together and begins to the weave signs. 

 However, when he puts a hand on the scroll, nothing happens with the corpse. He waits, because it is what he does a lot whenever he is doing his experiments, but nothing happens. His patience has run thin, and Tobirama lets out a shout of rage and brings a fist down on the table under him. It gives, along with the corpse and the papers and chemicals situated upon it. 

Tobirama racks his mind. Something is still missing. 

By now, he has figured out that he needs a soul and the dead body’s DNA. For this past year, he has been doing his best to reconstruct the corpse into a tangible body, preserving it to this very moment. He has taken limbs and other body parts to make it look human, and it has come down to this moment. 

 And still, there is nothing. 

 Tobirama needs to finish this. He needs to see this to the end, but he is stuck. He does not know what else he can do. Hell, he does not even know where to begin now. 

He sticks his hand backwards, feeling out the wall, and when he comes in contact with it, he rests his back on the cold wall of his lab and he slides down. 

 He stares at the mess in front of him, feeling like a failure–a feeling that he detests so much but it hangs on him like a death sentence. 

He has been losing sleep, missing out on his life and his family for this, and yet, it yields him no results. 

Tobirama is tired, but it is not his time to rest. 

 He runs a hand down his face, feeling haggard, but an idea sparks to his mind that it almost makes him laugh. 

Of course, this did not work because he is attempting to summon something from another plane of existence, the afterlife. 

 He has been going about this all wrong. No, he does not need a dead body, nor all the seals that he has made for it. He just needs their essence, and a sacrifice. A living one. 

 Tobirama actually does laugh this time, but it is not a jolly sound. It is metal grating against metal, it is low, sinister and more of an outburst–a response to all the troubles that he has been keeping inside for a long time. 

 He presses his palms to his eyes, and he digs it in, until his eyelids begin to look white. His body shakes, and his heartbeat hikes up until he feels it bounding on his neck. 

He has his answer, but why does it make him like he just lost? This should be his victory. This is something good. 

 Right? 

 He has been telling himself that this is the right thing to do. The only way to do the right thing. Yet it fills him with emptiness. 

However, he feels himself descend into this emptiness. He dives into it, face first. His hand reaches for the first paper he can touch, and a pen that happens to roll closer to him. 

He writes down his thoughts about the Edo Tensei, about his assumptions and what he can test. He knows that he cannot use the living, because this village will take notice. They will have to be enemy shinobi. His thoughts disgust him–because he is only inconvenienced by the fact that he cannot use the people around him, and he has to look for a sacrifice somewhere else. 

 The thin line of what he can and cannot do begins to blur and Tobirama feels the madness that he is engulfed in. There is no difference between him and his enemies, as there are no bounds to what he will do to preserve what he has. He believes to be fighting for the good side, yet his enemies will claim to be doing the same thing. 

His mind jumps from one thought to another, when he thinks of the underground prison that holds Kimiko and where other prisoners from outside the village get detained.

Tobirama’s hands begin to shake, but he wills them still. Then, he stands up. He feels his success spread through his chest, and he pushes back against what is telling him to stop. There is no stopping. 

 He rushes there, the door to his lab slamming open as he flies through the dingy, underground hallways. 

The lights are dark green, and the walls are black, the paint fading and peeling away; they curl at the top and they look almost like fingers clawing against the wall. The air is thick with moisture, and his steps echo loud in his ears. 

 Finally, he arrives in front of Kimiko’s cell. 

He hears Kimiko’s foreboding laugh. 

“Come to finish the job, Lord Nidaime? Like you have done with the other prisoners?” Kimiko says, her voice raspy, like nails against a blackboard. 

Tobirama grits his teeth. This scene is almost too familiar to him. 

“So it didn’t work?” Kimiko asks in a hushed voice. “With all the bodies you have added to your kill, you still cannot turn things around?” 

“I know what I have been doing wrong,” Tobirama drones on, his voice sounding cold and detached. It does not even feel like his own, but it sounds like his. 

Kimiko approaches the bars of the cell, her appearance exactly like a corpse. 

 Tobirama looks her stone cold in the eye. “Miura Kimiko, as the Hokage, I hereby sentence you to death.” 

//

You wake with a gasp, and the papers on you fall to the ground. You are covered in sweat, and it soaks the front of your shirt, like water has been splashed on you. You wipe the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand and you stare at the space in front of you. You let out a sigh, and you glance at the space beside you. 

 No Tobirama. 

 And the nightmares are back. 

Your heart squeezes, and you swing your legs over the bed, deciding to get some fresh air. 

For a while, you stand on the engawa, looking at the night sky and the low-hanging crescent moon. A howl hoots nearby, but other than that, it is quiet. You watch the streets from your house, as you can see it from where you are standing, but there is no sign of Tobirama coming home. 

 You cross your arms. It is very late. You wonder what is keeping him at work. You know that Tobirama rarely sleeps these days, and when he does, the hours are short and far in between. 

Suddenly, there is knocking on the front gates and you rush to open it and see who is behind them. It cannot be Tobirama, since he has a key. 

When you pull the gate open, you find Mito behind it, and you step back with wide eyes. 

“Where is Tobirama?” She asks, a perturbed frown etched on her elegant, pristine face. 

 You shake your head. “Not here.”

 Mito takes a deep breath and she composes herself. “I apologize for coming by so late. Hashirama has gone missing again. He is not in the village.” 

 Even though Mito is calmer than the ocean, you can sense the urgency behind her words. She never really loses her composure. 

 Your vision gets faraway for a second, and then it focuses on the dark streets of the Senju compound, which leads to the village. 

“Us and our missing husbands,” you try to joke, but the tone of your voice sounds dead. 

 Mito’s eyes flash to you with concern. “I can come with you, if you’d like.” 

 You turn to her slowly, a sense of vertigo hanging on the center of your forehead. It takes a moment to process her words, but you shake off your stupor. You want to brave through your fears. 

“I can manage, thank you, Mito,” you say. “If Hashirama comes back, it is best he finds a comforting face.” 

 Mito stares at you, but she does not object. “Be careful.” 

You give her a wry smile. “Our Senju husbands are a handful, aren’t they?” 

 Mito sighs, and she reaches for your hand. “Thank you.” 

//

The whole walk towards the Hokage office is filled with your uneasiness, and the paranoia that the shadows are about to jump at you, but you get there nonetheless. The first thing you notice is that the Hokage mansion is quiet. There is no one here, and when you get to the office itself, Tobirama is not there. 

 You stand outside the office doors for quite some time, until you finally get your legs to walk you towards the direction of Tobirama’s lab. 

 You hate going in there, as every aspect of the lab seems like a danger to you. It is the place where Tobirama spends the most time conjuring up jutsus, his very own controlled environment, that sometimes blew up because of his doing. It is suffocating in there and no light is permitted unless Tobirama puts up lanterns. 

You sigh, as you step through the winding underground labyrinth. This place gives you more chills, since you know Kimiko is also here. 

 Come to think about it, this place is too quiet. There are no signs of life. Not even the rush of labored breathing. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you tread cautiously towards Tobirama’s laboratory. 

 As you get closer, you hear sounds of struggle and of things getting broken and slammed from impact. 

 You snap alert and you hurry towards the door. You pry it open, and just as you find Tobirama, you see him take his kunai and lodge it against his enemy’s neck, and through brute force, his kunai digs deep into the neck and through it, severing the head. 

You stop in your tracks, and you watch Tobirama step back to observe what he did. You begin to taste bile at the back of your throat. 

 The body that he decapitated did not spray blood nor crumple to the ground, but it begins to be made whole. Ashes fly to it, remodelling the original form until it looks human. 

You gasp, and Tobirama whirls around and sees you. 

“What are you doing here?!” Tobirama demands. 

 His voice makes you step backwards. 

The being regards you, and probably from the animosity of Tobirama’s voice, it reacts by charging towards you. 

 You let out a strangled scream, and your instincts make you step to the side, but before it can go near you, it is dispersed and a crumple piled of ashes fall to the ground. 

You feel the burn of acid go up the back of your throat, and before you know it, you turn to your side and you begin to hurl your insides. 

 Your mind draws blank. 

When you are done, you wipe the corner of your mouth and you look at Tobirama, who is regarding you with a cold expression. 

“What is this?” You rasp out. Your eyes feel cold, and your hands are numb. “What did you do?” 

Your gaze wanders through the lab, and you see corpses on the examination table, papers strewn on the floor, unraveled scrolls spread out over desks, and another corpse on the floor, covered in tags. 

“Tobirama…” You trail off. Your heart drops heavily to your stomach. 

  Your husband dwells in the dark, my lady, and in the shadows, he plays god with the dead . 

 Tears begin to gather in your eyes, and your vision gets blurry. 

Why don’t you just die and see what I mean? 

“Did you...did you bring me back with this? You said I died…” You murmur in disbelief. And hurt. 

 Tobirama can see how repulsed you are and with that, he swallows back his emotions. 

“Tobirama,” you snap, this time with anger. “What the hell is going on?” 

Tobirama stares at you coolly, and you hate that expression of his. It is like he is in battle and he is analyzing the fight to come up with a brilliant strategy. 

 “I created a new jutsu,” he replies. “It is our safeguard. This can help us at war.” 

Your eyes widen in horror and you step towards him. “Help us? At war? There is no war! Isn’t it our goal to have no more wars? So we can stop fighting and go home alive ?!” You practically scream at him. 

 Tobirama is eerily calm and you loathe it. You know that he is shutting down. However, his words do not match his expression. 

“Elder brother is dying,” he says quietly. “This is the only thing I can do.” 

 “No!” You shout. 

 “This jutsu,” Tobirama starts. “This will ensure that no more lives will suffer. This jutsu raises the dead to create an unstoppable army. Now tell me if that is not a good thing.” 

You press a hand to your eyes, trying to drive away the images of the corpses around you. 

“They are just dead bodies,” Tobirama says, detached. “They are dead . I can control them.” 

 “No, shut up!” You snap. “What did it take? Huh? What did it take for your good thing to happen?” 

Tobirama’s eyes narrow. “If you are disgusted, then you are free to leave.” He crosses his arms. “When Hashirama is gone, this village will be vulnerable.” 

 “Your brother is dying, and this is what you do? Make a solution to bring him back alive?” You step closer to him, and Tobirama backs off in surprise. 

He expects you to run off and to leave him. 

 “There is no cure,” he finally snaps. He wanted you to go because it is easier to deal with what he has done without you. 

 “Then why do you spend so much time with the dead? Why can’t you go and spend time with him? For the gods’ sakes, he is out there!” You put your hands on him and you push him back. “Tobirama, do you even hear how insane you sound? How can you rationalize this? Are your dead brothers just dead bodies, then? Our baby girl? My late students?!” 

Tobirama takes it, and his face breaks open with the emotions he has been holding back. 

“This is the only thing I can do! The only way to make sure this village is protected! If my brother goes, then the world becomes our enemy!” 

 “Senju Tobirama!” You scream on top of his voice, and it silences him for a moment. “Is there no end to this?!”

 Tobirama glares at you, and you cannot unhear how broken he sounds. He finally loses it. “THERE IS NO END!” He explodes, and his voice rings in the room.

You take your hands and you slam them against his chest, once, twice, with you biting back your tears. The two of you are breathing hard, and you feel Tobirama’s heartbeat underneath your palm. You ball your hands into a fist and you slam them against his chest again, unable to say anything else. 

 “Why don’t you go?” Tobirama pleads. “Please, just go. Leave me alone, leave me be!” 

You let your tears fall from your eyes. “You, Senju Tobirama, have no faith in yourself, and you are breaking my heart. You set up this world, you made it so that we can have peace, and we will continue to work on that. Peace is not all about strength!” 

 You meet his eyes. “You are wise. You are brilliant, and all the good things a shinobi must be!”

 Tobirama shakes his head, feeling his eyes prick with tears. His chest tightens painfully. “I have not done enough!” 

 You grab the front of Tobirama’s shirt and you clutch it harder. You feel like if you let go, you will lose him to this madness. “Nothing will never be enough, not in this lifetime or the next!”

Tobirama grabs your wrists. “How can you say that?” 

 “Because we will never know what happens next! We are only humans, Tobirama. If you are a god, then by all means, raise the dead, bring back our dead child, control everything you can control.” 

The two of you fall into silence. 

 Tobirama wanted you to turn away because he does not know how to handle the grace you are giving him. He did not want to deal with your disappointment, so he wanted you to feel repulsed. 

 However, he is met with understanding and compassion, and he cannot wrap his head around that. He wants to flee.

Tobirama’s forehead falls to yours, and you feel his tears on your cheeks. “ Elder brother is dying,” he finally says, but it is with acceptance. “He’s...going to leave me.” 

 It breaks his heart. Nothing can ever prepare him for Hashirama’s death. He still needs his elder brother. They are one hell of a duo–there is nothing in this world they cannot accomplish. He does not want to be alone, or be left behind. No matter how much he isolates himself, he values his family above all, and there is nothing in this world that he wants other than for his family to thrive and to be happy. 

“Yes,” you tell him quietly. “But he is out there.” 

You grab Tobirama’s face, and you make him face you. “And he needs you to bring him back home, alright?”

 Tobirama stares at you, looking painfully lost. It is a rare sight to see him so vulnerable. “I do not know what to do. I do not know. I have spent all my life knowing, and I don't-I don't know anymore.” 

You feel his exhaustion in his body and his words, the way your touch makes him lean further towards you and give in. 

 “Yes, you do,” you reassure him, and you caress his high cheekbones with your thumb. “Yes, you do. So go to him.” 

 Tobirama shakes his head, and he places his big hands over yours. “I am sorry.” 

You know how heavy the crown Tobirama wears, how it bears down on him that it drives him insane. It is not like his fears for the future are unfounded. You understand where he is coming from, but you cannot stand here and let him waste away giving his life effort among the dead. You understand so much that it hurts. The pain of being on fire pales in comparison to this. 

You wipe his tears away. “And...I love you. No matter what.” 

 Tobirama squeezes your hands, but he is still looking down at the distance between the two of you. “That is terribly naive of you.” 

 “Well, you know me,” you whisper. 

 “Thank you,” Tobirama murmurs, and finally, he feels a kind of peace settle over his shoulders. It is a comfort that he will spend the rest of his life with you. 

 He knows that he cannot waste your grace, and he will do whatever he can to be worthy of it. 

 Tobirama kisses your forehead, and you close your eyes as he pulls you into his arms. When you open them, you are back in your own home, and he takes off to go find his brother. 

//

You wait for Tobirama’s return in the engawa, the cold morning air of near dawn making your nose runny. It smells of dew now, and the sky is beginning to turn into a lighter shade of blue that makes you see the green of the grass and the leaves of the trees. You stare off into the distance, worrying for him, but you know that he will be back. He has always made good on that promise. 

 Finally, the gate opens and you see Tobirama walk in. 

He pauses from where he is and he looks to you. You see the shadows on his face that cuts his features into sharp details–the way his cheeks hollow and his jaw juts out like a knife–he is always beautiful, no matter what. 

“I told my brother about the Edo Tensei,” he tells you the moment he gets closer. “We are going to seal it away, and make it a Forbidden jutsu.” 

 “That, you should,” you reply wryly. It has been a very long night. “It cannot fall to the wrong hands.” 

 “Yes,” Tobirama agrees. 

The two of you make your way towards your bedroom, and once you are in the confines of your bedroom, your walls fall away. Tobirama walks to the corner of the room, his back to you. The two of you let the silence settle, and you approach him, and quietly slide your arms around his waist and lean your head on the space between his shoulder blades. 

 Tobirama lets out a long sigh, and he rests his arms over yours. 

“What do we do next?” Tobirama asks quietly. 

 “We don’t have to do anything just yet,” you reply, and you plant a kiss on his back. 

Tobirama turns to face you and slides his arm around your waist and sidles you up against him. Tobirama’s tired eyes pore over yours, and the hardness of his stature fades away. He melts into you, and he finds your lips against his. 

 Tobirama pulls away, and he grazes a thumb over your cheek. “Okay.” 

 “Okay.” You blink at him. 

Tobirama leans towards you again, and he kisses you softly. Slowly, he walks the two of you to the bed, and he gently lays you down on your back. 

 Your fingers trail down to the hem of his shirt, and you draw it towards you to take it off. Tobirama tosses his clothing aside, and he leans over you again, his naked torso pressing against yours. 

“You cried,” you whisper, your fingers tracing the bone over his eyebrow. 

 “You did as well,” Tobirama murmurs. 

“Don’t you ever ask me to leave you,” you rest your palm on his cheek. “Then, I will really cry.” 

 “I told you not to cry over me,” Tobirama rolls to his side, bringing you along with him. 

 “How could I not? Quit asking me for impossible things.” 

Tobirama stares at the ceiling, unsure of what to say next. He clutches you to him like an anchor locking its ship to one place. 

 “I want to do right by you, and my brother, and this village,” Tobirama starts, his voice low in his chest. “But I get lost in it. This world is too harsh, and sometimes it takes a mile to move an inch.” 

 “Will you still stand by me, after everything?” Tobirama glances down at you. 

You hold Tobirama and you press your cheek against his shoulder hard. These words are binding, but it is your vow with him. Come what may, but it is with readiness you face these challenges with him. You see him clearly, and you are only beginning to get the scope of what he is prepared to lay down to protect those he loves. He is flawed, and you acknowledge that. You know that your husband is capable of making the hardest moves even if the world will hate him for it. You will not always agree with him, but you believe in his vision and the way he hopes the world can be in the future.

And that makes him human. Perhaps more than anyone you have ever met or have known in your life. 

 The thing is, there is no black and white in the lens that Tobirama sees the world in. You have learned that not everything is simple, that some things just cannot be fixed no matter how hard you search for answers. 

 The two of you need to accept that in order to move on. 

“Until death do us part,” you whisper to him. 

 END.  

coming soon: “touch your heart” (their first meeting and how they fell in love)

[green-g3ck0]

Philza has joined the game

[I wrote this in mind that’s it’s setting is if L’manburg didn’t get blown up but it’s after Schlatt lost power]

<<Characters: Wilbur, Niki, Tubbo, Tommy, Eret, Fundy, Dream>>

Though the Dream SMP had its fair share of rules and commands, who interacted with who was not one of them.

Anyone could comment with others outside of teams. Sapnap and Tommy got along fine, Fundy and Eret could manage well, and Wilbur and Schlatt could crack jokes here and there.

Everyone got along just fine outside of bits. Some bits though... happen to slip into daily life.

Wilbur sighed softly as he sat in the grass next to Niki, watching the rest of what used to be L’Manburg’s team jump and run around the festivals remains.

He watched as Tommy would surpass Tubbo in a race to slap Erets hand in victory, Tubbo pausing to watch something.

The Pogtopian man followed his eyesight to see Fundy texting away in the chat. Though, the messages seemed to be whispers to someone unknown for now.

Tommy ran up the hill towards the couple and huffed in victory. He shouted at Wilbur, celebrating his scores to the unconcerned Brit.

Seeing he wasn’t paying attention, he looked at where everyone else was and cocked an eyebrow.

“Why are you so worried about Fundy? I’m sure he’s fucking around with something important.” The blond stated.

“Tommy- he’s talking to someone. I don’t know who, but it’s someone he cares about.” Wilbur replied.

“Maybe it’s Dream?” Niki piped in.

Both of the males quickly looked at her in dismay.

“What? I mean- Fundy proposed to Dream after they watched Treasure Planet. I wouldn’t be too surprised since they’ve been talking a lot since, and that’s probably why Fundy was on Schlatts side for so long.” She explained.

Wilbur still stared her down as Tommy laughed beside him. Eret called for Tubbo and Tommy to come back and said boy turned to go back down.

“Niki..” said girl tensed at her name being spoken.

“Why..? Why would that be an idea- I’m sorry but Fundy is still my son, whether he’d like to admit it or not, and thinking he could be with the man I have a rivalry with- that had to be one of the most absurd things I’ve heard you say!” He chuckled.

Not wanting to start a fight, Niki nodded and laughed a bit, turning her attention back to the field.

Fundy looked around to see if anyone was watching him closely. Niki was watching the other boys, Wilbur following suit. The rest happening to go fight in the boxing ring.

Fundy backed up until he was hidden and whispered to his last texted.

[You whisper to Dream: I’ll be right over, just gotta get out of sight of “father” lmao]

He ran down the hill towards the river and checked to see if he was out of sight still.

[Dream whispers to you: idk why you’re so worried of him. Nothing to hide, he’s just old. But good, I got something to show you ;)]

Fundy blushed as he read the text and started swimming towards the prime path. Once he got there, he got up and shook himself off mostly dry.

[You whisper to Dream: you know him, he still hates you from L’Manburg days. I’ll meet you at the community house, can’t wait to see the surprise ;)]

He sighed contently as he walked down the path, lazily looking around at anything. He watched as Techno and Quackity ran around a bit away. He glanced behind himself to see Karl and his fiancé skipping around the path and laughing with red faces. He checked to see who’s online; George and Schlatt no where to be seen. No real surprise there.

A figure flew above him onto the house roof, and his ears perked up, along with his steps. He quickened his pace, hurrying to see his loved one.

He went to touch the handle of the door, but it already opened in front of him, a white mask smiling at him.

The mask lifted up and the Dutchman blushed at the cute brunette behind it.

“Please come in!” Dream stepped aside and let his fiancé in, shutting the door behind him.

“Thank you baby. What’s up, what did you wanna show me?” His smile became a bit more fake as a message read in chat.

Tommyinnit: yo Fundy wya??

Dream took note and softly wrapped his arms around the fox, giving him a small forehead kiss.

“What I can’t see my fiancé in private and get to enjoy time with him alone??” He smirked softly.

Fundy’s smile grew bigger with his blush, and he hugged him back. “You’re adorable, but you know what I meant.”

Dream chuckled and let go of the smaller one, reaching into his inventory to get something.

The other male looked around carefully, waiting for the brunette to find the item. He felt like he was being watched, but he shrugged it off, knowing and feeling safe with Dream.

As he looked back to his lover, a delicate hand grabbed his and he looked down to watch. Something small was places in his hand and was forced to close over it.

Dream stepped back and watched Fundy carefully open his hand to look at the item.

It was a small polished granite heart. A black string wrapped around a small gold clip attached to it. The heart wasn’t too thick in width, it was a bit thin, but it was still dense. Fundy moved it around to see it was polished just enough that it looked red. He rubbed his thumb over the smooth material and smiled wide. His eyes pricked with tears as he looked up from the stone.

“Baby..!” He whined and tackled Dream in a hug. “I love it so much!! Thank you thank you thank you!!! Thank you so much!!”

The masked man laughed and hugged his loved one back, glad that he enjoyed it as much as he did. He wasn’t even expecting that much love, I mean it’s made of granite- who loves granite??

He then got a shiver when he saw someone watching from a distance. He glared softly and hugged the Dutchman tighter. No way was he going to lose the one person who tried so hard for him.

Fundy took so long to get here. He wasn’t going to give it up so easily. No way. He coded night and day for this. Not a chance.

~~~

Fundy walked back to Manburg holding the small pendant in hand. It saddened him to imagine everyone not realizing he left. Dream would realize right away. That’s why Dream is the one. He would care. His “family” doesn’t.

He quickly shoved the necklace into his pocket as he watched a small brunette run up to him.

“Fundy there you are! You need to box Tommy!” He grabbed the others hand and dragged him to the small ring.

“Seriously, he needs the ego deflate.” A deep voice said behind the two. Fundy chuckles lightly at the comment and quickly followed the brits.

He pushed his anxiety aside and gained a false confidence to try and scare the teen. As he walked up to the ring, he saw Tommy leaning on the railing talking to Niki. Wilbur walked over and sat next to her, whispering something in her ear.

Fundy shook it off and joined the old champion in the ring. He knew Tommy usually had a bigger ego than he could handle, and Fundy was glad to take him down.

He sighed heavily and put everything he had in a chest so he wouldn’t risk losing them just in case.

He looked up to see a small figure in the distance and he smiled knowing who it is. He shook his body loose and tried to clear his mind. He didn’t want to lose and embarrass himself in front of him.

He took the necklace out of his pocket and put it around his neck, feeling a new genuine confidence sprouting.

He shook his hands and bounced a bit, looking at the blond teen across from him. He smirked and stood ready.

“Get ready to lose bitch!” Tommy copied Fundy and laughed.

Tommy flung forward and swung at his target. The other man dodged and retaliated, hitting his arm. They both kept swinging until Tommy made a move that sent Fundy over the edge.

When Tommy swung at Fundy next, he happen to catch the necklace. Fundy felt the string break around his neck and he watched the pendant fall onto the floor of the ring.

His blood boiled and he didn’t know what came over him. He glared at the teen in front of him and decked him in the cheek.

Tommy fell to the floor unconscious.

Fundy stood back and huffed as he watched Tubbo run in and check on his friend.

“Fundy what the hell?!” He heard Wilbur bitch, but he ignored him and picked up the pendant.

He felt a rush of cold air behind him and he calmly looked to see who it was.

Dream rested on the barrier and nodded. “Good job, Funds. Needed to be done.”

Fundy nodded and looked back down at the heart. He traced it and wiped off any dirt or grime possibly on it.

“Don’t condone this Dream! He just knocked Tommy out!” Wilbur continued.

“When have you not liked a little silence on his end though? Besides, his ego was too enflamed.” Dream replied.

The rest of the conversation drowned out in Fundys ears. All he could hear was incoherent yelling. He walked over to Tommy and grabbed the string from his hand. He tried to find a way to attach them back together, but to no avail.

He walked off the arena and blindly stepped toward the podium. He could feel someone following him and he sat down in one of the chairs in front of the podium.

“Fundy?”

He looked up to the voice and saw his lover. He nodded in response and looked back down at the pendant.

“Dream.. he broke it..” the Dutchman spoke quietly.

[And scene. This is all I had but after Nov 16 I just,,, didn’t want to finish it. But maybe if it gets enough love I’ll continue it- maybe. But I wanna work on other stuff. Maybe different husband shit- or maybe Karlnap 🤔 iunno- we’ll wait and see ;P]

[cheemingwan1234]

Kombatant Profile: Cure Yell (Mortal Kombat 11 x PreCure)

Here's the best mama of PreCure, Hana Nono/ Cure Yell of Hugtto! PreCure as a guest Kombatant in Mortal Kombat 11.

Hana Nono/ Cure Yell

Note, her facial model is based off an aged down version of Tricia Helfer, Mortal Kombat X's Sonya Blade's voice actress who would voice her English voice lines. Appearance wise, she would still be the same with the addition of a waist holster at the left side of her waist to hold her Melody Sword

Bio:

In her teen years, Hana Nono had a lot of adventures. Starting off with encountering Hariham Harry and Hugtan; survivors of a future frozen in time , she was thrust into the battles between the PreCures and Cirasu Corporation. Fighting as the Pretty Cure of High Spirts; Cure Yell, she led her team in the battles against Cirasu Corporation. In the battles that followed, she learnt about Hugtan's origin as Cure Tomorrow and her connection to both her and George Kurai ; the leader of Cirasu Corporation as her mother and his wife respectively . Eventually, they managed to restore the future that Hariham Harry and Hugtan came from and they returned to their normal lives.

It's been several years since the Hugtto! PreCures' battles and Hana Nono is living a normal life as an adult running a flower shop in Hagukumi City together with her husband; George Kurai and her daughter, Hagumi (aka Hugtan). All was well until one day, a mysterious woman appeared in her shop, identified herself as Kronika and kidnapped both her husband and her daughter and worse, turned her hometown into ruins . Hana was in despair until her Mirai Crystals and PreHeart shone brightly. Knowing that her daughter and husband were still alive, Hana inserted her transformation Mirai Crystal into her PreHeart and transformed into Cure Yell once more. Stowing away on a Special Forces expedition group, she travelled to Outworld to free her beloved from Kronika's grasp and restore her hometown.

Select Screen Animation: Cure Yell converts her cuffs into pom-poms then thrusts her arms into the air. She then converts them back into her cuffs and pulls out her Melody Sword from it's waist holster from the left side of her waist.

Gear: Melody Sword, Cuffs and Mirai Crystals.

Variations:

Hooray! Hooray! (Focuses on hand to hand combat and heart blasts)

High-Spirited (Melody Sword focused).

Criasu's Assets (Gains the ability to summon an Oshimada as an assist)

Johnny Cage Announcer Nicknames: "Yell", "Hooray! Hooray!", "Cheerleader" , "Cure Mom" , "Pink-haired Sonya" and "Mechokku!"

Skins: Default (based on her appearance in Hugtto! PreCure), Cheerful (Based on her Cheerful Style), Schoolgirl (based on her school uniform) , Ex (Mortal Kombat X Sonya themed skin)

Intros:

Cheering on Everyone: Cure Yell does her end of transformation pose.

Bitter Memories: Cure Yell looks at a photo of herself, George and Hagumi in happier times before putting it away.

Tact Inspection: Cure Yell inspects her Melody Sword before noticing the opponent.

Shopping List: Cure Yell inspects a long shopping list before noticing the opponent.

Outros:

Hooray! Yell!: Cure Yell does a cheerleading routine, spelling out H, P and C in semaphore flag signalling with her pom-poms.

Heart For You! Cure Heart pulls out her PreHeart, then uses it together with her pom-poms to fire a blast to the camera.

Selfie: Cure Yell takes a selfie with her PreHeart.

Happy Memories: Cure Yell pulls out a photo from her PreHeart pouch and looks at a photo of herself in her younger years together with her team in her hands.

Throws:

Hugyuu!: Cure Yell lifts and hugs the opponent in a bear hug powerful enough to break her opponent's spine. She then places the opponent back onto the ground, then punches them in the face to send the opponent sprawling onto the ground.

Yell In Your Face: Cure Yell grabs the opponent and performs Flower Shoot point blank in the opponent's face, knocking the opponent to the ground.

Fatal Blow: Pointy End Up.

Cure Yell fires off a blast using her Heart For You attack to stun the opponent, then executes a series of rapid fire punches on various parts of the opponent's body, bloodying and dazing them even further. She then removes her Melody Sword and places it on the ground such that the diamond tip is pointing up, then grabs and piledrives the opponent head-first onto her Melody Sword.

Fatalities:

Fatality 1: Heart Faced:

Cure Yell uses her Melody Sword to disembowel the opponent. As the opponent is trying to scoop his/her guts back in, Cure Yell gets behind the opponent and uses a point blank Heart For You! blast to blow off the opponent's face from the back of their head.

Fatality 2: Rip For You!:

Cure Yell uses Heart For You to fire off a blast right into the chest of the opponent, searing a heart shaped hole into the opponent's chest and exposing their spinal cord. She then grabs the opponent's spine and breaks it into two. She then hoists the opponent over her head. The opponent only has time to scream (usually word-lessely in horror, though Kollector would scream that he wants to hand in his resignation for his job), before Cure Yell uses the snapped-in-two spine as leverage to rip the opponent in half.

Brutalities:

1: The Klassic: Cure Yell uppercuts the opponent's head off.

2: Heart-ache!: Cure Yell fires off a blast from Heart For You that blows a heart shaped hole in the opponents's torso.

3: Mother's Fury!: Cure Yell kicks the opponent to the ground , jumps on their chest, then proceeds to beat the ever-living shit out of the opponent. She then delivers a overhead two handed punch that explodes the opponent's head.*

*Secret Brutality Variation: Against Cetrion, Kronika (if edited to allow Brutalities to be performed onto her) and Geras, Cure Yell actually yells out obscenities and insults against them while beating their faces in such as "You fucker!" , "You asshole!", "You'll die for kidnapping George and Hagumi!" and "I'll make sure this leaves a mark on you in every timeline!". Why? Because Cure Yell knows that Kronika and her servants were responsible for kidnapping her husband and daughter, so she has a massive bone to pick against them.

4: Literal Minded Cure Yell : Cure Yell clears her throat and proceeds to let out a scream that scares the muscles off the opponent and causes it to run away, leaving behind the skin of the opponent which collapses into a heap.

5: Should Have Kept The PreCure Sword: Cure Yell stabs the opponent in the abdomen with the Melody Sword, causing them to kneel. She then rips out the Melody Sword then projects an energy blade from the Melody Sword and uses it to behead the opponent.

6: Traum's Kompliments: Cure Yell pulls out a Oshimaida doll (yes, it's the same doll that Dr. Traum uses to summon a Oshimaida) and presses the button of the doll to cause an Oshimaida to drop in from offscreen and eat the opponent.

7: Flower Splatter: Cure Yell uses Flower Shoot to hit the opponent with a delayed reaction that causes the opponent's upper torso to explode and a bouquet of flowers to grow from the opponent's lower torso and legs.

8: Pom and Brainless: Cure Yell punches open a hole in the top of the opponent's head, removes one of her cuffs and inserts it into the newly created hole. She then wills the pom-pom to expand to it's full size, exploding the head of the opponent.

9: Flower Shoot!: Cure Yell fires off Flower Shoot from her Melody Sword to take off the opponent's legs. As the opponent tries to crawl towards Cure Yell, Cure Yell stomps on their head, crushing the opponent's head with the heel of her boot.

Brutality Taunts:

Give Me an F, Give Me a U! : Cure Yell turns her cuffs into pom-poms, then uses her pom-poms to semaphore signal the letters F and U*.

* Yes, Cure Yell is saying the internet abbreviation for 'Fuck You' with her arm motions.

List Check: Cure Yell pulls out a shopping list and uses her PreHeart to check off the list.

Brutality/ Round Win Lines:

"Hagumi, George, I will find you!"

"Mama will find you, Hagumi!"

"You will not harm my family!"

"You will not freeze our futures."

"Harm my family and friends and you will die!"

"Retribution is long due for what you and Kronika did to my family!" (Against Geras or Cetrion)

"You will not stand in my way of my search!"

"Harm my family, and you will pay!"

"Ever heard of the term, 'mama bear'?"

Friendship: Flower Bouquet:

Cure Yell uses Flower Shoot to create a field of flowers on the ground. She then presents a bouquet of roses to the camera after pulling them out from her PreHeart pouch.

Sample Interaction Lines (With Scorpion, Sonya Blade and Sindel )

"I've heard your loved ones were kidnapped."

"Indeed. I'm looking for them."

"That's comforting for you, my loved ones are dead!"

"So, you're a mother?"

"Yes, but you don't have to deal with your daughter being regressed into a baby."

"Indeed, I don't want that to happen to Cassie."

(If Sonya has the Cure Yell costume equipped)

"I did not know you are a fan of Pretty Cure!"

"Every mother has her secrets."

"And you have the same taste in costumes as well."

" Such a foolish mother."

"Sindel, you should have the same feelings as me towards your own daughter!"

"Kitana is not worthy of my care, Hana!"

Tower Ending:

"With Kronika defeated, Geras and Cetrion were horrified at the goals of Kronika when I enlightened them on what Kronika's aims actually were . They offered to feed themselves to the Hourglass to give it the capacity to run itself and atone for their crimes. But I stopped them and provided themselves a more productive alternative. In exchange for them releasing George and Hagumi and working with the Elder Gods to defend Earthrealm , I used one of my Mirai Crystals to grant the Hourglass the capacity to run itself, restoring my hometown and the Elder Gods that Kronika ordered executed in the process. Geras and Cetrion departed on good terms with me and I was reunited with my family.

"However, this restoration had a side effect. Initially unknown to me, Quan Chi has returned from the dead. One day, he kidnapped Hagumi right in front of me. I was furious and heard of Hanzo 'Scorpion' Hasashi , the leader of the Shirai Ryu ninja clan who has suffered most from the machinations of Quan Chi . I assembled my PreCure team and teamed up with the Shirai Ryu to hunt Quan Chi down with our combined resources . What does Quan Chi want by kidnapping my daughter? I do not know. But when we corner him, I will show him that the Netherrealm hath no fury than a mother scorned!"