#i drew this last night while thinking of the final lair kiss

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Turtles x tattoo artist!reader

Got this idea after I read a Leo x tattoo artist on Wattpad. It was super cute, but as a tattooed person that has started tattooing my friends, I have to tell my fellow ff writers something that will make your tattoo ff more realistic. DON’T EVER REUSE NEEDLES!!!! WEAR GLOVES!!!!! ALSO WHEN YOU PUT ON A STENCIL!!!!!!! Hopefully I saved some turtles from an infected tattoo.

Enjoy!💙❤️💜🧡

Warnings: Needles, pain, tattooing, some of the turtles being cheeky, spelling.

—-----------------------------------------------

Leonardo:

As your last client of the day went out the door with their newest tattoo, you breathed a sigh of relief. The last few ones have been though. Unable to sit still, with a need to look at the tattoo several times while you were working on it, almost causing you to go outside of the lines. Not what you needed. But all the thought of irritation and frustration washed away, when you remembered; your boyfriend was coming to get a tattoo.

Last night, Leonardo had asked you if you would do a tattoo on him. You had obviously said yes, excited to finally tattoo your boyfriend. Leo was by far heavily tattooed, but he did sport a few on his arms, all symbolizing his brothers.

As you locked the front door, flipped the open sign to close and pulled the curtains, you could hear the back door that led to the alley, open and close. It was Leo. You rushed to the back door with a happy skip, and greeted your green boyfriend with a big smile. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and brought his face down to yours for a kiss.

“Hey”, you smiled.

“Hey”, he smiled back before giving you another kiss.

You brought him with you back into the main area of the shop, asking him what he wanted to get tattooed. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pockets and gave it to you. You unfolded it.

A katana. Simple black lines with minor shadowing. You were pretty sure that Leo had drawn this himself.

“Of course”, you chuckled, looking at the paper in your hand. “Where do you want it?”

“Right here”. Leo pointed to the side of his left forearm.

“That could actually be really good”, you said, studying his arm. Leo’s arm was nothing new for you. They had been wrapped around you so many times, that you knew them as well as the back of your own hand. But on the rarest occasions, had you thought about tattoo placements on his arm.

“I think we should size it up. Around… this big”. You measured out his arm, with one finger marking out just above his wrist and just below his elbow.

“Is that because you as a tattoo artist know it would look better, or is it because you as my girlfriend want an excuse to keep tattooing me for as long as possible?”, Leo asked with a smile.

“A little bit of both, I would say”.

“In that case, I think we should do it”.

To say that you were happy was an understatement. All your earlier tiredness and frustration flew out the window, as you went to your desk so you could draw the stencil. Leo followed you, and watched you intently while you drew over the stencil paper, tracing the outlines of his design.

“That’s not how Raph did it”, Leo said with a small chuckled, remembering the time he and his brothers did each other's tattoos, with a tattoo machine Donnie had made.

“How did Raph do it?”, you asked, smiling at the thought of what Leo had told you. Young turtle brothers sitting in the shared bedroom of their old lair, long after Master Splinter had gone to bed, tattooing each other like the young rebellious teenagers they once were.

“He drew it directly on me with a marker”.

“Doesn’t sound very sanetray”, you laughed. “Especially not in a sewer”.

“Nope. That is why I’m going to you from now on”, Leo said as he reached down to kiss your forehead.

With Leo’s stencil finished, you went to work preparing your station one last time that evening. You put on your gloves, wrapped the station in film, prepared the cream, poured the black ink, got your new needles and wrapped your machine for a better grip.

Leo watched you with those eyes that always made you blush, while you disinfected his arm, applied the transfer jell, and then placed the stencil. When you moved back and told Leo to look in the mirror, he didn’t move. Instead he just stared at you with those eyes and that little smile.

“I trust you. It looks good”.

Fighting your flustered face and biting down your lip, you moved Leo into the seat, before stretching his arm and moving it to an angle, so it would be easy for you. With that you started your machine and began doing his lines.

Leo - with his high pain tolerance - didn’t move a muscle, but instead just stared at you as you worked. You could feel his strong gaze on you, trying your hardest to focus on his tattoo in front of you.

You continued working in silence, with nothing but the sound of your tattoo machine being heard. Silence wasn’t new for you and Leo, nor did it make you uncomfortable. The two of you would often enjoy each other’s presence in silence, each doing your own thing, simply finding comfort in being near each other. Like him meditating or sharpening his katana, while you were drawing or reading. Just like right now. Leo admiring you while you were working.

After two hours of tense work on Leo’s arm, you finally finished. With a last whip over his arm, you wrapped it up, making sure it would be protected during the first stages of healing.

“So, what do you think?”, you asked Leo as he assessed the katana on his arm with warm eyes.

“It’s amazing”, he said, smiling bright. “You’re amazing, you know that, right?”

“You might have told me a few times”, you said as you started cleaning up.

Leo stood up from his seat and walked to you, before wrapping both arms around you, bringing his face down to yours.

“I love you, my amazing little tattoo”, he said, before letting your lips meet in a sweet kiss. And with that you knew, you would definitely tattoo Leo again.

Raphael:

Under normal circumstances, you would have said no to be doing a tattoo in the sewers. No way that wouldn’t get infected and heal probably. It was a tail made for disaster. But when your brute of a boyfriend asked you as nicely as he did, and promised you cuddles and a foot rub, there was no way you could say no. Especially not when he made those big teddy bear eyes that only you got to see. You just had to say yes.

So there you were in Raphael’s room, in the sewers deep below New York City, setting up a small tattoo station on his nightstand. Raphael stood right behind you fiddling with a football in his hands, watching you unpack your stuff with curiosity. Yes, he did have a tattoo, but one that was made with a machine Donnie had but together, not a real machine. So to see a real one in front of him for the first time, had his attention peaked.

“So”, you asked, checking the battery for your machine. “What were you thinking of?”

“A samurai”, Raph said with a small smile, as he spun the football in his hands.

“You and those damn samurais”, you chuckled and laid out your paper and stencil paper. “I thought that this time around you would like a ninja”.

“Maybe one day, on the other leg”, Raph said with a smug smile. “If this one goes right”.

“Well okay smart guy”, you laughed turning towards him. “Where on your leg do you want it”.

“I was thinking here”. Raphael laid the football on the ground before going to the outside of his right calf, measuring out from his knee to ankle.

“Do you want it to take up the whole side?”

“Of course”, Raph smiled. “It has to match”. He pointed towards the samurai on his shoulder.

“Just as black?”

“You know me baby”, he said, giving you that smug smile.

You bit back a smile, trying to fight back the blush that was creeping up your face. Damn Raphael and his smooth comments.

“Okay, I’ll do a sketch and you tell me what you think about it. If you like it, we can get tattooing”.

“Sounds like one of the best plans I’ve heard in a long time”, Raph said, still smiling like that smug fucker he is. But damn you loved that man.

As you got drawing on the sketch, Raph would walk in and out of his room, grabbing drinks and food from the kitchen, before returning. Every once in a while he would get up from his bed, just to give you a kiss on the cheek, wrap his arms around you, and look at how far you’ve gotten.

Raph loved your finished sketch, stating something along the lines of; “so far, so good”, just to annoy you.

With Raphael laying on his bed, with pants rolled up and wrapped around his knee and slightly turned to the side, you placed the stencil on the side of his muscular side calf. You had to admit, you were proud of your work so far. The artwork flowed with the curve, sway and size of Raph’s calf, showing it off.

As you started the machine and dipped the needle in the ink cup, Raphael got comfortable with his hands behind his back, still with his smug smile plastered on his face.

“Are you ready?”, you asked as you placed your other hand on his leg to spread the skin.

“Born ready”.

And with that statement from your boyfriend, you started working on the lines in his tattoo.

Raphael’s tattoo was big and detailed, which meant a lot of work. But not even 15 minutes into the tattoo, you saw Raph shifting and grimes for a split second, before pressing his eyes shut. Your tough boyfriend was breaking character.

“You okay there, Raphie?”, you asked with a sly smile, dipping the needle in the ink once more before going back in.

“Yup, I’m okay. More than okay actually”, he said, still with his eyes pressed shut.

“I hope so, because you know, the closer I get to your foot and the closer I get to your knee, the more it’ll hurt”.

“Ah fuck”.

“And that’s just the line work. I’ll have to go in afterwards and do filling and shadowing”.

“H- how long do you think all that will take?” Raph’s eyes now open, looking at you with a slight fear in his eyes.

“Well, with a tattoo this size and this detailed, easily four hours”.

“So only three more hours?”

“Raph, baby, we’ve only been going for 15 minutes”.

Raphael groaned loudly, grabbing onto the pillow behind his head. “Fuck me”.

“Later baby”, you laughed. “It won’t be a good idea while you have an open tattoo”.

Raph sighed. “(Y/N), I love you, but sometimes you’re annoying as fuck”.

“I love you too Raphie, and if it helps anything, I too find you annoying sometimes”, you smiled sweetly at him, causing Raph to bite back a smile, the same way he made you do not too long ago.

“And just so you know”, you continued while wiping ink away from Raph’s leg. “You still owe me cuddles and a foot rub afterwards' '.

Raphael exhaled loudly, face scrunching up as the needle went back over his skin. “I really didn’t think this through, did I?”

“Nope, not at all”.

Nevertheless, after four hours and many loud exclamations from Raphael that could be heard all throughout the lair, your boyfriend had gotten himself a new big tattoo. And if you had to be honest, it was pretty hot, and not just because you were the one that made it.

Donatello:

When Donatello had asked for you to tattoo him, you were kind of shocked to say the least. Your sweet, tech nerdy, genius of a boyfriend, who did not have a single tattoo on his beautiful green body, wanted you to tattoo him. You had to blink and ask him to repeat his request.

But Donatello was serious. He wanted a tattoo. He even offered to give you space in his lab, so you could set up a propper station, and that was an offer you just couldn’t refuse.

You had unpacked your station in Donnie’s lab, currently drawing the design Donnie had given you onto transfer paper, while he was taking a closer look at your tattoo machine.

“It’s very different from the one I made”, Donnie noticed, turning it in his three fingered hands. 

“How did you guys even do it back then?”, you asked, eyes still on the drawing.

“Well, I made the machine, and the guys had several designs”, he said, thinking back to the old days in the old lair with a smile. “We all got a turn tattooing Leo”.

You chuckled, finding the thought amusing. Stupid and reckless, but amusing nonetheless.

“Where did you get ink from?”

“A pen. Many pens actually”. He placed your machine on the table, before taking a seat next to you, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder, looking at your hand working. “We broke open the pens and poured it into a solo cup”.

“That is really not sanitary”, you laughed, leaning your head to the side, so your temple was pressed against Donnie’s forehead.

“No, it really isn’t”, he laughed, nuzzling his face closer to yours.

“Now Donnie”, you said, nodding towards the drawing in front of you. It was a design of a turtle, somewhat like the one Leo and Mikey shared, but with its own intricate design around it. “What is the meaning behind this, and why do you want it?”

“Well, it is a turtle, so much is obvious”, Donnie said, causing you to nudge him slightly. “And well, it just felt like it was about time. I just finally want a tattoo. And me being the lucky guy that I am, have a tattoo artist as a girlfriend, so it just seemed obvious”.

“Well, that is enough reasoning for me”.

You finished the stencil and put on gloves, getting ready to prep Donnie’s skin with disinfectants.

“The shoulder is one of the easiest places”, you told him, as you smoothed the paper over his shoulder. “Many people experience that the shoulder hurts way less than any other places”.

“Did yours hurt?”, Donnie asked, nodding towards the tattoo on your shoulder. He had looked at it so many times, often wondering how you felt while getting it. It was probably one of the main reasons why he hadn’t gotten a tattoo yet; the fear of it hurting. Especially after he saw the way Mikey and Raph reacted to their tattoos back then.

“Not at all”, you said, peeling the paper back from his skin, leaving back purple lines for you to follow. “I almost fell asleep during mine. Now, take a look in the mirror and tell me what you think”.

Donnie went to the mirror and took a look at his shoulder, before turning to you with a smile.

“It looks great”, he said.

“Then sit down good sir, and let me get started on you”, you said, opening a new needle with your gloved hands.

Donnie sat down like you told him to, and watched as you got the needle ready. You turned on the machine, dipping it into the ink cup while it hummed. You placed your other hand on Donnie’s shoulder, spreading his green scaly skin.

“Remember, you can always tell me if you need a break or if you're getting uncomfortable. Keep your breathing calm and level, and it will save you from a lot of unnecessary stress. And with that in mind, are you ready?”

Donnie nodded with a small smile. “I’m ready”.

You let the needle brace Donatello’s skin, watching for any reaction by your boyfriend, showing any discomfort.

“Okay, that is not as bad as I thought it would be”, he said, turning his head slightly to look at the needle.

“It’s rarely that bad”, you told him, wiping the first line. “Trust me. I still get surprised every time I get tattooed”.

Donnie chuckled, imagining the scene of you in a tattoo shop.

As time went on, and as you were half way through the tattoo, you noticed the first signs of discomfort from your boyfriend.

“Okay, I can feel it now”, he said, grimacing slightly. “It is not bad, but it’s more. I’m not sure how else to describe it”.

“Don’t worry. We’re halfway done”, you said, dipping the needle in the ink cup. “But I will recommend that you take it easy afterwards and get a good night's sleep”.

“I will if you stay and keep me company”.

“Well, you don’t have to ask me twice”, you said, wiping the tattoo down one more time.

It didn’t take long before you finished the tattoo, smearing cream over it before wrapping it up. Donatello seemed slightly shocked by it.

“Are you done already?”, he asked, looking at his new tattoo under the plastic wrap.

“Yeah, it was not a super complicated tattoo”, you laughed, as you started to clean up after yourself. “And you’re really easy to tattoo. That only made it quicker”.

“Well in that case”, he said and stood up, before wrapping his arms around from behind. “Would you like to start that good night’s sleep a little earlier?”

“There’s nothing I’d rather do”, you said, pulling your tall boyfriend down to you for a sweet kiss.

Michelangelo:

Bless your boyfriend and his kind, sweet, beautiful, helpful heart. What he wouldn’t do for you? Nothing. He would do everything and even more if you asked for it, also if you didn’t ask for it. And that was the nature of Mikey. Showing his love for you in spontaneous and caring ways, that not even you had expected. Such as volunteering for you to practice your tattooing, after hearing you talk about how much you wanted to practice.

And that was what led up to you and Mikey sitting on your couch, talking about the best place for you to tattoo him.

“I don’t know, baby”, you said, pressing your fingers against Mikey’s upper stomach. “I’ve never tattooed a plastron before”.

“Don’t worry Angelcakes, it will be fine”, Mikey said with a bright smile. “It will just be right here”, he said, gliding his finger over the top of his stomach, to outline the placement.

“But can a needle even get through that?”, you asked, pressing a little firmer against his plastron. You knew how firm Mikey’s plastron was. You had found yourself being pressed against it so many times, that you had familiarized yourself quite well with it at this point. But the thought of poking a needle through it had never crossed your mind.

“I don’t know. Maybe? There’s truly only one way to find out”.

“But baby, what if I break your plastron instead?”

“It’ll heal. Have you already forgotten this beautiful body as mutagen running in it? I can heal in no time!”

“But”, you said in thought. “Aren’t your shell and plastron also bulletproof?”

“But Angelcakes!”, Mikey pouted. “It could be so sick with a tattoo like that! I would look so good!”

“But you already look good Mikey”, you giggled.

“I know but still”.

You sighed. It was no use trying to argue with him about it. It would take either your needle or his plastron cracking slightly before he would drop the topping, so therefore you finally agreed with your silly turtle of a boyfriend.

“Yes!” Mikey fist pumped the air before giving you a quick kiss. “I knew you couldn’t resist the thought of me with a stomach tattoo!”

You laughed, shaking your head, before going to your room to find your supplies. Mikey already had a very clear idea of what he wanted. He wanted he and his brothers’ birth year of 1999 tattooed over his plastron, in good old gothic lettering. It actually relieved you that he hadn’t chosen anything more detailed. You just wanted to practice, not rival his name sake.

It didn’t take long before you had finished the stencil and placed it on your boyfriend, before telling him to go look at it in the mirror. You couldn’t help but smile, as Mikey started posing in front of the mirror. The 1999 on his plastron, still dark purple from the stencil ink.

“Yup! I like it! Lets go!”, Mikey said, jumping back towards you with a big smile. “I’m ready!”

“You cute goofball”, you laughed, guiding him towards your couch. “Come and lay down”.

Michelangelo did as you told him, and laid down on his shell, with his hands comfortably behind his head, watching with a smile as you sat yourself down. That smile could easily make butterflies erupt in your stomach, and it did so in that very moment, right as you dipped your needle in the ink.

To your surprise, the needle glided over Mikey’s plastron easily. It was almost easier than on real skin, and closer to the fake skin you usually would practice on. You didn’t even had to spread the surface with your other hand. Mikey seemed to enjoy himself.

“Do you feel anything?”, you asked, wiping the tattoo. It stayed pretty well.

“I can feel it, but it doesn’t hurt. It’s a little strange to be honest”.

“Strange or not, I still think you're cute”.

Mikey smiled, hinting at you to come closer. You removed the needle from his plastron and leaned closer to his face, before being met by him in a sweet kiss. You giggled before returning to his plastron to continue his tattoo.

“I am the luckiest man and turtle in this world”, Mikey then said. “I have the hottest girlfriend there is, and she makes some pretty awesome tattoos. I’ll say I got the best of both worlds”.

You giggled, shaking your head one more time, feeling a blush grow on your face. What did you do to deserve this guy?

With Mikey not feeling any pain from his tattoo, and the fact that you didn’t have to spread anything or do much, it didn’t take long before Mikey’s plastron tattoo was finished. You were throwing the used needle out in the kitchen trash can, when suddenly a question popped into your head.

“How long does it take for your plastron to heal?”

“Not long”, Mikey answered, drinking casually from a Capri Sun by your side, poking slightly at the new numbers on his front. “I think it will be healed by tomorrow”.

“So you don’t need any aftercare at all?”, you asked, pulling his hand away from his tattoo.

“Depends”, he started, placing the Capri Sun on the counter, before wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling his face closer to yours. “What kind of aftercare are we talking about?”

“Dork”, you laughed.

“Hey, don’t deny what we both know will happen”, he said, getting ever closer to your lips.

“When your tattoo is healed, Mikey”.

“Oh well, would you look at that”, Mikey said, pointing towards his plastron. “I’m already healing”.

After that night, Mikey would definitely be asking for more tattoos from you.

—-------------------------------------------------

I need another tattoo soon…

[lykaios2]

Heya! I have a rise Leo x Gn reader request. Leo catching the reader admiring him while he reads comics.

That is all!! Have a good day/night ^^

THANK YOU

you, my good anon, broke the streak of donnie x readers. the last 4 requests I got were all donnie x readers (not that I don't love writing him)

anyway hope you enjoy! ❤️

Behind the Pages

rise leo x reader

tw: nothing

"Come on, so close...aw, damn. No luck."

You died. Again. It was a hard boss. You and Raph had been trying for days now to beat it. Both you and him tried everything: looked at every guide online, brought every item you could think of, watched other people beat it. Nothing worked, though.

"Hey! You two! Get in here. I made some snacks for you, since I figured you were going to be up for a while."

You and Raph made your way to the kitchen to find Mikey, standing behind a plate of two freshly baked pizzas he had just pulled out of the oven. You walked over, and thanked Mikey, and grabbed a few drinks from the fridge before taking the plate and returning to the living room.

When you returned, it was Raph’s turn to take on the boss. You handed him the controller, and grabbed yourself a slice of pizza. Raph was a little better at this game than you were, but only because he had more free time. He was doing fine, and everything was going well.

"Man...I'm kinda cold. I'm gonna go grab my hoodie from my car, ill be right back. You can take the next few turns."

"Cold?! We have the heat on and it's like, 90 degrees outside. Whatever, weirdo, go grab your hoodie."

You laughed at his comment and got up. As you were walking through the lair, you passed by Leo's room. You glanced over to see him laying down in bed, reading comics.

Leo was always your favorite out of the four brothers. Of course you liked them all, but something about Leo just...drew you to him. Maybe it was his humor. As stupid as his brothers made it out to be, you actually found a lot of his jokes funny. Maybe it was his good looks. The red stripes on his face, his beautiful blue eyes, and his sweet little smile. Maybe it was his amazing leadership. On one very special occasion, the turtles agreed to take you on a mission, and you finally got to see them in action. It was incredibke the way they all worked together under his command. Maybe it was all of it. Or maybe it was something else that you couldn't quite place your finger on...

"Hello? y/n? You there?"

You snapped back to reality to find Leo had noticed you standing outside of his room. You quickly regained your composure, and finally replied to his question.

"Oh, hi sorry. I, um...I spaced out."

"Yeah, I figured. What were you doing?"

"I was just gonna go grab my hoodie from my car..."

Leo looked at you with a curious, almost suspicious look on his face. You didn't want to tell him that you had just been staring at him for the past 10 minutes, thinking about how much you loved him, so you tried to keep your cool until you could leave.

"Is that all...?"

"Yep. I'll be on my way now then."

"Wait, before you go, can I show you something?"

You turned back to him, about to walk away. You paused, unsure of what he was about to show you. You nodded, and he asked you to stand still. He grabbed his sword from his bedside, and before you knew it, he made a portal right below your feet that landed you right next to him in his bed.

"Now you can admire me up close, hm?"

Immediately your face began to turn a bright pink. Leo just chuckled and pulled you close to him.

"I'm not stupid, y/n. But don't worry, your secret is safe with me...as long as you admit that you were staring at my handsome face."

After a minute of silence, you reluctantly admitted that you were indeed staring at him. He laughed again, then placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

"You know...you're pretty cute yourself. Especially when you're all flustered like this."

He was quiet after that, just letting you take in everything that just happened. He held you in his arms, silently signaling to you that he returned your feelings. As you laid there, you felt a buzz come from your pocket. You pulled our your phone to see a text from Raph, asking where you were. Before you could reply, Leo stole your phone and took a picture of you two cuddling and sent it to him, along with the caption, <y/n's a little stuck at the moment ;)>.

"Leo! What the hell?!"

"What? We're adorable!"

[britishchick09]

rewrite eristine kiss! ♥♥

[aliaslua]

I see a new prompt list! Could I ask "Do you mind repeating that? I wanna hear you say my name again." And "Don’t be shy. I know you can take it like  champ." (If it’s cool combining two) with bay Mikey and a fem!reader.

So… Uh… *clears throat* this got a bit out of hand hehe… It turned out way more smutty than initially planned… Guess I am in a Mikey mood. Hope you like it! ♡ Thank you so much for the incredible amount of support ♡ 

Urge

Michelangelo vs fem!reader

Warning: SMUT, +18. MINNORS DO NOT INTERACT!

How long would it take for him to finally break? How long would you have to keep pushing, provoking, teasing to the edge of your own limit until he finally pressed you against a wall and filled you with his full length? How long you still had to wait to hear him groaning in your ear, feel his hot heavy breathing against your neck? 

You couldn't deny that his resistance until now was a little bit unexpected, Michelangelo always seemed like someone who would pick up the smallest signs of interest and run with it to the bedroom but until this very day, all your implicit and explicit trials were met with a flirty smile and a dismissive attitude. Maybe he felt intimidated, maybe he wasn't into you... Maybe he actually didn't understand your real intentions to this day? No, absolutely no. If there was still a small chance Mikey had uncertainties about your uncontrollable urge to be railed by him, those doubts would be completely clarified... Today.

The mini skirt and the high neck shirt were over the top but you had already decided that you would bet with your dignity tonight and if this last attempt wasn't fruitful, well… At least you could say you did your best. 

The widened eyes that greeted you as you walked the lair were the perfect sign your outfit sent the right message and the unmistakable stutter in Leo's voice when he answered you where Mikey was also gave you the missing bust of confidence. 

You busted the door of his room feeling the heat between your legs getting more and more preeminent, Mikey was laid in bed reading a comic you didn't have the time to distinguish. He received you with the same smirk that teased you all those weeks prior and this time you were not going home thirsty. 

"Dawn baby, are you single?" He said, putting his comic down. You closed the door behind you and hopped in bed making a conscious effort to flash the orange panties you were wearing underneath the mini shirt. You saw him gag once you climbed his lap without any ceremony and placing both hands in his cheeks you plead your last favor:

"Fuck me. For God's sake, Mikey, just fuck me already." 

His shocked expression was immediately replaced by a wide mischievous smirk that made your skin crawl. 

"Took you long enough, don't you think?" He answered, already lifting your skirt to squeeze your but cheeks. 

"... WHAT?" You said, filled with the rage of knowing you were being played with while mutually trying to suppress a visceral moan while he held you booty tight. 

"I was teasing you, Baby… I needed you really wet and bothered when you finally decided to beg for my attention." He mocked you, taking your shirt off. 

"What the fuck, Michelangelo!" You shouted, outraged with his game. You didn't even had the time to get mad at him, because just as the words let your mouth you felt his fingers glide through your panties, pressing the sensible pearl between your legs making your next sound a suppressed moan. 

"Do you mind repeating that? I wanna hear you say my name again." Mikey asked as he drew small circles in your precious spot. You bit your lip arching your back, the suppressed horniness making your body tremble. 

He removed your bra, kneading your breast with his free hand, he then held you closer by the waist taking one of your nipples with his mouth, sucking the tip gently as if he was tasting you. This time your moan could not be suppressed and the sound made him chuckle lightly, he slowly glides your soaking wet panties to the side, feeling the raw skin of your labia with his tick digits, the pressure in between  your legs starts to build and your open mouth is drying in contact with the air. 

He teases your entry with his fingers for a while as you try to contain your urge to just seat in his finger so you can be filled, you can feel his smiling against your breast, still playing with your nipples with his tongue and lips. 

"It looks like I may have left you waiting for too long, Babycakes… You're so wet I can smell you from here." As he teased you once again that night,you felt his finger slide inside you and the feeling of the fiction in your walls made you hold a scream of pleasure. 

"...f-fuck…" Was all you could say after some incomprehensible sounds left your mouth.

"You're so tight, Y/N…" Mikey said, biting your neck slightly and sucking vigorously your pulse "... but don’t be shy. I know you can take it like champ." 

You felt his finger press that perfect spot inside you and just as you felt your release getting closer and closer, he took his finger off you. 

"WHAT THE FU-" You started your complaint but he had already opened his zipper and released his member off his pants. It was big, hard and throbbing and you were so hypnotized by the side that when he raised you effortlessly in the air and placed you right on top of his member you screamed in surprise. 

The pleasure was immeasurable. The amazing stretch, the feeling of being utterly filled and the grip of your walls against his hot dick made you see stars. 

The next minutes were filled with your moans and his groans, the air thickening with each stroke and the unmistakable noise made by his bed as you ride him to oblivion. 

Once he started to simultaneously pinch your nipples lightly you knew the pressure in your lower belly was about to be released, he kept the ritm firm and gentle and when your last moan announced your orgasm, he plead: 

"Kiss me." 

So you did and as your lips collapsed so did your legs and with his large member buried deep inside you, you came. Mikey followed after more two or three pumps and the feeling of his hot seed against your thighs and inside your pussy made you shiver. 

You fell in the mattress right next to him, painting like you ran a marathon. He looked at you and smiled, holding you close to his chest. 

"I've waited for this… for so long." You gasped for air, feeling his hard shel against your cheeks. 

"I am sorry for keeping you waiting." He confessed "I promise I'll make it worth it."

"You already did!" You claimed. 

"Oh no, my love… This is only round one." 

[wendimydarling]

The Hammer and The Widow

Title: The Hammer and The Widow

Summary: August decides he needs more than just sleep the night before they collect Lane.

Pairing: August Walker x Alanna Mitsopolis (The White Widow)

Word Count: 2709

Warnings: nudity, oral sex, sex. 

A/N: Well folks, this little present for @littlefreya​ has been in the works for months. But finally, finally my words are back, and it’s here. It is also Song Drabble #20, “Earned It” by the Weekend, submitted by two anons. I use the word “drabble” loosely, as it’s nearly 3k words. Whoops. Fan Club tag in the reblog. Please enjoy!!

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“Right… Sleep well everyone. Busy day tomorrow.”

August watched her exit the room, her sheer white robe flowing behind her as if it hadn’t immediately realized she was moving. The contrast of pure white silk against the Widow’s cold black heart stirred the heat rapidly pooling in his belly, and August knew without question he would have her tonight. He needed it, adrenaline and rage had been surging through his body since he’d jumped out of the plane. She was everything he desired in a woman and more; she carried herself with grace and poise, an innocent affront that he knew hid a well-groomed hunger for power. 

Ethan turned and signaled that it was time to go, but Walker grabbed his arm. 

“Someone should stay here. Something about this just doesn’t feel right; I don’t trust her. Perhaps I can get her to reveal more information.”

Ethan eyed him warily, looking around the room at the men fixing weapons. He needed to formulate a plan; he didn’t want anyone to die. August might be right, an inside man would help, and would keep their cover.

“Don’t give them the option of saying no,” Ethan admonished, and left with everyone else. August sighed and circled the table, pretending to be interested in the plans for the extraction while making sure he was still within earshot of the room Alanna had disappeared to. He was a patient man when he needed to be, but fortunately he didn’t have to wait long.

The White Widow reentered the living room, expecting to find it empty, so when she saw Walker standing there she was taken aback, though intrigue instead of alarm fell over her features. 

“I’d thought everyone had left,” she stated calmly, brushing past August to pour herself a drink from the small bar in the corner. A devilish smirk turned up the corner of his mouth.

“Lark and I thought it would be best that one of us remain here,” he murmured just as calmly, turning around and leaning against the table, crossing his arms across his chest as he watched her move. She’d removed her robe in her absence and the low light glinted off her skin, mimicking the shimmer of her nightgown with each deliberate action of her hands. The gown itself left little to the imagination, and August couldn’t help but picture how the soft, pert little nipples that hid underneath would taste.

“And by ‘Lark and I’, you mean you?” The Widow’s voice distracted August and his eyes snapped to her face, her expression indicating his thoughts were clearly not his own. He spoke as much out loud, coming over to stand behind her. 

“Don’t you think,” he spoke softly, running his knuckles along the skin he’d been so intently staring at, “The night would be better spent with someone after the evening we had?” 

“Why yes, Mr. Walker, I do believe you’re right.”

Alanna turned her head to the side, looking at his fingers rather than his face. She closed her eyes softly as August made his way up to her neck, sweeping her hair to the side and ever so lightly skimming his fingertips against her shoulder. She sighed contentedly, leaning her head back against his chest and offering her neck to the beast in her chamber. 

August hooked a finger underneath the strap of the Widow’s gown, letting it slip down on his hand to hang gracefully off her shoulder. His lips connected with the woven lace of her delicate skin, small wet patches from his caress left in his wake as he traveled from her clavicle to the paper thin dermis protecting the pulse beneath her ear. He took his time, savoring the way she tasted and every sharp intake of air that Alanna drew in, soft little mewls escaping each time she exhaled. Yes, he would have her. But it would be slow. 

His fingers fisted in her hair as August took control, tilting her this way and that as he pleased. It was as if Alanna’s head was unhinged, her consent clear as she let him manipulate her. August turned her head to face him, his large hand covering her jaw and most of her neck as he ducked down for a kiss. Deep and probing, exploring her mouth with a sense of urgency, August dropped the other strap of her nightgown and let the pale silk fall to the floor. 

Alanna pulled away and opened her eyes, ever the mystery as she stared stoically into his soul. It took August by surprise and he searched her face intently, looking for the meaning behind her gaze. He couldn’t find it, and that frustrated him.

“On your knees,” he whispered, authority dripping from his tone. The corner of the Widow’s mouth turned up slightly, and she raised an eyebrow.

“No.”

This caught August off guard. His grasp on her hair loosened and Alanna stepped out of the gown, walking toward the bedroom and only glancing back once at the stunned man she’d left behind. August quickly regained his composure and followed her into her lair. There she lay propped on her elbows in the center of her bed, an intricate web he was certain had trapped more than one man. Alanna lifted her chin proudly.

“If you want your prize,” she challenged him, “You’ll have to earn it.”

The Widow spread her legs on the last words to emphasize her point, and it was August’s turn to grin. He removed his tie slowly, followed shortly by the government-issued disguise that he was forced to wear daily. Alanna watched him intently as he peeled back the layers of cotton, all muscle and sinew and sinful flesh lurking beneath the mask of his job. August noted the darkening of her eyes, the scent of her arousal at the sight of his naked body beginning to permeate the air. He knew she could sense the danger that lay dormant beneath his charming and practical demeanor, and he knew that it thrilled her to her core. 

August knelt on the bed and slid his hands over Alanna’s legs, starting at her ankles and working his way up until he reached her thighs. He grasped the backs of them firmly and split her open, diving into her depths with fervor and need. The moment his tongue tasted her honey he knew he was lost, ensnared in the same web so many men before had succumbed to. She was just as dangerous as he, and he knew that should she choose to, The Widow would eat him alive when she’d had her fill. August intended to give her a reason to keep him around.

Elation overtook him as August drank her in, sucking the nectar from deep within her walls. Alanna’s gasps grew louder, closer; her hands tangled in the sheets above her head and her back arched in calculated movements, each one chasing the high that she had grown accustomed to. Again, this frustrated August. He wasn’t like other men; he was The Hammer. Every fiber of his existence in this moment alone rested entirely on leaving such a mark that she would remember the way he felt deep inside of her for the rest of her life.  

August growled, hooking two fingers inside of the Widow and yanking her towards him. Her eyes shot open and her head snapped to her chest, staring at him in awe as his mouth pillaged the secret lair that hid between her legs. Alanna’s hands left their comfortable perch to grasp in his curls, attempting to pull him away from her delicate  organ. But August refused to cave in to her will this time, wrapping his strong arms around her thighs instead and grasping her wrists firmly in his hands, sinking even deeper into her cave as her legs began to shake. 

“August…” Alanna uttered breathlessly, which was followed quickly by orgasmic moans as her voice caught in her throat, consumed by pleasure. Her cries filled the room and her body trembled but August kept her legs wide, mercilessly eating his fill. The Widow was now trapped in her own web, and he didn’t slow as she came down, simply altered his movements and focused on the newly sensitized bundle of nerves now swollen and visible from within her folds. 

The Widow arched her back again, but this time it wasn’t on purpose. August could sense it all, the smell of her desire, the sound of her delight, the taste of her need dripping from her entrance; it fueled his fury, his own need to have her quickly surmounting any other thought in his mind. But he wanted that hard shell of hers to come down first. He wanted the Widow to remove her exoskeleton, to take down those walls, to let him into her most intimate of places. August wanted her to beg. 

Alanna writhed beneath him, unable to escape his expert touch. She keened as another orgasm quickly mounted, rocking through her while August tortured her swollen nub. 

“I’d suggest you fuck me now, Walker,” she commanded, trying without success to regain the lead. August smirked. 

“No.”

The Widow threw her head back and groaned, whimpering profusely. August latched both of her wrists in one hand and brought his free fingers down to her slick folds to play, easily sliding two digits in only knuckle deep while he licked her clit softly.

“Ask me nicely.”

“Fuck!” Alanna cried, decorum be damned. The lady that men saw outwardly was gone, reduced to nothing more than a quivering mess of a whore, desperate to be filled. She was nearly laughing at the surprising switch of power, struggling in vain against the iron vice of the Hammer. All pleasure had been removed and August granted her nothing but the agonizing edge, knowing full well that one skilled stroke would send her plummeting into the deep. He could see the struggle on her face, her realization that she’d never met her match until now. If she gave in to what he wanted, the Widow gave up control, a position she’d never been in before.

August picked up the pace by slowing down, his tongue drawing long, languid strokes from his fingers to her mound as he fucked her just as slow, burying his fingers to the hilt before dragging them from her core. The Widow snapped, all sense of self-preservation flying out the window as need overtook her. 

“More,” she begged him, “August… I need more. Oh, for the love of god, give me more!”

“Aw, you want me to fuck you, pet?” August grinned, not stopping. 

“YES!” Alanna exclaimed, squirming in agony as her needs were left unsatisfied. She was now the prey, the fly tangled in a web of lust and sin, and August liked playing with his food. In tandem, he released her hands to grab her throat and slammed his fingers into her center, circling her neck to grab her hair and draw her up on her knees in front of him to meet his gaze.

“If you want your prize,” he mimicked her, “You’ll have to earn it.”

To emphasize his point, August withdrew his fingers from her pussy and placed them on her lips, indicating with his eyebrow that she should suck. The Widow took to the task at once, cleaning the sharp sweetness of her need from his skin with reverent care as her hands traced gentle patterns on his hips and ass. August watched intently, picturing those full lips around his cock and how pretty she would look if he chose to fuck her face. He closed his eyes and pushed the thought away; there would be plenty of time for that during the next round. 

August flipped Alanna suddenly, keeping a firm grasp on her hair as he pulled her flush against him, folding the rest of his body around hers in a strangely intimate gesture of protection. His cock entered her slick heat and his neurons erupted at the sudden sensation; Alanna’s outward cries echoed the pleasurable sentiment his body was screaming at him and August growled in her ear.

“Go ahead, pet… earn it.”

The Widow didn’t need any further encouragement, rutting against him with fervor. August guided her almost imperceptibly, allowing her to think she was in control of the actions of her body when in reality he was moving her where and how he wanted. She fucked him with surprising strength though, her walls tightening around his thick shaft as the orgasm she sought neared her. 

“Ah ah ah, pet, not yet,” August chided, cupping her chin skyward so that she could see him out of the corner of her eye.

“You haven’t earned it yet.”

The Widow wailed as she closed her eyes and thrust harder, desiring nothing more than the rich imprint of release to be engraved into her skin. Every muscle in August’s being rippled with power, drunk on her near submission to his will. The wanton noises she made only fanned the flame and his entire body ached with hunger, with a raw craving to take her for his own. He watched his hard length slide in and out of Alanna’s body, her tempting ass pressing against his abdomen with each of her thrusts as if daring his hand to smack it. He could sense her exhaustion, her fear that she wouldn’t be able to earn the pleasure that lay just out of reach, and her determination to prove just how worthy she was of receiving it. But still August waited; he wanted that last piece of submission.

August finally heard it fall softly from her lips, one word that gave up any amount of control she had left, and it thrilled him to his core.

“Please.”

A low hum emitted from his chest; pride and thirst melting into one. August’s hands became soft as he whispered in Alanna’s ear.

“Come for me, Kitten… and don’t you dare stop until I say so.”

He maneuvered Alanna onto her belly, grasping her hips and showing her the true reason for the title of ‘Hammer’. August fucked her relentlessly, his grunts of pleasure creating a harmonic undertone to the Widow’s cries of bliss. Frantically he chased his release, intent on filling her with every ounce of his seed; a blaze filled his mind and curses poured from his lips, swept from his body as at last he fell into darkness, surrounded by the treasure of euphoria and the warmth of her carnal embrace. He collapsed on top of her and together they drank from the holy grail of passionate communion, drowning in waves of ecstasy and sin, only surfacing for air when the need for it outweighed the feeling of rapture.

August shifted so that he was lying next to Alanna, still sheathed within her walls but no longer restricting her lungs. Her body was shaking, aftershocks travelling through her nervous system as she came down from the high. He slipped his hand into hers and she opened her eyes to stare at him; August could see the walls she so carefully guarded had been removed, granting him unspoken permission to view the sacred vulnerability that lay hidden beneath. He kissed her shoulder, stroking her hair and enjoying the sudden softness in the room that could only be achieved through the atmosphere of post-coital afterglow.

“Well done, Hammer,” Alanna mused, a shy smile turning up the corner of her mouth as she kissed his fingertips. August chuckled quietly, watching her work, drinking in her contentment. The thought of tomorrow drifted into the forefront of his mind and he pushed it away angrily, refusing to let it ruin the moment. 

His face must have revealed his displeasure though, for the Widow was staring at him again with those big eyes. August captured her lips in his, half to distract and half because he wanted to taste her again. There was more to her than he had realized, and now one night just didn’t feel like it would be enough. She was marked; she was his.

No other man would share her bed ever again. No other man would fall prey to the Widow. 

No other man but him.

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[undiscovered-horror-icon]

SlipKnot Members [Part Two]

[All of this info was copied form the archive of this blog on Skyrock.com circa 2009 -2010: User: maggot777 on Skyrock. com ]

[I’m just sharing it and take no credit]

[This post will include the current members, circa 2010]

Name: Sidney George Wilson Position: DJ N ° 0 Nickname: Monkeyboy or Ratboy Born March 15, 1978, Sid is the youngest of the group and by far the craziest. His scenic escapades helped to build the reputation of SlipKnoT in its early days. Since the European tour where he accidentally injured a fan during the concert in London, he has calmed down somewhat. Although with British origins, Sid is American and was born in Des Moines. Passionate about music, he creates a posse of Djs called Sound Proof Coalition. It is thanks to this posse that he will meet the group during Dotfest in 1998. “I don't know why, but this skinny dude with his red T-shirt and green shorts caught my eye that day. And then it must be said that a guy who listens to punk while scratching on hip-hop is not common, ”Shawn declared. Six months later, Sid will go to the Hairy Mary Club to see the band in concert. That night Shawn jumps into the audience and comes face to face with Sid. From this impromptu meeting was born the friendly rivalry between them, the goal being to knock out the other during the concert. For the record, this is the only time Sid has beaten Shawn. After this concert, Sid will meet SlipKnoT and tell them that he wants to be part of the group. The legend says that Shawn will not think more than ten seconds before saying yes, estimating the man enough barjo to join the group. Since then, Sid has been a mainstay of the band, justifying his presence with samples and scratches on many tracks, he's also working on a more personal project for which he took over his DJ name Starscream and released a solo album called Full Metal Scratch It in reference to the movie Full Metal Jacket. The album announced for 2001 did not actually see the light of day until 2004 following a number of problems with the label that was to release the CD. In the end, it was N2O that played the role of distributing the CD containing most of the samples that Sid uses in SlipKnoT as well as in various other projects. He also collaborates with Ampt, a band from New Jersey that he joined as a DJ.

Name: Nathan Jonas '' Joey '' Jordison Position: Drums N ° 1 Nickname: Speedball Born April 26, 1975 at the Mercy Hospital in Des Moines, Joey spent all his childhood and adolescence in the small town of Yankee, located fifteen kilometers from Des Moines. Very introverted because of his small size (1.60 m), Joey has often served as a pain reliever for his classmates, but he knew deep down that one day he would prove to them that he was better. than them. Arrived in high school, he is deeply into Kiss and Black Sabbath and decides to start a group; he held the position of guitarist there. The guitar has always been his passion and he plays it whenever he can. However, the pitiful level of the drummer in his group pushes him to get behind the barrels. He finished his studies in high school and decided to get into music. One of his groups (Modifious, of which Paul and Craig were part) has had some success but not enough to make a living from it. There is a job at a gas station. Working at night, he occupies his days rehearsing with the group. One evening, his best friend comes to see him with a certain Corey Taylor. Corey doesn't make a good impression on him and the evening ends with a sentence to his friend about Corey (who is red-haired and had long hair at the time): "Bring Dave Mustaine (singer-guitarist of Megadeath) to to treat, it is too serious this guy. " Some time later, he will be contacted by Paul to join an even more obscure called SlipKnoT group. Outside of the group, Joey is involved in various side projects, the most successful of which is Murderdolls, a punk / glam band in which he is a guitarist and with whom he released an album. one owes the magnificent tribal S and as well as the logo of the group. SlipKnoT's capital K is due to the fact that at the time he drew it Joey was a mega-fan of Korn.

Name: Paul Dedrick Gray Position: bass, vocal backing N ° 2 Nickname: Porky or Balls Born April 8, 1972, Paul is the only member of SlipKnoT who is not originally from Des Moines. Born in Los Angeles, he followed his family when they moved to Iowa. Paul is one of the creators of the group along with Shawn. Very discreet and yet very influential, he played with Joey in Anal Of Blast and in various other groups before creating SlipKnoT. He had moved back to Los Angeles when Shawn asked him to come back one evening because he had an extra project he couldn't miss. He died at the age of 38 on May 24, 2010 of an overdose.

Name: Chris Fhen Position: percussion, vocal backing N ° 3 Nickname: Pornochio or Mr Piklenose Born February 24, 1972 in Des Moines, Chris is the little comic of the group. Always playing the puppet, he does everything to be noticed and is happy to go on stage. Chris is one of the last to join SlipKnoT. He joined the group after Brandon left and his integration was not without difficulty ... for him. Shawn called him in for a rehearsal in which he had to prove himself. After two hours of playing, the group reunites in the garden while Chris, alone at the other end, paces. After letting him run around in circles for thirty minutes, Shawn finally waved him over and said, "Sorry man, you're not up to par." Annoyed, Chris lowered his nose and said, "Okay, it's okay guys," turning on his heels. This is the moment that Joey chooses to say to him, “We're kidding, man! », Before bursting out laughing with the rest of the group. But that was just a little taste of what to expect. He's the one we hear vomiting on the hidden SlipKnoT track while Paul laughs beside him. This memorable streak was actually Chris' initiation into the "SlipKnoT spirit", the others having forced him to watch a hardcore movie. Chris played an important role in the recording and mixing of SlipKnoT. He helped Ross Robinson and Joey with the post-production work. Ross Robinson says of him, “Chris is a great guy. He really has his heart set on his feet. "

Name: James Root Position: guitar N ° 4 Nickname: The Peach Born October 2, 1971, James (or Jim) is the giant of the group, dominating the situation of his 1.90 m. He joined the group at the end of the recording of SlipKnoT as a starting point for the previous guitarist, Josh. Prior to being a part of SlipKnoT, James was playing in Atomic Opera and Deadfront with which he released an album and was about to record another when Joey called on him. The latter explains: “James was one of the best guitarists in Des Moines. With Atomic Opera, they were by far the leaders of the Iowa metal scene. And then I knew the guy, he had the job profile. He also stars in Stone Sour.

Name: Craig Jones Position: sample N ° 5 Nickname: 133 mhz (we nickname him like that because he's crazy about machines and 133 times 5 plus 1 equals 666) Born February 11, 1973, “This guy is definitely the most crossed out of the nine. He never says anything and that's what gives me the fuck. It is there and yet we forget it. Having said that, it's better if he doesn't say anything. The only time he opened it we had nothing but shit. This is how Craig is described by Ross Robinson. This is hardly flattering but nevertheless very true: Craig is the “ghost” of the group, always the last to arrive on stage and the first to leave. He joined SlipKnoT as a guitarist to replace Donnie Steele. He will prove himself during the recording of Mate.Feed.Kill.Repeat .. He also contributed to the ambiences with his samples, which really impressed Shawn in addition to his performance on the guitar. Seeing his mad passion for machines and computers, Joey and Shawn decided to promote him and integrate him full time into SlipKnoT. In three weeks, Craig went from replacement guitarist to official sampler of the band.

Name: Shawn Michael Crahan Position: percussion, vocal backing N ° 6 Nickname: Clown or Kong Born September 24, 1969, Shawn is at the same time the leader, the pillar and the dean of the group. SlipKnoT is her baby. It was he who chose who would be part of the adventure and that from the start. Before joining SlipKnoT, he set up various groups which were only successful with critics. Unable to live on his music, he then manages with the means on board. He was first hired as a welder (this experience would later be used for the creation of drum-kits). The savings he made enabled him to buy the Hairy Mary Club, a bar in Des Moines called to become the SlipKnoT's lair for a few years. As a wise businessman, he will regularly organize metal evenings in his club and the Saturday night concerts will quickly become an institution in Des Moines for any metal and rock fan. It is during this period that SlipKnoT is formed. The future members of the group all hanging out regularly in the club, convincing them to play together will not be very difficult. Next is the recording of Mate.Feed.Kill.Repeat. Which costs Shawn all his savings and pushes him into heavy debt. He sells the Hairy Mary Club to repay his debts, before the scale gained by SlipKnoT allows him little by little to live on music. The Hairy Mary Club having been sold, the group had no room to rehearse, and it was only natural that Shawn put his family to contribution: SlipKnoT invests in his parents' cellar. They spent almost two years there, Ross Robinson came to see them rehearse before signing them on his label. It was also in his parents' garage that the photo was taken that served as the cover for SlipKnoT (album). Married with four children, Shawn is a very cultured person; he adores Cézanne and Picasso, which contrasts quite a bit with the image of the slightly psychotic Clown that we see at concerts (I confirm). He also likes to philosophize about life around a bottle of wine, which makes tell Corey, “Shawn is a very smart guy, even if you don't always understand what he's saying. "

Name: Michael Thompson Position: guitar No. 7 Nickname: Log Born November 3, 1973, Mick spent his childhood in Des Moines. Big fan of music, his tastes range from Jimi Hendrix to the Beatles through Morbid Angel and Deicide. He joined a group for the first time at the age of sixteen. Subsequently, he is part of various formations with the future members of SlipKnoT, but seeing that it is hard to make a living, he decides to give guitar lessons. It was then that one evening, taking advantage of Donnie's departure, Paul called him and asked him to join SlipKnoT. “I was really pissed off at that time. When Paul called me I jumped at the chance, ”says Mick to explain his arrival in the group. Outside the group, Mick is a very discreet person; he describes himself as a person who likes to live at night.

Name: Corey Taylor Position: Vocals N ° 8 Nickname: Faith or The Sickness Born December 8, 1973, Corey is in a way the guru of the maggots. His singing, his tone of voice and his charisma (I also confirm) make him a unique singer in the metal scene. Corey initially wanted to be a drummer but decided to write songs after listening to Screaming Life by Soundgarden and Bleach by Nirvana. Born of an unknown father, (but now we know who he is) he lived for a long time with his mother and his sister, traveling the North-East of the USA and sometimes (even often) finding himself homeless to sleep. Completely addicted to cocaine from the age of fifteen, he overdoses twice. The second made him realize the fragility of life and he went to settle in Ohio with his grandmother, to be far from his bad company. It was there that he developed a taste for music thanks to his grandmother's record who listened to rock 'n' roll and in particular Elvis Presley, of whom he became a very big fan. At eighteen, he chose to take his independence and return to the roads to finally return to his hometown of Des Moines. There, he assembles the group Stone Sour, with which he begins to record some titles. On several occasions, his path crosses the path of the members of SlipKnoT. And it is finally after a Stone Sour concert that Corey sees Joey, Mick and Shawn unload in the sex shop where he works. Corey sums it up in a few words: “Basically, they told me that if I didn't join their group they would give me my birthday. I admit I hesitated a little but finally I said to myself that it was the right choice for me. " Corey is very involved in songwriting; his difficult childhood is a source of inspiration for him. However, he refuses to talk too much about it. In early 2004, he married Scarlet, his long-time fiancée, with whom he had a son, eighteen months earlier.

[Might do a part three on new guys, maybe] 

[feel free to leave corrections in the replies]

[fandomlifechoseme]

hi! i i was wondering if you could write a damian wayne x reader where they are soulmates and he rejects her at first but dick finds out and fluff ensues

Hell yeah you can!

It was a fun day at school. All of the theatre kids put on a play while the sports kids played sports I guess, I spent the entire time chilling by myself. It was how I liked it. I spent the entire day drawing which obviously felt like heaven that was until he came around. Damian showed up in the art room I know he like to draw as well so I didn’t say anything against it. But then when I slightly got bored I decided to draw on my arm. I drew a little rose that Grew into a tree I thought it looks nice personally. When I looked up though, Damien was watching me with this disgusted look on as I obviously I thought he was just judging me because I was writing on my own. But then I looked onto his arm and they’re sat the exact same drawings. Shit. I wanted to talk to him about it but he just stood up and ran. Rude. Every day I saw him in the art room and I tried and tried and tried to talk to him. He never even let me get a single word in. One day I cornered him in the art room

“ we need to talk”

“ about what tch”

I quickly picked up my pencil and draw little smile on my wrist. It appeared on his quickly.

“That”

“Honestly I don’t want to be your soulmate either. but we need to talk about it”

He stood up from where he was sitting and gave me the most terrifying glare I have ever seen.

“ you don’t get it though, I’m never going to fall in love with a loser like you. You can’t be my soulmate because my soulmate would actually be good at something not mediocre at drawing”

He then marched out of The art room, leaving me there to just sit in sorrow. How can anyone be that rude. Let alone someone who I’m supposed to fall in love with and someone who I’m supposed to spend the rest my life with. I decided then and there that I would never conform to society is ideal soulmate. I didn’t need someone to be happy. Especially someone who makes me feel like shit. Months go by And every time I see Damien in the hallways I just give him a scoff. I just hope one day he’ll feel as bad as how I felt in that moment. no one in their right mind to get to treat someone like that and get away with it.

Art class was hard because Damian was in my class and Miss worked out they were trouble is between us. She took it upon herself to “fix” us. One day she decided that she would start a project. You had to paint someone you admired. And it was in pairs. So obviously she paired me with the asshole.

“ Who inspires that cold dead heart of yours?” Harsh. I know. But my parents had raised me to believe your soulmate is someone who makes you feel happy and get here. If it none of those boxes harsh. I know. But my parents had raised me to believe your soulmate is someone who makes you feel happy and giddy. Damian fit none of those boxes.

“my heart is very much beating, thank you and I guess Robin.”

Blah!

“Yeah I guess, I definitely prefer Nightwing though, oh! but Red Robin is awesome!” His face goes to pure disgust at the mention of Red Robin.

“Drake would never let me forget it. I’d rather do Nightwing”

At least we came to an agreement? Yano he’s not that ba-

“ oh and stop with the drawing on yourself. I don’t need that on me”

Nope. I take it back he is a 10/10 butthole. I take out my pen and start drawing red robin all over my arms.

“ fine, keep drawing. Just no Red Robin.” I can make this arrangement work out. Missed calls out to everyone, that we have five minutes and it would be best if we work a bit at home.

“My house or yours?”

“Tch, my Manor. obviously”

TIME SKIPPY!

After school ended I started heading over to where Damian was waiting. He offered me a ride begrudgingly. To which I accepted. I expected to be riding home in a simple car. But I did not expect a freaking limo. We get into the car and Damian calls to the driver.

“Pennyworth! This is my partner I was telling you about, We will be working on our project at the home today” pennyworth? That’s a weird name. Maybe it’s his last name.

“ good evening Miss/Mr L/N my name is Alfred pennyworth. You may call me Alfred” I gave Alfred a small smile and thank him for the ride.

“You can you call me Y/N!” We went through most of the ride in complete silence. The only noise was the rare chatter between Alfred and Damian. When we pulled up to Damian’s house immediately recognised it as the Wayne Manor! I forgot he was a Wayne sometimes. He just acts so different to his father. We walk up to the door and hear gunshots. Obviously this scares me a little bit so I asked Damian what it was.

“That’s just Todd. You don’t need to be afraid of him” He says in a comforting voice? When we open the door I recognised Dick Grayson immediately. He may or may not of been my childhood crush, you’ll never know.

“ Grayson. This is my partner L/N. We will be working on a project from 4 to 8 pm. I expect no disturbances throughout this period of time.”Oh so he’s like that at home as well. Dick Grayson turns to me.

“Hi! And what is your name?”

“Y/n! I didn’t know you’d be here!” Out Walks Tim Drake. A distant friend of a friend.

“ honestly, I didn’t even know I’d be here until period four. It’s nice to see you Tim”

Tim then sees my arm Which still is covered with Red Robin

“ you are a fan of Red Robin?” He had an unnatural smile on. Like it looked like pure amusement mixed with doubt and a hint of sleep deprivation.

“Ye-“ before I could finish the sentence Damian grabs my arm and starts leading me to his room I think. Or the art room.

Dick’s POV

I noticed it when Damian grabbed their arm. I noticed the red robin drawn all over his arm too. Oh man. That explains when he came home awkward and semi Upset. I know he has a crush on them maybe they doesn’t have a crush on him. He would come home every day and just talk non-stop about them. Then one day he just stopped. He said at the start of that day that he would finally talk to them. And yet nothing happened. I turned to Tim to ask him

“Did you see what was on his arm?”

“Obviously, how could I ever miss this opportunity. He has red robin written all over his arm and drawn. I’m gonna have to thank Y/n”. After smacking him lightly. I go and try to find out what happened from Alfred. Tim goes back to his lair And does whatever he does when he’s hiding. I had to convince Jason to stop shooting so that Y/N would not think we are under attack. After a lot of digging and talking to everyone including Bruce and my lovely Barbara. I found out what happened. As the great big brother I am I had to get involved. I made a few calls and within minutes I had everything I needed.

“Damian! Y/n! Come downstairs we’re gonna watch a movie!” Obviously I picked out the most romantic movie we owned. It wasn’t really romantic but was the best thing we had.

“Grayson! We are working on the project! We are not watching a movie.” Okay time for plan b. I quickly run up the stairs and slam open the door. It turns out they were doing more than making a project. They were making a painting of me. There’s nothing more romantic than painting me. Well I think I still need to help out a bit. So I leave the movie there for them and ask if Y/N wanted to stay the night.

“I can’t, sorry, my mother would never agree.”

Y/n’s pov

I didn’t want to stay over because, my mother is a murderous people who does not like the idea of staying over boys house and I guess that’s the only reason. I mean Damien‘s bad but we have great conversations. Like before Dick came in we were having a fun conversation about why we admired night wing. Dick looked sad but he left.

“ anyway. Why do you not like Robin?”

“It’s not like I don’t like Robin. I just think he’s just a bit scary you know?” He nods.

“ why do you not like red robin?” This lit a fire in his eyes.

“ where do I get started. First of all he is incompetent, he thinks he’s great but he’s very shit.”

“Reminds me of you”

“ do not compare us”

“ or what?” He just laughs and as he was about to answer. Dick kicks open the door and starts talking about how he convinced my mother to let me stay over. I mean He probably could convince anyone anything. If he came up to me one day and said that the joker was actually Batman I’d immediately believe him.

I agree to stay over. And as I turned around I heard the door slam shut again. Sounds like dick had left. Damian looks at me with a sincere look.

“I want to apologise. I panicked and in the heat of the moment I said things I didn’t mean. One. I’d be honoured if you are my soulmate. Two. I don’t think your mediocre at drawing.”

Can’t say I expected that. But I don’t think he expected though was for me to forgive him.

“ Damian. I really like you and I think we could definitely work out as soulmates. If you are willing to try?” He smiles. this is the first time I’ve ever seen them smile and we have been in class together for almost 3 years.

“ can I, can I kiss you?”

I nod and lean into the kiss. Before our lips could touch though. Loud gunshots rock through the building again.

“Dam Todd.”

“ so I take it that the Waynes aren’t a normal family?”

“Nope” Tim says falling out of the ceiling.

[makeawisdom]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Essek Thelyss & Verin Thelyss, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Essek Thelyss Characters: Essek Thelyss, Verin Thelyss Additional Tags: Just two siblings talking about feelings, established shadowgast Summary:

Verin noticed his internal conflict, but he wasn't able to guess Essek's train of thought. He stood up and look him in the eye. “Why him, Essek? Why is he so special?”

(In which the Mighty Nein have been invited to dinner by the Umavi Deirta Thelyss and her two children have a heart-to-heart conversation while they wait for them)

“This is all your fault”

“I don't see how it could be. I didn't do anything” answered Essek without looking at his brother. “It was our mother's idea.”

“It was our mother's idea” repeated Verin, mocking his voice. “Bullshit. It's your fault. Our lives were happy and peaceful, and we didn't gather for more than fifteen years. But then you've decided to go out of your lair and get yourself a boyfriend.”

Essek felt the warm creeping over his cheeks, but he hoped he was able to hide it well enough. He didn't want to give his brother more material that he could use against him. He already had enough of his repertoire.

“That's not the reason why she's doing this. Our mother only wants to check if the Mighty Nein could be used as leverage in her schemes.” Not that he was to allow it, but he was wiser than to confront his mother straightforwardly. He worked better behind the scene, anyway, hiding in the shadows. “And he is not my boyfriend. We're… figuring things out.”

It sounded bland and hackneyed, but it was the truth.  He and Caleb talked about it, and that was their mutual agreement. Everything was overly complicated already, taking in count the Mighty Nein knew about his endeavors with the Assembly. Essek's position as regards the group was precarious, to say the least. A few of them felt some resentment against him and he couldn't blame them. It would have been understandable if they decided not to trust him ever again. Why Caleb still could have faith in him, was a mystery. Essek couldn't fathom why would he hold any sort of feelings towards him either, even if Caleb was persuasive enough to convince him that he did. Words could lie, he knew, he mastered that art. But glances, and caresses, and tender smiles between kisses were a whole different story, one than Caleb told him with blunt sincerity and Essek couldn't help believing.

“That's definitely the face of someone that is thinking of a person which is figuring things out with, sure” Verin leaned back on the armchair he had claimed and raised one eyebrow. Essek, standing, looked at him from above with a deadpan expression. “I swear I still can't believe this is happening. I was so sure you will die alone in that huge tower of yours, surrounded by thirty cats that will feast on your remains.”

“That's hilarious. Hilarious and disgusting” said Essek with a tone that expressed he didn't find it funny at all. “Don't make that kind of jokes during dinner, please”

Verin gave him a grin.

“Why not? Do you fear that I will embarrass you in front of your figuring-things-out-friend?”

“No, my sweet little brother. I fear that they might like you.”

Verin laughed wholeheartedly, making Essek crack a little smile.

“What is your opinion on this?” He knew his brother well enough to try and be more specific before he could find room for another witty comment. “About Caleb and me, I mean.”

“Hold on a second, since when do you care about what I think? Are you okay? Did you hit your head or-?”

“I know mother will expound her point of view as clearly as she likes. I was hoping that, if you have something to say as well, we can discuss it privately, so I only have to deal with one criticism at a time.”

He seems to think about it for a little while until he finally said:

“Well… he's a human. A human from the Empire. That's weird.”

“I assume it must look like it is, yes.”

“But, that's not even the weirdest thing. The worst of all is that he is a wizard. A wizard, Essek! Do you know how untrustworthy wizards are?”

Of course, Verin wasn't talking seriously, but he can't help but think of what his brother would think of him if he knew how right he was. What Essek has done. How he, unintentionally, started a war that could have endangered his own brother.

How he was responsible for their father's death.

Before meeting the Mighty Nein, those thoughts wouldn't have even made him twitch. But now…

Now…

Regret is a novelty that didn't wear off easily. He didn't use to worry about the consequences of his actions, but at that moment, he realized his ambitions could have cost him more than he was willing to pay. Only one thin thread on the big tapestry of the odds had prevented his brother from being one of the numerous corpses soiling the ground of the battlefront, instead of being there, pestering him, laughing at his own jokes.

Before meeting the Mighty Nein, he has had already so much to lose but he couldn't see it. They didn't only give him another chance; they also give him perspective.

He thought he could live with the idea of his brother hating him. Essek had been alone for so long that he believed for a matter of fact that he didn't need anyone else. But the idea of Verin finding the truth, blaming him for what he did, was terrifying.

Verin noticed his internal conflict, but he wasn't able to guess Essek's train of thought. He stood up and look him in the eye.

“Why him, Essek? Why is he so special?”

His guilt didn't disappear, but that question was enough to bring him back to the conversation. That was his current battle: his denmother, his younger brother, the dinner all of them would be sharing with the Mighty Nein in less than an hour.

One concern at a time, he told himself. The first thing was finding a good answer to his brother's question. A very uninspired one, he thought. Only the seriousness his brother used to drew it up stopped Essek from dodging it and telling him he sounded like the side character of a badly written romance novel. He couldn't do it because he knew Verin's worry was sincere and that it was his way to show it.

“He’s outstandingly intelligent. Although he’s lacking formal education, he’s a competent…”

“Blah, blah. Magical nerdy stuff is one of the reasons, I get it. I didn’t even doubt it. But if that were enough, you would have hooked up with any of those stuffy people from the Marble Conservatory, but you didn’t, and it’s not as if you didn’t have your pick. You used to have a flock of infuriating suitors.”

“Yes, and all of them were infuriating, as you’ve correctly pointed out.”

“Well… but one or two should have been salvageable, I guess. But you’ve never had a partner before. Not one I’d heard of, at least.”

“I’ve never had a partner before, period.”

“See? That’s why I’m so curious! It must be something else!”

Verin was right: there was something else, but he didn't want to talk about it. He's always been proud of being discreet, keeping his matters to himself. Verin, on the contrary, shared everything, even those things Essek would have preferred not to know. It was an unbalanced dynamic, the one that they had, but Essek felt sheltered that way, stronger. Talking about what Caleb meant to him... Essek knew it would make him seem vulnerable and he didn't want that.

But that was the point in trying to do better, wasn’t it? Doing what is necessary to improve, even when he considered it to be the last thing he wanted to do. He had a long road ahead, but he could start with that little step. He took a deep breath.

“He is… He is everything I thought I didn’t need until I had him in front of me.” His mouth started getting significantly drier with every word he said, while he felt how goosebumps claimed his entire skin. He felt awful, self-conscious, and exposed, the same way he felt beneath the deck of the Ball-Eater, the day he confessed his crimes. He hated it just as much, but that probably meant he was doing something right, so he kept going. “He’s caring and understanding. He’s fun in his own awkward, delightful way. I’m still amazed at how much kindness he can show, after… After everything. I’ve never met someone with such endurance before. He’s admirable, in every possible way.”

He gave him a second chance when any other person would have made him pay for his wrongdoings. He hoped for him to be a better person, and Essek obliged out of selfishness, as he always did. He still believed in the cause he sold his soul to. His pursuit of knowledge, crossing limits anyone else hasn’t even dared to reach. He had lived through that desire, put all his stakes on it. In an ambient where he could not thrive, surrounded by people that didn’t understand him and didn’t care for him, magic was the only thing that pushed him forward. Without that itch, without his ambitions, what was left for him?

Love, he learned that infamous night in Nicodranas. There was warmth. There was friendship. There was love.

There was Jester, lovely Jester, holding his hand.

There was Caduceus, urging him to spit his dirty secrets as if he were trying to make him vomit a poison that was killing him inside.

There was Caleb, with his eyes, and his hands, and his lips. He kissed him gently, in a moment when any other person would have landed a stab-wound between his ribs.

That’s why his change was so selfish. He could not drop every project he had fought for during all his life and change just for himself. But he could change for them. Be whatever the Mighty Nein wanted him to be: a friend, an ally, or a lover. Damn, he would even be a good person! He was trapped and enthralled, and he never, ever, would like to be let go.

Did he ever stand a chance? No, probably he didn’t, not against them, at least. Not against Caleb.

“I wasn’t seeking companionship when I first met him” Essek admitted, “but when we stumble on each other, when I had the opportunity to talk to him and get to know him better… I couldn’t help but see how similar we were, and yet so different. I don’t know how to explain it, just… Everything between us clicked together.”

“An instant connection. How romantic.” Essek was grateful for the lighthearted inflection of his brother’s voice. That was normal, familiar. It was a good grip to keep his mind from spiraling. “Who knows. Perhaps the Light pushed you two together and you are meant to be, after all. I mean, what were the odds of you finding another oddball like you?”

What were the odds, indeed.

“I don’t believe in destiny.”

“Of course you don’t. People like you have ‘destiny’ for breakfast, but even you would admit that this is some kind of divine intervention. I mean…”

“Yes, I found someone that can stand me. A miracle” Essek replied with a deadpan expression, “You might find someone someday as well, if you ever stop being a little brat.”

Verin showed him the sharp point of his fangs. Essek was sure his brother was preparing himself for the delivering of another witty comment, but instead, he just shrugged and gave him an honest smile.

“You seem quite different, I would say.”

“Well, I am different. I suppose it shows.”

After a brief pause, Verin added:

“You really love him, huh?”

Essek didn’t need to consider the answer.

“I do, Verin. I love him immensely” he admitted so naturally that he surprised himself. That was such a profound truth that he couldn’t have expressed it with less honesty, because it wouldn’t have sounded right any other way. “Not only him. I love all of them. They’ve changed my life for the better. My relationship with Caleb has indeed meant a lot of adjustments in both our lives, but it works somehow, and it makes me happier than I can express with words.”

Verin blinked once, then twice.

“That’s… wow. Just wow. It turns out that nor only you have feelings, but you’re also able to talk about them! I’m impressed, I’ll admit it.” Essek raised an eyebrow, but Verin kept talking before he could comment on anything. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m not teasing you right now… well, a little, but that’s what I always do. Believe me, I’m glad to hear you’re happy. It’s everything I could have hoped for you.”

Verin patted his shoulder a few times, a gesture that probably was just friendly between well-built soldiers, but it was a little rougher against someone as slim as Essek. He was able to keep his balance and his dignity with it. It hurt a little, but he did not express it in any way. He was too grateful for his brother’s reaction to getting mad at him for not knowing his own strength.  Verin really mean everything he had said, Essek knew, and that tugged at his heartstrings. He cared; he had always had. Essek was lucky to have a brother like him, he thought.

“I have a question, though”, Verin began.

“Go ahead, please.”

Verin grinned.

“May I call that Caleb brother-in-law?”

Essek didn't hesitate.

“Don't you dare.”

***

Fun fact: If ‘Person A talking about their feelings for Person B with Person C’ can be considered a trope, it’s my favorite one.

Fun fact 2: This is not really my hc for Verin and Essek’s relationship. I think they hate each other’s guts, but I started writing this and I thought: ‘Oh, okay, this dynamic is wholesome. I’ll stick with it’

[coffeecomicsgalore]

A Night to Remember

Sabine and Tom are sly. Lila is back. Gabriel's intentions are known. Ladynoir have a sweet moment.

Ao3

Chapter 17 – The Plan

Tom and Sabine eyed the time on the clock, smirking silently towards each other as they waited for their daughter to make her presence known. Tom went back to kneading the dough as Sabine moved to the counter and packed a couple of delicious pastries for the new couple to enjoy together.

Sabine is not one to lie. If anyone happened to ask her if they were part of the whole idea, she would say no. Actually, she would praise Adrien for coming up with the idea that had won Marinette over. But she wouldn’t lie if anyone asked if the couple had listened to Adrien’s romantic declaration as he danced with Marinette against the moonlight. She would only smirk and play coy, adding that Marinette’s door had accidentally stayed open and the noise traveled throughout the house, so it was hard not to listen to the grand confession.

Then she would just smile in that innocent way and stay mum over anything else.

Including the part where she and Tom happened to pop their head through the skylight and see them kissing against said moonlight.

Not like it mattered anyways. The squeals that emanated from the living room while they were trying (keyword: not really trying) to sleep after Adrien had left their home could only contribute to the sight they had seen earlier.

Nope. Not one bit ashamed for sneaking a peep at their daughter’s unplanned date.  

They already knew once the couple heard the giggles and the pop of the wine bottle’s cork that everything worked out perfectly. Of course, there was also an exchange of a bet that had been between them since the kids first met, but the teens didn’t need to know those little details anyways (Sabine won by the way).

Sabine could hear the leaded footsteps as her daughter ran down the steps to the bakery, hearing the clatter of dishes as she lost control of her movements and stumbled into the pans that were ready to be used for the day. As she shook her head in self-satisfaction, Sabine looked up through the bakery entrance and saw the gray sedan pulling up beside it. A mop of blond hair had made his way out waving goodbye to his driver before walking through the door.

“Good morning, Adrien.” Sabine said sweetly as he made his way towards the register.

“Good morning!” He said as his eyes were full of wonderment and love.

Tom emerged from the kitchen and placed his large hand on his shoulder. “Son! How are you this morning? Get any sleep?” He winked.

“I did for once!” Adrien laughed. “Is Marinette ready to head to school?”

“I’m coming!” Marinette walked through the door with a wet rag in her hands. She tried to wipe down any flour that had inadvertently attached to her clothing when she fell into the pans. She could hear the chuckle coming from Adrien, but her pleasant mood did not allow an ounce of embarrassment to show through. Marinette kissed her maman and papa, trading the wet rag with the pastry bag that Sabine held out for them.  

"Thanks, maman,” Marinette said as she opened the bag to smell the delicious treats. She grabbed a croissant and handed it to Adrien, a precious smile on her face making his heart soar. He snatched the croissant and bent down a little, allowing Marinette’s lips to press against his. What meant to be a peck, turned into two, three, four pecks, the last one lingering a bit longer than planned.

Sabine cleared her throat while Tom watched in awe. Marinette and Adrien pulled apart as a shade of crimson dusted their cheeks. Adrien rubbed his neck nervously as Marinette covered her face.

“Sorry!” they said in unison while the adults snickered in return.

----

Walking to school together this way felt like a dream. Their fingers were intertwined as they shared a laugh and Marinette hovered the pastry bag in front of his face, enticing Adrien with another croissant.

Adrien purred in her ear. “You know, bug, you should really be careful feeding a stray.”

“Why? Because they never go away?” Marinette teased back.

Adrien looked smug. “Exactly! And I don’t know how long you could keep me away for. I might just come back every night.” He stopped in front of the steps and leaned his face close to hers. So close, in fact that their noses were almost touching.

Marinette poked his nose back the same way she always did as Ladybug. Her smug tone matched his while a devious smirk stretched her lips. “Well maybe I want to keep this stray kitten. Maybe that’s my intention. I’ve always wanted a kitty. I think this is just the perfect opportunity to finally have one for myself.”

Marinette walked away, leaving an awestruck Adrien behind. Marinette stopped and turned just enough to shout, ‘Don’t dish if you can’t take, chaton’, before walking through the doors of the school.

--

Sitting in the back of the classroom alone to stew in her own misery, Lila sat with eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. She was back at school after disappearing for the last week. On top of everything else, her mother caught wind of her devious plans and grounded her until the end of time. The time alone was not spent in waste though. She spent her time seething and planning, all while she waited for a purple butterfly to make her way towards her. Oh, how she wished that a butterfly was to come right now and akumatize her into a pawn. She wanted to take down those two brats any way she could. They ruined her life and she wanted revenge.

The class refused to acknowledge she was in the room. The moment she walked in, the students that were already seated and conversing glared daggers into her soul before turning back to the conversations they had started. No amount of crocodile tears or lies could fix this problem, so revenge was the best plan of attack.

She could still try to get Adrien away from Marinette. But how? Those two were close enough already. It was only a matter of time before they finally started dating. But they are both too oblivious to see what they have in front of them. With Gabriel not taking her side, she had to figure this out on her own.

All too quickly, Lila’s thoughts were halted when a squeal from Rose filled the room. She turned to the blond and watched where her gaze fell. Her eyes immediately saw red when she witnessed the travesty that stood in the doorway before her. She clenched her fists together so tightly her nails drew blood.  

“Marinette... and Adrien?” She said through gritted teeth. “Together!” Oh, how she was seethed over the sight. How was she to pull this plan together now?

Lila spent the next ten minutes glaring at the back of the new couple’s heads, trying to think of a way to destroy them both. As if the sun had shone through an overcast day, Lila overheard the girls talking about the dance giving the brunette an idea.

“Oh, Marinette,” she said to herself with a tone overt of venomous intentions. “This dance will be a night to remember, don’t you worry about that.”  

--

Gabriel stood at his computer, brows furrowed as he overlooked the many design concepts that were flashed across his screen. Plenty of designs made its way through the disarray of pages in front of him, but none met the Agreste standards. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took one swipe of his screen to close out everything in its path.

His stillness abruptly shifted as the feelings of anger and disgust filled his senses. Gabriel could feel the strong emotions and moved quickly towards the large gold painting that stood behind him. Three buttons took him to the lair and it took four words to transform him into his villain form. Hawkmoth stood at the ready and sought after the anger which only intensified once he transformed, but he had felt this anger before.  

“Lila,” he said as vengeance formed a bubbling act in his chest, “I have been feeling your anger over the last week. But, my dear child, your anger has yet to reach its full potential.”

Hawkmoth closed his eyes a bit longer than normal, trying to gain some sense of her anger without releasing an akuma. He knew it was not the time to send one of his precious butterflies out into the world. He was saving it for when his plan ran its course.  

Lila had proven to be a good ally in the past many times over. After her time as Chameleon, he knew that she wanted an akuma to be released so she could pawn it on herself to get revenge, and he knew that he needed to continue teasing her in this way to help his plan along. Giving in now would only hinder his final goal.

Nathalie had been giving him a report of everything that transpired over the last few weeks. Gabriel had always known that Kagami and Adrien were never formally together. It was a matter of time before a slip of the tongue would unleash the hell around him and he knew that Lila would do anything for Gabriel, especially since the modeling contract he handed her on a silver platter dangled precariously in front of her greed-filled eyes.  

As he knew it would happen, she ousted herself as Adrien’s newest beau to the media and knowing how Adrien’s mannerisms had become increasingly brazen as of late, Gabriel knew that Adrien would bite back. The “bite”, though, was infinitely better than he ever imagined it would be. Firing Lila was another tier to the commotion, and with that, the brunette has tried to seek out Gabriel and demand an explanation to no avail. Making herself look like a fool in front of the waiting press outside his doors just increased her anger tenfold. But finding out that Nathalie slipped information to Lila’s mother informing her of her actions over the last few years? Well, that was icing on the proverbial cake.

What sent this plan in a forward motion was the news that Adrien and Marinette had officially become a couple. Knowing that this would just add more anger to the pawn, he waited patiently for her anger to intensify, and he didn’t have to wait long for that to happen. He looked to the clock on his staff, knowing that her anger had to be intensified due to Adrien and Marinette entering the classroom together. He had known that if Lila happened to be in school and see the scene unfold in front of her, the feeling of vengeance would increase at an intense speed – and increase it did.

He wanted to savor the anger bubbling inside Lila. He knew that in order for this to continue, he had to throw in more wood to the fire. So, he stood there, listening to the sensory overload of Lila’s anger and hatred towards the people around her. “Soon, Lila.” He cackled maniacally as his thoughts clouded his better judgement. “Both of our wishes will come true.”

---

Running across the rooftops, Ladybug and Chat Noir raced against each other in a competitive fervor. Chat had enticed her with a race and she so happily obliged. It was not unusual for races to happen during patrols, but knowing that the love of her life was under the mask made “patrolling” a little bit better.

Only a little. And maybe a bit more fun. Yeah, that’s it. Much for fun.

Normally, Chat would follow his Lady everywhere she turned, but tonight he had something else up his sleeve. Turning to the right through the neighboring arrondissement, Chat led Ladybug to their favorite spot on the Eiffel Tower.  

While the change in location was nice, it wasn’t along their patrol route tonight. Once Ladybug landed on the beam, she looked to Chat confused and unsure. Chat smiled as he watched Ladybug’s gears turn in her head and waited for her to question his decision.  

“Chat?”

“Milady.” He grabbed her hand and slowly brought it to his lips, kissing her knuckles ever so carefully and never leaving her gaze. The blush that spread across her cheeks made the slow process worth it. “Since I have many, many nights of dates to make up for-”

“Chat...” Ladybug tried to interrupt.

“- and since I spent last evening swooning you with wine, pastries, and kisses,” he waggled his eyebrows as he stood back to full height, “I wanted to give you a special evening here where we can be all by ourselves.”

Ladybug smiled lovingly to him. “My kitty is quite the romantic.” She took a step forward and jingled his bell. “And what has this cat planned for us this evening?”  

“While I would love to take you out on a date on this tower and give you everything your heart desires, I thought we could start with this perfect view and maybe share a dance with me?”

Ladybug tilted her head and finally noticed the light music playing in the background. Chat must have wired his baton to play a few songs. “Of course, kitty. I would love to dance with you.”

The romantic atmosphere made the dancing slightly impossible as they got lost in each other’s eyes. Little teases of kisses that wanted to be shared tantalized the feeling that surrounded them. Once the song ended, Ladybug held on to his shoulders, giving her some leverage as she tiptoed herself up and planted a sweet, lingering kiss to his cheek.

“I love you, chaton.”

Chat beamed. “I love you, princess.” He reached down and planted a chaste kiss to her lips. Looking back at her eyes, his mind finally remembered why he brought her there in the first place. “Princess? Would you allow this knight in shining leather to escort you to the dance?”

A quiet giggle left her lips. “This princess would be honored to be escorted by her prince.”

[theabominableblogger]

My Reaction to “Birds of Prey“

*in best Roman Sionis impression*  WHOOO!

Figured I might as well FINALLY watch it.  On with the show!

*silently jams to the opening logos*

This animated intro is great.

*snorts at the little animation of how an egg gets fertilized*

Why is this animated Joker a different (and actually better) character design than what we got in Suicide Squad?  Were we robbed of Letoker in full Joker suited glory?  I think we were.

“Behind every successful man is a badass broad.”  *points at screen in agreement*

I love Harley’s freaking rainbow apartment

The hyena!

This movie has the same amount of color saturation as “Pulp Fiction”

Freaking Bernie the Beaver is holding her tissues!  We stan supportive friends!

*gasp* Cass!

This guy [Roman’s driver] looks an awful lot like Jon Hamm and that is never gonna go away

“It’s not a party without a little drama!”  I love Ewan McGregor

*snorts in hilarity when Harley turns to address the audience about how much she doesn’t like Roman in front of Roman*

“Do give the Joker my [Roman] best.”  Uhhh....

*jams the crap out to “Boss Bitch” by Doja Cat*

*laughs at Harley drunkenly giving relationship advice to a female bust in the club*

“Some people have the Eiffel Tower.  Or Olive Garden.”  Can we please hear the stories about Gotham’s Olive Garden?

Oh that shot [of Harley walking away from the Ace Chemicals explosion] is great

[Four Minutes Ago]  *snorts in hilarity*

So far I actually really like Rosie Perez as Montoya.

Huntress!

*Huntress kills the mob people in the flashback*  That was awesome.  And the way Montoya steps back and forth to investigate the body is great.

“Harley Quinn just called open season on herself.”  And oop.

God, seeing Ewan as Black Mask is really gonna throw me off but man this is gonna be a great performance.

*jaw drops in horror when Zsasz removes someone’s FACE*

JESUS CHRIST HOLY SHIT RATED “R” HUH?!?

“Is that a snot bubble?”  Shit!

OHHHHH THAT SHOT OF ROMAN WITH THE MASK ON!!!  AAAAAAHHHH!!

The SATURATION IN THIS MOVIE

Also the soundtrack and aesthetic in this movie is very... “Suicide Squad”-esque

Man that sandwich looks good

*jaw drops when Harley accidentally throws her sandwich into the road*

Also they de-saturated everything again hahaha

Oh my gosh that guy [”Happy”] is HUGE

[GRIEVANCE:  COSMETIC VANDALISM]  Yeah, that sounds about right

“Par-ley??”  *snorts*

Her [Montoya’s] shirt....

Also why is she wearing that shirt at work?

This movie is giving me huge Tarantino vibes

Why does the actor that plays Montoya’s boss looks familiar?

Oh!  He’s Rufus in “Supernatural.”  Bobby’s kinda buddy!

“Ms. Montoya, we do have a dress code.”  There we go.

They are really just going back and forth in the timeline to cover everything, aren’t they?

Harley’s using nonlethal rounds?

The action set pieces in this movie so far are awesome.

*says “Run, piggy, run!” along with Harley*

Of course Dinah is singing “This Is A Man’s World”

Also I’ve seen like a 20 second Twitter compilation of Roman saying the f-bomb and it’s glorious

“We could make our own family.”  Oh snap.

WAIT THAT’S THE GUY WHOSE FACE ZSASZ REMOVED!

Does... Roman... like Dinah?  Like... that?  Or is this manipulation?

*chuckles when drunk Harley slides up next to Dinah at the bar*

*gets very uncomfortable at a guy trying to take advantage of a drunk Harley*

C’mon Dinah...

What’s the song playing here [when Dinah’s beating up the guys in the alley]?

Uh whatcha doing in the corner there, Zsasz?

“Oh sooongbirrddd?”  Noo...

Did I just see a street sign that said “ANUS”?

So is Cass faking a broken wrist or does she actually have a broken wrist?

So far my favorite characters are Montoya and Dinah.  Not gonna lie.

*has to muffle laughter when Roman does the mmkay hand sign* 

“I mean, I like crossbows!”  *giggles*

Holy shit, Zsasz is jealous of Dinah.

“Look at his little ears, the little haircut...”  *insane giggling*

ZSASZ IS DYING IN THE BACK I LOVE THIS SONG

Dinah is clearly rethinking some life decisions while looking at that statue of Roman

*jams out to “Sway with Me” by GALAXRA*

*Cass robs Zsasz of the diamond*  WHOOP!

*winces when Roman does acupuncture*

“SHE’s a chILDDD!!”  *laughs*

ZSASZ

Ho shit that shot of Roman on top of the stairs looking down at Harley

“VOTED FOR BERNIE” HAHAHA

*Harley completely derails Roman’s villain monologue*  THIS IS AMAZING

HE [Roman] GOT A BOWL OF POPCORN

*Zsasz licks Harley’s cheek*  EEUUUGGGHHH!!

Did that goon just pull a tampon out of Harley’s pocket?

I’M SORRY CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE PICTURE OF NUDE ELEANOR ROOSEVELT?

*gasps when Roman backhands Harley across the face*

OH HERE WE GO

HOLY SHIT THIS IS GREAT

ROMAN IN THE STRIPED SUIT

THE CHOREOGRAPHY

WHY WAS IT SO SHORT I LOVED IT

Where is this cover at on the official soundtrack?!?

“I’ll give you ‘til midnight.”  Hold on, hold on, what’s the timeline for this movie?

Harley’s just booking it in the background

Aaaand we’re back at the beginning!

Aaand there’s Harley!

Wait there’s about an hour left and we just now got to Harley meeting Cass?

CONFETTIIIII!!

Is she just using paint bombs on all the guards?

Harley, trying to enter the cells:  I AM PRESSING.  EVERY BUTTON.  I CAN FIND.

Why would they put Cass in the cell block with all the adults?

OH HALSEY!  COME THROUGH!

*Harley slides across the floor to knock a guy down*  OHHHH!!!

Daniel Pemberton’s orchestral score for this movie is reminding me an awful lot of “Into the Spiderverse”

Is that Katana’s sword?!?  How the hell did it get there?!?

WAIT SHE’S GONNA HUFF THE COCAINE?!?

Jesus, now THIS is Harley’s fighting style!  Holy crap!

*gasps when Harley gets kicked back and knocks off a car door off its hinges*

*jaw drops*  SHE JUST SET THAT DUDE’S BEARD ON FIRE

How does everyone seem to know where Harley is?

*Smash cut to Harley buying laxative for Dinah in the store*  Hahahahahaha!

“I do not care that you’re [Cass] a kid.”  Yeah, Harley, didn’t you uh... assist in the murder of Jason Todd in this universe?  Hmmm???

Wait so how long ago have Harley and the Joker been together?

Doc calls Harley “lotus flower”!

Those are the nuns from the school in the beginning!

She is actually... talking to the beaver

“[Joker] Sounds like a dick.”  I mean, yeah.

Also I just realized that Harley drew an actual dick in the Joker drawing’s mouth

HUNTRESS!

OH NOW WE’RE GETTING INTRODUCED TO HELENA!

*eyes widen in shock at the Bertenelli massacre*

*chuckles at the smash cut to Helena practicing in the mirror*

*Roman sees someone laughing in the club*  Oh no.

“Get on the table.”  Uh.

Oh no what is he doing?

“DANCE, ERICA!”  Ohh.  Shit.

“Take your dress off.”  *jaw drops in horror*

God, I cannot watch this.  Holy-

*has to avert eyes*

*Roman stops Dinah from leaving*  NO.

“You soothe me, little bird.”  AHHHHHHHHHHHHH-

OK, I can take a breather now.  Ohhhh my God...

They’re [Harley and Cass] really just having a girl’s night

BRUCE, NOOOOO!!!

“No one knew we were here except-”  DOC SOLD THEM OUT!

“This next bit ain’t very pretty.”  Oh boy.

“I [Roman] own this town.  You have my protection.”  Mmmmm... no?

Whoa this super dramatic cover of “Hit Me with Your Best Shot”

OH HE’S [Zsasz] GONNA SEE THE TEXT SHE [Dinah] SENT [to Montoya]!

*Roman starts to break down*  Oh.  Shit.

OH THIS MUSIC

*Roman puts the mask on*  OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

OH THIS IS GREAT

Also of course Joker and Harley had a hideout in Amusement Mile

*winces when Montoya punches Harley right in the boob*

*Harley kicks Montoya out the window*  Oh she dead

*gasps*  Zsasz!

Man that sideways shot of him is terrifying!

OH FRICK NO

JESUS I DON’T LIKE THIS

So is it implied that Zsasz only kills women or what?  I thought he was an equal opportunity killer?

“That’s why he [Roman] needs me [Zsasz] to look after him.”  Dude.

...did they just kill Zsasz?

Everyone except Harley is pointing guns at each other and all I’m thinking of is that scene from “The Office”

*snorts in hilarity for Harley clapping for Helena completing her kill list*

Oh Roman just brought a whole freaking army

OHHHH HE’S GOT THE MASK

Oh this music *chef’s kiss*

Oh my God is Roman gonna find Zsasz’s body?

Oh that crane shot out of the lair and back outside?  That’s some good shit.  Cathy Yan, I see you.

“I [Helena] DON’T HAVE RAGE ISSUES!”  DINAH’S FACE!

*Helena pounces on a goon in the slide down and kills him*  Geez that’s awesome

This whole set is great

*Helena gives Cass her old toy truck*  THIS MAKES ME SAD

Yeah when did Harley have time to put on her skates?

Some dude just gets shanked then leaps back up

That fight scene just went by real quick

*gasps when Roman shoots Montoya*

*jaw drops when Dinah does the Canary Cry*

*Harley gets sideswiped by one of Roman’s goons*  Yeah no there’s like half a rib cage gone

*Harley works on overtaking one of Roman’s goons’ car*  CRAZY TOWN BEEP BEEP!

*Harley backflips onto the top of Roman’s car*  OHHHH!

Founders Pier... geez that looks great

Wait are those all Roman’s goons just lining the dock or are those just statues?

Oh they’re all statues.  That’s creepy.

“exCUUSEE me?!?”  *snorts in hilarity*

*jaw drops when Cass tucks a grenade in Roman’s coat and activates it*

*still shocked when he FREAKING EXPLODES*

I’M SORRY THEY JUST KILLED OFF BLACK MASK

*Cass finally goes to the bathroom*  Finally!

“Does she always [Montoya] talk like the cop in a bad 80s movie?”  *laughs*

Guys Helena is great

*laughs when Helena laughs at the fact that Harley stole Dinah’s car*

“They call themselves the Birds of Prey.”  Yay!  Lemme see them again!

Harley’s jacket has a bedazzled vagina on the back of it

Look at Cass with her jacket and sunglasses!

“Yeah, I made the kid my apprentice.”  Yeah, that’s not gonna last long.

[bcbdrums]

Things Change

Rant time. So I had the perfect ending for this written in my head. Witty in-character dialogue, vivid descriptions, a satisfying conclusion... And then literally seconds later I sit down to write and I've forgotten it all. What is wrong with my brain!? I really really tried, but it's gone. So I wrote a new ending and I know it's not as good. Anyway...

Trying my hand at prompt filling to stretch myself. From the Sensory Prompt list, number 55: Finding old photographs you had forgotten about. Requested by @benjimators

Enjoy!

Muted orange hues illuminated the wooden interior of the treehouse lair in Tahiti as the sun set. Drakken was shoving cardboard boxes around, trying to get them all organized by their contents.

It had been two days since he'd received a medal from the United Nations honoring him for saving the world, and six days since the alien invasion. Most of his time in that period had been spent either spreading his plant mutagen around the globe or showing others how to synthesize it to help stop the alien devices that were rampaging out of control.

This was the first night since his abduction that he had returned to the lair and as he went straight back into a normal routine, he finally felt as if he could breathe again.

"Phoo!" he exclaimed, letting out a breath as he stood and mopped his brow. It was far muggier than he remembered when he had first built this lair, but at the moment he didn't really care. For the first time since he'd been abducted, things almost felt normal.

Glancing around, he spotted Shego's discarded beach chair and pulled it up next to the box he had just moved and sat down in relief, watching the sunset through the window. He felt a creeping sensation on the back of his neck and a moment later the mutant vine with its pink flower had curled around in front of him, seeming to look at him in question.

"I don't know, flower," he said with sigh, leaning on his elbow. "This is...new ground."

"Hey, Dr. D.," Shego's voice caused him to turn around. "Thought you said you were going to bed?"

The vine slinked away as Drakken turned back to the window and crossed his arms. "I would if I could find the bed," he grumbled.

He could practically feel Shego rolling her eyes behind him. Predictably, she crossed the room to another stack of boxes and ripped through the tape to get into one.

"Look, here's your futon..." she said, dropping the item on the floor as she walked up to the stack right next to him, "and here's your jammies," she said, opening another box. She plucked the folded clothes out and dropped them in his lap, followed by his teddy bear and slippers.

He blinked twice, and then grumbled out his thanks.

"You're welcome," she said. Her tone was almost polite, causing him to look up in curiosity. The moment their eyes met she turned away, walking back into some other part of the lair.

It had been like that since the ceremony. She never really looked at him, and their conversations were short and only about necessary things. She hadn't said anything sarcastic in over a day.

"Drakken, get these things off of me!" she hissed out through clenched teeth as cameras began to flash.

"I don't...! I didn't—" he stuttered, looking anxiously at the crowd as the vines tightened further around them.

"Tell them to let go!"

"Rgh. Flower, let us go!" he commanded quietly.

Obediently, the vines released them and Shego immediately stepped away from his side. He glanced at her as she swept her hair back, continuing to smile and wave as if nothing was amiss. He followed her lead.

He hadn't thought any more about it until they had arrived back at the lair and she immediately abandoned him for her room. When he realized nothing was in it since they hadn't had a chance to unpack, that's when he began really thinking back over the last two days.

Praise and honor and glory and a pardon, and money and job offers and research grants, and.....

It was beyond anything he had ever wished for, and he had made the excuse that he needed to do more work on his plant formula to ensure it continued working in order to escape the throngs. And now he realized that while Shego had been his companion through all of it, she had been completely silent.

He started to set his teddy bear back in the box when a large, dark book inside caught his eye. When had he packed that?

He lifted the old photo album out of the box and opened to the first page. Under the plastic was an 8 x 10 sepia photo of a baby wearing a white frilly dress and cap, giggling up at whoever was behind the camera.

'Drew's christening,' the caption read in his mother's handwriting.

Drakken began perusing the album, genuinely not remembering the last time he had seen it. Had his mother brought it during one of her visits? Had Shego packed it?

It was his entire life, condensed into one cliche narrative: the story of geek-boy, growing up brilliant and receiving all the accolades from school and from his family, but utterly friendless. He didn't like remembering it, and wondered again where the album had come from.

When he reached the final few pages he slowed down and actually looked. One photo was in front of the dome of M.I.S.T., where he posed with James, Bobby, and Ramesh in front of Bobby's new Audi. They were all smiling and throwing hand-signals that they thought made them look cool. Next to that photo was one of his mother kissing him goodbye on the day he had moved into the dorms.

He sighed. The college photos were painful, but he did like to see them. They reminded him of why he had become a villain.

But now...

The jobs he had been offered, the invitations to join research teams, the pardon... Everything he ever wanted and more was being offered to him on a silver platter. He finally, finally had the recognition he had wanted all his life.

Except...

He looked down at the images of his so-called friends, who had mocked and teased him and put down every innovation he had ever tried. Then he looked out the window, watching as the sun slipped beyond the horizon.

The awards and priveleges were conditional. The only way to keep them would be to stop being a villain. And if he stopped...would he eventually be ridiculed again? Would his heroics be forgotten in the face of his...unconventional ideas?

And if he didn't change his ways, what would the world do to him?

His gaze drifted through the darkening skies until resting on the remains of the alien robot which Shego had demolished.

Shego...

He sat forward suddenly as he realized—none of it would have been possible without her. The earth would be under alien rule right now if she hadn't come after him and saved him. He'd be dead and forgotten, his corpse mounted on some Lorwardian's living room wall.

He tried to tell himself that of course she had come after him, he was her boss after all. It was in her job description to save him. And besides, he was the world's utmost genius. It would have been crazy of her to not...

He slumped back and hung his head. Who was he kidding? He was lucky she'd come after him. He had no idea why she stuck with him at all, especially after everything that had happened the first time Warmonga had shown up.

He owed Shego everything. It...wasn't really for him to choose his fate, if he was being fair. And he already knew what Shego would choose.

He felt a twinge of pain in his chest then, and realized that...maybe he really did want to try out being on the side of good again. Maybe? But there was no way Shego ever would, so there was no more point in thinking about it.

It was dark now. He may as well try to get some sleep.

He stood up and turned around, and was startled to see Shego leaning against the door frame, watching him.

He caught the strangest glimpse of sadness in her eyes before she quickly put on a smirk, and then shoving off the wall she started toward him.

"Reminiscing, Doc?" she asked.

He glanced down at the open album that hung in one hand at his side.

"Mm. As little as possible," he answered, closing the book and setting it back in the box.

"Don't know why you keep that. I'd think it would just remind you of how much everyone hates you."

He cringed. But then he took a breath and looked her in the eyes. "Funny thing... I don't remember packing that album. Do you know how it got in there?"

She halted her approach, and he smirked.

"I knew it! Where did you find it anyway? My mother's attic?"

She crossed her arms and turned away, her head held high. "Hey, I was just trying to help. Every villain needs to fuel their evil fire now and then."

He watched her hair swaying in time with her steps as she walked away, and he sighed through his nose. Frowning, he spread out the futon in the middle of the floor and began unbuttoning his lab coat. Maybe he could sleep off his disappointment...

"Don't worry, Shego," he said, his voice low.

She stopped and turned back, looking at him curiously.

"Worry about what?"

"I'm not going to take any of their job offers...or their pardon."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why not?"

He dropped his coat onto her beach chair and started on the rest of his clothes. She turned her back while he changed.

"Wouldn't work out..." he muttered.

"What? But...how do you know?" she asked, glancing briefly over her shoulder.

"I just know!" he spat as he hurried into his pajamas. "Where are the blankets..."

"The same box as the futon," she said. "But...you're always ranting about wanting to be recognized for your genius. Isn't this everything you've ever wanted?"

Drakken ground his teeth as he dragged a blanket out of a cardboard box and spread it over the futon. She knew well and good it was everything he wanted. Couldn't she just—!

"'Can't I just' what?"

He blinked.

"Did I...say that out loud?"

She turned to face him now, hands on her hips. "Uh-huh."

He frowned and crossed the room to the box with his teddy bear, retrieving it in a hurry.

"Just let me get some sleep, okay!"

He pulled a pillow from the first box, dropping it on the futon and then quickly hid himself under the blankets, staring furiously at her ankles as she continued to stand over him.

"'Can't I' what, Doc?" she said again.

"Just...leave me alone, Shego!" he said, rolling over to face the taller stack of boxes.

It was silent for several moments, save for the crickets outside. Finally, he heard her sigh.

"Fine..." she said, her boots echoing on the wooden floor as she walked away.

When he closed his eyes, images of the faded photos from his college days appeared in his mind's eye. He let his anger seethe as he tried to fall asleep, remembering everything his so-called friends had said to him back when he still believed in things like hope and happiness.

No. It really wouldn't work in the end, anyway. Even if it didn't happen immediately, the belittling would eventually start and he'd be banished down into obscurity again.

Though her tactics were dirty, he supposed he really was lucky to have Shego there to keep him firmly grounded on his evil path.

Gradually his breathing evened, and he let himself focus on the chirp of the crickets and the sound of the breeze blowing through the palms. It sounded like applause...and it reminded him of the ceremony at the U.N.

He would never hear that applause again. If he betrayed the world now, they would never recognize him the way he wanted them to. All he could do was...subdue the world, and rule it through fear...

Understanding suddenly hit him. He...didn't want that anymore. Not after knowing genuine praise and honor. To get what he wanted through evildoings would just feel...empty. If he didn't choose the straight and narrow, he would be miserable for the rest of his life.

He began to relax into his newfound understanding, but then his eyes flew open as he remembered—it wasn't what Shego wanted. Never in a thousand lifetimes would she go back to the life of 'good'.

He bit his lip. He knew that despite owing his life to Shego, he technically didn't have to include her in his decision. But theirs was an unspoken partnership. While he still referred to her as his sidekick and she called him her boss, their relationship had become...something deeper. She was part of his—he rolled his eyes at himself—evil family. He couldn't just...abandon her. Could he?

He sat up on the futon, clutching his teddy bear tightly to his chest as he stared out the window at the dark silhouettes of the palms, his face twisted in worry. Apparently...this would be a far more difficult decision than he'd thought.

Behind him, watching from the door frame, a fearful tear slipped down Shego's cheek.

After a moment she stepped forward, and he turned at the sound of her steps.

"Hey...Doc..." she said, going down on one knee in front of him and looking at the floorboards. Her eyes were sadder than he'd ever seen.

"Shego?"

"I...I'm sorry. Do whatever you want, okay?"

"What? But..." he turned around and sat on his knees facing her, confusion written on his face. "You...do know what that would mean. Don't you?"

"I know," she said, her breath catching. She glanced up for the briefest of moments, and he was startled as the moonlight revealed two tear tracks down her cheeks. "It's fine," she continued. "Don't worry about me."

"What? But...Shego—"

"Don't worry about me!" she said, turning and running from the room.

Drakken stared after her, mouth agape as he fell back on the futon.

What just happened?

[she-wolf-of-highgarden]

Every time Arya mentions songs

“Despite the hour, Harrenhal stirred with fitful life. Vargo Hoat's arrival had thrown off all the routines. Ox carts, oxen, and horses had all vanished from the yard, but the bear cage was still there. It had been hung from the arched span of the bridge that divided the outer and middle wards, suspended on heavy chains, a few feet off the ground. A ring of torches bathed the area in light. Some of the boys from the stables were tossing stones to make the bear roar and grumble. Across the ward, light spilled through the door of the Barracks Hall, accompanied by the clatter of tankards and men calling for more wine. A dozen voices took up a song in a guttural tongue strange to Arya's ears.” - Arya IX, ACoK

“The song came drifting up the river from somewhere beyond the little rise to the east. "Off to Gulltown to see the fair maid, heigh-ho, heigh-ho . . .” - Arya II, ASoS

“I'll make her my love and we'll rest in the shade, heigh-ho, heigh-ho." The song swelled louder with every word.” - Arya II, ASoS

“Lightfoot, she moved to the big old willow that grew beside the bend in the road and went to one knee in the grass and mud, within the veil of trailing branches. You old gods, she prayed as the singer's voice grew louder, you tree gods, hide me, and make him go past. Then a horse whickered, and the song broke off suddenly. He's heard, she knew, but maybe he's alone, or if he's not, maybe they'll be as scared of us as we are of them.” - Arya II, ASoS

“For once he did not argue. They set off as she had wanted, walking their horses slowly down the rutted road a dozen paces behind the three on foot. But before very long, somehow they were riding right on top of them. Tom Sevenstrings walked slowly, and liked to strum his woodharp as he went. "Do you know any songs?" he asked them. "I'd dearly love someone to sing with, that I would. Lem can't carry a tune, and our longbow lad only knows marcher ballads, every one of them a hundred verses long.” -Arya II, ASoS

“For once he did not argue. They set off as she had wanted, walking their horses slowly down the rutted road a dozen paces behind the three on foot. But before very long, somehow they were riding right on top of them. Tom Sevenstrings walked slowly, and liked to strum his woodharp as he went. "Do you know any songs?" he asked them. "I'd dearly love someone to sing with, that I would. Lem can't carry a tune, and our longbow lad only knows marcher ballads, every one of them a hundred verses long." "We sing real songs in the marches," Anguy said mildly."Singing is stupid," said Arya. "Singing makes noise. We heard you a long way off. We could have killed you.  Tom's smile said he did not think so. "There are worse things than dying with a song on your lips.” - Arya II, ASoS

“ Hot Pie shifted his seat. "I know the song about the bear," he said. "Some of it, anyhow.” - Arya II, ASoS

“ Tom and Hot Pie resumed their song on the other side of the brook, with the duck hanging from Lem's belt beneath his yellow cloak. Somehow the singing made the miles seem shorter. It was not very long at all until the inn appeared before them, rising from the riverbank where the Trident made a great bend to the north. Arya squinted at it suspiciously as they neared. It did not look like an outlaws' lair, she had to admit; it looked friendly, even homey, with its whitewashed upper story and slate roof and the smoke curling up lazy from its chimney. Stables and other outbuildings surrounded it, and there was an arbor in back, and apple trees, a small garden. The inn even had its own dock, thrusting out into the river, and . . .” - Arya II, ASoS

“What, with only the boy here? I told you twice, the old woman was up to Lambswold helping that Fern birth her babe. And like as not it was one o' you planted the bastard in the poor girl's belly." He gave Tom a sour look. "You, I'd wager, with that harp o' yours, singing all them sad songs just to get poor Fern out of her smallclothes.""If a song makes a maid want to slip off her clothes and feel the good warm sun kiss her skin, why, is that the singer's fault?" asked Tom. "And 'twas Anguy she fancied, besides. 'Can I touch your bow?' I heard her ask him. 'Ooohh, it feels so smooth and hard. Could I give it a little pull, do you think?” - Arya II, ASoS

“There was laughter all around. Then Tom drew his fingers across the strings of his woodharp and broke into soft song.” - Arya III, ASoS

“You'd know for certain if there was a song," said Tom Sevenstrings. "One good song, and we'd know who Ser Maynard used to be and why he wanted to cross this bridge so bad. Poor old Lychester might be as far famed as the Dragonknight if he'd only had sense enough to keep a singer." - Arya IV, ASoS

“Lem and Gendry played tiles with their hosts that night, while Tom Sevenstrings sang a silly song about Big Belly Ben and the High Septon's goose. Anguy let Arya try his longbow, but no matter how hard she bit her lip she could not draw it. "You need a lighter bow, milady," the freckled bowman said. "If there's seasoned wood at Riverrun, might be I'll make you one." Tom overheard him, and broke off his song. "You're a young fool, Archer. If we go to Riverrun it will only be to collect her ransom, won't be no time for you to sit about making bows. Be thankful if you get out with your hide. Lord Hoster was hanging outlaws before you were shaving. And that son of his . . . a man who hates music can't be trusted, I always say.” - Arya IV, ASoS

“Lem snorted through his broken nose. "Was it you who made a song of it, or some other bloody arse in love with his own voice?" "I only sang it the once," Tom complained. "And who's to say the song was about him? 'Twas a song about a fish.”  Arya didn't care what Tom's stupid songs were about. She turned to Harwin. "What did he mean about ransom?” - Arya IV, ASoS

“The wench is dead," the woman hissed. "Only worms may kiss her now." And then to Tom Sevenstrings she said, "I'll have my song or I'll have you gone."So the singer played for her, so soft and sad that Arya only heard snatches of the words, though the tune was half-familiar. Sansa would know it, I bet. Her sister had known all the songs, and she could even play a little, and sing so sweetly. All I could ever do was shout the words.The next morning the little white woman was nowhere to be seen. As they saddled their horses, Arya asked Tom Sevenstrings if the children of the forest still dwelled on High Heart. The singer chuckled. "Saw her, did you?" - Arya IV, ASoS

“The singer laughed. "The sound of me, at least. She always makes me sing the same bloody song, though. Not a bad song, mind you, but I know others just as good." He shook his head. "What matters is, we have the scent now. You'll soon be seeing Thoros and the lightning lord, I'll wager.” - Arya IV, ASoS

“Someone could make a rare fine song of that.” Tom plucked a string on his woodharp.” - Arya IV, ASoS

“Now when did you ever say no to anything, Tom?" the woman hooted. "I'll roast some mutton for your friends, and an old dry rat for you. It's more than you deserve, but if you gargle me a song or three, might be I'll weaken. I always pity the afflicted. Come on, come on. Cass, Lanna, put some kettles on. Jyzene, help me get the clothes off them, we'll need to boil those too." - Arya V, ASoS

“Finally Tom ran out of rain songs and put away his harp. Then there was only the sound of the rain itself beating down on the slate roof of the brewhouse. The dice game ended, and Arya stood on one leg and then the other listening to Merrit complain about his horse throwing a shoe.” - Arya VII, ASoS

“You must be a lackwit, boy," said Lem. "We're outlaws. Lowborn scum, most of us, excepting his lordship. Don't think it'll be like Tom's fool songs neither. You won't be stealing no kisses from a princess, nor riding in no tourneys in stolen armor. You join us, you'll end with your neck in a noose, or your head mounted up above some castle gate.” - Arya VII, ASoS

“Anguy drew an arrow. "We're outlaws. Outlaws steal. It's in the songs, if you ask nice Tom may sing you one. Be thankful we didn't kill you." - Arya VII, ASoS

“My hair comes out in handfuls and no one has kissed me for a thousand years. It is hard to be so old. Well, I will have a song then. A song from Tom o' Sevens, for my news." "You will have your song from Tom," Lord Beric promised. He gave her the wineskin himself.” - Arya VIII, ASoS

“Nay," said the dwarf. "You're not. The black fish holds the rivers now. If it's the mother you want, seek her at the Twins. For there's to be a wedding." She cackled again. "Look in your fires, pink priest, and you will see. Not now, though, not here, you'll see nothing here. This place belongs to the old gods still . . . they linger here as I do, shrunken and feeble but not yet dead. Nor do they love the flames. For the oak recalls the acorn, the acorn dreams the oak, the stump lives in them both. And they remember when the First Men came with fire in their fists." She drank the last of the wine in four long swallows, flung the skin aside, and pointed her stick at Lord Beric. "I'll have my payment now. I'll have the song you promised me  And so Lem woke Tom Sevenstrings beneath his furs, and brought him yawning to the fireside with his woodharp in hand. "The same song as before?" he asked."Oh, aye. My Jenny's song. Is there another?"And so he sang, and the dwarf woman closed her eyes and rocked slowly back and forth, murmuring the words and crying. Thoros took Arya firmly by the hand and drew her aside. "Let her savor her song in peace," he said. "It is all she has left.” - Arya VIII, ASoS

“Because I hacked your little friend in two? I've killed a lot more than him, I promise you. You think that makes me some monster. Well, maybe it does, but I saved your sister's life too. The day the mob pulled her off her horse, I cut through them and brought her back to the castle, else she would have gotten what Lollys Stokeworth got. And she sang for me. You didn't know that, did you? Your sister sang me a sweet little song.” - Arya IX, ASoS

“The music from the castles was louder here. The sound of the drums and horns rolled across the camp. The musicians in the nearer castle were playing a different song than the ones in the castle on the far bank, though, so it sounded more like a battle than a song. "They're not very good," Arya observed.” - Arya X, ASoS

“Firepits had been dug outside the feast tents, sheltered beneath rude canopies of woven wood and hides that kept the rain out, so long as it fell straight down. The wind was blowing off the river, though, so the drizzle came in anyway, enough to make the fires hiss and swirl. Serving men were turning joints of meat on spits above the flames. The smells made Arya's mouth water. "Shouldn't we stop?" she asked Sandor Clegane. "There's northmen in the tents." She knew them by their beards, by their faces, by their cloaks of bearskin and sealskin, by their half-heard toasts and the songs they sang; Karstarks and Umbers and men of the mountain clans. "I bet there are Winterfell men too." Her father's men, the Young Wolf's men, the direwolves of Stark.” - Arya X, ASoS

“She had no more time to watch the tents then. With the river overflowing its banks, the dark swirling waters at the end of the drawbridge reached as high as a horse's belly, but the riders splashed through them all the same, spurred on by the music. For once the same song was coming from both castles. I know this song, Arya realized suddenly. Tom o' Sevens had sung it for them, that rainy night the outlaws had sheltered in the brewhouse with the brothers. And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low?” - Arya XI, ASoS

“Come with me." Sandor Clegane reached down a hand. "We have to get away from here, and now." Stranger tossed his head impatiently, his nostrils flaring at the scent of blood. The song was done. There was only one solitary drum, its slow monotonous beats echoing across the river like the pounding of some monstrous heart. The black sky wept, the river grumbled, men cursed and died. Arya had mud in her teeth and her face was wet. Rain. It's only rain. That's all it is. "We're here," she shouted. Her voice sounded thin and scared, a little girl's voice. "Robb's just in the castle, and my mother. The gate's even open." There were no more Freys riding out. I came so far. "We have to go get my mother.” - Arya XI, ASoS

“The Hound no longer watched her as closely as he had. Sometimes he did not seem to care whether she stayed or went, and he no longer bound her up in a cloak at night. One night I'll kill him in his sleep, she told herself, but she never did. One day I'll ride away on Craven, and he won't be able to catch me, she thought, but she never did that either. Where would she go? Winterfell was gone. Her grandfather's brother was at Riverrun, but he didn't know her, no more than she knew him. Maybe Lady Smallwood would take her in at Acorn Hall, but maybe she wouldn't. Besides, Arya wasn't even sure she could find Acorn Hall again. Sometimes she thought she might go back to Sharna's inn, if the floods hadn't washed it away. She could stay with Hot Pie, or maybe Lord Beric would find her there. Anguy would teach her to use a bow, and she could ride with Gendry and be an outlaw, like Wenda the White Fawn in the songs.” -Arya XII, ASoS   

“You'd be dead if I had. You ought to thank me. You ought to sing me a pretty little song, the way your sister did.” - Arya XII, ASoS

“I thought your sister was the one with a head full of songs," the Hound growled. "Frey might have kept your mother alive to ransom, that's true. But there's no way in seven hells I'm going to pluck her out of his castle all by my bloody self." - Arya XII, ASoS

“That's stupid, Arya thought. Sansa only knows songs, not spells, and she'd never marry the Imp.” - Arya XIII, ASoS

“Arya took a step backward as the long steel song began. The Tickler came off the bench with a shortsword in one hand and a dagger in the other. Even the chunky brown-haired squire was up, fumbling for his swordhilt. She snatched her wine cup off the table and threw it at his face. Her aim was better than it had been at the Twins. The cup hit him right on his big white pimple and he went down hard on his tail.” - Arya XIII, ASoS

“Don't lie," he growled. "I hate liars. I hate gutless frauds even worse. Go on, do it." When Arya did not move, he said, "I killed your butcher's boy. I cut him near in half, and laughed about it after." He made a queer sound, and it took her a moment to realize he was sobbing. "And the little bird, your pretty sister, I stood there in my white cloak and let them beat her. I took the bloody song, she never gave it. I meant to take her too. I should have. I should have fucked her bloody and ripped her heart out before leaving her for that dwarf." A spasm of pain twisted his face. "Do you mean to make me beg, bitch? Do it! The gift of mercy . . . avenge your little Michael . . .” - Arya XIII, ASoS

“Worshipers came to the House of Black and White every day. Most came alone and sat alone; they lit candles at one altar or another, prayed beside the pool, and sometimes wept. A few drank from the black cup and went to sleep; more did not drink. There were no services, no songs, no paeans of praise to please the god. The temple was never full. From time to time, a worshiper would ask to see a priest, and the kindly man or the waif would take him down into the sanctum, but that did not happen often.” - Arya II, AFfC

“You believe this is the only place for you." It was as if he'd heard her thoughts. "You are wrong in that. You would find softer service in the household of some merchant. Or would you sooner be a courtesan, and have songs sung of your beauty? Speak the word, and we will send you to the Black Pearl or the Daughter of the Dusk. You will sleep on rose petals and wear silken skirts that rustle when you walk, and great lords will beggar themselves for your maiden's blood. Or if it is marriage and children you desire, tell me, and we shall find a husband for you. Some honest apprentice boy, a rich old man, a seafarer, whatever you desire." - Arya II, AFfC

“Cat had made friends along the wharves; porters and mummers, ropemakers and sailmenders, taverners, brewers and bakers and beggars and whores. They bought clams and cockles from her, told her true tales of Braavos and lies about their lives, and laughed at the way she talked when she tried to speak Braavosi. She never let that trouble her. Instead, she showed them all the fig, and told them they were camel cunts, which made them roar with laughter. Gyloro Dothare taught her filthy songs, and his brother Gyleno told her the best places to catch eels. The mummers off the Ship showed her how a hero stands, and taught her speeches from The Song of the Rhoyne, The Conqueror's Two Wives, and The Merchant's Lusty Lady. Quill, the sad-eyed little man who made up all the bawdy farces for the Ship, offered to teach her how a woman kisses, but Tagganaro smacked him with a codfish and put an end to that. Cossomo the Conjurer instructed her in sleight of hand. He could swallow mice and pull them from her ears. "It's magic," he'd say. "It's not," Cat said. "The mouse was up your sleeve the whole time. I could see it moving." - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

“When Cat slipped inside the brothel, though, she found Merry sitting in the common room with her eyes shut, listening to Dareon play his woodharp. Yna was there too, braiding Lanna's fine long golden hair. Another stupid love song. Lanna was always begging the singer to play her stupid love songs. She was the youngest of the whores, only ten-and-four. Merry asked three times as much for her as for any of the other girls, Cat knew.” - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

“Cat was thinking about the fat boy, remembering how she had saved him from Terro and Orbelo, when the Sailor's Wife appeared beside her. "He sings a pretty song," she murmured softly, in the Common Tongue of Westeros. "The gods must have loved him to give him such a voice, and that fair face as well." - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

“Dareon's song was finally ending. As the last notes faded in the air, Lanna gave a sigh and the singer put his harp aside and pulled her up into his lap. He had just started to tickle her when Cat said loudly, "There's oysters, if anyone is wanting some," and Merry's eyes popped open. "Good," the woman said. "Bring them in, child. Yna, fetch some bread and vinegar." - Cat of the Canals, AFfC

“Not for me. Her nights were bathed in moonlight and filled with the songs of her pack, with the taste of red meat torn off the bone, with the warm familiar smells of her grey cousins. Only during the days was she alone and blind.” - the Blind Girl, ADwD

[chysgoda]

Fever Dreams

“One foot in front of the other,” Melisande’s breath warmed the side of her face. Art’imis struggled to focus on the order but she stumbled again causing the wild dragoon to curse and pull her wife closer to her side so she could take more of her wait. “Almost there Art. Just stay with me.”

Art’imis nodded, the motion lose and groggy. She watched the ground and tried to focus on walking and the familiar feel of drachenmail. She swallowed hard trying to add moisture to her throat…

Momodi chuckled as she passed the small AuRa woman a glass of water. Art’imis nodded gratefully and took a long pull from the glass to moisten her throat. Momondi rested an elbow on the bar and her chin in her hand. “So tonight’s your debut on the sands.”

Art’imis nodded as she looked down at the paint on her arms. Painted on dragon scales, gladiolus, and poppies complimented the scales that spiraled down her arms and legs. “I’m still not sure about the paint.”

“It looks good on you, and there’s advantages to having a persona you can walk away from,” Momodi nodded to a group of adventurers that had just walked into the Quicksand. “Finish your water and get to the Colosseum a bit early and get …”

“warm, far to warm. She just started stumbling?”

“Yes,”

There were fingers at her throat pulling at steel and cloth until cool air touched her skin and made her shiver.

“Pox? How could she not have had this before now?”

“I don’t know.”

“How could you not-“

“Later boy, we needs see to this first.”

“Alphinaud, Yasale, there are ice crystals in my pack wrap them in the extra shirts. Estinien help me get her armor off.”

Hands worked buckles and ties. Sluggishly she tried to push them away but her efforts were brushed aside. She groaned and tried to sit up but a hand on her chest kept her down. Familiar fingers traced over her forehead, “peace love, just rest…”

Art’imis sighed as the last of the paint rinsed down the drain with the sweat and blood from her match on the blood sands. She heard footsteps on the stone behind her and looked over her shoulder to smile at the elezan man leaning against the door to her tiny bathroom. “Ardeth, go to bed, I’ll be there in a moment.”

He chuckled and leaned forward to blow on the back of her neck, smirking when she squealed and turned to smack his chest. He laughed and laid a kiss on the scales just above the bridge of her nose. “You looked magnificent out there today, Little Dragon.”

Art’imis rolled her eyes as he pulled her into an embrace. “Don’t you start using that pretentious name the bookies are using.”

Ardeth leaned down to smell the jasmine soap she used when she could afford it. “It’s far too amusing not to.”

“I don’t think you are laughing at the same joke though.” She turned her head so that she could kiss his jaw. She smiled smugly when he shivered at the touch of her lips on the end of a scare there.

He picked up the AuRa gladiator, a feat that was harder than her stature would indicate. She swung an arm around his shoulders with a merry laugh. “Just that it means I won’t have to share you with the city of my birth.”

Art’imis arched an eyebrow at him but nodded when he shook his head in response to her silent question. She rested her head against his chest and yawned. “I’d love to celebrate victory with you-”

“Rest, it was a brutal night on the sands for you lovely, I’m on leave we’ll have time in the morning.” He laid her down and followed wrapping her up in her arms and stroking her hair until she fell asleep.

She jerked awake shivering and sweating, her teeth chattered as she sat up. A pale face leaned in front of her and brushed damp hair off of her forehead. “Be calm, you are safe. Melisande and Alphinaud are collecting the herds for medicine and the Dragoon stands watch.”

“Ardeth?”

The pale face frowned, “You should sleep Art’imis Chysgoda.”

“No, I have to tell him...”

Gentle pressure on her shoulders forced her to lay back down. “Peace, there will be time.”

“Ardeth isn’t a usual name for an elezan.” Art’imis said lightly as she looked up at Ardeth’s face. They lounged in one of the small alcoves in the sapphire exchange, triangles of cloth stretched above them to provide shade and a nearby fountain cooled the air. She frowned as she saw a frown on his face. She sat up from where she had been laying with her head in his lap. “I’m sorry-”

He waved her apology off. In the blazing midday light his skin looked more blue than gray. “It is, I chose it for that reason.”

“Perhaps you’ll tell me why someday?”

He reached out and ran a thumb along the line of her jaw where scales and skin met. “Perhaps, but not here or now. There will be time later, Little Dragon.”

She scrunched up her nose and he laughed as she playfully smacked his hand away. “What is it with you and that name?”

“Just a bit of freedom from the past in a little bit of heresy.” He laughed and turned his hands to massage the base of her horns, gently he coaxed her back down and he smiled smugly down at her as she melted like butter into his lap.

“Heresy?” Art’imis muttered enjoying the languid state. She hummed contentedly when he leaned down to kiss her.

“Another time, it is to nice a day for that right now.”

Her throat was raw from screaming and her limbs swore from thrashing. Someone sat on her legs pinning her down. Hands rough with callouses cupped her face.

“Art, I’m here, we’re safe. This isn’t the bowl, or the whorl. I’m here,”

“Melisande?” Her voice cracked. “You-”

“Shhhhhhh rest, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ardeth?” the word cracked when citrine eyes did not turn to look at her. The knife in her hand dropped into the dirt at her feet. Not him, Twelve please not him… Her hand shook as she reached out to the sitting man and gently gripped his chin to make him face her. His face was slack and the shine she was used to seeing had turned glassy.

“No one will think less of you if you let someone else-” The Immortal Flames captain started as he bent to pick up the knife.

“No,” She whispered blinking rapidly and trying the breath past the tightness in her throat. She took the knife from him and double checked the edge. “No, it’s my fault, I should have-”

The Captain watched her with a look weighted by experience. “No it wasn’t, but I’ll not be able to convince you of that lass. He chose to follow you into Ifrit’s lair. That’s not on you-”

Art’imis looked down at the knife and ignored the moisture that splashed onto the flat of the blade.

“Hear.”

The sound of his last breath broke her and she wished her had ears to cover and block out the sound of the knife hitting the ground.

“Feel”

She had shed all of her tears by the time the graves had been dug. She’d sobbed and vomited into the sage brush after she’d stumbled out of Camp Dry Bone. Now she stood and watched as bodies were buried. Felt the tightness of a child’s hand now that she was bereft of parents. Looking to the side she locked eyes with the dark haired lancer who had braved the Bowl of Embers with her. The two women gave the barest of nods to each other. Never again, never while they drew breath and could stop it.

“Think”

She did not wake abruptly, she surfaced slowly like she had to fight through molasses to open sticky eyelids. She blinked up at a rough wood ceiling in a dimly lit room.

“You seem to have your sense this time.”

Art’imis managed to turn her head to look at the voice. Estinien Wyrmblood was seated near to the bed she was in. He was in his armor and his long legs were stretched in front of him. She blinked when he stood and came to the bedside to rest a hand on her forehead. He nodded to himself satisfied with what he felt.

“The Heritic was surprisingly useful for once.” He said gruffly like the words were being torn from him by force. “I’ve never seen Fury’s Bane pass so quickly.”

Art’imis blinked at him and then looked at the fading welts and bruises on the back of one hand. “Where?” She frowned feeling exhausted from so little.

“Tail Feather.” He responded. “I’ll bring Melisande. She can finally stop pacing on the roof when she isn’t watching over you.”

She nodded but it drained the last of her energy and she couldn’t deny sleep any longer and had surrendered to it before Estinien left the room.

The next time she woke it did not take so much energy. She looked down the mattress to where a head rested on folded arms. She reached out to run her fingers through the blue-white hair of her wife remembering when it had been as dark as her own. “I love you.”

Melisande jerked awake and looked over to Art’imis. She let out a ragged sigh of relief. The wild dragoon turned her head to kiss the palm of Art’imis hand. “You’re awake.”

Art’imis nodded silently and curled her fingers to cup her lover’s face. “I love you”

Melisande gave her a tired smile understanding that there was never time enough for later. “I love you.”

[sian265]

Broken Bond Chapter 17/20

Broken Bond

Chapter 17

   Magnus was exhausted, between dealing with the fighting Parabatai and then seeing clients all day, add to that their company had stayed later the night before. He was thinking take-out, couch, and Alexander, not in that particular order, mind you. He just hoped his Shadowhunter was on board with that plan. As if he had conjured him up, Alec came in the front door, shoulders slumped, looking older than his years, yep rough day for both of them, Magnus thought.

 After dropping his jacket and weapons at the door, Alexander met him for a brief kiss, studying that beloved face; Magnus voiced his idea, “Take-out, couch, you and me?”

 Alec groaned and dropped his head onto Magnus shoulder. “By the angel, yes, please.” The tired man muttered.

 Magnus laughed a little and giving Alec a squeeze before sending him on his way, “Go change while I snap us something up to eat.”

 They joined together on the sofa, Alec in sweats, and Magnus in, of course, silk lounge wear. Both tore into the Thai noodles and spicy beef Magnus had conjured up, too hungry for much conversation. After finishing, Magnus waived a hand at the mess and it spoke volumes to Alec’s exhaustion that he didn’t object. Usually the other man tried to do as much as possible the mundane way and made Magnus do more normal stuff than he had ever before.

 Alexander turned his back to the arm, stretching out his long legs; he patted the space in between them for Magnus to join him. Magnus stretched out, his back comfortable against Alec’s chest and head notched perfectly under the other man’s chin. They both let out sighs of contentment, relaxing in each other’s arms, whole bodies aligned, touching. They just rested together; the only sounds were their breathing. Magnus silently counted along with their heartbeats, until they beat in unison.

 Magnus couldn’t tell how much time passed, but he could feel sleep beckoning and he did want to talk with Alexander before that happened. He took a deep breath, subtle to let the other man know he was about to break their solitude. “What happened with Jace after I left?” He asked.

 He regretted his question, because as close as they were, he could feel the tension returning to the body he lay against. Alec dropped a kiss atop Magnus’s head before answering.

 “Well, I did manage to get him to wait long enough for us to talk and for me to reach out to the Paris Institute.” Alec hesitated before nudging Magnus gently to move. Magnus sat up and turned around to face Alec.

 Alec let out a short laugh before continuing. “Jace was insulted when I got Paris to agree to provide any backup if he needed it, and he cussed me out when I asked them to keep an eye on him.”

 Magnus smiled at that, he could only imagine Alexander’s Parabatai’s reaction to needing a babysitter.

 Alec turned serious and eyed Magnus with a lilt concern. “I told him the truth about the bond, about what happened.”

 Magnus frowned, “Our bond, or the Parabatai?”

 “Everything,” Alec said. “I told him about Lilith getting the potion, to Lorenzo refusing to let the Warlocks help. I told him about your fight with Rey, the trial all of it.”

 Magnus lifted a brow, “Edom?” he asked.

 Alec nodded. “Yes, I told him how without the other Warlocks help we couldn’t think of any other way to free him from Lilith. We talked about Edom, Asmodeus, and the deal. I showed him the Alliance Rune, and we spoke about that for a while. He was upset, with all of us for keeping so much from him.” Alec reached for Magnus’s hands. “Magnus, he said he didn’t know how he was going to face you after all this.”

 Giving Alec’s hands a squeeze before releasing them, Magnus got up for a drink, so much for their tension free evening. “I don’t know what to say to that, Alexander.” He could feel Alec’s eyes on his back as he moved to the drink cart.

 “Jace said he didn’t know how to face you after all that you risked for him.” Magnus could hear Alec get up and move towards him as he spoke.

 Magnus tensed and turned to look at the other man is shock. “He doesn’t have to fear that!” He had been standing there dealing with his own guilt at giving Lilith the potion and his guilt at the secret joy he felt at having his own bond with Alexander, but he did not want Jace to dread facing him. “That’s not why I did any of it, Alexander.”

 Alec laid his hands on Magnus’s shoulders and ran his hands up and down his arms. “I told him that, Magnus, and deep down he knows why you did, why you risked so much. Jace is just so hurt right now, he is carrying such a burden of guilt that is one the reason I didn’t want him running off to Paris, not in the state he is in.”

Magnus nodded and stepped into Alexander’s arms, wrapping his own tight around the other man’s waist, he sought comfort in Alexander’s arms. They stood like that for a moment, before Magnus pulled slightly away and looked up into that beloved face. “Alexander, there is nothing in this world or beyond that I wouldn’t risk for you, give up for you, and the ones you love.”

 Alec cupped Magnus’s face and pulled him into a deep kiss, and Magnus could feel the other man’s love for him. When Alec pulled away he had a wicked gleam in his eyes. “You know, we haven’t tried out the stamina rune yet.”

 Magnus flashed a quick grin before taking off at a run for the bedroom. “Last one in bed gets to sleep in the wet spot!” He shouted back at Alec and the Shadowhunter gave chase.

  ~

 The next morning, Magnus accompanied Alec to the institute. Lydia was bringing her new suitor and he was going to have a tour of the institute while she and Magnus spoke. Magnus also suspected that she wanted Alec’s opinion on the new man. They were enjoying coffee and quiet conversation in Alec’s office when Lydia arrived with a tall slender blond. Magnus’s first thought was that he couldn’t be more different than Alexander. Her delight at seeing them both didn’t escape new guy’s notice either. They both got hugs and kisses on the cheeks, before she stepped back.

 “Magnus, Alec, I’d like to introduce Reece Earthtide.” Lydia drew the blond forward and he shook each of their hands. “It’s nice to meet you both, Lydia speaks highly of you.”

 Reece spoke to them both, but Magnus noticed that he had only looked at him briefly, all his attention was focused on Alexander. Perhaps it was the whole head of the institute thing, or even the former fiancé thing, however Magnus trusted his gut and his gut told him that Reece had a problem with Warlocks or maybe even two men being together. Lydia must have noticed as well because she shot her date a stern look before turning to Magnus with a warm smile.

 “I’ve been looking forward to our visit, am I to understand that I get to see the famous lair of Magnus Bane?” She teased.

 Magnus laughed at her charm and taking her hand, with a quick wink at Reece, kissed it and tucked the small hand into the crock of his arm. “Why yes, dear, many delights await you in our home. Isn’t that correct, Alexander?”

 Alec scowled at them both, no doubt at the thought of someone snooping around in their home, but more likely at the project of dealing with Reece all day. “Get out of here, both of you, trouble makers. I’ll show Reece around the New York Institute and maybe we can meet up for lunch later?” He asked.

 Magnus and Lydia both agreed and with a wave of his hands, Magnus opened a portal to take them to the loft. Lydia delighted in the tour, of course, given Magnus’s knowledge of her family history it was no surprise that she borrowed several books that featured tales of her ancestries and got an open invitation to visit any time out of Magnus. Finally, after a long tour and visit they settled down with tea on the balcony.

 Lydia took a sip before sitting the cup down and regarding Magnus seriously. “So, I know this wasn’t a social visit request. What can I help with?”

 Magnus smiled and gave Lydia’s hands a grateful squeeze. “I do so like you, my dear.”

 Lydia laughed and returned his gesture. “I like you as well, husband stealer,” she teased.

 Turning serious, Magnus made his request. “I find myself in need of an advocate.”

 Lydia sat back in shock,” You, Magnus? What by angel for?”

 Magnus told her all about Lorenzo Rey, his request for help, the refusal, their fight, and finally Lorenzo’s charges against Magnus.

 Lydia sat silent, face set deep in thought, and Magnus did not interrupt. Finally, she turned to look at Magnus, face serious, eyes grave. “You know this will cause uproar?” Magnus felt a shot of dread, he didn’t know who they would turn to if Lydia denied him. But that fast an almost demonic smile spread across that beautiful face. “I can’t wait!” She practically shouted and all Magnus could do was laugh.

        f1\insrsid672

[smolpocketsmonsters]

A Healer In A Tree

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

               “She’s beautiful… It’s a shame you had to kill her.”

               Aether’s fingertips trailed fondly over the ridges of the dragon’s skull, entranced by the sensation, the view. He marveled at her in wonder and in awe as he took in details of her and wondered what she would have looked like if she had lived to become a High Dragon like so many others he had seen from a distance.

               “She gave us little choice,” Vergil admitted, not far from the healer.

               And, quietly, the Dalish stood.

               “I know.”

               He admired her for a moment longer before stepping away from the dragon’s remains, allowing Vergil to lead him further into the ruins, softly glowing wisps they had summoned floating ahead of them, casting eerie light and stretching shadows. They left behind the moonlight of the dragon’s lair through the broken roof as they went deeper, and as they walked, the Warden told of their discoveries, area by are, as Aether had asked.

               Aether wondered if he hadn’t brought enough parchment and charcoal for the adventure, with how many etching rubbings he had done.

               And as they stepped into the burial chamber, Aether stopped in his tracks in awe.

               “Din'anshiral,” he whispered, “an elven burial chamber. I’ve never seen one before.”

               This was a find that he most certainly did not have enough parchment for as he stroked his fingers over the sarcophagus in the center of the room.

               The place of honor.

               The aforementioned mother.

               He wondered if she was the spiritual mother as well.

               A wisp swam over to him at his will and he peered into the tomb, his lips spreading into a grin at the sight.

               Etchings. Unique ones.

               And in his hurry to lean into the tomb to try to get rubbings, he almost tipped over and fell right in, if not for the strong arms that immediately encircled his waist, heroically saving him from sniffing some very ancient dust.

               “As much as I appreciate your dedication, I’d prefer you out of such places,” Vergil stated. “I haven’t heard of any positive health properties from inhaling ancient ashes so you probably should avoid that.”

               The healer smiled sheepishly before glancing over his shoulder at the other elf, so incredibly close.

               There was strength beneath that armor and quiet wonder of wanting to know just how much sent his blood singing in his veins, cheeks coloring against his wishes.

               “I probably should,” he quietly agreed. “I’ll be quick about getting the rubbing then. See if we can find a more… comfortable spot after?”

               And in the wisp light, he saw a slow smirk cross Vergil’s lips.

               And oh how they did find a more comfortable spot after.

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

               Perhaps it was because of the cold of the ruins.

               Or perhaps it was just how the Warden was.

               Either way, Aether woke up trapped by a strong pair of arms around him, legs tangled with the other, the cool of the air against his bare skin, marked with bites and sucked bruises that littered his body, lingering signs of just what they had done to each other hours before with the telltale ache in his lower back making it all the more real.

               He could still remember the grit of the wall against his shoulders when Vergil fucked him against it, teasing out as many of Aether’s restrained sounds as he could before the Warden finally asked and oh Mythal he couldn’t keep himself after that.

               Time after time, it seemed like Aether would just barely catch his breath and Vergil would be ready for another round, and true to the healer’s stubbornness, he was determined to try to keep up.

               No one had ever quite ruined his voice so well.

               Not the way Vergil did.

               It had been a teasing thought, lingering in the forefront of both of their minds until finally they reached that spot in the ruins and Vergil decided they could make camp there for the night, too late to safely trek through the forest back to the others, and besides, they had everything they needed right there to be set up quite comfortably. Wood for a fire, fresh water, there was even starlight flitering down through one of the high cracks in the ceiling.

               It had been through that crack that drew the cold.

               And then it was just the right excuse to warm each other up the best they knew how.

               But now, sunlight streamed in through that crack, dusky with dawn and the smell of morning dew carried on the wind.

               A small squeak escaped the healer as he slowly stretched, only for the arms around him to tighten briefly.

               And then he heard the change in heartbeat under his ear.

               It seemed his movement had woken the Warden.

               And Aether sleepily lifted his head.

               “Good morning,” he whispered hoarsely.

               In a daze, Vergil slowly roused, amber eyes hazy as they opened and after a few blinks, they cleared and settled on his own face. The grip the Warden had on him slowly unraveled itself as he rasped, “Is it morning yet?”

               “Dawn has arrived, yes,” Aether answered, before a soft hum caught in his throat at the feel of Vergil softly touching one of the marks he had left behind, amber eyes trailing over each one. The Warden had his own fair share including angry red lines dug into his shoulders and the healer felt the lethargic tug of interest pooling in his stomach.

               “One would think you had as much a good time as I last night,” Vergil teased softly, leaning forward and nipping one of the marks on his throat, “but we should go back to the camp before my companions send a search party.”

               Despite the words though, the Warden did not pull back, a warm tongue dragging over the sensitive marks. “Though I must say, I wouldn’t mind repeating the experience,” he purred below his ear.

               The healer’s face scorched with warmth, embarrassed and pleased at the offer and he turned his head to bump noses with the other.

               “That was good,” he mildly teased, “let’s try for even better this time, yes?”

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

               The Warden party was leaving in the morning, Aether found out when he and Vergil had returned to the camp late that afternoon, and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed by the fact.

               He had enjoyed Vergil’s company far more than he originally thought he would, astonished at the brilliance of progress they had made with the ancient texts and theories over the meanings behind the etchings.

               If the mage lingered longer, perhaps they could have made more progress.

               But the Warden’s couldn’t stay.

               They had a mission to accomplish, to stop the Blight, and to delay them any further would be counterproductive.

               And when morning came, Aether met Vergil at the edge of the camp while the rest of the company was pulling together the finishing touches of getting ready to be on the road.

               “Survive this, hero, and you’ll have tales I’ll be dying to hear,” Aether gently teased.

               Vergil gave him a sly smirk, “didn’t you hear? Heros always die. I don’t intend to.”

               Aether snorted in amusement.

               “Then what will you be? Not a villain, I’m sure.”

               “You’ll have to see for yourself then.”

               His voice had dropped down to a murmur before the taller elf closed the distance between them, fingers curling in Aether’s hair and their lips met in a kiss, sweet until the playful nip at his lip, a breath shuddering in the healer’s chest.

               “Safe travels for you,” he murmured, Vergil’s breath warm against his mouth.

               Aether swallowed as he ignored the heat on his face, smiling slightly as he gave Vergil’s hair a playful tug.

               “And you, Warden.”

               And then, finally, the two parted ways.

               Aether watched Vergil’s back as the man join the rest of his group and without hesitation, they all walked out of the camp, onwards to their next adventure.

               The few days with Vergil had been an adventure of its own, and he sighed.

               It wouldn’t be long now before Aether would be on his way to his next clan to learn, now that Zathrian would no longer teach him, and he stepped back to his little place of residence to check on things.

               Something was different though.

               His bag seemed different.

               And upon opening it, his eyes widened in surprise.

               And then he smiled.

               The Warden had left him a parting gift of the ancient texts they had been working on together. Vergil’s Ancient Texts.

               Well.

               If the hero lived through this, Aether would certainly pay him a visit.

               He would have to make some progress on the translations before then.

               But he had a good feeling about all this.

               And he looked forward to the next time they met.

[edosianorchids901]

For the Garashir prompts: “I don’t like this.” and “You’re sick and you need to rest.”

“I don’t like this”

____________________

               “Idon’t like this,” I muttered, peering around the corner.

               Julianlooked almost devastated. “You aren’t enjoying yourself?”

               “No,my dear, it’s not that.” I leaned past him again, counting the guard’s steps.“I simply mean that this is an extremely inadvisable way to steal intelligencereports.”

               “Stoplooking at the guards.” He pulled me back, keeping hold of my lapels to preventme from ignoring his instructions.      

               I smirkedat him, inching closer until we were nose to nose. “I like this rather better.”

               Thedoctor heaved a sigh. “God, you’re ridiculous. We don’t have time for thatright now, we’ve got to get inside the party while guests are still arriving.”

               “Arewe really planning to just waltzthrough the doors? That seems slightly riskier than would be advisable.”

               “Beinga spy is all about taking risks.” He grasped my hand, leading me towards themansion.

               “That’shardly true,” I protested. “It’s more about accomplishing your task without getting caught. And this is nota plan that will fulfill those parameters.”

               “Stillnot trusting me?” Julian managed to slip both of us into the flow of guestswithout incident.

               “Notwhen it comes to these programs.” I adjusted my tuxedo jacket, and then reachedaround to straighten his bow tie. “I’m still not remotely convinced this is afeasible plan. Why not just break in the back?”

               “Becausethere’s a lot more security in back. You saw the plans. Besides, this is howthe program is supposed to work.”

               Ipursed my lips. “And just how are we to get past the security at the door?”

               Julianflashed me a brilliant grin in response, whipping an envelope out of hispocket. “With these lovely invitations that the intelligence agency fabricatedfor us, of course.”

               Myjaw dropped. “My dear Doctor,” I chided, keeping my voice low as we approachedthe entrance. “It would have been rather kinder of you to tell me about that inadvance.”

               Hepresented the invitations to the doorman with a flourish, and then took my arm.“Now, my dear Mr. Garak. What fun would there be in that?”

               Choosingto ignore him, I ran my eyes across the décor, unimpressed. “Well, I do have tosay this is a distinct improvement over Dr. Noah’s lair, but it’s rather… ornateand flashy.”

               Julian’smouth twitched with amusement. “This, coming from the leading expert in ornateand flashy.”

               “Ornateand flashy needs to be done properly.Gilding absolutely everything in gold is most certainly not the proper way.And…” I eyed the curtains with distaste. “Salmon curtains? With orange diamonds?”

               Hesnickered, heading towards the stairs now. “You know, it’s really worth takingyou along on these programs just to see your expressions.”

               “Well,I’m so delighted to be of service,” I answered sarcastically. Then my attentionwas distracted by the patrols on the top floor. “We’re taking a right, then aleft, then heading to the eighth room on the right, I believe?”

               “Yeah,that’s it.” He slipped his fingers between mine again. “We’re gonna have tomove fast. The guard patrols are really tight.”

               “Andhere I was thinking we should just casually wander.”

               Thatearned me an eye roll. “Okay, get ready… go.”

               Ifollowed him without hesitation, feeling oddly relaxed. Perhaps there reallywas something to be said for making adequate time for distraction – since he’dstarted regularly taking me along with him on these holosuite outings, I foundthat I felt more refreshed than usual.

               And,if nothing else, it was always wonderful to spend time together. Between ourbusy work schedules, we sometimes only saw each other at night, and often spentthose evenings reading (or doing even more work) before collapsing into bed. Butthese times in the holosuite… there were no interruptions, no pressing matters.Just us.

               Oncewe were inside the room in question, Julian released my hand. I regretted theloss of contact instantly – it was far too chilly here. “I take it you know howto ‘crack safes’?” I asked, rubbing my hands together in an attempt to warm backup.

               “Yeah,I do.” He pressed the secret button under the desk, which opened a panel on thewall. “And what about you, Garak?”

               “Oh,I’m afraid 20th Century Earth safes weren’t required learning in theOrder.” I perched on the edge of the desk, watching as he worked. Oh my, he did look wonderful in that tuxedo…especially with such intense focus.

A thought wandered through mymind – he would look even better out of the tuxedo and with me on the nearbycouch. Both amused and exasperated with myself, I shook my head. No, Elim. Thatcould wait until later.

               “Therewe go!” he exclaimed, swinging the safe door open. He turned to grin at me, andchuckled. “What’s that look on your face?”

               “Oh,nothing,” I dismissed, failing to entirely mask my own smile.

               “Iknow it’s not nothing.” Julian took the disk from the safe, slipping it into hispocket before closing things back up. “Come on, tell me.”

               “Oh,just a passing thought.” I ran my eyes across him in a seductive manner, andthen glanced at the couch.

               Blushing,he snorted and took my hand again. “You’re incorrigible.”

               “Isthat a good thing?” I drew his hand to my lips and pressed a kiss to his palm.

               “Andyou have bad timing,” he whispered, pulling me towards the exit. “We don’t havelong enough before the guard shift changes.”

               Isighed, resting my chin on his shoulder as he checked outside. “Perhaps later?”

               “Ithink this program ends on a boat. That should work.”

               “Thatdoes seem to be how these sorts of things end.” I followed him down the hall,thinking of all the films he’d forced me to watch. “What exactly is theobsession with boats? Is it some sort of metaphor?”

               “Oh,damn!” Julian pushed me against the wall, and I stared at him in surprise.“Garak, kiss me.”

               “Kiss…kiss you?” I stuttered, baffled. “I thought you said we didn’t have time!”

               “There’sguards coming. Now come on, kiss me!”

               Igave him an unimpressed look. “My dear, that’s not going to fool them.”

               “Elim,kiss me!”

               Stillunconvinced, I wrapped an arm around him and joined our lips. Oh my, he was so warm, and I decided that I didn’tcare if we were caught. Tugging him closer, I cupped his cheek, losing myselfto his warmth, to the intimacy, to his tongue teasing mine…

               Andthen he broke off, and I gave a soft whine of protest. “Sorry, love,” hechuckled, stroking my hair, his other hand resting on my hip. “But we’ve gottaget out of here before they realize we stole the intel.”

               “Onemore kiss.” I coaxed him a little closer and he obliged me, brushing his lipsagainst mine.

               “Okay,happy now?” He gave me a soft, indulgent look and I absolutely melted.

               “I’malways happy when I’m with you, Julian.”

______________________________________________

“You’re sick and you need to rest”

_____________________

               Thiscouldn’t go on. He needed rest. He needed to take a break, to recuperate. Hell,at this point, he just needed to sleep.

               Butinstead, there he sat. Bent over his padd, frantically working on decryptionsas fast as he could. He hadn’t even eaten today, and his tea sat untouched infront of him.

               “Elim,”I finally called, worried. If nothing else, he had to take a short break.

               Hedidn’t acknowledge me, still tapping at his padd like his life depended on it.In a way, I supposed it did – his work could determine the outcome of the war. Somany lives would be affected whether or not he could decipher those Cardassiancodes.

               Butit hadn’t even been two days since his last collapse in his shop, the one wherehe’d been having such severe trouble breathing that I’d initially feared he wasdying. When I’d rushed to the shop and found him on the floor, he’d been makingthe most horrible, strangled gasps for air that I’d ever heard.

               Andnow… there was a labored edge to his breaths again, and he’d gone ashen. He’dbeen looking rough all day, but his discomfort seemed to be worsening now. Atremor ran through him, and he wiped sweat from his brow, blinking rapidly.

               “Elim?”I reached out, laying my hand on his shoulder. He flinched with a gasp, eyesflicking in my direction. “Easy, it’s just me.”

               “Oh.”He glanced down at his padd, then back to me. “Julian.”

               “Areyou okay?”

               “What?Oh, yes. Yes.” Garak drew another rasping breath, and then cleared his throat. Hishands began to tremble. “I’m fine.”

               “No,you’re not.” I moved closer to him, taking his pulse. It was absolutely racing,almost dangerously fast. “You’re sick and you need to rest.”

               “I’mnot sick,” he snarled, shoving uprightand pacing to the viewport.

               “Allright, if you wanna get really technical, you’re not sick. You’re anxious.” Morelike panicked, but I didn’t want to make him defensive.

               Hebraced himself against the wall, and his chest heaved. “I’m fine. I can handlethis perfectly well now that I know why I’m having attacks.”

               Iwent to his side, carefully taking his padd and setting it down. I’d expected aprotest, but none came. Instead, he stared down at the floor, breathsquickening, focus failing.

               “Garak,”I murmured, taking his quaking hands in mine.

               Hestartled again, looking at me with glassy eyes. “I’m fine, I don’t need anyhelp.”

               “Whydon’t you come sit down again?” I tried to pull him along, and he resisted thistime.

               “No!”He jerked free of my hold. “I don’t need you to treat me like I’m fragile! I’mnot, I just have to get this under control.”

               Iwatched with worry as he paced away, noting that his sweating had worsened.“Elim…”

               “I’mnot a child!” He snatched his padd off the window ledge, setting it back on thetable. Agitated, he tried to enter a few more codes. His hands were shaking toobadly to succeed, and he began to fuss with the other items on the tableinstead.

               “Ididn’t say you were a child,” I said softly.

               “Thenstop treating me like one. I don’t need to be pampered.” Garak began to paceagain, tapping his fingers together. “I’ve only been having panic attacksbecause I was trying to avoid working against my people. I’m fine now that Iknow that.”

               Thiswas one of the farthest states from fine that I’d ever seen. “Well, how aboutsome food, and then you can get back to work?”

               Hepaused, looking at me with an unfettered anguish that shocked me. “I can’tstop. If I stop, I’ve failed, and everyone will die. Even if I succeed, all mypeople will die. I’m killing them all.”

               Assoon as the words left him, his eyes glazed, and he crumpled. “Elim!” I cried,lunging forward. I was too far away to be able to catch him in time, and heslammed hard into the floor with a gasp.

               Heclawed at his neck and writhed, struggling to breathe. “I c-can’t…” he choked,eyes rolling with panic.

               “Elim,I’m here.” I dragged him upright enough that he was reclined against my chest, andthen steadied his head as he made another strangled, rasping bid for air. “I’mright here, I’ve got you. Easy, shhh.”

               “Can’t…”He threw his head back against my shoulder and clutched his chest, trying invain to suck in a breath. “J-Julian…”

               “Shhh,I’m here.” I combed my fingers through his hair, aching at the convulsiveshudders that tore him apart. “You’re gonna be okay, easy now.”

               Hegasped again and began to thrash. “The walls!”

               “Garak,you’re safe,” I said quickly, realizing what was happening. “The walls are notmoving in, they’re not collapsing. You’re not on Tzenketh, you’re on DS9.You’re with Julian.”

               Hecalmed at my voice, going limp against me. I resumed stroking his hair,listening to his harsh, shattered breaths and wishing I could take the painaway from him.

               Butthis was all I could do. Just hold him, rock him, speak to him in soothingtones. And at least it did help – he always came out of his panic attacks somuch faster when I was here from the start.

               Atlast, his breaths eased. He curled towards me, pressing his face into my chest,and I held him closer. A few faint sobs tore from him, and I squeezed my eyesshut. “Shhh,” I soothed again, rubbing his back. “You’re okay, Elim.”

               “Ithought the attacks would stop.” His voice was weak, broken. “I want it tostop.”

               “I’msorry, sweetheart.” I pressed a light kiss to the top of his head, fightingback my own tears. “I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy.”

               “ButI know why it’s happening.” He struggled to turn over, and I eased him down sohe rested across my lap. “It was supposed to stop. I’m supposed to have thisunder control.”

               Igazed down at him, hurting at the look in his eyes. He seemed almost in shockthat his body and mind had betrayed him again. “Knowing why it’s happeningdoesn’t always mean it won’t happen anymore,” I said gently.

               Hopelessnesssurged onto his face, and he let his head fall against my arm. “I can’t dothis,” he whispered.

               “Youcan, and you will. But you don’t need to just yet. You can rest.”

               Elimnodded, allowing me to coax him upright. He stumbled along with my support,eyes barely open. I helped him to lie down, and then gathered a damp cloth towash his face.

               Hemade a soft sound of relief as I bathed away the sweat, and he weakly raisedhis hand to brush against my thigh. “That’s nice, thank you.”

               “You’rewelcome, dearest.” I sponged his neck, glancing down at his shirt. “Do you wantto change into your pajamas? You’re drenched.”

               “No,not now. I’m not sure I could even move if I wanted to.”

               “Youlook so tired,” I said sympathetically, moving on to drying his face so hedidn’t get chilled. “I brought you some rokassa juice, will you drink it?”

               Hedrank without protest, and then gazed at me with bleary eyes. “I apologize,Julian.”

               “What?”I gave him a confused look as I covered him with a blanket. “For what? Youdidn’t do anything wrong.”

               “Iwas rude. I lashed out at you.” He reached out for me, and I grasped his hand.“I-I know you were just trying to help, and I so appreciate your kindness. Idon’t deserve you.”

               “Hush,Elim.” Bending down, I kissed his brow. “You were having an attack. It’s okay.I’ll always do whatever I can.”

               Hetried to smile at me, and only succeeded at looking even more pained. “I’m abit… that is… would you like…”

               “Tosnuggle?” I guessed, recognizing the near desperation in his eyes. He nodded,and I slipped into bed beside him.

               Garakcurled up against me, still trembling, and I held him securely. After a fewminutes of being in my arms, he let out a soft sigh, nuzzling against my neck.

               “I’mhere, Elim,” I murmured, kissing his head again. “I’m here, and I have you.Just rest. I’ll take care of you.”