#there is no gun violence in fairy tale land

[thebluestbluewords]

goodness knows

“If you see somebody stealing from a store, what should you do?” Fairy Godmother reads slowly, bouncing the end of her little golden stick along the chalky words written on the board. “It’s alright, just say whatever comes to mind.” 

The silence in the remedial goodness classroom is deafening. 

They’re all going to fail this stupid class. They’re going to fail, and be kicked out of princess school, and then Mal’s mother is going to disembowel them slowly and painfully once they get dumped back on the isle like the awful, terrible villains they are. 

Failure is not an option. 

“Mind your business?” Mal offers. She’s genuinely not sure what answer Fairy Godmother is reaching for with her little golden pointer stick, but anything she can guess has got to be better than nothing at all. They’re clearly not supposed to join in with the theft. Stealing isn’t very in line with the forces of goodness. Maybe they’re supposed to leave extra cash as compensation for the last guy? It would be better for the dude running the store that way. Maybe that’s why Fairy Godmother is asking them such a stupid question. Maybe it’s a test to see how well they can think about the needs of others and not just themselves. 

“Mm,” Fairy Godmother hums, nodding. “That’s a good guess, Mal. Anyone else?” 

Carlos raises his hand, because he’s a fucking nerd. 

Fairy Godmother beams at him. “Yes, dear?” 

“Take advantage of the distraction?” he guesses. “If they’re not paying attention they deserve to be robbed. It’s a moral lesson.” 

“Yeah, take advantage of their fuckup and steal their stuff too.” Jay adds, without raising his hand. 

“You guys, we’re not supposed to steal here!” Evie says. At least her hand is up, even if Fairy Godmother isn’t calling on them anymore. “We’d obviously kill the guy. He shouldn’t have to bear the shame of knowing that he allowed his wares to be stolen.” 

“Yeah, a mercy killing.” Carlos agrees “Better that we do it quick.” 

“No—“ 

“We steal a gun and kill him with that. It’s the quickest method.” 

“No!” Fairy Godmother squawks, “No! You are supposed to call the authorities!” 

Oh, they’ve seen this in the news. They’re supposed to wait for adults to do the violence for them.

“No offense, Fairy Godmother,” Mal says sweetly. “But I think we’d rather just kill them ourselves. We don’t need to wait for the authorities to do it for us.”

[cherry-pop-elf]

Eyes For You

Dr. Jack Griffin x Reader

Authors Note: No one asked for this. No one wanted this. But I wanted it. It’s my emotional support film and god dammit I love this insane Twink.

Sum: You were waiting for your husband to return home from a trip out with some friends. But something went bump in the night. You were no coward, and investigated. Maybe you should have been a coward

Warnings: 18+/Violence, attempted kidnapping, Unhinged madness (you signed up for exactly that anyway), Jack being EXTREMELY protective of you, unethical science, blood, babygirling horror

“Jacky? That you?” You spoke into the darkness. You had to ask. You heard a noise, and well he’s Jack. He likes to pull pranks, and is also a little bit hard to….see….So it’s easier to call than poke around.

There wasn’t a response, however. Even he couldn’t help it but giggle, whenever he tried to pull something sneaky on you. That’s how much he adored you. Unable to keep himself wrapped up enough to follow through. Just to excited to see your laughing face.

Many would have probably stayed in their room. Maybe even call some kind of authorities. You? Well for one calling the cops doesn’t work when you are married to a man like Jack. Also, what’s scarier than Griffin?

So, here you are. You climbed out of bed, stole your husband’s robe, and snuck yourself outside of your shared bedroom. Through the familiar halls of the manor, with a candleholder in hand.

“I swear if someone broke in here, again, I’ll butcher them myself.” You would huff, as you would walk down the stairs. Had a bit of a history of people not knowing when to mind their own business. You came from a well off family, and that was how you and Jack even met. Your father had a medical issue, and Jack was able to solve it. Was hired to be the family doctor, and was able to be given funding for his experiments.

You couldn’t stop your dreamy smile. The memories of how excited he was to share what he discovered to you. How someone was willing to listen his endless rambles. He didn’t love you for the financial prosperities. He loved you because you wanted him to succeed. Was like a fairy tale.

“Whoever’s in my house better get out. I’m not afraid to get violent!” You shouted, as you kicked the door open. Certainly startled the man in your kitchen. Not every day someone actually confronts the one who breaks in.

“I don’t care who you are. Get out of my house. My husband will be home any minute now, and I rather not clean up blood stains at this hour.” The intruder sure was confused at how causal your violent mannerisms were. You kinda picked up a thing or two from a mad scientist.

“Sure he is. I’ve never seen a man come in or out of your house. But I’ve certainly seen plenty of fancy equipment. You’ve got money-“ And he was soon raising a gun at you. “And I have a feeling your daddy will pay plenty to get you back.” He warned.

Not the first time someone did this. But it was the first time someone actually go into your house. Luckily, your husband doesn’t marry himself anyone dumb. You blew out your candle, and the world was casted in darkness.

He fired, in a attempt to hit you, but you were already running. You ran, and tried to think of where would be the best place to go. Should you lock yourself in your husbands lab? What about running outside? Should you risk going upstairs, and getting a better weapon? You tried to think fast, but a bullet finally landed its mark.

You have a yelp of pain, as you were soon falling to the ground. A bullet right in your leg, and your only means of any defense was clattering out of reach. Just left to bleed in the hallway. The portraits of your friends, and family, left to just watch as your attacker found you. The moonlight casting a terrifying glow over his masked features.

“Well that was easy. Husband still coming to save you?” He mocked, as you were left to try and crawl away. Just taunting you, as he knew you couldn’t stand. You suppose this was poetic justice. You were now the victim, and you now had a mad man above you.

There was also something else above you. The rise of the candle holder you had lost in the fall. The darkness made it impossible for the attacker to see, but your angle had the moonlight sparkling on it. The gold a beacon of hope, as it was raised above his head.

“Maybe I should enjoy myself. Damaged goods are still goods, aren’t they?” He cackled at you. Just saw you as nothing more than a damsel of meat to enjoy, and oh did that made your husband growl.

“HANDS OFF MY DARLING!” And down it came. The attacker was down on the ground, wondering how he was hit. Was just left to watch, in horror, as the candle holder was held up by nothing at all. To just watch it come down and hit him over and over.

And over.

And over.

And over.

The blood was pooling. So much splatter, that you could make out your husbands shape. To see the defined features he held. Like his nose, the scars in his flesh, and how his face was in a scowl. He was not one to cross. His own partner, in his own home? Needles to say you’ll need to buy a candle holder.

“Jacky-!” Despite the pain in your leg you were raising your hands up. Eager to be held by your savior. No care for the blood, as you saw it in a cruel justification. Your husband saved you, and you needed to be held.

“My darling-“ He swooned, as you were scooped into his arms. Held close to his chest, and safe in his hidden embrace. With whispers of comfort, as you were quickly taken to his private lab. Safe, and to be treated.

“Oh darling, I should have hurried home sooner.” He was quick to blame himself. The only time he ever seemed to accept blame, really. If you were in harms way he takes guilt with out a second thought. Anything else? Never his fault. He really put you above himself. Above science. Above world dominate. Everything was beneath you.

“Jacky, hush. I’m ok now. You are here now.” You tried to calm him, as he would tend to your leg. Careful calculations. You didn’t even need to see his face to know those once white eyebrows were knitted close together. That he would be sticking his tongue out the corner of rosey lips. To have his violet eyes narrowed to make sure he pulled out the bullet just right.

He made sure you were as pampered as possible, while soothing your wound. Made sure it was cleaned, and patched, what have you. Muttering away at himself about the the annoyance of mankind. The normal.

“I’ll deal with him in the morning. Along with the mess I left behind. Greymatter is all over the walls.” He laughed, as he would proceed to use a wet cloth to clean up the blood off his body. To once again vanish into nothingness.

Call yourself insane, but you swore you could always tell where he was. Maybe being exposed to him for so long has caused you to develop some kind of second hand effects. Maybe you just held a bond with him like no other. You didn’t know. You just knew that you didn’t need to see him to see him, as cheesey as it was.

“You better. My word, you bent that holder into a spiral. I swear-“ You teased, as you were scooped into his arms again. Just a floating bundle of warmth and love. Certainly would cause the strangest of sight to those who were unaware. Which is most of the population. As far as anyone knew you were a widow. That typically keeps people from wanting your hand, but not always.

“He dare lay a hand on you. To harm you. To think he could….Oh his organs would be useless for science. I’m certain they are as dead as his brain is mush. Even his body is no use!” He ranted on, as he would bring you back upstairs.

You both knew his body would be used for some experiment, but the emotions are what matter. Had you nuzzling your face in his neck, with whispers of kisses. The only thing to sooth his raging heart.

“Jacky, let’s get some sleep. I know you had a busy weekend with your friends.” That had him finally stop his muttering. For you, he would defy the laws of nature. Suppose getting some sleep will be what he could offer, tonight anyway.

You would be laid down, as if a maiden by her knight, as he went to get into some sleep clothes. Such as some boxers, and a old shirt he had back when he wasn’t the madman he was today.

It always was so funny to watch, no matter how many times it’s been witnessed. To just see a floating set of clothes. It always had you smiling. To have his mannerism so memorized that you can still imagine them. The way he would sassily rest a hand on his hip, as he paced in thought. To how he would run his fingers through his white hair.

“Jacky….Bed.” You gentler cooed. Was followed by a sigh, from him, as that invisible hand would lift up the blankets. Now a indentation on the bed. All you need to find him. To find him, and snuggle into his chest.

“Welcome home.” You yawned. Safe in his arms again. To feel his scared fingers rub your back, as he would treasure you close. With literal invisible kisses to your face. As if it would be a cure to all your worries. Suppose he was right, they were.

“So good to be home again, darling.” He returned, as you could feel his breathing relax. To have his burning heart cooled. You were the very thing that kept him away from the world. The draw bridge of civilization and a apocalypse.

Maybe if you get bored enough, one day, you’ll lower that bridge.

[user637363]

R&J

—pairing: jj maybank x reader, ex!rafe cameron x reader

—synopsis: you and jj maybank, star crossed lovers. you both knew it wouldn’t work out.

—warnings: DARK!, major character death, gun violence, falling from high elevation, angst, hurt, please read at your own risk.

“Where are you taking me?” You laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet of the bell tower as JJ guided her up the stairs. They had just escaped Midsummers, the distant sounds of music and chatter fading behind them.

You was a kook, through and through—a fact that had shaped much of her life. Your parents’ business partnership with the Camerons had not only placed her in the inner circle of the wealthy elite but had also woven her life tightly with Rafe Cameron’s for over three years.

From the outside, their relationship seemed like a fairy tale—the kook princess and the kook prince of the island—but beneath the surface laid an ocean conflicts.

Three weeks ago, you made a heart-wrenching decision—to walk away from the person you loved, Rafe. Their relationship had reached a breaking point. You felt yourself slipping further down his list of priorities, you constantly felt like a second choice to his drugs and you just couldn’t handle that.

Rafe Cameron had fallen hard and fast for you, his love for you burning brighter than any flame. From your days as childhood friends to the years of your relationship, Rafe had been completely infatuated with you.

When you ended things, Rafe was lost. He had never imagined a life without you, you two’s bond seemingly unbreakable. The pain of your absence was like a physical ache.

When Rafe first noticed your presence among the Pogues, a surge of fury rippled through him. The mere thought of you associating with them, especially JJ Maybank, sparked a fire of jealousy within him.

Three days after your painful breakup with Rafe, you found herself reluctantly agreeing to meet Sarah’s new boyfriend, John B, and his group of friends. You weren’t wasn’t sure what to expect, your heart still raw from the end of your relationship, but Sarah had been insistent, promising that a day at the beach with the Pogues would be just the distraction youneeded.

As you guys arrived at the beach, your eyes landed on JJ, a member of John B’s group.

From the moment you laid eyes on JJ, you felt a shift deep within you—a stirring of emotions unlike anything you had ever experienced before. It wasn’t just a fleeting attraction, no, it was a deep, soul-stirring connection.

“Can’t you see, Y/n?” JJ chuckled, his warm hand enveloping yours as he tugged you along. “We’re going up the bell tower.”

You giggled, the sound echoing in the stairwell, your white silk strapless dress billowing behind you as you climbed the stairs.

“There.” JJ smiled as he showed her the place they were anticipating for.

It was at the top of the bell tower and it was covered in roses and candles with a picnic sitting on the edge.

“Oh my god…” You started. “It’s beautiful.”

With a smile that lit up your face, you approached JJ and wrapped your arms around him in a warm hug. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest.

As you pulled back slightly, Y/n cupped JJ’s face in her hands, her eyes locked on his. In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them standing amidst the roses and candles, lost in each other’s gaze.

Unbeknownst to you and JJ, Barry stood at the bottom of the bell tower, his gaze fixed on the stairs, a sinister smile playing on his lips. He had been waiting for this moment, watching from afar as you and JJ ascended the tower, oblivious to his presence.

Earlier that week, JJ found himself in a desperate situation, needing money for his father's bail. The situation had driven him to seek solace in the last place he ever thought he would—Barry's house.

As he stood in Barry's dimly lit living room, the smell of weed heavy in the air, JJ knew that this was not where he wanted to be. But the stress and worry over his father had clouded his judgment, leading him to make a decision he would soon regret.

JJ had refused to burden you with his troubles, knowing that you were already dealing with her own challenges. He had wanted to protect you from the harsh realities of his life, so he had kept his struggles to himself, choosing to face them alone. Resorting to buying weed from Barry’s house.

JJ sat on Barry’s couch as he waited for Barry to return with the weed.

“Wait here for like 10 minutes,” Barry spoke to JJ, his voice tinged with annoyance as he answered a call. “I’ll be back, so don’t try any smart shit, got it?”

JJ nodded, not intending to do anything. Three or so minutes passed and JJ got up just to stretch but as he got up a floorboard creeped then dropped opened.

And in it? Stacks of cash. Had to be at least 20k to 25k.

JJ really didn’t want to do it but he had too, for his dad.

JJ’s heart pounded in his chest as he looked around, ensuring no one was watching. With a quick, nervous glance over his shoulder, he reached down and grabbed the stacks of cash from the hidden compartment, his hands trembling as he collected every single dollar.

He quickly stuffed the money deep into his backpack, his heart racing. With a practiced hand, he carefully replaced the floorboard, ensuring it looked undisturbed, as if nothing had happened.

Barry returned just five minutes later, handing JJ the weed as promised and setting him free. JJ breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to be leaving Barry’s house without incident.

However, little did JJ know, this decision would come back to haunt him in ways he never imagined.

“Fuck this.” Barry whispered to himself and started to march up the bell tower. He knew that JJ took the money and wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily.

At the top of the tower, you gave JJ one last kiss before opening the picnic basket.

“You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen,” JJ spoke. He wasn’t lying, in that moment you looked absolutely breathtaking. Your hair cascaded down in loose curls, framing your face perfectly, and the silk white strapless dress you wore accentuated your beauty, making you look truly majestic in the moonlight.

“Thank you.” You blushed.

JJ smiled at you. Just as he was about to take a bite out of his sandwich you guys heard a yell which made you two jump.

“JJ fucking Maybank!”

JJ recognized the voice and knew he was truly fucked. “Y/n?” he whispered urgently, his eyes wide with fear. “Just cooperate with me right now, okay? Don’t say anything.”

You took a shaky breath, your eyes locked with JJ’s as you nodded in response.

“Barry.” JJ spoke as he saw the man reach the top where there little set-up was.

“Well this is nice, ain’t it?” Barry darkly chuckled. “I checked out that little Kook party they was having. You wasn’t there.”

“Barry, please, not right now.” JJ pleaded.

“I want my damn money!” Barry yelled which startled you, making you gasp.

“Oh look what we have here.” Barry raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Rafe get tired of you?”

“Leave her out of this.” JJ’s jaw ticked in fury. “I’ll give you back the money. Can we have this conversation another day.”

Barry scoffed, reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a gun.

“No!” You let out a choked sob, desperation lacing your voice. “Tell me how much money he owes you. I’ll give it to you!”

"Y/n, I said stay out of this," JJ demanded, his tone harsh and commanding. He knew that you were only trying to help, but he also knew that involving you further would only make things worse. He needed to handle this situation on his own, no matter the cost.

Barry, his gaze fixed on JJ, kept the gun pointed at him. "Mrs. Country Club ain't going to help you here," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Barry, ignoring your pleading sobs, kept inching closer to JJ, who in turn kept inching backwards. A standoff between predator and prey.

“Sad it has to end like this, huh?” Barry seethed, his voice dripping with malice.

“JJ!” You screamed, your voice filled with terror as JJ took one last step back, teetering on the edge of the tower.

It all happened so fast. Barry didn’t pull the trigger, but in that moment, he might as well have.

You watched in horror as the love of your life took his final step, teetering on the edge of the bell tower before falling into the abyss below. Time seemed to slow as you stood frozen, unable to comprehend what was unfolding before your eyes.

The world around you blurred as tears filled your eyes, your heart shattering into a million pieces. The sound of his body hitting the ground echoed in your ears.

“J!” You screamed at the top of your lungs.

You turned back, expecting to see Barry, but he was nowhere to be found. That bastard had escaped, leaving behind only his gun.

You quickly bent down, grabbing the gun before running down the steps of the bell tower. The echoes of your screams and sobs were loud.

Each step felt like an eternity as you raced down the stairs, the weight of the gun heavy in your hand. Tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t care.

Once you reached the bottom you you him.

You saw JJ lying motionless on the ground, blood seeping out of the back of his head.

Kneeling down beside him, you reached out a trembling hand, gently brushing his hair back from his face.

You sobbed as you took JJ into your arms, the torn fabric of your white dress clutched tightly in your hand. With trembling hands, you pressed the fabric against the back of his head, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood.

But it was useless.

“Y/n/n…” JJ’s voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to make your heart ache with longing. Another sob escaped your lips as you looked down at him, his smile so gentle and full of love.

“JJ… you’re going to be okay. Just please stay with me.”

JJ’s slowly nodded eyes as his gradually opened and closed.

“Keep your eyes opened, please.” Your voice croaked. “Don’t give up on me… stay.”

“I love you.” He spoke gently.

As his eyes met yours, he offered a small, reassuring smile. With a gentle nod, he conveyed his understanding, his acceptance of what was to come.

“I love you too, JJ. We can tell eachother that everyday if you just stay.”

But deep down, you knew it was too late. JJ was slipping away, his grip on life growing weaker with each passing moment. You wanted nothing more than for him to stay, to hold you in his arms and tell you that everything would be okay.

JJ nodded again. But it wasn’t convincing.

You continued to press the torn fabric into the back of JJ’s head, your hands shaking with grief and desperation. Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision as you tried to stem the flow of blood.

Then it happened.

He closed his eyes.

“JJ?” You choked out, your voice trembling with fear and sorrow. You shook him gently, hoping against hope for some sign of life. You checked his pulse to feel anything.

Nothing.

“Help! Someone!” You screamed, your sobs taking over. “Help!”

You were screaming, the sound raw. Tears streamed down your face, your body racked with sobs as you collapsed beside JJ’s lifeless body.

The love of your life just died in your arms.

It didn’t matter to you if you had only known each other for 3 weeks. The love you shared with JJ was unlike anything you had ever experienced. In those 3 weeks, you had shared more moments of joy, laughter, and love than some people experience in a lifetime.

You just couldn’t picture a life without him.

As you were sobbing, your eyes fell upon it.

Barry’s gun.

You could almost hear the voices of your friends and family.

You’ve only known him for three weeks.

You spent the last 16 years without him, he’s not important.

But you didn’t care. The pain of losing JJ was too much to bear, and the thought of facing another day without him was unbearable. The love you felt for him consumed you, driving you to make a decision that you knew was final.

With a steady hand, you pressed the gun to the bottom of your chin, your heart heavy with sorrow but you were adamant in your decision.

Memories of JJ Maybank started swarming your mind.

Their first memory to their last. Everything.

You locked the gun.

“I love you, JJ Maybank.”

Then everything went black.

[topguncortez]

Don't Try to be the Hero || Whumptober Day 23 - J. Seresin

whumptober masterlist

synopsis: The rat in the Seresin mafia has been exposed and it's the last person Jake thought would ever betray him. Part of the Bad Medicine series.

word count: 1.5k

@ailesswhumptober prompt: forced to watch

warnings: murder, mentions of torture, broken bones, cheating, mafia, character death, description of injuries, gun violence, abuse, illegal activities

Jake was seeing red as he paced in front of the window to the chamber. He could see Natasha’s battered and bruised body chained up by her wrists, but she couldn’t see him. Galen O’Phalen, and Rafael Santiago stood behind him, leaning against the back wall of the small room watching him pace. In the past couple of years, those two men have become closer father figures to Jake than his own father.

“You have to do it, boy,” Galen said, his accent thick as he smoked a cigarette. 

“You want me to kill her?” Jake asked. 

“You have to,” Rafael said, “You can not let her out on the streets. She knows too much.” 

“I can’t,” Jake shook his head. He leaned up against the ledge of the one-way window. Natasha had her eyes closed, her broken fingers clasped around a rosary that she had asked Jake to get. It was the only bit of mercy he had shown her. 

“Then don’t,” Galen said, and pushed off the wall. Jake looked at him as he walked over to the window sill and leaned his hands against it. Jake’s eyes went down to the gold wedding band he wore on his hand. It was rare that people in their line of work had wives, even more rare that they had good ones. Galen and his wife Maeve were a sort of fairy tale story in the mafia world.  

“A good leader never gets his hands dirty. . . that’s why you have people who do it for you.” Galen looked over his shoulder at Jake. 

“No, no I won’t let him do it,” Jake said, and walked towards the door, grabbing a knife from the table. 

Natasha picked her tired head up at the sound of the door opening and closing. She shivered as she listened to the footsteps growing near. She couldn’t see a black blindfold robbing her of that sense, but she could smell the sweet smell of his cologne as he walked near her. Rafael walked towards Galen, joining him at the window as he watched his son. 

“He won’t do it,” Rafael said, “His heart is too big. He loves her too much.” 

“And the other boy doesn’t?” Galen said, looking at his friend. 

“They both do. But one, one is born a monster and one is not. Bradley has to be the one to do it if he’s going to fit into this family.” 

Jake stood in front of Natasha, watching as she heaved in sobs, shaking and trying to pull herself up from the kneeling position she was in, but her arms were stretched too far for her to get up. She knew what was happening, she knew what was going to happen. This was the worst part, waiting for her impending death as her killer stood in front of her. 

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Jake said, “Tell me the fucking truth. If you tell me the truth, I’ll get this over with. If you lie. . . I’ll drag it out even more.” 

“I told you the truth,” Natasha cried, “I don’t know anything about what your father is accusing me-” 

“Stop fucking lying to me!” Jake yelled, his voice echoing off the cement walls of the chamber, “Tell me the fucking truth.” 

Natasha let out a shuddering breath, and whispered, “I’m sorry,” Jake choked on a sob, as she hung her head in shame, “Everything your dad said, from the job to the affair with Bradley. . . it’s true.” 

“God,” Jake said, letting out a sob, as he wiped the tears from his eyes, “Did you even love me?” 

“Who could ever love a monster, Jake?” 

“Did you love him?” 

“More than you will ever know.” 

That’s all it took for Jake to throw the knife above her head, landing right into the wall, making her let out a scream as it brushed past her. Natasha called out for Jake, as he left the room, walking right past Rafael and Galen, who stepped out of the watching room, and watched Jake walk right up the stairs. Bradley was waiting in the office, surrounded by four of the other guards watching him, waiting for Jake’s command. Bradley looked down at the handcuffs on his wrists, picking up his head as Jake walked in, his face unreadable. 

“Let’s go,” Jake mumbled and nodded at the guards. Two of them stood Bradley up, as one walked behind Jake and the other behind Bradley. Bradley didn’t dare to speak as they followed Jake down to the chamber, walking right into the room Natasha was chained up. 

“No, what are you doing? Jake!?” Bradley cried, as he tried to fight against the guard, “Don’t do this! Please, Jake!” 

“What’s happening? What are you doing?! Jake?! Bradley!?” Natasha called out as she heard the voice of her lover. 

“I’m not going to fucking kill you, Bradley Boy,” Jake smirked, “But what I am going to do, is watch as you kill her.” 

Natasha’s eyes widened in fear, as whimpers left her mouth. Bradley felt tears well up in his own eyes as he watched the girl cry. The girl that he had come to know. The girl he had come to love. He knew what she had done. She had lied and went undercover, collecting secrets and information to bring down the American crime families. Bradley knew that there was no way Jake was going to let her live, even though she had been a victim of circumstance. 

“No,” Bradley shook his head and looked at Jake, “I won’t do it. I made a vow. I don’t kill-” 

Bradley’s words were cut off as Jake pulled out his glock, cocking it and holding it to his temple. The cool metal of the chamber pressed against his skin. Bradley had been on the receiving end of guns before, but not like this. Not when the man holding the weapon was considered to be his brother. 

“Do it,” Jake seethed, “You’ve been fucking my fiance for weeks. Lying to my fucking face. If you want me to ever forgive you. . . .kill her.” 

“Please,” Natasha cried, “Please, don’t do this, Bradley. I-” 

“Shut up!” Jake yelled, spittle flying from his lips, “Shut up! You don’t know shit about love, you lying bitch!” 

Natasha’s brown eyes locked with Bradley’s. He could see nothing but fear in her irises. Fear for her life, fear for Bradley’s life. She never meant to fall in love with him or with Jake. Truth was, she loved them both equally. She wanted them both and sometimes, she’d imagine what a life would be like to have them both. But she knew it was all a fantasy. She knew the moment the case was broken, that she’d spend the rest of her life on the run, in fear of retaliation. She knew that a moment like this, on her knees begging for mercy would come. Natasha just didn’t know that the man holding the gun would be the man she loved. 

Bradley swallowed thickly and looked over his shoulder at Jake, “Do it. I’ve always wanted a way out. I’ve just been too pussy to do it myself. Do it, Jake, kill me.”  

“No,” Jake smirks and lowers the gun, “That’s giving you exactly what you want. I want you to suffer. I want that every time you see me, you are reminded of what you did.” 

Natasha gulped as she looked up at Bradley, “It’s okay,” She wasn’t sure when she came to terms with it, but she knew there was no way she was leaving this basement alive, “It’s okay.” 

Bradley clenched his jaw and pulled the gun from his waist band. He walked towards Natasha, kneeling down in front of her. He wrapped his arm around her body, and held the gun to her temple. Tears and snot were running down Natasha’s face, her lips muttering the “Our Father” Prayer with the rosary still in her hands. 

“Undo her cuffs?” Bradley asked. Jake didn’t say anything but silently walked up to Natasha and undid her handcuffs. She groaned in pain as her arms dropped, but Bradley gently guided them to rest on his shoulders, “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” She smiled weakly, “I know what I did. I knew what was going to happen in the end. I’m just sorry you have to be the one to do it.” 

Bradley nodded his head, cocked the gun, and closed his eyes. 

“I love you, Bradley.” 

Those were the last words he heard as he fired a shot into her brain, spraying blood and brain matter on the walls. He quickly dropped the gun, as Natasha’s body went limp in his arms. He wrapped both arms around her tightly, cradling the back of her head, not caring for the blood on his hands. Sobs left his mouth as he held her. Sure, Rooster had tortured men to death. Sent them out into a maze on their own to starve. But nothing was like this. Nothing would ever, be like this. 

Jake didn’t say anything as he turned on his heel and left the basement. His green eyes had grown a shade darker, and his heart had an extra layer of protection on it. He had promised himself as he walked up those stairs that he would never let another woman in. That he would never love another woman again. 

But how quickly that had turned to be a lie.

taglist: @els-marvelvsp @sarahsmi13s @topgun-imagines @cassiemitchell @xoxabs88xox @seitmai @a-reader-and-a-writer @bradleybeachbabe @kmc1989 @senawashere @beautifulandvoid @ohtobeleah @rogersbarnesxx @oatmealisweird @dempy @devil-angel-winchester @gillybear17

[tastethebloodofmeatthawsmoth]

Occasionally I'm reminded that Jacobin magazine exists. "When we talk about the American Revolution today, it’s difficult to look past the world that came out of it: a country with stubbornly persistent racism, widespread gun violence, rampant economic inequality, and deep political dysfunction. For those of us on the political left, it’s not easy to separate the insurrectionary project of Anglo-American colonists in the late eighteenth century from the injustices that plagued American society after the revolution, and those that have plagued it since."

... almost as if those things were directly related! (Also LOL at "insurrectionary project.") "Fifty-five of America’s most prominent men — the 'Founding Fathers' — convened a secret meeting in Philadelphia to illegally overthrow the existing constitutional order. Holton concludes that the Founders’ ultimate objective at the Constitutional Convention was to replace the relatively democratic political order created by the state constitutions with a federal government that was less susceptible to popular pressure, and more conscientious of its obligations to private creditors." This is a somewhat popular pseudo-conspiracy theory, but not actually true. The meeting may have been secret, but until ratification, it was only a proposal. It was ratified after extensive public debate and "was adopted by... a remarkably open and representative procedure." (Herbert J. Storing, What the Anti-Federalists Were For) "So the American Revolution was about a whole lot more than political independence from the British Empire — it was about building a fundamentally independent people. The popular base behind the revolution sought to create a nation of freeholding farmers who owned their own land, were self-sufficient, and were free from the arbitrary authority of others." This another popular fairy-tale, but the romantic ideal that the early settlers were virtuous stout yeomen committed to self-sufficiency is not actually true. "never a purely subsistence society, the New England colonies were thus from early in their histories & increasingly during the 17th century heavily involved in trade." - Jack P Greene, Pursuits of Happiness. More and more of the "popular base behind the revolution" was producing wheat, cattle, and horses for sale in coastal cities and the West Indies - to sustain plantation slavery - by the 1700s. And then we turn from the 3rd grade social studies report on the American Revolution to Jacobin's idea of democratic socialism, which looks suspiciously like capitalism, except we get to elect the people bossing us around: "Through changes like introducing profit-sharing, allowing workers to elect managers, and democratizing decisions around investment and production, we can transform the modern workplace from a focal point of collective misery to a site of equality and democracy. A mixed economy of worker co-ops and publicly owned enterprises would dramatically expand the number of Americans who own wealth — albeit collectively — while also breaking the arbitrary, unaccountable corporate authority that rules life at the workplace."

The bar is so low lol

[redheadgleek]

Books read July-September

July The Grace of Wild Things by Heather Fawcett. A completely enchanting Anne of Green Gables retelling. Utterly delightful and unique. Book Lovers by Emily Henry. My first book that I’ve read of hers and it set high standards for the rest of them. I loved the characters, I loved the romance, and it just made me feel all the feelings. The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea by Axie Oh (audio). A retelling of a Korean fairytale that I knew nothing about. I loved the voice actor (she sounded a lot like Christina Chong from Strange New Worlds). Under the Whispering Door by T.J. Klune (audio). Drove to Yellowstone and back and this was one of my listens. I think it was even better as an audiobook – the voices were great. Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin. I loved this book and I didn’t think I would, but it was written for my generation and dealt a lot with college and nostalgia and evolving friendships. A House with Good Bones by T. Kingfisher. I don’t like her horror as much as I like her fairy tales and fantasy. A Taste of Gold and Iron by Alexandra Rowland. A m/m romance set in a fictional Islamic-like world. The world building was fantastic, the magic building was disappointing, and the romance was sweet, if slow-building. The Celebrants by Steven Rowley. I almost gave up on this entirely after the first chapter, because it felt pretentious and dull and “look how adult we are because we are talking about using drugs”, but I kept reading because I liked the premise and by about half way through, I realized that i really liked the story and most of the characters. College nostalgia seems to be my thing right now, and this really captured that friendship – they just all needed less reliance on substances when having conversations. It made me want to do something similar with my friends.

August: Strange Planet by Nathan Pye. I really like his comics so this was a fun quick read from the library. In the Lives of Puppets by TJ Klune (audio). The book on the drive back from Yellowstone. I didn’t really like the voice actor, which is surprising because I loved his voices in The House in the Cerulean Sea. The rhythm of his voice was off-putting. Thunderhead by Neal Shusterman. Second book of the Arc of the Scythe series. A very solid second book. Nottingham: The True Story of Robyn Hood by Anna Burke. A gender swapped Robin Hood story – fast read and fun. The Emperor’s Soul by Brandon Sanderson. Friend recommendation. My first Brandon Sanderson read. This was a well developed little novella and an ending that surprised me and yet fit quite well. The Color of Money: Black Banks and the Racial Wealth Gap by Mehrsa Baradaran (audio). Truly depressing but important look at how systemic racism and blatant racism lead to the wealth gap. Anxious People by Fredrik Backman. Lovely book, with interwoven characters, and plenty of gray humor. The Moon by Night by Madeleine L’Engle. I had a hankering to reread this after my failed to launch summer romances. Definitely felt the age of this book (written in the 1960s) and the pacing is much different than I remembered, but still some sweet parts. Light from Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki. I don’t even know how to describe this book. Space opera meets Faust? Foster by Claire Keegan. So much atmosphere packed in this short story. Beach Read by Emily Henry. Not quite as good as Book Lovers, but a close second. They just never read on a beach… Carry: A Memoir of Survival on Stolen Land by Toni Jensen. Book club. This was unexpectedly powerful and the theme of gun violence through was subtle but important. People We Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry. This was definitely a “you are my story had I had done what I could not do” for me so it probably hit me a little differently than others. It worked well as a When Harry Meets Sally rewrite. Thornhedge by T. Kingfisher. A short Sleeping Beauty retelling of a sort. I adored Toadling. Meet the Austins by Madeleine L’Engle. Went back to read book 1 since I felt like I had missed things with the Moon at Night. I don’t know if I’ll read the whole series again. Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan. I keep expecting really terrible things to happen to her characters so I’m on edge when reading, but it’s never as bad as I fear.

September: Happy Place by Emily Henry. I was quite in my unhappy place by the end of this book and could grumble about it for hours. The Toll by Neal Shusterman. I can understand why there was some disappointment with the ending of the trilogy but I thought it was quite fitting and I loved the last chapter. Dinners with Ruth: A Memoir on the Power of Friendships by Nina Totenberg. Made me really miss Ruth Bater Ginsberg, but I also liked the focus on how friendships enrich adults lives (I’m liking this theme of friendship much better than the problems with mothers of the first half of the year). A Deadly Education, The Last Graduate, and The Golden Enclaves by Naomi Novik. Friend recommendation. I found the 1st person narrative to be claustrophobic as it was all stream of consciousness and the world-building a little too pretentious, but the story was still enjoyable. Mortal Follies by Alexis Hall. His books are always hit or miss for me and this one fell into more of the miss bucket – the mystery solved itself halfway through, the next quarter was my least favorite romance trope, and then it was off for another mystery.

Currently reading: Firekeeper’s Daughter (tried this one on audio and it was too much teenager angst, so reading it instead, Braiding Sweetgrass (audio), The Romance Rx (I’m so determined to find a good doctors in training story. I’m a quarter of the way through and can tell you that this won’t be it).

Friend recommendations still to go: The School for Good Mothers by Jessamine Chan, Kaikeyi by Vaishnavi Patel, Sweet Like Jasmine by Bonnie Gray, Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt.

[poemsbypel]

The Phantom (Fairy Tale Edition)

Penned by PEL, a friendly we're wolf. All illustrations by artists from Pixabay & artists whose works are in the public domain.

Image of a werewolf by Claire Francis from Pixabay.

The Phantom comes a-riding, a-riding, a-riding. The Phantom comes a-riding, through the mists of Time. The Phantom comes a-riding, a-riding, a-riding, Striding once again. He rides the Great White Horse and holds a steady course. He’s riding fast. He’s riding hard. He sings in Rhyme. He sings in Morse And holds the long awaited card, the Heart upon the Ace, As He gallops, gallops, gallops through our Time And kicks the dust up, through our Space.

He wears a Rainbow Coat, With a blue scarf, flying from His throat. But His eyes are soft with sorrow; He is coming from to-morrow. He is coming through the night. He is coming with the light. He is coming to reward us.

Image of a pegasus by Joan Greenman from Pixabay.

And as He flies on our Horse, He sings our words of Morse. He sings and sings and sings, upon our Magic Horse of Wings. And now we hear the sounds, the sounds of our Rhyme; And feel the magic, the magic of our Grace, Coming, coming through our Time, As He gallops, gallops, gallops through our Space. He sings to us softly. He sings to us gently. “Little dancers look up now. Watch the colours changing somehow. Hear our footsteps on the Space way And let our feelings open day to day, As the Blue begins to fade away. It’s all over now, Baby Blue. It’s all over now.”

Now the White Winged Horse comes to land And gives a graceful bow. We hear the Music, but where’s the band? Our fears begin to melt; Our hearts are soft; we wonder how. The colourful Rainbow Warrior smiles a greeting, Then takes a Magic Crystal, from His jewelled belt. He breaks His longtime silence and melts away the violence. For He knows the Knowledge, the Knowledge of the Walls And the Power, the Power of the Crystal Balls. With a wink from His eye, He takes the Crystal in His hand, Whispers a command and points it to the sand. The ground begins to murmur; to move to His bid. The earth begins to shake; the stones begin to rise. The sand begins to fly and before our very eyes, Stands the Vision of the Lost Pyramid; Much to our amazement and surprise.

He then removes the seal, from the old stone door And from the chain around His neck, takes the golden master key. The Pyramid is opened, revealing the treasures on the dusty stone floor. He lifts the silver lid from the chest, inside the ancient Pyramid And takes the magic boomerang, the flying wooden stick, Waiting so long for Him, to do His very special trick. He looks at you. He looks at me, But thinks of us and sings of us; And as One, we look at Him in awe. Then suddenly, there seems to be no point at all, To weapons or to war.

He brings to us, His gift of Tears. Tears of Shame; Tears of Knowledge; Tears of Laughter; Tears for the Past; Tears of Joy; Tears of Sorrow; And Tears - Tears for Tomorrow.

Now from His finger, our Longtime Fellow takes His Yin Yang Ring And with a sad sigh, spins it high into the air. It paints a picture in the sky; the colours falling on His hair. In a flash, we see the whole history of Love and War. We see each other, all passing through that same door. The passion, the love, the courage, the greed and the hate Moving joyfully, painfully and endlessly, through that same gate. Then we see the guns go silent, the metal melted down. A soldier appears and then begins to roam And in time, becomes a funny clown. The children laugh and laugh And we see, that he is pleased with this, His gentler and wiser path, which he, for himself has chosen. But sometimes the shadow of his former self, Will flash upon his inward eye And the children laughing, wonder why, Oh wonder why, their funny clown begins to cry.

And now the Phantom spins and turns, His coat of many colours flashes in the sunlight, But His eyes are soft with sorrow. He is coming from tomorrow. He is coming with the light. He is coming to reward us.

And He’s been here, many, many times before, Watching every single act, of love and war, But He couldn’t sing His words of Rhyme. He couldn’t sing his words of Morse. It wasn’t time. It just wasn’t time. That’s why He couldn’t sing,             He rode a silent horse, That’s why our weak, began to use some force.

And we thought He didn’t care, Oh how, we thought He didn’t care. We had looked for Him here And we had looked for Him there. Oh how, we had looked for Him everywhere, But we couldn’t find Him, anywhere at all. He lived in a jewelled cave, behind a rainbow waterfall.

Now as the picture fades, the Phantom catches His Yin Yang Ring And from our heart, wipes away the sting. He sings away the cold and melts away the ice. And from a box of gold, inside His rainbow coat, He takes the Magic Crystal Dice And calling, calling to the Heavens, Throws the Magic Seven Sevens. And while we watch the flashing crystals And hear His magic words of Rhyme, The White Horse looks at Him and nods, As He sings His message from the Gods.

A message full of Tears. A message full of Shame. A message full of Joy.

And how were we to know, that our God; Our God named Blue, Was just a little boy, Just a brilliant Hue. And all this time, we lived in fear, of a God, Whose only weapon, was just a little tear And whose only wish, was to watch us play, Upon our magic, swirling space ship; Flying like a rainbow fish, Through His twinkling, twirling, twilight, Sparkling, Space Dish.

And now the Phantom spins and turns, His coat of many colours flashes in the sunlight. But His eyes are soft with joy, He’s come to spread the Word. He’s come to take His Boy. The Age of Blue has come and gone; So magical and mystical and at times, so very hard. But from His rainbow coat, He takes the long awaited card, The Baton for the New Age; The Heart upon the Ace And with a knowing grin and a spring in His toes, He hands it to a smiling child, blessed with the name of Rose; A very Special Girl, full of Power, full of Grace.

And as She takes the ancient card, She looks at Him in mild surprise, With a twinkle in Her eyes. But She knows the Knowledge, the Knowledge of the Walls And the Power, the Power of the Crystal Balls. And now She, begins to spin and twirl And sing and dance without a care. So beautiful, this strange little Girl, Sending colours flying through the air; As She takes, in Her tiny little hands, The Whole Universe. She adds a touch of Pink And the Kiss of Many Lands. She sings Her little Verse, for our Spinning Universe. She dances to the Stars, giving their Hurrahs, Then drops the ancient card, inside Her little purse.

Suddenly, the face of the Phantom turns pure white, As He catches a flash, of falling pure starlight. He gives Rose a kiss and puts it in Her pocket. Then takes another rainbow crystal, from His jewelled locket And with it, writes the Word, upon our magic Boomerang. The Word, as He galloped through our Space, He forever sang. And with His eye upon the Hidden Planet, He hurls our ancient Boomerang through the air And it whistles far, far, far, far out into Space And far, far, far out into Time, To signal, that the Blessing has been cast.

And as we learn from our past, We watch Him raise a new flag, up our mast, With a Love so strong and vast, It will bring a Peace to last and last. And all the time we thought, He didn’t care To share His embrace; His Grace, With the Human Race.

Then with a wave, upon the happy Horse, the Phantom sits. He points His Magic Crystal, at the Pyramid And smiles, as the Wall of Silence splits. He gallops through the Wall and down the Halls of Time, Where the Ancient Books are stored, of Knowledge, Love and Rhyme. And as He rides through the Hidden Door, He kicks the dust up, from the ancient, stone floor, But He leaves no traces. He leaves no trail, Except for the one Word, written on the Boomerang, Which He now engraves, with a feather of fire, Next to the one Word, already written on the Grail.

And this is His Gift of Grace. This is His Present, to the Human Race. The Phantom’s prayer and the Word – “We’re.” The “We Are.” The first Word spoken, by Our Holy Father and Our Holy Mother together; To their Universe, to their Creations, to their Holy Children. We Are the Lord and the Lady. We’re your Divine Parents. You are our Christ Children, in whom We’re well pleased. We’re the Divine Family. The Divine Family is Us. We’re God. We Are the Divine Trinity: God the Father, God the Mother and Our Christ Children. As above, so below. We are the Father, the Mother and the children. Together we are the “We Are,” the “Our,” and the “Us”.

The Phantom’s Prayer: “Glory to be our Holy Father And to our Holy Mother And to our Holy Children. It was Us in the beginning. It is Us now And it shall be Us, forever and ever, In Shaa Allah, Hallelujah, Amen.”

Now the Phantom lifts the Holy Grail And His face turns ashen pale, As He drinks the long matured Wine: The Piscean Wine of Time; The Wine of Om; The Wine of Power; The Wine of Wisdom; The Wine of Love; The Wine of Worship; The Wine of Sorrow; And as He drinks away the Blue, He thinks of Us and sings Of Us, And looks towards tomorrow.

Then from His coat of Brightness, He takes a fresh, sweet Wine: The Aquarian Wine of Space; the Wine of We’re; The Wine of Truth; The Wine of Devotion; The Wine of Magic; The Wine of Brotherhood; The Wine of Happiness. And He pours it with His Prayer, into the Chalice. And smiles, as it glitters and bubbles and sparkles Away the fear, away the ignorance, away the malice. A beautiful scent of Rose, fills the Space And a glow of Indigo, shines upon His Face. Then He gently returns the Holy Grail, Alongside the coat of silver armour And the golden mace.

Crane, Walter (Royal Watercolour Society). Sweet, piercing sweet was the music of Pan's pipe. Lithograph.

And now the Rainbow Warrior, plays the Pipes of Pan, To awaken all the Gods. He plays the Pipes of Pan, for His lovely, Lady Vulcan. Then He sings His Special Song, so the future won’t go wrong. “When She dances, Her Colours rise and glow; When She sings, Her colours make the Rainbow And have you seen Her wrapped in Pink? Oh, She pushes Beauty, to the brink: So soft and delicate, Her Flower; So strong and timeless, Her Power And can you hear the Pipes of Pan-an Have you seen the Lady Vulcan?”

Then He listens, for Her answer. He listens for the Echo. He listens to the Sounds of Silence, While She, soothes away the violence. And from the far away, Rose Pink Planet, Where nothing, ever seems to go wrong, He hears Her Healing Song. He hears Her Healing Gong. “We’ll be Ours, Ours for a song And We’ll be waiting for Our braves, One and All, Inside Our Magic, Jewelled, Rainbow Caves, Behind our Ancient, Healing, Rainbow Waterfall.”

And with that: The Words “Ommmmmmm” “I’m” (I Am That I Am) “We’re’re’re’re’re’re’re” (We Are What We Are) Flash upon our mirrors; flash upon our Mind; Opening our Heart, to their Love, so kind And echo, echo, echo from the shining Spirit Stars And echo, echo to the sounding, of the Spirit’s Call And echo down our Holy Halls And echo through our Holy Walls And out across our Golden Sands And over our many different Lands, Blessing our confused and frightened, Continents of War and Peace.

Image of a floral ornament by DC Williams from Pixabay.

Image of a wizard by Jim Cooper from Pixabay.

Now heard by our patient, gentle Elephant, And in tune, with our regal Lion’s roar And healing, our struggling African Continent, Where the cries of hunger, fill the air, As if we didn’t care; And giving hope, to the frightened animal kingdoms, And the dwindling tribal freedoms. Then the Echo is cheered on by the Spirits, working with the Shamans, As it passes by, on its way, to the Mighty Oceans; Where it’s carried, by our own, desperate, darling Dolphins, As they add their own, special high note, As magical, as any wizard’s potions.

Then the Echo is whistled up with hope, by our playful Dolphins, To the mystical and magical land of Bali. An island in the sun, where the life they lead is holy; For the gentle people, with the Spirits, work and play, To create a wonder, of music, art and dance, day by day And where our forty singing monkeys, Add their special, gentle, grace and beauty Singing, to protect the Gods from the Demons And kept in harmony and balance, by their Shamans While dancing to the music, of the Geckos.

Image of a floral ornament by DC Williams from Pixabay.

Now, having gathered more magic and charm, Our Words, go gecko-ing and echoing on and on, Over our many islands; bringing their healing balm, To our wild, Land of Birds and Beauty. {New Guinea} Once a paradise for Colour and tribal people, Still living in the trust of Nature’s Bounty; Blessing their strife and blessing their spirit, While they’re fighting for their life; Their Land torn asunder.

Image of a castle by Jim Cooper from Pixabay.

Now our ancient and beautiful Birds-of-Paradise, Dressed in colours, so unusual and incredibly nice, Fly the echo, out to sea and drop it with a wish; Where it is joyfully caught and carried, by our flying, rainbow fish, To the Old Continent down under. {Australia} The Land of Desert, Spirit and Thunder, Where it flies and flashes, around our wonderful, Giant Red Rock; A holy and happy place, where the gentle people used to dream a lot And the healing home, of our Great White Roo; But now She spends a lot of time, asleep in Camelot, Because She, doesn’t have a lot to do.

Now after gathering more Healing, more Strength, more Power, The Echo is flown, over the Peaceful Ocean, by our laughing Guuguubarra/Kookaburra, To our beautiful, Southern Māori Home; {Aotearoa/New Zealand} Where we once thought, the giants used to roam And where Peace has found a pretty home. The Echo, having gathered more Hope, more Faith, more Light for our Soul, Is flown with Love, by our Southern Seabirds, to the sleepy South Pole And given to our pretty perfect Penguins, Who are always dressed, so formally and nice And carried with tenderness and care, Over our pure white, Continent of Ice.

Image of a floral ornament by DC Williams from Pixabay.

Our Words, now clean and pure, are given to our clever Albatross; The one the birds, like to call their boss And with courage in her eyes, She carries the Echo, towards our frightened, Continent of Fires. {South America} Through the smoke and tears, she flies, Where our tender, but frightened, loving trees Rustle a final warning, to our friendly, forest creatures Running from the scorching breeze. And the trees, crying in the smokey sun, Unable to run, finally give up, their longtime healing care And fall into hell, Simply because, they became something to sell. And now the ashes, of our trees Are blown and scattered, with the burning leaves And are no longer able, to clean and renew, Our cool and clear oxygen breeze.

Now our majestic and wise, White Eagle, takes the suffering Echo And flies it, over our melting, snow-capped mountains And through our dark, green jungles, Where our dwindling, forest trees, gather up the Echo once more, Then send it down, to the forest floor; Where our green eyed snake, lies and cries, Hidden from our Black Panther’s frightened eyes. Suddenly the Echo, bounces off our strange square pyramid, Gathering more Beauty, gathering more Peace, Amid the ghosts, where our gentle ancestors, used to roam And who loved the Forest and made it, their happy home.

Image of a floral ornament by DC Williams from Pixabay.

Now the Echo is given more Colour and Beauty, As it flies, with our painted Parrots, Over our amazing, canopy of trees. Then over the waters, carried by the breeze, Until it’s whipped up again, by the hot desert winds, {Mexico} Blowing away all our fearful and ignorant sins. And in harmony, with our wild bird calls, As it goes ricocheting, through our mighty, Grand Canyon walls; Where our Great White Buffalo, breathes His dying groan, Remembering the longtime days, of fun and freedom, When His tribe, used to play and roam. The Land of Freedom, Dreams and Guns; {United States of America} The land of caring, but fearful dads and mums, Where all the races live together, in peace and strife, Trying hard to find ways to accommodate, all walks of life.

The Echo is now tenderly picked up again, By our red and golden leaves and sent rustling and bustling, Through our beautiful, Canadian, Autumn Trees; Gathering more magic and momentum, as it dances Around and around, our ancient Poles of Totem: Until it’s whirled, by our Nature Spirits, out to sea, Where it’s taken up again, by our Great White Whale; Even though, He’s feeling a little sick, and looking rather pale. But He carries the Echo, to our Land of Frozen Water, Lit up by our Multi-Coloured Sky. And with His tail, He flips the Echo high, Where it’s caught, by the gentle paw, of our Great White Bear; Where She is now facing hunger, as the sea-ice is becoming rare.

Image of a floral ornament by DC Williams from Pixabay.

But She takes the Echo to the strange and magical, Magnetic White Pole, Where She breathes in Pain and breathes out Compassion, Simply just, to reduce our awful toll; Simply just, to purify our air. Now She places the Echo, inside a small white box And gives it carefully, to our little White Fox, Who carries it safely, over our carpet of snow; So clever and quiet, no one would ever know, Until He reaches, His own special place And with a look of cunning on His face, Gives the Echo, such a large throw, It goes rushing and sliding, down the snowy slopes: Striking the Viking, Fjords and Sounds, {Scandinavia} In harmony with the howl, of our Great White Hounds.

The demon, devil dogs, by Man, they were named, Because, to their freedom they clung, so unashamed. They refused the soft and unnatural, ways of Man. They ran with the Moon and remained untamed; Forever listening, to the Call of the Wild, from above, Their yellow eyes, reflecting the Colour of Her Love. But their long suffering, is now coming to an end, For now, we can only admire, their refusal to bend. Yes, we’re talking about, our Great White Wolf, So sensitive and wild; Mother Nature’s favourite child.

The Echo now feeling, forever wild and free Goes running with the wolves, through the frozen white trees; Blessing our cold and suffering, Country of Strength, {Russia} Where God was punished and pushed aside, In their supreme effort to make, a giant political stride. But the Echo with love, reaches out at arm’s length. And goes on forgiving our ignorant and fearful sins, Until it reaches the coast, where the North Sea begins.

Image of a leprechaun by Ed Smedley from Pixabay.

And now, with Her strange, laughing peal, The Echo is picked up again, by our beautiful White Seal And carried through the cold waves and winds, To our strange, green Land of Leprechauns: {Ireland} Where they made a silly mistake, When they kicked out, their harmless little snake; But they are as good as the rest, For Love and Peace has always been, The Little People’s questioning, artistic quest; And our suffering will soon be over, When they find their very special, four leaf clover.

Image of fairies by Rolanda from Pixabay.

Now the Echo, dances with the Fairies, down to the lovely, green Mull, {Scotland} Where it mingles, on the stony, white beach, With the very loud screech, of our Great White Gull; Who flies it, over the little Sea, to our colourful Highlands: The Land of Heather and the very strange lake; The home of our invisible Monster Snake.

Image of an elf by Willgard Krause from Pixabay.

Now the Words are echoed, by the peal of church bells, As they pass through, the broken Roman Wall And fly, through the Land of Pretty Gardens, {England} In harmony, with our Blackbird’s call: Giving off sparks, as they dance Around and around, our strange and ancient, Ring of Stones; Gathering more Power, gathering more Magic, From the unseen Fairies, Elves and Gnomes; Who send them, singing through the trees, With our little birds and bees And on, to our Terrific, Topsy-Turvy, Toy Town, {London} Where we love to train, our very funny clowns.

Image of a gnome by betidraws from Pixabay.

Now the Echo, stalling for a moment, Blesses the crowded, Market Halls and then goes, Rocking and Rolling, up to our Musical Roundhouse; Where the ghosts of Rock 'n’ Roll, Love to play, as quietly as a mouse. Then like a Rolling Stone, full of Music, The Echo rushes on; Then leaves the land above And goes rocking, through our grand, Underwater Tunnel, To the Land of Romantic Dance and Love; {France} If they Can Can, then we all Can Can.

Then up the Metal Tower, to gather a bit more Power, Before it flies, over the ploughed fields and through the multi-coloured trees; Blessing as it goes, our generous, wise old Donkeys, Who have worked so hard and so long for us, With very little thanks, but with very little fuss. Now the Echo is caught by the windmills, and blown Through our flat and tolerant, Land of Charm; {Holland} Which protects and means no harm, To our Ancient Herb of love and healing balm.

And don’t forget, if we love our plants, Then they will feed and heal and love us too. So let’s just enjoy, living in our Longtime Zoo. After all, everything we do, is just a little stepping stone, Towards our spirit lands here and through the Ozone. So while we’re here, why not enjoy, our Sky of Blues And create our dreams, in our Garden of Colours; Surrounded by our beautiful, White Trees of Birch, Inside our wonderful and holy Earth Church.

Crane, Walter (Royal Watercolour Society). Lohengrin or The Swan King. 1895. Pencil and coloured chalks, heightened with bodycolour.

The Echo, now feeling a little happier, Races on, with a happy and a loud ring, To our beautiful, fairy tale castle: {Germany} The dream of a mad king, Where Wagner wove his magic, music wands And entertained the king, riding his wooden, White Swans. Now, having gathered more Music and Beauty, The Echo is flown, by our humble little sparrow, through the gorges And the gaps, in our great, sunny White Alps, so narrow, {Switzerland} It gives the Echo more energy, more sound, As it goes sliding with the snow, down and down, Until it reaches our wistful, lover’s Watertown. {Venice}

The Echo now pauses to smile and dances, With the echo of the message, left by Saint Francis. So far ahead of his time, his memory, forever will shine: For Saint Francis understood, the true meaning of brotherhood. In Assisi, the Earth, the Moon, the Stars and the Sun, Along with the flowers, the trees, the birds, the animals and man, Were all made to feel at home: a family of One. A message so simple, and yet for us, still hard to really understand.

Now our brothers, the birds of Assisi, get very excited and busy, As they fly the Echo, over the lovely land of Italy: Through the church towns and past, the old leaning tower, Where it gathers more Joy, Wisdom and Power, To take it on, to the great Cathedral Dome. {Vatican City} The home, of our sad, hardworking Pope, Dishing out Love and Faith and Hope: And where we made Jesus, our Holy Boss. But we never really, brought Him down, From His torture and His Cross And His poor Mother in the sky, Hasn’t got a tear left to cry. And sad Mary Magdalene, who loved Him so very much, Is still waiting, for His gentle touch.

Now the Echo, with a leap over the little sea, Passes through, the Land of the ancient Olive Tree. {Greece} The Land, of the God’s old playground. Where they’ve been sleeping for so long, without a single sound, Because they lost their powers; Because the dream they had, was really only ours. Now blown by the waking God’s yawns, The Echo flies over the mysterious, Mediterranean Sea; Where the Gods, used us like pawns, Playing their wicked little tricks, on you and on me.

Now the Echo flies on, to bless the sunny, Happy lands of Portugal and Spain. Where everyone is so welcome, to holiday and play, But where our brave, little White Bull Still has to suffer unnecessary pain, just to entertain. Then the Echo flies on, to charm and calm our Holy City. Still not yet at peace, which for us, is such a pity. But as the Echo flies by, it blesses our Land of Clever Jews, With their very strange shoes and ancient views: “If they’re the chosen people, Then what about the rest of us?” Said the wise old Turtle. To the pretty worried Porpoise.

Image of a floral ornament by DC Williams from Pixabay.

The Echo, now takes a camel ride, with a desert nomadic tribe, Who for their own ancient reasons, still wander with the seasons: Moving and meditating in the stillness, underneath the desert stars, With their ever faithful camels, acting as their desert cars; Where the land moves like the ocean, making sandy waves And where the winds hollow out the mountains, making hermit caves. Then the Echo is tossed up gently, by the desert winds And blown through the many different and colourful Lands, Of Allah’s very special, sad and sorry children; Who love Him, so very, very much, But are frightened of Her, lovely Healing Touch.

Finally, the Echo reaches the beautiful, blue turquoise mosque, {Iran} Where it gathers more knowledge, more wisdom, more trust, Before it goes whirling on, through more desert Lands; {Afghanistan} Stirring up the dust and the ancient music bands. And as it echoes, through the wild Khyber Pass, It dances with the wind and the wild grass. Then the Echo, passes over Allah’s youngest Land, {Pakistan} Blessing the many mosques, all looking so simple, yet so grand. And after singing in harmony, with the Muslim’s morning prayer, The Echo now says goodbye, to the Lands of Islam and the clean, desert air.

Now the Echo is carried, by the common little pigeons, To the strange Land of love and fast and colourful religions. {India} The home of our pure white, Marble Dome, Where Her Love, loves to roam and roam And keep safe, our frightened Tiger’s home. And where the friendly, calm cow and the wicked wild monkeys, Can be found living with the people, within the crowded cities: And where many holy men have seen the light And have led their patient people, through the darkness of their fright. Now the Echo follows the flow, of the holy Ganges River, Blessing the crowds on the banks, praying to Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva, Until it reaches the warm Indian Ocean, Now feeling refreshed, by Her warm Love and undying Devotion.

But soon the Echo is picked up, by our very pretty Porpoise, Who just loves to have a purpose. So She sails it over the sea, with laughter and glee And then, sends it whizzing through the Lands, of the many beautiful, Golden Temples, {Myanmar} Bringing smiles and a splash of pink, to our lovely children’s dimples; The Lands, where the many Golden Buddhas serenely smile, mile after mile, {Thailand} Because they understand, that suffering and joy, Are just the opposite sides, of the same blessed toy, That God gave us, to help us see the Light: To help us live, our eternal, Spiritual Flight.

Image of Neptune by kalhh from Pixabay.

Now the Echo, tinged with a lovely, golden hue, Rushes on, blessing the busy rice fields and jungles, Down the Malaysian coast and out to the ocean blue; Where it’s carried by the waves and the winds, Until it’s quickly heard again, by our clever Dolphins; Who take it once more and send it, down to the ocean floor: Spreading the good news and cheering up the Blues, In our wonderful underwater world, of Colour, Light and Sound; Still as free as Neptune was, when He was first crowned.

Image of a floral ornament by DC Williams from Pixabay.

Then the Echo is suddenly flipped up, in the sunny breeze, And carried with ease, to our playful Islands, shining in the sun; {Polynesia} Where the gentle people, lived in peace and care free fun And never really questioned, that together we are one.

Image of Atlantis by HANSUAN FABREGAS from Pixabay.

Now the Words gather some very strange and beautiful vibrations, Very different, from all the other nations, As they echo over, our lost Continent of Crystal: {Atlantis} Giving up its secret message, both simple and mystical, And where our ancient people loved to play and have their say, Until they strangely faded away and we inherited their day. And as the Echo passes by, their ancient Gods give a wistful sigh, Blowing it across the Seven Seas and through the clouds in the sky; And to the fish, the birds, the animals and the trees, While the Land plays the band.

And the Words, echo echo on and on, from us to us to us, Not forgetting the flowers, with their special beauty and magical powers; And whispered from the trees, to our busy swarms of bees And heard by the ants, busy helping magic plants; And cheered on, by our weird and frightening insect life, Unable to understand, why the sickness they carry, Is the sickness of our strife. And echoed, by our dwindling free herds, still allowed to roam, Giving strength and even more beauty to this, Their very first Aquarian poem.

And our poem too, which has been dedicated to the millions of things, Of beauty, on this sad and joyful journey, we have missed; And for the things of beauty, which we still haven’t kissed: Which we hope we’ll surely pardon, In our weird and wonderful, spinning Space Garden: As we go whizzing and dancing, through our Space And singing and living in rhyme, through our Time, Pleasing each other and our devoted and delighted Divine Grace; Knowing always, that He and She and us are creating and caring, For our crazy and colourful, eccentric Earth race.

Image of a floral ornament by DC Williams from Pixabay.

Now the Echo says goodbye, to the Land beneath the sea And sounding crystal clear, goes dancing with our illusive butterflies, To the Islands, of the pretty, Cherry Blossom Trees: {Japan} Where it’s carried by the butterflies and breeze, Through the gardens of the golden, red and orange Maple leaves; Blessing the clever people, for their exquisite sense of beauty, So simple and pure and inspired from above. And then with laughter in their eyes, and a perfect sense of duty, They signal to the butterflies, to pass the Echo, to our peaceful White Dove.

Image of a Chinese dragon by Justin Martin from Pixabay.

Now the Bird of Peace, flies the Echo, across the waters, To the Land of rice fields and warm saffron hills; {China} Where so many, live and work together in peace, Struggling each day, just to pay their bills: And where our sleepy Magic Dragon, stirs in Her Longtime cave And gives Her long awaited smile, When She hears the Echo, coming over the waves. And as it passes by, She gives it a gentle puff, To speed it on its way; to bless Her ancient people, Who like Her, are wise and gentle, but also very tough. Then She chooses the dragon, who She thinks is the cleverest, To take the Echo, over the Great Wall and on to Mount Everest.

Now in the pure, thin air, the Echo dances around our Great White Peak, Where the ancient temples lie and where Truth and Wisdom, Can be sometimes seen, playing hide and seek. And did we know? Yak yak, yakity yakity, yak yak yak. There is a friendly, wild cow, Who lives in freedom, on the snowy slopes, of Nepal. She loves to play and roam and for her, life is just a ball. And yet, she loves to share her tasty milk, With the gentle people, dressed in silk, Who live with her, inside her happy home. She lives a life of health and ease And has never even heard of, mad-cow disease.

Now the Echo pauses, for it has but one regret; It has come at last, to bless our Holy Land, Tibet: Still waiting gently and patiently, for its freedom, While it shares with us, its truth and love and wisdom. So with a blessing, to our gentle Dalai Lama And a blessing, to Planet Earth’s longtime karma; The Echo passes by, the God’s prayer wheels and chimes, In harmony, with the cold waterfalls, splashing their eternal rhymes And then flies out, over our beautiful, magic healing rainbow And far far far far, out into Space And far far far, out into Time, To the Magical World Of Ooo And beyond.

Image of a floral ornament by DC Williams from Pixabay.

And this is our present. This is our amazing Grace. Ommmmmmm present. We’re’re’re’re’re’re’re present. For as we know; God is omnipresent And now we know; We are Omwe'represent. And together, we are one, Here and now: And with that, our Phantom, He takes a little bow.

And in a flash, He disappears; Leaving nothing, but our own tears. And now we can’t find Him, anywhere at all. He lives in our, Jewelled Rainbow Caves, Behind our ancient, healing rainbow waterfall, With His lovely Lady Vulcan, wrapped in pink; Both pushing Beauty, to the brink.

And now, as our stardust slowly settles, Upon our beautiful, pink rose petals; We could think, that maybe “We’re” the second coming, For at times God can be clever and quite cunning. And poor Jesus, could do with a very long rest, After all for two thousand years, He’s done His very best. Isn’t it about time, we got off our knees and took up the quest. And though we know, it’s hard to let go our favourite Son; Isn’t it something we must do, to show Him, His Love has won. And deep down we know really, that His work has been done; For we all suffered, to show us, we are but one.

Image of a witch by betidraws from Pixabay.

So now that we have the “We’re with all” We can let go our fears and sing: “We’re off to see our witches, Our wonderful witches of Ooo, Because, because, because, because Of the wonderful things we do.”

The Beginning.

Image of a floral ornament by DC Williams from Pixabay.

“Gee whizz, I really enjoyed that,” cried Blue, “But yipes! I think Om in big trouble.” “But We’re going to be just fine,” laughed Rose “Don’t worry - be happy, We’re going to really shine.” And holding hands, they skipped up the rainbow, singing “Here we go Indigo. Here we go Indigo.” And together, they were one. And together, they were Indigo.

And they disappeared, into the darkening, evening sky, With Father Sun setting pink and Mother Moon rising high; A family of Light, with the Baby Stars all aglow. They disappeared, into the colour of “We’re” - wise Indigo.

From us to us.

This little story was brought to us by, The tree, the bird and the animal spirits, With help from some human spirits, And inspiration from the Angel of Hope, the Angel of Rhyme And the Angel of Aquarius - the Angel of Us.

This story was first penned in 1996. 1996 = 1 + 9 + 9 + 6 = 25 = 2 + 5 = 7 All happy creatures are in Heaven, And even the unhappy ones will eventually get there; When they give up their doubt and let go their despair.

Image of a floral ornament by DC Williams from Pixabay.

[sweetkingdomstarlight-blog]

cherry wine

Pairings - Matt Murdock x Reader

Words - 2742

Warnings - there's some violence but its not overly graphic, some angst

A/N - This is for @awesomerextyphoon​ 27 Fairy Tales challenge, I chose to recreate the Grimm Brothers Rapunzel and although its not a direct re-telling I’d love it if you could see what I did. I have to give a huge thankyou to @thicccsimp​ for beta reading this and helping me reword some of it too, she’s an absolute angel. I’m actually really proud of this so I hope you enjoy it. As always my blog is 18+ so if you're a minor please shoo shoo.

“Baby I need it” she tells her husband as she applies her makeup, sweeping the highlighter across her cheekbones and pouting in the mirror at his tense face. Conceding, he creeps into his bosses office, looking in the usual place he sees a large bag of pills and sneaks a few into his pocket. He has been doing this several times a week for the past few weeks and thankfully no one has noticed or he’d surely be dead by now. Closing the drawer and making sure nothing is out of place he slips back into his apartment to hand the pills to his wife, getting a shock when he finds Fisk sitting on the sofa pointing his gun at the woman.

“It seems as though someone has been stealing from me, would you happen to know anything about that?” he asks the man, smirking at the expression on his face. “I know it's you, I have you on camera so don’t lie to me. I have a proposition for you. You can have whatever pills you want for free if you give me your first born when it arrives”. His wife screams no, she can’t give up a baby, Fisk points the gun at her “it's your choice” flicking the safety off and pointing it at the screaming woman.

************************************************

25 years you had spent in this apartment, only allowed to leave when you had your fathers henchmen with you. You had no friends, your father ran Hells Kitchen and there wasn't a single person who wasn't terrified of him. Most of your time was spent online shopping or trying to annoy the guards tasked with keeping you in. Your happiest moments however were when you blasted 80s music, completely losing yourself in the words of the greats like Queen, Bon Jovi, and Prince. You were on the 50th floor of The Sheffield, far away from the ears of others, free to dance around and sing obnoxiously loud and no one would complain. Well no one but the men stationed at your door, but annoying them was a petty indulgence you could never pass up.

A block away Matt Murdoch was patrolling the streets, dressed as his alter ego Daredevil, he was moving in the shadows trying to make his city a better place. He moved around the building tops, landing silently on top of The Sheffield, hearing the sounds of your voice travelling through the open window. You were so carefree, singing along to the Prince song, he could hear you moving around as if you were dancing. He came back every night for a week to hear you having fun, longing to get to know you better but there was always someone in need of help.

He continued to visit you night after night, deciding tonight he would make his move he’d scoped out the building earlier in the day and realised who it belonged to so he couldn’t just walk in and find you. He staked out the building from his perch across the street, trying to find a pattern he could use to his advantage, he was shocked when he realised that you only left once a week to go to the nail salon, closely guarded by Fisks henchmen. You were being held captive in the building.

He listened on top of your building again that night, the urge to talk to you getting too strong to ignore. He left you a little note that night attached to your window You have the voice of an angel, I'd love to get to know you better. If you want to get to know me too leave your window open for me tomorrow. MM.

The next night he arrived at the same time, his heart beating out his chest at the possibility of finally meeting you. He listened again, hearing only you, before swinging down and quietly landing on your window, he felt you grabbing his hand and pulling him inside before moving to your bedroom for some privacy.

You sit him down on your bed, looking puzzled at his red mask “So you’ve been spying on me then?” you teased, sitting next to him and crossing your legs. He chuckles and explains how he ended up on your roof, leaving out the part about Fisk being his number one enemy. You hand him a glass of water and ask if he wants to take his mask off, and get more comfortable, an offer he declines as he is still technically patrolling tonight.

You sit in front of him, cross legged and tell him your real name, Fisk called you Molly but that wasn’t your real name. When you were a child your nanny told you that Fisk named you after what your parents had stolen from him and that your real parents wanted you to be called y/n. You humoured Fisk but knew once you eventually got away you would erase everything that man had ever done for you.

You talked for an hour before he shot off out of your apartment and into the night, just a moment later your father came to wish you sweet dreams. You didn’t sleep that night, wondering what Matt was doing and if he was safe. You spent the next week glued to the local news, looking for anything about Daredevil but saw nothing. Wondering if you’d ever see him again you go for your weekly mani/pedi appointment, trying to subtly look for him without arousing suspicion of the men on either side of you.

You sit in the chair opposite your nail technician and make small talk as usual when a redhead sits down next to you and starts asking you for colour recommendations. She introduces herself as Karen and suggests a dark red colour from the wall, saying it looks good for an evening outfit, she has a date at 8pm tonight. You look at her confused for a moment before the penny drops and you nod your head slightly, you make small talk after that even sending one of your goons out for coffee for the two of you. You decline the offer of her number to repeat the day but let her know that you come here at the same time every week if she ever wanted to catch up again.

That night you leave your window open and dress in your best outfit to give yourself some confidence, he climbs in the window at exactly 8pm and you rush to hug him, taking him into your room again for more privacy. You both lay on the bed eating some snacks and drinking water when you lean in to kiss him, softly at first before he grips the back of your head and deepens it.

You lay like that for what feels like hours, kissing, touching and getting to know each other better before he tells you that he has to leave again. This time he tells you that he wants to come back tomorrow and not wait a week for you, asking you to leave your window open for him once more. You kiss him gently and watch as leaps out onto the fire escape and climbs up to the roof with ease.

That's how you find yourselves for the next two weeks, he would sneak into your room, you’d talk, touch and be intimate with each other before he would sneak back out just in time for your father to come and wish you a goodnight.

You have lunch with your father and you can’t stop smiling to yourself, noticing this he asks you what’s made you so happy but you shrug and say you saw something on Netflix earlier and you really enjoyed it. Seemingly accepting your answer he moves to sit beside you and nods at the chef who brings you your favourite dessert.

Laying down the tiramisu in front of you, you turn to your father and ask him what the occasion is. He just smiles and says he likes making you happy and he wishes you could have the whole world but you’re safer in here where his men can look out for you.

You agree with him telling him you love how protective he is and hope he stays safe out there too, “don’t worry about me my little Molly Moo, no one can hurt me not even Daredevil”. Your expression changes at the mention of his name and you look down taking a bite of your dessert so you don’t have to try to and speak, before excusing yourself telling him you have a book you want to finish before the end of the day.

You sit in your room trying to calm your breathing, he had never mentioned him before and it didn’t make sense for him to do so now. You had to get a message to Matt somehow and tell him to stay away for a few nights, you can’t email him or go to his work website, all of your technology is watched in case you get in touch with your parents. Deciding the best thing to do would be to run across town you slip on your converse and run a bath, turning your music up and locking the door from the outside before sneaking down the fire escape and into the city.

You’ve never actually been anywhere on your own before so the sensations are overwhelming, your heart is beating out of your chest as you hail a cab and tell him the address. You sit in the back of the car and try to control your breathing, a feeling of panic overwhelming you, you barely realise when the cab has stopped and the driver asks you if you’re getting out.

You run into the building and into a man who grabs your shoulders and asks you to breathe, he tells you his name is Foggy and you follow him to Matt's office, collapsing in his arms as he rushes to your side. “Y/N! Focus on my voice, what are you doing here? Does Fisk know you’re out of the apartment?” You shake your head and tears roll down your cheek, Karen appears with a glass of water and helps you take some deep breaths before taking you to the bathroom to freshen up.

You explain to Karen what happened and tell her you need to keep Matt away from your apartment for his own safety. Between you both you hatch a plan to keep him away using her and Foggy as a buffer before you run back to his office. Sitting on his desk you smile and run your fingers over his face “I like you better without the mask” he blushes and places his hands on your thighs telling you should get back to the apartment before someone realises you’re gone. You agree with him and kiss him softly before running out to the cab waiting for you, on the way home you come up with reasons for why you had to leave just in case you’ve been rumbled.

The cab pulls up around the corner from your apartment and you can’t see anything out of place, no one is pacing the sidewalk looking for you. You run up the fire escape again and climb through the window. Your father is sitting waiting for you on the sofa, holding the note Matt left on your window that night, he looks furious but talks calmly, smiling at you and asking where you’ve been. You lie easily telling him you thought you heard someone in trouble and couldn’t just ignore them, he sneers at you and tells you to sit down, you do as you're told the adrenaline rushing through your veins as you try to keep a distance from him.

“You know you’re just as shitty a liar as your parents were, I have cameras and men all over this building my darling Molly. Did you really think we didn’t know he was visiting you? The entire time he was here with you distracted we got to do whatever we wanted, I owe you a debt of gratitude my little princess”. A sick feeling creeps over you and you have to take deep breaths to calm yourself, deep down you’re pleased you told Matt to stay away. He would likely be ambushed and killed and you would never forgive yourself if that happened.

Fisk pulls his gun out and points it at you “since you’ve been such a good help to me, I won’t kill you today. You’ve got 5 minutes to get your stuff and get out, I’ll give you a day head start then I'm personally coming looking for you”. You jump up and grab a backpack stuffing what clothes you can into it along with your toothbrush and a stash of money you had managed to squirrel away over the years. You know you can’t see him anymore, it's too dangerous and he’ll get killed so you decide to get away from all of them but stay in plain sight.

Later that night Matt ignores his friends, telling them he has to check that you’re ok, he won’t be able to relax until he sees you and holds you in his arms. Sneaking into your room he can tell something is off, he can’t hear your heartbeat and can’t smell your perfume. Instead he smells an overpowering cologne “WHERE IS SHE?” he shouts, he knows its Fisk, this might be his one chance to take the man down.

He lunges forward to attack but doesn’t get more than a foot in front of him before four men attack him all at once. They’re relentless, and he's not quick enough to fight them all off, they  break bones and knock him unconscious. He wakes up in hospital, bandaged and stitched with Karen asleep in a chair next to him. He wakes her up and she jumps, pressing the button to alert the nurse, passing him a cup of water and telling him not to try talking. He was dumped outside his office with a note in his pocket telling him to stay away, you had been taken care of and next time they’d bury him beside you.

Three long weeks he spends recovering in hospital, he’s told under no circumstances is he to do anything too physical for at least another six weeks. He sits back on the roof of The Sheffield that night, listening for your voice wanting nothing more than to hear you sing about raspberry berets in your off key voice. He wants to smell what you’re cooking, but there's nothing, the apartment sits empty. He visits every night for a full year before he can accept it, using his anger to take Fisk down slowly, one man at a time until the job is done and Hells Kitchen can start to repair itself.

That first night you went to a women's shelter for help, they took you in and looked after you for two weeks before they needed the space and offered you a bed at Clinton Church, you stayed there out of trouble, helping Father Lantom with the upkeep and helping in the soup kitchen. You finally had a purpose, you were used to staying inside and Fisks people always stayed away from anywhere they would have to deal with ‘vagrants’. You were safe, you felt content.

A full year passed and Matt Murdoch walked through the doors, you watched him take a pew but kept your distance. He sat calmly not making a move, a tear rolled down his cheek and he turned to face you “tell me its you” he almost whispered, running over to you and holding your face in his hands, “why didn’t come to me? I would have looked after you”.

You both stood crying, holding each other, perfectly content to be in the others arms. He squeezed you and asked you to come home with him but you shook your head, you would never put him in danger ever again. He shakes his head at you and shushes you, telling you that he’s gone, you don’t have to hide anymore, taking you to your room to gather your things he thanks the Father for taking good care of you and takes you to see Karen and Foggy, starting your life over once again.

[legionofpotatoes]

we decided to watch all story cutscenes from the new resident evil village videogame on a whim, since it’s not really our cup of tea gameplay-wise but seems to be this massive zeitgeist moment that made us morbidly curious. And I know how much everyone cares about my thoughts on things I know very little about, so. let’s get into it huh gamers. and yeah spoilers?

for context, I’ve only played resident evil 4 and a small portion of 5. I also read the wikipedia entry for 7’s plot recently. all this to say I was only vaguely aware of how tonally wacky the series was going in

I also completely gave up following the plot of the mutagens’ soap opera, so that paid off in spades here as you might imagine

anyway so that baby in the intro. that baby’s head is just massive. humongous toddlerdome. when ethan finds the baby’s head in a jar later on. there is no way that head would fit into that jar. bad game design. no not even game design. basic stuff. one hundred years in prison for jar modeler

if I see a single functional hetero marriage in video games I will cry tears of joy. I understand their misery is kind of The Point irt them badly working through the hillbilly romp trauma but like. sheesh. at least set that up as an emotional story goal the plot will help resolve. but nope they start off miserable and it goes nowhere

I know I know the mia thing has a huge wrinkle in it but like. not really in terms of dramatic function?? set up a happy end to the re7 nightmare (miranda can keep up appearances for all she cares) and then take that all away from angry griffin mcelroy for manpain. it will still absolutely work to set up the dramatic forward momentum. why throw in this cliche Hollywood Tension in their marriage if you’re not going to address it oh maybe because it’s normalized as automatically interesting because nuclear families are a self-propagating pit of a very narrow chance at emotional happiness relying on social stigma to preserve their empty function oops my baggage slipped in yikes abort mission

I called him griffin mcelroy because I saw his face on twitter and. yeah. I will continue to do this occasionally. my house my rules

... fuck the reason I’m hung up on this is specifically because the rest of the game is so tonally dexterous (which is a shining point to me! more on that later!), and yet they felt weirdly compelled to create the aesthetic trapping of a family-at-odds trope without following it through too well. a sign of both the good and the bad stuff to come

but listen the real reason why I wanted to talk about any of this is to nitpick the fascinating backwards-engineered nucleus of the entire thing; in that this game essentially creates a melting pot of just SO many disparate horror tropes and then makes a no-holds-barred unhinged effort at weaving thick lore to piece them all together. it is truly a sight to behold. like straight up you got your backwoods fright night situation, your gothic castle vampires, your rural-industrial werewolves, and don’t forget your bloated swamp monsters over there, with then a hard left turn into robotic body horror, and the entire ass subgenre of Creepy Doll writ large, and the bloodborne tentacle monsters, and a hellboy angel bossfight, which rides on the coattails of a mech-on-mech pacific rim bonanza, and just jesus henry christ slow down

almost all of these are textural hijack jobs that don’t really get into the metaphor plain of any of those settings but the game sort-of makes an argument that the texture IS the point and revels in it. It is kind of admirable almost. The same reason why the intro felt boxed in and unmotivated is also why the rest of the game just blasts off of its hinges to the point of complete and self-indulgent tonal abandon. I kinda loved that about it. lady dimitrescu made sure to hold her hat down as she bent forward in mahogany doorways and then suddenly she’s a giant gore dragon and you settle in your temp role as dark souls man with Gun to take her ass down. Excellent??

this rhino rampage impulse to gobble up every horror aesthetic known to man comes to head when the game wrestles with its FPS trappings in what is the most hilarious solution in creating visceral player damage moments. Since most cinematics and the entire game is in first person, that leaves precious little real estate for the devs to work with if they really want to sell griffin’s physical crucible. To wit. This dude’s forearms. Specifically just the forearms. They are MASSACRED throughout the story. The poor man lives out the silent hill dimension of a hand model. by the end cutscene he looks like a neatly dressed desk clerk who had decided to stick both his grabbers into garbage disposal grinders just a few hours prior. like in addition to everything else it manages to rope in that tinge of slapstick violence into its general grievous genre collection except this time it IS for a lack of trying! truly incredible

but wait his miracle clawbacks from everything his poor paws go through are retroactively explained away, yes, but far too vaguely and far too late to console me as I sat and watched everyone’s favorite baby brother reattach an entirely severed hand to his wrist stump by just. placing it on there. and giving it a lil twist ‘n pop terminator-style. and then willing his fingers back into motion right in front of my bulging eyes. this game just does not care. it does not give a shit. and boy howdy will it work to make that into one of its strongest suits

cause generally speaking resident evil was THE premiere vanilla zombie content destinaysh for like a decade, right? and as the rest of the world and mainstream media started encroaching and bloodying its blue ocean it went and just exploded in every single conceivable horror trope direction like a smilodon on catnip. truly, genuinely fascinating franchise moves

yeah the big vampire milf is hot. other news; grass... green. although I do love the implication that her closet is just identical white dresses on a rack. cartoon network-level queen shit

apropos of nothing I’ve said there’s also this hobo dante-devimaycry-magneto man, and I can’t believe this sentence makes sense. anyway he made that “boulder-punching asshole” joke referring to chris redfield and it was probably the only easter egg that really landed for me and boy did it land hard. I have not seen him punch the boulder in re5, mind. I had only heard about how funny it is from friends. and here this dude was, probably in the same exact mindset as me, trying to grapple with that insane mental image. with you on that ian mckellen, loud and clear

I advocate vehemently against the shallow pursuit of hyper photorealism in art direction but I gotta admit it works really in favor of immersive horror like this. the european village shacks especially gave me super unchill flashbacks to my rural countryside retreat in western georgia. I could smell the linoleum dude. not cool

faces are weird in this game. can’t place it. nice textures, good animation, but the modeling template is... uuh strange? and the hair. it has that clustered-flat-clumpy look that harkens to something very specific and unpleasant but I just don’t know what. sue me

griffin’s mental aptitude to take all this shit in stride and end every seemingly traumatizing bossfight involving some fucking eldritch being yet unseen through mortal eyes by essentially throwing out an MCU quip is just. What the fuck dude? I mean that was funny how you casually yelled the f-word at a god damn werewolf that you considered a fairy tale an hour ago but are you like, all right?? it was swinging a sledgehammer the size of a bus at you, ethan

oh oh the vampires are afraid of cold and your last name is winters. I get it haha

Pro Gamer Nitpick: boss fights seemed a bit unnecessarily long?? idk why the youtuber we picked decided the ENTIRE propeller man fight counted towards the vital story scenes he was stitching together, but man mr big daddy lite there really had some get up and go huh??

why are they saying dimitrescu.. like that. is it really how you say that word or is the english language relapsing into its fetish for ending every single word with a consonant at all costs

I’m not saying it’s a dramatic miss of a twist in context of all that’s going on, but the “you died in the last game actually and have been DC’s clayface ever since” revelation is low-key. it’s. it’s just funny to me, I dont know what to say. century-old god-witch fails her evil plan after she mistakenly removes heart from what was definitely NOT just some white guy with eight fingers after all

chris realizing he’s about to become the player character and immediately swapping out his tsundere trenchcoat for the muscletight sex haver sweater

the little bluetooth speaker-sized pipe bomb he taped to his knife was nuclear?? really??? I must have missed something because that is just too good. I buy it though I totally buy it. chris just got them fun-sized nukes in his car trunk for, you guessed it, Situations

anyway this is all for now just wanted to briefly touch on how unexpectedly funny and tonally irreverent this seemingly serious game turned out to be. did not articulate any cathartic story beats whatsoever but my god it had fun connecting those plot points. he just fucking put his severed hand back on his stump and it Just Worked todd howard get in here

[gingyboo]

Mirror Mirror

A/N: Many thanks to @booglebug for being the boogiest bug and helping me with this, Happy Birthday x

Description- Soulmates existed. People knew that much. Soulmates were rare, a handful in each generation, an unexplainable phenomenon that formed a bond closer than blood and more sacred than marriage.

Bucky finds his soulmate when he needs her most. Little does he know how much she needs him too.

(Soulmate au that slots pretty much in to the MCU but with soulmates. Set after TFATWS.)

Pairing- Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings- Mentions of violence and guns, but its mostly fluff, drama and angst.

This is a multi chaptered fic.

Please like, comment, reblog!

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

Prologue

Soulmates existed. People knew that much, through stories and folk law. Young maidens running down to the river hoping to catch a glimpse of their true loves in its’ sparking reflection. Soulmates were rare, a handful in each generation, an unexplainable phenomenon that formed a bond closer than blood and more sacred than marriage.

A link is found between two souls, when they both gaze at their reflection at the same time they will instead see their other half. Nancy never expected to have a soulmate, as a young girl she’d fawned over the fairy tales of princesses finding their prince when looking down a wishing well or the knight who travelled with a mirror so he would never be parted from his true love even when locked in a tower. She laughed at the romantic comedies as the leads kept missing the others faces in the windows they passed. But it wasn’t to be for her, she had accepted hers was to be a semi normal life. She remembers it changing though.

The first time she saw him, not that she knew then what it meant or what was happening, nor would she dare say anything, people would think her crazy or an attention seeking child. She was 10, alone in her ballet studio, her tutor having not arrived yet. It was the week before Nancy would return to boarding school and her mother insisted she required as much tuition in the meantime. She spun around the room wistfully, sunlight streamed through the windows and danced off the mirrors, rainbows jumped off the chandelier and scattered around her feet as she sprung from foot-to-foot landing on each one. She laughed to herself, spinning faster making herself dizzy. Then she something caught her eye and simultaneously a deafening crash surrounded her. She saw him, only for a moment, the masked man in black with a shining sliver arm. His eyes piercing into hers, but only for a moment, he raised his gun, and she screamed, the gun sounded and then he was gone. She fled the room at top speed ballet slippers sliding on the polished floor. What she could get out in words to her mother was dismissed, an excuse not to attend the ballet class. She never brought it up again.

The years passed and so did the memory, so much so she thought perhaps it was only a dream, a trick of the light. She had a privileged upbringing, the daughter of a diplomat, she saw the world, attended balls and ceremonies, and endured the finest education. There wasn’t time to ponder the man from the mirror, and so she forgot.

[starker-fluff]

Peter Pan #1

Mafia au.

TW: Kidnapping, Murder, Mentions, aftermath and some small displays of abuse, Violence, blood

And thus we begin the tale of the Peter Pan dubbed Spiderman.

(Peter Pan are people in the mafia who’s job it is to distract the kids whilst other deal with business)

——//——//——

A heavy metal for creaked open, scratching the floor as it opened. Pan squinted shielding his eyes as the bright light filtered into the room. The floor was concrete and the only padding he had was a dusty old blanket in the corner. This was is box, barren and cold. He never wanted to be here.

“Stop sulking. You’ve got a job to do.” A rusty male voice broke through the blinding light, his silhouette filling the door way. The shadow can forward pulling Pan forward onto his knees by a chain wrapped around his wrists and secured with a padlock. He said nothing just slowly got to his feet and followed the man through the badly lit halls. Outside of similar metal door the padlock was unlocked and his chains removed but a bag was slipped over his head. A large hand clamped around his wrists as the familiar scrapping of metal against concrete sounded as he was dragged by the arm.

He had never seen what was on the other side of this door. All he knew was that there was a van and people. There was quiet chatter about the lay out of the house and whispers that were obviously directed to him.

“The target is upstairs, daughter is downstairs.”

“Wife?”

“No woman could stand that guy..”

“One did, enough to have a kid with ‘im.”

“Ey look, it’s the pan boy.”

“There’s nothin’ I wouldn’t do to get my hands on a piece of meat like that..”

“I bet he goes a pretty shade of purple.”

“Boys. Focus. There is a skylight entrance. Come in through there to collect the prize.”

Pan couldn’t hear anymore before he thrown into the back of the van. Groaning as he scuffled onto his hands and knees before finding his way to one corner where he tugged his knees up to his chest to make himself as unnoticeable as possible. He learnt early to never try and escape or to try and take off the bag over his head.

“Alright. Front. Point. Centre. Back. Skylight. Understand? Let’s go.” He heard as the van dipped slightly as heavy footsteps filled the van. The crew was filtering into the van and soon it fell into silence as the engine roared to life. Soon Pan would have to do his job. A job he hated so much that he wish he never existed.

“If you do your job well tonight maybe I could let you out of your room for a night. I’m sure the boys would value your attention.” A sickening voice commented as a hand ran over his head, making Pan curled further into himself. He preferred the box.

——//——//——

The van finally came to a stop and the bag was ripped off his head. He watched as the group around him readied their guns and pulled on their masks.

“Brumlow, take Pan to the room. Once the target as been engaged go for the prize.” The leader ordered and soon Pan has been grabbed by the hair and was being dragged out of the van.

As his feet hit the pavement, he instinctively glanced up and had a wave of déjà vu wash over him. He had been here before but he just couldn’t place it.

“Ow!” Pan screeched our as he was tugged roughly by the hair.

“What did we say about speaking?!” A hand wrapped around his throat, threatening to crush his windpipe. When Pan didn’t respond Brumalow just smirked and grabbed his hair once again to drag him through the house and to a door with cute little drawings of horses and fairies. Pan made sure to look at all possible exits, he would never try to run but it was just a habit now.

“Keep the kid distracted. I’ll be back.” Brumalow said before opening the door and shoving Pan inside. Yet another wave of déjà vu washed over the boy as he was met with the child’s room. The bed on the left wall, drawings covering the walls and a desk tucked into the right far corner with a closet along the front wall.

Pan saw the glint of a sliver frame that sent his heart spiking. His feet moved without his permission and before he knew it he had crossed the room and was holding this framed picture of a black haired man with a young man on his back. It.. it looks..

“It looks like me...” Pan breathed in absolute disbelief. How did this kid have a picture of him and this oddly familiar stranger?

“Are you really here?” A gentle sleepy voice sounded from the other side of the room. Pan turned around and saw this black hair girl sitting up in her bed with hopeful eyes.

“Yeah.. I am.. Why do you have a picture of me?” Pan said shakily, afraid of the answer. The girl beamed happily and bounced out of bed, within a flash her arms were around Pan’s waist and hugging him tight.

“That’s you and Daddy, silly. Do you not remember? Daddy said you might not remember. That’s why we made an album to help you remember. We should go tell Daddy that you are back!” The girl had let go and was heading for the door just as a gun shot went off. Then another and another. There was crashing and banging. Everything started to click into place, it wasn’t déjà vu. It was his subconscious remembering his home. He had to protect this girl.

“Quickly under the desk. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise. I’m here to protect you.” He cooed to the scared girl. She followed his directions as Pan situated himself between the door and his.. the girl.

The crashing and banging continued. Screams and yells sounded from upstairs but the door handle never turned. Pan brain went into overdrive trying his best to connect the dots. The sounds of footsteps on the roof above triggered something in his mind that gave Pan the whole picture.

Home. Target. Girl. Prize. Skylight. Brumalow. “I’ll be back”. Protect.

The sounds of a skylight window creaking open brought Pan out of his head. The boy grabbed the chair behind him, pulling it towards him and launching it up at the skylight just as Brumalow jumped through the open window.

“Fuck. What the hell Pan?!.” Brumalow grunted as he fell onto the floor, clutching at his side.

“Not my name.” He spoke without missing a beat. Brumalow’s eyes widen almost in fear. He slowly moved to grab the walker talkie.

“Pan’s gone Spider.” Brumalow said lowly and the the shooting ceased.

“PETER.”

That voice from upstairs flipped something in his mind. It was familiar and sent a spiral of emotions cascading into his mind. It was him. Pan was Peter. He was Peter. Pan isn’t him.

The shooting continued and Peter launched himself at Brumalow, tackling him to the ground and landing a punch to his face as Morgan screamed and sobbed in fear from underneath the desk.

“Fucking. Bastard!!” Brumalow overpowered him eventually. Tossing him off and pulling out a handgun that he quickly trained on the girl with a hand extended to Peter who was seething with anger. Brumalow pulled out a handgun and fired one shot at Peter, shitting him in the side.

“One more step and she di-“ Brumalow threatened but his voice stopped as Peter took a step forward. He pulled the trigger but nothing came out.

“Someone didn’t reload..” He lunged at the man once again. Pulling a knife from the sheath on Brumalow’s leg and pinning the man to the ground.

“Close your eyes and cover your ears, darling.” He spoke the to whimpering girl before he plunged the knife repeatedly into the disgusting man’s chest. Once Brumalow stopped moving, Peter shakily stood up and dropped the knife by his foot. He grabbed a sheet off the girl’s bed and covered the filth’s body before he collapsed with his back up against the desk.

“This is my home isn’t it?” He asked as he gently putting his hand near hers. She nodded and took his hand whilst crawling out from under the desk. Sitting herself in his lap and crying. He gently rubbed he back whilst cradelling her as the fight raged on overhead.

Suddenly it was quiet and there was a slow thump going down the stairs, whoever it was didn’t want to come down. They seemed hesitant. Now that everyhting seemed to slow down a unbearable pain radiated from his side. Glancing down he saw his shirt drenched in blood as it began to deep into the carpet beneath him.

“Help..” He called putting weakly, feeling light headed. Suddenly the foot steps quickened and the door flew open. It was the man from the picture.

“I’m Peter.” All he could do was start sobbing as he felt an overwhelming wave of love and safety crash into his head. The man in the door way joined his sobbing as he made his way over to the two, kneeling down beside them and pulling them into a hug.

“I’ve got you baby. We’ve got you. I’ll never let you go again.” The man whispered softly whilst stroking Peter’s hair, kissing his forehead. Peter felt his chest fill with warm and happiness as he was cradelled.

“D-Daddy. Papa was shot..” The young girl whimpered, trying to be helpful.

“What?!” The man leant back, glancing over Peter before his eyes settled on his side.

“Fuck fuck fuck. No. No. I just got you back. Hunny, go push the emergency button!” Before the man had even finished the little girl was on her feet and running out the door. The raven haired man pulled Peter into his lap, putting pressure on his side as the young man blinked lazily.

“Your name is Tony. I have a husban-.” Peter blinked out, head lolling to the side onto Tony’s chest as the pain became unbearable.

@starkly @itfeelssogoodmrstark

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Hi Evoe, can I ask for you to write this MCxVinca fic? The request is where mc made deal with demons by giving up ability to feel touch to obtain darkness and light powers so she can keep up with Vinca and her friends. However, demon magic corrupt mc’s soul. Mc went dark and betray her lover by using Vinca’s knife to kill her so she can become Pride and take her mind reading power. Mc made it looks like it’s from Vuzgamad’s ambush and claimed that Vinca made her a successor before her death

Written by: @evoedbd

PART 3

Warnings for

Bad Language

Violence

Blood and Gore

Death

Part One, Part Two

+++++++++++++++++++++

MEMENTO MORI

“Yvette is going to be devastated when you’re gone, Vinca. It only makes sense that Rae steps up, tries to comfort her best friend. It will be glorious, a love story for the ages. Born of tragedy, the dead best friend’s fiancée becoming the love of our heroine’s life. Of course, they will try to deny the feelings… Afterall, I killed you right in front of our new little Pride, she couldn’t save you, couldn’t save anyone. Rae is going to be so tragically broken… but her feelings will just be too strong for her to deny. Of course, this’ll only be once Yvette is nearly driven insane by her own longing for just ONE normal thing in her fucked up little life. Just like a fairy-tale, Yvette won’t be able to hurt Rae… not after Rae was able to “kill” me, to find a loophole in Yvette’s curse. Perhaps she’ll expose that with a kiss, on the anniversary of your death, over your grave. As if you blessed it from the beyond. Extra incentive to leave your little twin behind.” Vuzgamad’s taunting voice was enough to have Vinca hissing between blows. The demon was so sure, so confident as she lounged in a stolen body, across a dingy chair as if it were the unholy throne of hell. Honestly, who the fuck did this bitch think she was? Vinca would have snapped back, have retaliated, if Rae’s punch hadn’t come so close to connecting, only diverted by her sloppier form. The puppeteer too inexperienced, or the mind not committed.  That didn’t render her completely ineffective, not when the shadows played on the edge of Vinca’s vision one moment, and the next she was blinded.  She should have been blinded, only the fact Rae was fighting with everything left of her prevented that power unleashing, prevented her from completely devouring the current Pride assassin.

“Come on Rae, SNAP OUT OF IT.” Vinca pleaded between gasps, between punches and kicks.  Rae advanced viciously, pushing into Vinca’s guard, bringing them to collision after collision.  The safest way to give Vinca victory, but also the most costly.  Rae was good, too good, stronger in hand to hand than Vinca.  It was only Vinca’s blades that granted her leverage, but she didn’t want to use them.  How could she?   Every time she did, it was another slash across Rae’s flesh.  A cut designed to hurt without maiming or slaying, but Rae just kept pushing.  A terminator. The worst foe Vinca could ever face.  Her heart constricted in her chest, costing her precious time, lowering her guard a second too long.  She ducked the next kick, staggered, fell to a knee.  Before Rae’s foot even met the ground, she had raised her second in a brutal kick to Vinca’s chest.  Had she been human, Vinca knew that kick would have done more than sent her flying, arms flailing, knees bent awkwardly.   There was no time to stop, no time to make the answering blow softer.  One foot up, a kick from the ground straight into Rae’s groin.  She wasn’t a man, but society as a whole always underestimated how painful a kick to the vag truly was.  Sure, women were designed to push watermelons out of holes the size of a lemon but come on.   Predictably, Rae locked up with a pained grunt, leaving Vinca free to roll free of the conflict.

“Oh Pride, you sho- NO.  Vinc, RUN.  Please!  I c-can’t…” Rae’s entire body was at conflict.  Her voice changed, tone shifting from malicious to pleading.  The tears gathered within her dark eyes were not solely due to Vinca’s brutal kick, nor purely heartache.  It was the blood of war, blood from a battlefield within her mind spilling through the cracks of a human body. Rae strained; body perfectly exposed. Hesitation.  Rebellion.  A dare within her eyes.  A plea. The perfect opportunity.  One Vinca HAD to take.  A blade, a flick of the wrist, a bullseye waiting to happen.  Until the answering flash of light swallowed the darkness of Rae’s eyes.   It burned, a thousand fingers pulling at the fibre of Vinca’s muscles, the molecules in her bones.   She screamed, rolled across the cool concrete floor as her soul burned, melted along with the metal of her blade.  Said blade fell harmlessly to the concrete floor, bending as softened metal met the hard surface.  Severed from Vinca’s soul.  Another fragment lost.

“Like… Hell… Am I… leaving you.” Vinca gasped out, chipped nails biting into the concrete as she pulled herself to her knees.   Her once bedazzled eyes were now surrounded by smudged makeup, running eyeliner on trickles of blood.  Blush complimented by gravel rash.  Scraped, reduced to bared teeth in threat.

“There’s still a little bit of me left? Oh, I sound so convincing, don’t I? Nobody will see this coming, never in a million years. There’s nothing left, you stupi-”

Vinca reached, plunging herself back into the muck that greeted her when she reached for Rae’s mind. She was in a canyon, looking up at the two sides, unable to decipher which side of the chasm she should scale, only that the muck was pulling her down. A quagmire. Stuck. Trapped. But one side was crumbling, falling into the chasm, building it and filling it. It was too much, it was going to crush her if she didn’t run, didn’t get out. GET OUT! Get out, get out, get out! But she couldn’t. It was all too much. Too hard. So much pressure. Crushing and consuming. She was going to die. She was going to drown in this nothingness. She stared at two glaciers, but one was crumbling, sheets of ice falling away into the blackest ocean, which continued to rise, continued to consume. Which should she reach for? What did this even mean? Why? Why was Rae’s mind suddenly so different? At the bottom, a glint of iron caught her eye. Bars of a vicious cage ensnaring a lone form. A figure drowning, clawing at the bars weakly as the ability to fight drained away.   Vinca was desperate, screaming in a thousand voices, a thousand tongues across conceivable time as she dug.  She dug, hands scooping as she dove into the water, tried to dig deeper into the mud.  It was so thick, so heavy in her hands, yet slid as freely as water.  Like a dog, she dug, arms blurring as she screamed. A handful thrown aside, two more replaced it.  It was futile.  Like fighting the rising sun with nothing but a Pinto and a lasso.  Still, Vinca had to try.  She drove the spurs to the steed. She drunk, trying to swallow the mud, digging the water.  Absorb it, take it in, anything!  Anything to save Rae.

A punch to the breast broke her from the musings, earning an enraged shriek mere moments before she responded in kind.  Rae squeaked in a similar manner, horror flashing across her face, followed by a flush to her cheeks.  Typical of her, to blush like a schoolgirl the moment breasts were involved.  Still, she pushed, using her powerful legs to kick through Vinca’s guard, expensive canvas shoes thankfully taking the brunt of Vinca’s slashes.  The harder Rae attacked, the further onto the backfoot Vinca was forced.  A punch to the face, a slash to the bicep, a death of a thousand cuts.  One cut had two souls bleeding, each worth a thousand words that Pride could never express.   A kick to the ribs, a slash across the thigh.  Please don’t make me do this.  A knee deflected by a hard forearm, followed by a blow to the chin.   Please run.  A backhand across Rae’s face.  Two people flinching.  I’m not leaving you.

“You can try all you want, Vinca, but you can’t stop her unless you kill her… then, there are all these demons.” Vuzgamad pointed out, lifting a little from her makeshift throne.  The demons encircling them hissed and snarled, making themselves known as Vinca drew too close to the edge of their temporary arena. They kept her trapped, pushing her back into Rae’s range time and time again, but never once harming her.  Never causing her to stagger.  It was either a leering blade waved dangerously close, or knuckles cracking beneath wicked bracers.   A few even simply cocked guns at her, each grinning wickedly as she stepped back into the arena.  Back to fighting her heart. It was all a game. A FUCKING game.  That bubbled in her veins, leading her next blow to land a little too hard across Rae’s chest.

“You know, this was all Rae’s idea.  I admit, I never would have put so much effort into ensuring an entire gangs worth of demons prevented you leaving.  A stroke of genius, but that’s to be expected.  Rae truly thought long and hard on how to pick you apart over our time together.   It seems she truly does know you better than anybody alive, as you’ve said.  Even Onyx, bless the girl, couldn’t endure the darkness.  But Rae?  It’s a pity such a virtue has you as her vice… right to the bitter end.” Vuzgamad continued, pausing to snicker at Vinca’s cry of outrage.  A slash across a demon’s throat.  It fell, offering no resistance.  The sound of a gunshot.  A crumpled host.  Two more demons stepping up, pushing Vinca back with seething hatred beneath their almost gentle movement.  

“Do you honestly think you’re doing anything but delaying the inevitable? By hurting Rae, you’re only making it harder for her to fight.” Vuzgamad’s laughter followed another punch to Rae’s nose, one punctuated by a sickly crack. Vinca cringed, leaping backwards as Rae staggered. With a heavy heart she took aim. A flick of her wrist had a blade buried in Rae’s nerves, immobilising the Chinese woman. Before Vinca could even draw a second knife, Rae’s eyes were upon her, the room suddenly darkened, filling her with a chill that ate at her very bones. It was not simply darkness, but the complete absence of light. All save two terrifying eyes. Eyes which seemed to burn, just like the blade in her hand. Just like the blade hidden within Rae’s flesh. Those powers… something so simple yet versatile in Rae’s hands. Something eating at her humanity. The blade was too hot, burning Vinca’s flesh. She screamed, letting the blade fall to the concrete mere moments before her knees did.

The demons around them hissed and snarled, triumph radiating from the hideous visages. Each and every monster was strong and rested, just waiting to pick at the remains. Numerous, beyond what Vinca could see.  Beyond what she could read whilst ducking and weaving.  Whilst struggling to figure a way out.   She couldn’t fight them all, nor could she leave Rae behind.  She couldn’t… couldn’t kill Rae.  No matter what, no matter how pressured, she simply couldn’t.

“Accept it, Vinca Wren.  One of you is not leaving here alive.  Its either you, or her.”

“N- Vinc you have t…” Rae growled, her own hands raised to her eyes, nails biting into her brow as she pressed her palms into her eyesockets.  She trembled; a torn flag trapped within a hurricane.  A grain of sand upon a landslide, an earthquake.  Helpless to it all, no matter how hard she fought.

Vuzgamad was right.

Even if she could beat some sense into Rae, supress what was eroding her, they’d never manage to fight out of this. Sure, the others might find them… but what if they didn’t? Vinca already knew, no matter what, that one of them would be too battered to escape.  There it was, laid out so fricken clearly, the trap she’d ensnared herself in.  Vinca cussed, tears bitterly trailing down her cheeks.  She was only twenty-three.  She didn’t want to die.  Not here, not like this.  An animal in a cage.  She screamed, wordlessly, furiously.  This was so fucking unfair.  She’d given EVERYTHING she had to give.  Her soul.  Her humanity.  Her heart.  She’d given everything save the breath in her lungs and it was STILL not enough.  What more could be taken from her?  Why did fate demand such a thing?  Vinca had no doubt Vuzgamad would kill Rae if Vinca herself escaped. Rae was only useful as a tool. For the hearts bound to her… underestimated. As always. Everyone fucking underestimated Rae, right up until she kicked their ass.  Fuck.  Everyone fucking shat on Rae too, like the most popular latrine in a garrison of soldiers with gastro.   So many people passed her up, never bothering to look into those soulful dark eyes, to question what lingered behind them.  They underestimated her tenacity.  Her intelligence.  Her humanity.

Gods, Vinca fucking loved her. It wasn’t just the little underdog scrambling to every victory that was endearing. It was the gentleness in her eyes. How she trusted her heart so fearlessly. How she continued to sacrifice and fight, even when she was almost broken. Even against the erosion to her humanity. She fought. Even when it was hopeless, she fought, and not even for herself. Rae was throwing herself to the metaphoric wolves, willing to die to protect what she loved.  Vinca knew Rae understood their situation.  She was too smart not to know the moment they walked in.  The moment the teeth snapped shut.  Rae had tried to shove her own foot into that trap, tried to take the fall, to let herself be slain to spare Vinca an ounce of pain.

It couldn’t be Rae.  Vinca realised after one more glance at Rae’s strained features.   How her hand trembled, muscles strained as if held taught by ropes from a thousand directions.  How desperate she was not to grasp Vinca’s fallen blade.   She was so damn beautiful.  Dark eyes flashing with her own fury, clarity for brief flashes, lightning of a storm.  Lips cut, bleeding with every grimace, soaking her chin.  Why?  Rae was a virtue in all but power.  She was love, she was generosity and kindness and patience.  She was EVERYTHING Vinca was not, the counteracting part to a whole that never had truly had the chance to bloom.  The whole Vinca would have given more than herself to see recognised.   This… this was her heart, already torn from her chest, stolen by the cruellest of fates… but at least she had been given the chance to have a taste of paradise.  If only she’d recognised that sooner, instead of fighting herself.

Vinca sighed, slowly rising to her feet.  Determination burning through her veins.  Once chance.  One single chance was all she needed.  A way to break through, to give everything she had left.  The ring hiding in her pocket, a led feather.  It’d always felt so heavy, despite being so light.  Now, it was the wind beneath her broken wings, the only thing preventing her freefalling, plummeting to the earth like the lone tear gathering in her eye.  She watched, saw Rae grab her fallen knife. Stared over the precipice. She was not brave enough to watch, to see that moment unfold.  She had to close her eyes, to let that silly little tear fall as she plunged herself into the murky darkness surrounding Rae’s heart.

If there had to be a sacrifice, so be it.

It would not be Rae.

It would NEVER be Rae.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Serial Killers

The day of mobilization was unseasonably warm and bright. All the members of the execution department that were chosen to participate in the effort and passed the training gathered before a massive private jet off campus. It wasn’t just any jet. It was a jumbo ‘Beluga’ style aircraft, the type of plane that could house a plane inside its massive cargo hold.

It was an impressive sight but also a comical one, with its portly silhouette undercutting the awe of its humongous size. It looked like a plane that needed to go on a diet.

Grant Baldwin of the Executive Department stood in front of the line of students and read out rollcall. Every student shouted present when their name was called. 

Brian’s heart quivered inside his chest as he came to the realization that this was it. There was no going back. He had made his decision to give his all to the mission. He’d said goodbye to Ru’Yi, he’d let go of his fascination with her father. When his name was called, he shouted out strong, “Present!”

The rollcall continued and he let out a breath. He hoped Ru’Yi wouldn’t cry if he never came back. It would be hard. A mission like this didn’t usually get follow up to next of kin. Childhood friends had no chance. He said a silent prayer to himself that she would be able to move on even without knowing what happened.

“Chu Meixiu!”

“Present!”

Brian’s eyes went wide and stayed that way. His gaze shifted without moving his head to the short female figure standing at the end of the row.

“We’ll be referring to this project as ‘Project Skyfall’ from now on. Grab your bags and line up orderly to board. We leave now.” Baldwin tucked the clipboard under his arm and walked away, avoiding Brian’s angry glare.

What was she doing here? Why was she here? Didn’t he say she wasn’t recruited? 

As they lined up, on the tall stairwell, Brian tried to turn to look but Ru’Yi was hidden in the back. There had to be some mistake. They said that they didn’t clear her for this mission. They changed their minds? Were they crazy? She wasn’t at any of the training!

At the top of the stairs, Brian looked for Mr. Baldwin but he was standing in the cockpit talking to the pilot. Brian stared at him, trying to catch his attention, but was pushed from behind and urged to move by an impatient student.

The plane was massive but the cargo area took up most of the room. The passenger area was just like any other plane with rows of seats next to windows. Brian took his assigned seat and watched as Ru’Yi walked into the plane wearing the Executive Department uniform. It fit her well, her tie perfectly set about her neck like she’d been doing this for years.

As soon as she saw him, guilt and embarrassment filled her face. Brian knew how hard he was glaring. What in the hell was she thinking? She had no idea what she was getting into!

Another student in dark glasses sat next to him. “Dude, chill.” He said after one look, blowing a bubble of gum.

“What do you mean chill?” He hissed back. “She’s not supposed to be here!”

He turned to him and pulled down his dark glasses revealing a mocking brown eyed gaze. “Listen to you talk. She’s S-ranked. If anyone’s supposed to be here, it’s her.”

Brian pressed his lips together firmly unable to argue with that. He turned and stared at the back of the seat.

“She’s got you all shook up. I never thought I’d see the day.” He chuckled.

“This isn’t a joke. She’s not trained.”

The other young man shrugged his shoulders and stared at the onflight entertainment screen.

Despite Brian’s dismay at having his feelings out in the open, he couldn’t calm down. He leaned against the window and pretended to try to fall asleep. 

The plane taxied down the runway, gunned its massive engines and took off towards the sky. Once they were at cruising altitude. Mr. Baldwin stood up in front of the group. “We’ll be landing on an Aircraft carrier in the middle of the Atlantic, 370 North west of St. Helena. There’s nothing out there but water and a massive storm system that is growing by the day.”

This Aircraft Carrier was commissioned by the West African Executive Department on the condition of absolute secrecy. You’ve all sworn to confidentiality. As far as you’re concerned, no matter what happens, this was a vacation. Anyone who is caught sending out any information on this mission will be immediately expelled. None of your names will go on record as part of this operation. You will be the unsung heroes of Cassell.”

A murmur went through the group. “I don’t owe any of you an explanation. However… because I understand you might have questions I’ll give you the one I can give.”

“Anjou died twenty years ago. Despite all his contributions to the secret society, people have already started to forget his legacy and his enemies have started to covet his secrets. As of today, only the select members of the executive West Africa Branch know of this mission. The awakening of a Dragon has not occurred for over twenty years and this may well be the last one. Everyone who’s ever wanted to be a dragonslayer will want to be on this mission. We’ve selected you, not only because you are the best, but you are the most loyal and experienced and proven to be discreet with information.”

Mr. Baldwin scanned the group who were now silent. “Let’s bring the era of dragons to a quiet ignominious end.” 

With that statement, Mr. Baldwin turned and pushed away the curtain separating his section of the aircraft from theirs.

Brian could take it no longer. He stood up. He roughly crossed over his protesting seatmate and walked back to Ru’Yi’s seat. “Who signed you up? Was it Maranis? Fingel?”

She looked up at him with an owlish expression. “No one signed me up. I volunteered!”

Brian’s jaw dropped. “You wanna explain? What happened to ‘not wanting to kill anyone’? Not wanting to be a dragonslayer? All this stuff you told me before?”

Ru’Yi’s shoulders lifted and she leaned away from him. “I changed my mind.”

“Why?” He asked, incredulous.

Ru’Yi twined her fingers, meek and embarrassed. “I thought about what you said. That whole conversation we had. And I couldn’t just… stay behind any more.”

“What I said? Nothing about what I said was encouraging you to volunteer! If anything, I was happy you weren’t going!”

“But you told me the truth! You were honest with me!” Ru’Yi’s eyes grew dimmer. “Unlike my parents.”

Brian froze.

“Everyone here really respects my mom and dad. But the truth is, I’ve only known my mom as a mom and my dad as a tour boat operator. These people that slay dragons and fight to the death… they might as well be a fairy tale. What really got to me was… when you said my Dad wasn’t like the other dragonslayers you’d met. You were looking to me for answers to questions I didn’t even know were there. I felt like you knew my Dad more than I did!”

“You came here for such a… emotional reason? You could die and then where would that leave your parents?”

“I know.” She looked up at him, pleading. “It’s just… this is my last chance to understand them. I need to understand them.”

“Really? That’s it…?” Brian shook his head in dismay. “Alright.” He ran his hand through his hair and went back to his seat.

Ru’Yi sat back in her chair and let out a breath, suddenly aware of the tense awkwardness of the room. She gave her seatmate an apologetic look.

He gave her two thumbs up, his eyes twinkling behind a mop of overlong bangs that hung over his eyes like a sheep dog. “You did great standing up to him, honey! Did you see the look on his face?”

“Doesn’t feel great…” She murmured.

“Don’t take it so personal. He’s always been a bit of a jerk.”

“No he hasn’t.”

Her certainty shocked the man. “He hasn’t?”

“No. He wasn’t always like this.” Ru’Yi thought that maybe if she went on this mission she might understand him a bit more too.

“I didn’t realize you two went that far back.” The young man rubbed his chin. Then he laughed. “Don’t worry. We’ll all do our best to make sure you come home safe and sound.”

The flight was long and uncomfortable and mostly silent. Executive Department members were supposed to be the highest trained of the force of Dragonslayers, but looking at this group, they mostly slept, read, or stared out the windows listening to earbuds. Despite their crisp and disciplined uniforms, they looked at the moment like a bunch of cats lazing in the sun.

She poked her seatmate, “Can I ask you something?”

“Huh? Oh sure? What’s up. The name’s Rodney Samuelson by the way.” 

”Thanks Rodney… um… how long have you been doing this?”

“This, as in Exec stuff? This is my fourth year. I graduate next semester. And then I’ll get placed as an agent somewhere in the world! Hopefully somewhere warm!”

“Oh… so you’ll be doing more of this after graduation…” Ru’Yi said thoughtfully.

“Yep. The threat of dragons doesn’t end with dragons unfortunately. Until today, almost everything I dealt with had to do with other hybrids.”

Ru’Yi immediately felt a chill. “Unstable hybrids?”

“Yep.” Rodney’s expression softened but he didn’t mince words. “You’re thinking of that blind guy right? People like him? That's a normal mission. Didn’t Brian tell you this?”

“No, but I probably should have known.” She sat back.

“Brian’s very good at those missions.” Rodney lowered his voice. “We have authorization to use deadly force against them. But for him, authorization is almost like a command. If he can kill them, he will.”

“Does he enjoy it?” Ru’Yi asked numbly.

Rodney rubbed his chin. “I wouldn’t say enjoy it. He’s just not affected by it. Violence doesn’t bother him like it does some people. He’s good at his job, but he’s one step away from psycho if that’s what you mean. Hate to burst your bubble.” Rodney grimaced.

“You’re fine.” She shook her head, but her expression was withdrawn. 

“You don’t look okay.”

“I just remembered something he said to me. He actually did try to warn me about that.” Ru’Yi thought back to their first meeting. He’d said that if he hadn’t joined the Executive Department he would have been a serial killer. She’d thought he was making a crude joke.

“Wow…” Rodney’s jaw dropped. “I guess things are more complicated than they seem on the surface.”

Ru’Yi nodded. She thought back to her father who had seemed so kind and gentle, compassionate and caring. Her mother who would work so hard so that the genetically disadvantaged hybrid could have a life. That idyllic view in her mind suddenly was stained a shade of red.

The light in her eyes grew even dimmer.

[xxshewritesinblacknwhitexx]

Steve Rogers Imagine Part Six

Imagine while on a mission to rescue civilian hostages on the Lumerian Star, you and Natasha discuss your relationship status with Steve.

PAIRING:  Steve Rogers x Black!Reader

WORD COUNT: 229

SET:  The Winter Soldier

WARNINGS:  talks of sex, Avengers violence, angry!Steve, explosions

BETA:  @titty-teetee​

⭃ Part Five

“So, what exactly is going on between you and Captain Rogers?”  Natasha Romanoff, AKA the Black Widow, who was also a fellow SHIELD agent, Avenger, and close personal friend, questioned.

The two of you had snuck your way onto the lower deck of the Lumerian Star to rescue the group of civilians being held hostage, by notorious pirate, George Batroc. “What are you talking about?”  You feigned innocence, trying not to talk of personal matters while on the job.  Especially when it came to your relationship with Steve.

That was kind of a touchy subject.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched your friend roll her eyes, but you easily ignored her, immediately spotting one of George Batroc’s men just ahead of you.  

He hadn’t seen the two of you yet, as his back was turned toward you, you quickly signaled to Natasha that you were to handle him and to meet you at the bottom of the engine room.  She nodded, and you took your cue. Quietly, you snuck up behind the guy, while he was on the phone speaking in his native French tongue.  You tapped him lightly on the shoulder, causing him to jump and turned to you, as you plastered a smirk across your face. “Hey, sailor.”  You waved your little fingers, before balling them into a fist, and knocking him in the face.  Hard. He fought back, diligently, getting in quite a few hits as well, but you definitely had the upper hand.  You then quickly wrapped your cord around his neck and jumped over the ledge, using him to bungee down.

Pulling your guns from their holsters, you took out more of Batroc’s men, on your way down.  When you finally touched the bottom, you shot two more beneath you. “Fury, Romanoff, what’s your status?”

You ignored Steve’s question in your earpiece, focusing on your task, as you made your way over to Natasha, who was taking on her handful of pirates.

“Y/N, you don’t have to play coy with me.”  She ran up on a guy, jumping around his neck, and using the gloves on her fist to shock him.  “I mean, two years ago, after New York, you two ride off into the sunset like some kind of fairy tale.” You sighed heavily, at your friend not missing a beat, before leg sweeping an attacker.  “It was Brooklyn, Nat.  Hardly a fairy tale.”  This time you landed a roundhouse kick to another pirate’s head, knocking him out. In all honesty, you had no idea what you and Steve were.  After New York, you two had definitely grown closer, and you spent a lot of time with him.  But with the work that SHIELD was dishing, and the fact you believed Steve was holding onto something from his past, you didn’t know exactly where you stood with the Super Soldier. “Uh huh.”  Natasha said, not believing you, while connecting a right hook to the jaw of a pirate, sending him to the ground. “Stop it.”  You playfully reprimanded, backing flipping and landing a leather boot to the chin for the last one, landing him on his ass. “Y/N, Natasha, status.”  Steve’s voice repeated, seeming a bit irritated. You hadn’t realized that one of the guys you had knocked to the ground had begun to stir.  Nat tapped you on the shoulder, tossing a lead pipe your way, and you caught it with ease. “Engine room is secure.”  You spoke into the mic connected to your wrist, swinging the pipe and clocking the guy’s lights out once more. “So, have you and Steve…” Nat trailed her question, wiggling her brows in a suggestive manner, as the two of you made your way through the engine room. You giggled softly, shaking your head at your nosy friend.  “No, Nat.  Steve’s a gentleman.  Nothing like the horndogs you date.” She then turned her body to face you fully, now walking backwards, a smirk on her face.  “So, you two are dating?”  She challenged. You shrugged nonchalantly.  “Casually.  It’s nothing serious.  And I really don’t think it’s ever going to be.” You and Natasha come upon a room, walking in.  It looked as if it were the mainframe of the ship.  Your real reason for coming on this mission. “Why do you say that?”  Nat questioned, as she stood guard by the door, watching you make your way to the main computer. “He’s clearly still hung up on someone else.”  You sighed, starting your hacking into the system. “Hmpf,” she scoffed, “aren’t they all?”  She folded her arms across her chest, looking out the door, making sure the coast was still clear. “Which is so frustrating.”  You seethed, clicking away at the keys, placing in the right algorithm that you knew by heart.  “Because I really like him.  He’s unlike any other guy I have ever dated.” “That’s because he’s old as dirt.”  She joked. You couldn’t help but let out a tiny snicker.  “Nat, stop that.” “So,” she clicked her tongue after a few seconds of silence, “does that bother you?  Him being 62 years older than you?” You still typed adamantly on the computer, frustrated that this was taking a lot longer than it should have.  “I think about it sometimes, but then I see him.  He obviously doesn’t look like your average 95 year old.” “And you mean to tell me in two years, you hadn’t tapped that yet?”  She teased. You playfully rolled your eyes, looking up at your red haired partner, and mouthed a ‘no’, while shaking your head. “Maybe he’s gay.”  She commented, causing you to giggle.  “Not that there would be anything wrong with that.” “He is definitely not gay.”  You defended. “And how do you figure that?” “Okay,” you peered up at her again, “so whatever I’m about to tell you, stays between you and me.  If I find out anybody else heard this, and it gets back to Steve, I'll murder you in your sleep and make it look like an accident.” Natasha zipped the invisible zipper on her lips, pretending to lock and throw away the key, before raising her hands in surrender.  She was now even more intrigued. You sighed heavily, not really wanting to divulge in your very intimate endeavors with Captain America, but you knew that Nat would just keep bugging you, until you spilled the tea.  She was like a dog in heat when it came to juicy gossip, so you thought to just throw her a bone, to get her to shut up. “So, maybe a little more happened in Brooklyn and more recently than I actually led on.”  You released a nervous breath, already feeling like you’re going to regret what you’re about to say next.  “Steve and I haven’t actually officially done the deed, as of yet, but let’s just say that I know for one hundred percent fact that the super soldier serum worked everywhere.  And I mean...everywhere.” Nat raised an inquisitive brow. “Really?” You nodded, biting your lip at the memories of the time you were with Steve in Brooklyn and the times after.  For a guy with not much experience, he knew exactly what he was doing.

Your memories were immediately cut short when Steve’s voice came through the earpiece again.  “Fury, Romanoff, where the hell are you?” Nat asked if you were good.  You told her you had it covered and you were almost done. She nodded, speaking into her wrist.  “This is Romanoff, I’m headed your way, Cap.” After she retreated from the room and shut the door, you reached down into your boot and pulled out a flash drive.  You plugged it into the hard drive of the computer, and began to copy the files you downloaded, when a crash caught your attention. Steve and Batroc had busted through the closed door, obviously in the midst of an intense fight.  Steve had Batroc pinned to the ground, using his shield to knock him out cold. “Well, this is awkward.”  You commented, still saving files to the flash drive. Steve, sans the cowl, strapped his shield back in place, as he made his way over to you.  “What the hell are you doing?”  He turned to look at the computer and quickly realized what was going on.  “You’re saving SHIELD intel.” “I’m doing what I was assigned to do.”  You retorted, not missing the displeasure in his voice. He then turned back to you, blue eyes looking down on you with anger.  “The mission was to rescue the hostages.” You looked up at him and swallowed hard at the intense irritation in his eyes.  You quickly turn your head back to the screen, files near to completion.  “That was your mission, Cap.  Not mine.” Upon completion, you pulled the flash drive from the CPU and shoved it back in your boot.  You then tried to walk away, but Steve grabbed your arm and pulled you toward him. “You just jeopardized this whole operation.”  He seethed. “Cap, I think you’re over stating things.”  You snipped, your heartbeat quickening at the closeness.

His steel blue eyes bored down into yours intensely.  But before he could respond, Batroc, miraculously back to his feet, threw a hand grenade your way, and then quickly disappeared.  Quick thinking, Steve smacked the grenade away with the shield, and then grabbed you by the waist.  As Steve jumped, the two of you in midair, you shot out the window to an interior room where the two of you landed, just as the explosion went off. Smoke filled your lungs and ringing blared in your ears, as you and Steve backed quickly to the closest wall.  Steve sat up, looking out to assess the damage, but couldn’t see through the smoke.  You immediately felt guilty. “Okay,” you huffed, trying to catch your breath “that one’s on me.” Steve was quiet for a bit, not looking your way.  “You damn right it is.”  He seethed in a rage, standing to his feet and leaving you behind. You sighed heavily at the situation.  You had no idea where you and Steve stood in your relationship, but you guess that now, it wasn’t looking too good.

TAGS:

[rndyounghowze]

And The Nominees Are… (Part 2/2)

#younghowzetheatreawards

By Ricky and Dana Young-Howze

Mays Landing, NJ

Venmo: @rndyounghowze

The nominations for the first ever Young-Howze Theatre Awards are finally here! We have been working hard since March of 2020 reviewing over a hundred and forty digital productions. We have been poring over them all since January to bring you these categories and the shows vying for them.

Let’s remind everyone what our criteria were: Because of the pandemic this year every show that we have reviewed was nominated for at least one category. We picked winners by a very specific set of criteria: What was this show attempting to do? Was it successful? Was it the most successful of all the shows that tried to do this? We apologize to anyone who thought that we would be announcing winners today. We decided that we wanted to save all of the spoilers for the live show on February 21st at 8PM EST. Please remember that even if you only get one nomination it is because we wanted to honor everyone who worked hard this year (every theatre artist who did a show this year deserves a medal). However we understand that specific nominations are useful for theatre creators in their resumes, grant applications etc.

All Nominees should receive a nomination email from us. If you haven’t gotten an email by Monday 11:59pm PST email is at rndyounghowze@gmail.com

Congratulations everyone! We are so proud of your accomplishments and amazing work. We’ve already seen shows this year that are award worthy. You all exceeded our expectations. Without further ado...

Solo Performance

“Chewie Award” For Team Behind A Solo Performance

“Blood/Sugar” by Diana Wyenn in Los Angeles, CA

“Kristina Wong For Public Office” by Kristina Wong in Los Angeles, CA

“Disenchanted: A Cabaret of Twisted Fairy Tales” by Eliane Morel at Melbourne Fringe

“All By Myself Award” For Solo Performance Of The Year

“The Bassoonist” by Sean P. Mette and Autumn Kaleidoscope at Cincinnati Fringe Cincinnati, OH

“Kristina Wong For Public Office” by Kristina Wong in Los Angeles, CA

“Sarah Palin: Rogue None” by Amanda Nicastro in NYC, NY

“What Would John Hughes Do?” by Telia Nevile at Melbourne Fringe

“Campfire Award” For Storyteller Of The Year

“Right Now” By Martin Dockery at Minnesota Fringe Minneapolis, Minnesota

“Life Underground” by Brad Lawrence at FRIGID NY in NYC, NY

“Pumpkin Pie Show” by Pumpkin Pie Show at FRIGID NY in NYC, NY

“UnterClub” by Juan Sebastian Peralta in Uruguay

“Full of Woe” by Genevieve Yosco and Sour Grapes Productions at FRIGID NY in NYC, NY

Seasons, Series and Festivals

“BIPOC HERO” For The BIPOC Creative Team Of The Year

TBA

“Worldwide Award” For Collaborative Work Of The Year

“The Art of Facing Fear Brazil” By Os Satyros in São Paulo, Brazil “The Art of Facing Fear US” Os Satyros and Company of Angels and Rob Lecrone, in co-production with Os Satyros and Darling Desperados. “The Art of Facing Fear Africa/Europe” Os Satyros and Cie Kaddu, Crown Troupe of Africa, Darling Desperados, Oddmanout Theatre Company, Portuguese Cultural Center of Mindelo, Tell-a-Tale, The Kwasha! Theatre Company, The Market Theatre Laboratory, Village Gossip Productions

“Macbeth #6” Os Satyros São Paulo, Brazil and the Center for Interdisciplinary Performance Art - Royal Birmingham Conservatoire

Enough Plays to End Gun Violence at Mile Square Theatre in Hoboken, NJ

“Down the Stream” For Digital Season of The Year

Frigid NY in NYC, NY

Combined Artform in Los Angeles, CA

“There’s No I in Theatre” For Non-Profit Theatre of The Year

Elm Street Cultural Arts Village in Woodstock, GA

Sour Grapes Productions in NYC, NY

Opal Theatre in Boise, Idaho

Know Theatre of Cincinnati in Cincinnati, OH

Mill Mountain Theatre in Roanoke, VA

“Deja Vu Award” Recurring Streaming Series Of The Year

“Tilted Frame” by Combined Artform in Los Angeles, CA

“Bingewatch and Friends” by Diana Brown and Dan Wilson in San Francisco, CA

“Reparations Show” by Kevin R Free at Frigid NY in NYC, NY

“Monologues For Us By Us” By Cincinnati Black Theatre Artists Collective in Cincinnati, Ohio

“Bard Brunch” by Sour Grapes Productions in NYC, NY

“On The Fringes” Fringe of the Year

Minnesota Fringe

Halifax Fringe

Melbourne Fringe

Montreal Fringe

Cincinnati Fringe

“The Shortie“ Short Form Festival Of The Year

“48 Hours in Harlem” By Harlem 9 in Harlem, NY

“Overnight Sensations” by Hollins Playwrights Lab in Roanoke, VA

Estrogenius Festival by FRIGID NY in NYC, NY

Fire This Time Festival at FRIGID NY in NYC, NY

Single Shows

“Weird and Worth It” For Experimental Production Of The Year

“Paul And Erika’s House Show” By Theatre Mobile at Cincinnati Fringe

“Hivemind” by Solasta Theatre at Cincinnati Fringe

“#TXT Show” by Brian Feldman at Minnesota Fringe and Melbourne Fringe

“Butterfly Effect” by Unnatural Disasters at Halifax Fringe

“New Normal” by Os Satyros in São Paulo, Brazil

“One Man Nutcracker” by Chris Davis in Philadelphia, PA

“Cabaret De Profundis” By Buntport Theatre in Denver, CO

“So Nice We Saw It Twice” Touring Show Of The Year

“Desperately Seeking The Exit” by Peter Michael Marino and PM2 at Cincinnati Fringe And Queerly Festival and Show Up, Kids! In NYC!

“Paul and Erika’s House Show” by Theatre Mobile at Cincinnati Fringe and Minnesota Fringe

“Love and Other Lures” by Dr. Dour and Peach at Cincinnati Fringe and Minnesota Fringe

“Killjoy, Ohio” by Queen City Flash at Cincinnati Fringe and Minnesota Fringe

“TXT Show By Brian Feldman at Minnesota Fringe and Melbourne Fringe

“Kristina Wong For Public Office” by Kristina Wong in Koreatown and Kirk Douglas Theatre in Los Angeles, CA

“Before Times” For Pre-Pandemic Recording Of The Year

“Petunia and Chicken” by Animal Engine at Cincinnati Fringe Cincinnati, OH

“Unrepentant Necrophile” by The ColdHarts at Cincinnati Fringe Cincinnati, OH

“Knife Slingin’” By Motz at Cincinnati Fringe Cincinnati, OH

“Occupy This!” By Rev Nuge at Cincinnati Fringe Cincinnati, OH

“Stow You Baggage” By Alexx Rouse at Cincinnati Fringe Cincinnati, OH

“Butcher Holler” by Ad Hoc Economy at Cincinnati Fringe Cincinnati, OH

“Lady Macbeth and Her Pal Megan” by Megan Gogerty at Cincinnati Fringe Festival Cincinnati, OH

“Dammit, Jim!” by Polly Esther in Toronto, CA

“A Night With The Dead” by Martha Preve and Something From Abroad at Hartford Fringe in FRIGID NY in NYC, NY

“A Christmas Carol In Harlem” by Classical Theatre of Harlem in NYC, NY

“Forbidden City” by Martin Dockery at Cincinnati Fringe Cincinnati, OH

“Practical Game Changer” For Practical Effects Of The Year

“Killjoy, Ohio” by Queen City Flash at Cincinnati Fringe Cincinnati, OH

“Zoo Motel” By Thaddeus Phillips in Columbia, South America

“A Light Touch” by Mind of a Snail at Minnesota Fringe Minneapolis, Minnesota

“Digital Game Changer” For Digital Effects Of The Year

“M-O-U-S-E” by Rory Sheridan at the Cincinnati Fringe Cincinnati, OH

“King Lear” by SF Shakes in San Francisco, CA

“War Of The Worlds” by Ben Hernandez at Cal State in Los Angeles, CA

“Claws Out! A Holiday Drag Musical” by City Theatre in Pittsburgh, PA

“18+ Allowed” For Adult Variety Of The Year

“Disenchanted: A Cabaret of Twisted Fairy Tales” by Eliane Morel at Melbourne Fringe

“Creepy Boys” by Scantily Glad at Melbourne Fringe

Red Mill Revue at Melbourne Fringe

Queers On The Fringe at Melbourne Fringe

“Reach Out“ For Immersive Production Of The Year

“Feast” by Megan Gogerty at Know Theatre of Cincinnati in Cincinnati, OH

“In Lak’Ech” by No Peeking Theatre in Jersey City, NJ

“Twelfth Night”” by Food of Love Productions in NYC, NY

“Grace Notes” For Musical Production Of The Year

“Dream &” By Sarah Willis and The Queer Feminists Next Door at Cincinnati Fringe Cincinnati, OH

“Colony” by Psophonia and Aura at Cincinnati Fringe Cincinnati, OH

“TV Tunes” by Leslie Vincent at Minnesota Fringe Minneapolis, Minnesota

“The In-Between Years” By The Champagne Drops in Minneapolis, Minnesota

“Love and Other Lures” By Dr. Dour and Peach at Cincinnati Fringe Cincinnati, OH

“Hollow” by David Kent at Edinburgh Fringe

“One Vote Won” by Nashville Opera in Nashville, TN

“Meet Me In St. Louis” By Irish Rep in NYC, NY

“Power” For Fifth-Wall Breaking Show Of The Year

“Matriarch” by Sandy Greenwood at Melbourne Fringe

Chanukahmunication by the Feldman Dynamic in Washington, DC

“Proof Of Love” By Chisa Hutchinson and BLBW in Chicago, IL

Individuals

“Magician” For Press Contact Of The Year

Emily Godfrey For FRIGID NY in NYC, NY

Liz Carman For Know Theatre of Cincinnati in Cincinnati, OH

“Tech Witch” For Tech Person Of The Year

David Svengalis for “Tilted Frame” by Combined Artform in Los Angeles, CA

Henry Bateman for Know Theatre of Cincinnati in Cincinnati, OH

“Extensions“ For Movement Artist Of The Year

“Proximity” by Pones at Cincinnati Fringe Cincinnati, OH

“Definition of Man” by DConstruction Arts at Halifax Fringe

Marina Calendar For Tree She at Estrogenius Festival NYC, NY

Nick Daniels For “Folk Dances of A Nucleic Village” at Pittsburgh Fringe Pittsburgh, PA

“You Oughta Be In Pictures” For Film Of The Year

“Proximity” by Pones at Cincinnati Fringe

“Opinions Of Men” by Ben Dudley at Cincinnati Fringe Cincinnati, OH

“Macbeth” by Gorilla Repertory Theatre in NYC, NY

“Black Emperor of Broadway” by Vision Films Inc and Egeli Productions in Provincetown, MA

“Concord Floral” by Jordan Tamanelli at Colorado State University in Fort Collins, Colorado

Zoom

“Pioneer” For Innovative Achievement Of The Year

Waiting for the Host” by Mark Palmieri in NYC, NY

“Desperately Seeking the Exit” by Peter Michael Marino in NYC, NY

“Long Zoomie” For Long-Form Zoom Play Of The Year

“3 Way Lovve” by Marcus Ma’at Atkins at Minnesota Fringe Minneapolis, Minnesota

“Im Ur Hamlet” By Genevieve Yosco and Sour Grapes Productions in NYC, NY

“Rideshare” by Reginald Edmund and BLBW in Chicago, Illinois

“Disrobed” by Steven Vlasak and Troy Peterson at Hollywood Fringe Hollywood, CA

“Sons of Liberty” by Cris Eli Blak in Louisville, KY

“Call For The Wailing Women” by Katrina D. RiChard and BLBW in Chicago, IL

“Jump!” By Charly Evon Simpson at TSU in Nashville, TN

“Short Zoomie” For Short-Form Zoom Play Of The Year

“Soup” by Rachel Carnez at Project Y Theatre in NYC, NY

“Missing Ingredient” by Colleen O’Doherty at Project Y Theatre in NYC, NY

“Pas De Deux” by Kevin Ferguson at Missouri S&T in St. Louis, Missouri

“Scaramouche and Pinochle” by Mike Moran Missouri S&T in St. Louis, Missouri

Screen Manager Of The Year

TBA

Stream Yard

“Duck“ For Streamyard Production Of The Year

“Infemous” by Infemous at the Queerly Festival and Montreal Fringe Festival

“Romeo and Juliet Virtually” By Miles Beyond Entertainment in Los Angeles, CA

“Day of the Dead Variety Show” by Something From Abroad at FRIGID NY in NYC, NY

“Latina Christmas Special Special” by Latina Christmas Special in Los Angeles, CA

Staged Production

“The Globe“ For Staged Production of The Year

“Quit While You’re Ahead” By Alexx Rouse and A-Z Productions at Cincinnati Fringe Cincinnati, OH

“Dreary Dearie” By Caitlyn Waltermire at Cincinnati Fringe Cincinnati, OH

“Hellish Reunion” by The Feral Theatre Company at Minnesota Fringe Minneapolis, Minnesota

“Polka Dots: The Cool Kids Musical” by Melvin Tunstall III at Mill Mountain Theatre in Roanoke, VA

“Titus Andronicus” by Shakespeare by the Sea in San Pedro, CA

“She Kills Monsters” by Qui Nguyen at Elm Street Arts Cultural Village in Woodstock, GA

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[hothian-snow]

OC Music Meme

List one or more songs that relate to the following tagged by @a-muirehen​ tagging @sith-nb @elvhenyoung @rainofaugustsith @jacemalcom

OC: Yennevyr Dosal aka Lord Soteira

Reminds you of them most:

Moonsea by Phildel Don't share the past, if you won't share your heart All that we share is the view of these stars There are diamonds on the floor you can't take back There's an eyelash on the board, does she wear black? All the violence that I swore you could have back There's red varnish on the door, I don't wear that I called it, I called it, I called it the moon scene

The song depicts how she views the relationships in her life, from her very first lover to her current master. It speaks of the surface glam, the glittering mystique, the toxicity she sometimes fall into (most of the time originating from her), and the conflicting feelings of vulnerability. The tone of the song represents her perfectly.

Teen Idle by MARINA I want blood, guts, and angel cake I'm gonna puke it anyway I wish I'd been a teen idle Wish I'd been a prom queen, fighting for the title Instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible Feeling super, super, super suicidal

It's almost narcissistic how much Yen hates herself. She had battled with mental health issues which she hides away for the majority of her childhood and teenage years. Her father was oblivious to how bad she was suffering, and Gisele saw glimpses but not enough for her to directly intervene. Yen's obsession with creating an image for herself, of wanting to be unattainable just so she could be wanted, is depicted tragically well in this song. Also, the teen angst is lovely.

No Children by The Mountain Goats

And I hope I never get sober And I hope when you think of me years down the line You can't find one good thing to say [...] I am drowning There is no sign of land You are coming down with me Hand in unlovable hand And I hope you die I hope we both die

Yen’s depression song. Her self-destructiveness coupled with her spite makes a horrible combination that encapsulates her dysfunctional state.

Blinding by Florence + The Machine No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love

Yen has always been an escapist at heart- escaping the world, escaping from herself. It's about time she stops running, and wake up from that dream world. The death of her father and the supposed death of her childhood lover haunts her. It's time that she moved on.

Reminds another character of them:

Sober II by Lorde You asked if I was feeling it, I'm psycho high Know you won't remember in the morning when I speak my mind Lights are on and they've gone home, but who am I? Oh, how fast the evening passes Cleaning up the champagne glasses

Anyone who knew Yen on Celanon (or on her late night outs on Dromund Kaas) knows that she is a woman who wears 'glamour and trauma' like they are designer clothes. She loves to drink just so she can feel good, to flirt just so she can feel attractive, to party just so she can forget. An unhealthy coping mechanism to deal with what was initially just an unfulfilling familial relationship, and later to deal with her various emotional baggage.

Watching Ruth by Alexandre Desplat

A musical ost from The Shape of Water, one of my favorite films. The music reminds Darth Kharopos so much of Yen, even if Yen would never see herself in this song. A low, dramatic, slightly foreboding tune that turns into something out of a romantic bed-time story. He senses the pain and anguish in her, but in the end, he sees her in the best light possible. It is in their initial meeting that he sees her doing something out of the goodness of her heart- hence, he knows she isn't who she pretends to be, that she is better than she thinks she is. He sees the girl who, deep down, wishes that life would play out like a fairy tale.

Reminds you of a relationship of theirs

Gisele and Yen

Whisper by Birdeatsbaby Pulling through the distant nightmare A pain I’m hungry to share You’re my dirty secret But I won’t keep it Simmering and spilling over Calling every, every quarter I’ll be fire, earth and water Now you’re shouting I can hear ya Bang bang lover we’re running undercover From the guns of tyranny 

Gisele was her bodyguard and Yen was the crime princess. It was a fairy tale romance, only with guns and blood. Of course, Gisele realizes that the explosiveness and drama of their relationship was partially performative too- something Yen won’t admit.

Tyrkos Rosokor aka Darth Kharopos and Yen

Sylvia by The Antlers Sylvia, get your head out of the oven Go back to screaming and cursing Remind me again how everyone betrayed you Sylvia, get your head out of the covers Let me take your temperature You can throw the thermometer right back at me If that's what you want to do, okay?

Sometimes, Yen spirals. Their relationship becomes heavily toxic. At first, Darth Kharopos thought he’d helped her through her issues but mental health maintenance is a lifelong process, one that cannot be fixed with a few months of therapy. Especially, not when it is a childhood issue that is worsened by constant trauma. It gets worse when Yen reaches the point where she is powerful enough to lash out at the world, to potentially kill her master if she wishes it so.

Falling by Florence + The Machine

I've fallen out of favor and I've fallen from grace Fallen out of trees and I've fallen on my face Fallen out of taxis, out of windows too Fell in your opinion when I fell in love with you [...] I'm not scared to jump, I'm not scared to fall If there was nowhere to land I wouldn't be scared at all

Yen knew the dark side has become a part of her, no matter how much Darth Kharopos preaches about balance, about the light. Then, Yen realizes eventually that her master means something to her. She loves him- and that truly scares her. Stars, why did she ever catch feelings?

Love Run by The Amazing Devil

Love run, love run For all the things we wished we’d done Run from all you know that’s coming Run to show that love’s worth running to

Their bond has grown into something beyond that of master and apprentice. Love is a double-edged blade.

Darth Tiophis and Yen

Seven Devils by Florence + the Machine Seven devils all around you Seven devils in your house See, I was dead when I woke up this morning I'll be dead before the day is done

The ghost of Darth Tiphios has bored her way through Yen's spirit, and turned Yen into something else, something Other, one foot in this world and another elsewhere. Yen is ready to be a vessel for retribution.

The Horror and the Wild by The Amazing Devil

You're the daughter of sightless watching stones You watch the stars hurl all their fundaments In wonderment, at you and yours, forever asking more [...] We're drunk but drinking, sunk but sinking They thought us blind, we were just blinking [...] Give me back my heart you wingless thing

Darth Tiophis to Yen is like the Devil to a witch, like Hekate to Medea. This song is the song of Yen, the woman who bleed stars and learn from ghosts, a Sith powerful enough to go toe-to-toe with the likes of Darth Malgus. She is the legacy of Darth Tiophis, ancestor of Darth Lokess who is the infamous sorceress that attempted to overthrow the Sith Emperor and paid for it with her life.