#wouldn't it be ironic if this was one of the bastards who killed half my chickens

[bog--unicorn]

made a new friend today

[aelenavelaryon]

Hey guys! This story will have three or four parts. Or at least I’m hoping it will. Also, please bear with me as I recently started posting here so things are still new to me. I’m not quite sure on how to use tumblr to post yet so it might take a while! Thank you! 🤍

Robert Baratheon x Reader

Summary: In which history repeats itself once again. Or does it?

Robert had known young Rhaenyra all his life and they were sort of friends and some would even say they were somewhat close. When he sat on the Iron Throne she was the only one brought out, Jon Arryn saw it fit for the eldest of the Targaryen's to be the one to confront Robert. There she stood, in the middle of the room. All the lords eyes were on her. She said nothing, what could she say? "Your brother is dead" was the first thing Robert said to her. "I killed him. I wish I could kill him again" Rhaenyra's eyes filled with tears but none fell out. She didn't want to cry. She wouldn't allow them that satisfaction.

"What will happen to us?" she asked. "To Viserys, to Jaehaerys" everyone turned to her as he said the other name. "Who is Jaehaerys?" Jon asked. "He is my son. My son with Brandon Stark" Brandon lived but he was now married to Catelyn. "He is married to Catelyn Tully now" Robert said and she nodded. "I know" she replied. "The boy is a bastard" Tywin said and she glared at the man. "Kill her now. Avoid another rebellion" Tywin Lannister said and everyone turned to look at him. "I know you would like that, my lord. Did you enjoy having Elia and her children murdered as well?" she asked. "Lannisters. They have always been traitors. That has not changed in the past two hundred years it seems" he took a step but Ned Stark stood near her.

"Princess Rhaenyra is not at fault for her brother's sins. She is innocent" he spoke for her. "She's a whore! She and that bastard son of hers will bring nothing but trouble to the realm just as her brother has!" Tywin said. Ser Arthur, pulled out his sword as did Ned. "Hold your tongue, Lannister" was all Ser Arthur said. "Mind your tongue, Lannister" Robert stood in front of her. Rhaenyra was known as the Realm's Angel. or the Realm's Desire. Some even called her the Realm's Delight, referring at the nickname the realm gave the black queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, her ancestor.

"I propose a marriage between King Robert Baratheon and princess Rhaenyra Targaryen" Jon said making both Robert and Rhaenyra to look at him. "She's a child" Arthur said. "A child who bore a healthy son" Tywin scoffed. "She's been sullied. She cannot marry a king" he stated. "Robert has bed at least half of Westeros. It will not matter. Let's remember that House Velaryon, House Tyrell, and House Martell still support house Targaryen. This will ensure the peace in the realm. Specially after the chaos that this rebellion imposed on the realm" Robert looked at Rhaenyra. She was a child. She was seven years younger than him. She nodded. She did not object. She hoped that as the queen she could keep her son and brother safe.

It wasn't long before she was married off. The princess did not complain, she did not fight, she obeyed. They got married on the Great Sept. Brandon arrived with his family. With his wife and their son. Their legitimate son. It was said that Brandon loved her, he married Catelyn Tully for duty. He married her so her father could be on their side when the war was just beginning. He loved Rhaenyra as some said she loved him. But, the world will never know if she loved him as much as he did her. That was another secret she would take to her grave.

She sat with her husband as he drank himself numb. Robert didn't love her, she was sure he never would but he cared for her. When she arrived to her new chambers she found a box, inside laid three eggs. One was a black with red. The other was red with gold, and the other one was a blue and white color. Robert arrived a while later. The two did her their duty as quick as possible, Robert tried to be gentle but Rhaenyra was a woman of passion and asked for more and he complied. Perhaps it would not be so bad.

Princess Rhaenyra gave birth nine moons later to a son. A son who she named Daemon Baratheon Targaryen. Daemon was all his mother but the eyes. He held Rhaegar Targaryen's eyes. A year after him came Orys Baratheon, now that one was a Baratheon through and through. There was no ounce of Rhaenyra on him. Prince Aemon came two years later along with Aemond who were the spitting image of his mother. Robert used to laugh when he spoke to Rhaenyra about their sons as the boys all resemble her but not him aside from Orys.

Robert loved Jaehaerys as his own son, he had taken him and Viserys as his wards. He began to teach them how to fight. When the princess decided to visit Dragonstone a tragedy struck her. She had miscarried. The Maester had told her she had been poisoned. To bury her child, she had pyre made for the cremation and her dragon eggs were set inside alongside the babe. Her child had died but she left her mother with the greatest gift she could ask for. Dragons. Three of them. The eldest she called Balerion as the dragon was the spitting image of the black dread. The other she named Caraxes as the dragon was the same color and it seemed he too would look like the first blood wyrm. The third she named Syrax as he had been just like queen Rhaenyra's dragon. When she returned she returned with three dragons on her shoulder. House Targaryen would prevail.

[sleeplessdreamer123]

Fanfic Idea! (Lucemond, Warning: it's dark)

Aemond was crowned king after defeating Daemon, and he brought Rhaenyra and her son to the throne room, chained and gagged, her last son clinging onto her simple dress, like a boy everyone once knew.

She was forced to watch his crowning, forced to listen to the people cheer for their new king. Then, all of a sudden, he ordered the guards to bring in his new queen.

The crowd looked at the door, perhaps expecting Queen Helaena, his Baratheon betrothed, maybe even the bastard witch of the rumors, Alys. The crowd however, was not expecting to see such a familiar face.

Gasps and whispers filled the throne room when the guards carried in Lucerys Velaryon. He was a vision, wearing a splendid green gown embroidered with dragon scales, his neck adorned with pearls. His eyes were closed, his face pale, his body, limp.

To no one's surprise, Rhaenyra screamed, the sounds muffled by the cloth in between her lips, her eyes following the body of her dead son. The body she couldn't retrieve, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how hard she searched.

Surprisingly, he didn't look like one killed by a dragon. His skin was unmarked by teeth or flame. His body, to everyone's surprise, wasn't decomposing or falling apart. In fact, if they didn't know of the stories, they would have thought he was merely sleeping.

The guards carried the body with extreme care, and the crowd held their breath, wondering what their new king would do with the body of the beloved son of their former Realm's Delight. Those who remembered his earlier words were alarmingly confused, because surely he wouldn't...the boy is...surely the new king wouldn't...

Aemond stood from the throne, took the body from the guard with surprising care, and to everyone's shock, placed the dead boy on the throne, and placed a crown, his dead mother's crown, on top of the boy's head.

Everyone looked at him as he, their new king, knelt, taking the boy's dead hand, kissing it gently. They watched as he stood, looking at his half sister, a faint smile on his face.

"Surely, you'd applaud, sister? After all, I just crowned your son as my queen."

Rhaenyra fought against the guards, though hopeless, her eyes told them what she truly wanted, glaring down at Aemond with the fury only a mother could have. She wished to tear him apart with her nails, to rip him with her teeth. She was a dragon incarnate, ready to attack for her son.

Aemond cared not for her reaction, turning back to Lucerys. He lifted the boy up, and placed him on his lap as he sat back on the Iron Throne, careful not to let the crown fall from his pretty head.

He then placed his mouth close to his ear, and though he whispered, everyone around him heard his words.

"I kept my promise nephew. I crowned you queen, as I intended. Now, won't you open your pretty eyes for me, just this once?"

Though no one had the courage to say it, everyone knew what the other was thinking.

Seven Hells. The new king is mad.

-------

Btw, if anyone is interested, this is what inspired me:

[fixomnia-scribble]

For @smittywing! Since we're sharing unpublished Criminal Minds snippets, here are Prentiss and Morgan, in December Season 7, getting gently toasted and trying to reconcile their friendship with Emily's undercover past. Derek interrogates, Emily rambles, Clooney snores in the corner.

December 18, 2011

They were drinking again, looking out over a slushy December night in Virginia. Morgan's place, because while Sergio was content with his box, Clooney couldn't wait. They’d taken Clue for a chilly walk, letting the dog amble at will and set the pace, while Emily told him stories about the haute doggy culture of Paris. And then, back home, Morgan had spun the cap off a half bottle of scotch and tossed it somewhere behind a desk.

“Sergio can hang tight until morning,” Morgan reminded her. In case she needed to talk and drink all night, and crash somewhere she didn’t have to keep one eye open.

"Nah, I do have to get home sometime tonight," Emily said. Lightly glowing on her second dose of two and a half fingers in a comfortably heavy glass tumbler, she stretched her toes for the mohair blanket over the arm of the couch, and pulled it towards her. "And I need to spend time with my boy. Garcia's stolen his fickle feline heart away. But this is good for now. Really good. Thanks."

She rubbed a careful palm over the top of her chest, under cover of tugging the blanket up over herself.

"You've been scratching again." Morgan told her, from his easy chair near the window. He’d never ask her to sit with her back to a window or a room, ever.

"I know I've been scratching again."

The brand was worse than the surgery site below. At least she could be careful, and scratch delicately around the tender skin, while she was awake. Even if she managed to resist the subcutaneous phantom itch of burned nerves, during the day, she still woke up some mornings with blood smears on her sheets and under her nails, and another patch of angry new scab. So much for proper aftercare. But then, getting branded on her poor left boob was hardly a body mod she would have chosen.

"Anyone touches you here, you'll think of me," he'd said, calmly and coldly, as her flesh smoldered under the iron's tip. He wasn't doing this for enjoyment. This was a means to an end. She was only a safe to be cracked. Until she cracked him, instead.

That's when he saw her clearly again, and set about killing her.

"You could get it fixed, you know, Em. Plastic surgery." Morgan reminded her.

"It would probably hurt more. Plus, I'd lose more sensation and a patch of skin from somewhere else. I think I'm going to let it stay. Bastard did a decent job, all things considered. Maybe I'll get it tattooed, make it my own. Think that'd be hot?"

"Tough girl." he returned, unfooled.

"It's mostly bullshit." she admitted. "You didn't see what a mess I was in Paris, when I had nothing to do but think and drink. But my past is part of me. I don't want to pretend anymore about who I was. Scars and all."

"You never had to."

"Yeah, I did. You would, too, if you'd been doing that kind of work. Derek, I was in deep cover. International covert ops cover. The kind you're never supposed to admit, even fifty years later. Trust - " she shook her head and lifted her scotch for a sip. "Trusting you had nothing to do with it. I trust you with my life. You held my life in your hands and wouldn't let go. I would do the same for you. God forbid it happen, but I would. But I couldn't speak about it. I still can't tell you everything we got done, how many conflicts we prevented before they had a chance to flare up. Even if it might help you understand..."

She heard Morgan sigh, and shake his head, leaning over his scotch. He was trying hard. Which spoke volumes about the respect that had grown between them in the relatively short time they'd known each other, and how deeply he'd let her into his guarded inner circle. 

Of them all, Morgan and Reid were having the hardest time adjusting to her reappearance, she knew. Morgan, because he so rarely gave his trust, and Reid, because he trusted too easily. Reid was alarmed and confused and ashamed of his reactions to the whole bleak scenario. Her death, having to admit and learn to navigate his overwhelming grief, and now her reappearance. Of all the team, Reid was the one who needed to know he had some bedrock under his feet, in order to function in the world. 

She'd try to get through to Reid soon. Probably somewhere in the open, where he could get up and walk away if he needed to, and not feel trapped or obligated to talk. Soon. Tonight was about mending fences with Morgan.

"Did Hotch know?" he asked, refilling his scotch. "There must've been some gaps in your resume."

"He knew I was undercover with the CIA, and he confirmed the dates I gave him with the Agency. He never probed farther than that." She managed a smile. "He did ask me how many languages I spoke. When I asked him if he meant idiomatically, academically, or just enough to cuss someone out, he shut me up."

"I guess being your mama's daughter had some uses after all."

"Yup." she raised her eyebrows and blew out a breath. "But you know - the more I think about it, the more I think Lauren kicked ass, and I don't mind remembering her. She stopped a terrorist from engaging in more than a few major raids, and made him think it was his decision. She never once broke cover. She kept a little boy from harm in the middle of hell, and put him in a safe place. And Dec…Derek, even in that insane world, Declan trusted us. We all kept him so safe, and gave him so much love, that it never occurred to him not to trust us. He let me..."

A small tremor started in her hands, and she set her glass on the coffee table before rolling onto her side, and tucking herself deeper under the blanket.

"He was only four, and he trusted me so much that he let me hold a gun to his head and spray pig blood all over his face and hair. All I told him was that we had to pretend he'd been in an accident, so that a really mean man wouldn't try to hurt him or his father. I told him it was like making a scary Hallowee'en movie to scare the man off. Louise was too frightened to say a word. I think she wondered if I was going to kill them both, no matter what I said."

The tremor set in deeper, creeping up her arms and through her middle, and she pulle up her knees and crossed her arms and pinned her hands in her armpits to stop it.

Morgan did not miss this. He didn’t comment upon it. "I think I just got something I needed to get," he said, leaning forward. "Prentiss, I'll tell you straight up, I was pretty shocked. Not that you'd been working at that level, but where you let it take you. Not just into Doyle's business, but - "

"Into his bed." she said flatly.

"See, I know you. I know you'll use whatever you can to fight a good fight, but I couldn't wrap my head around that part till now. It was Declan that kept you there. Not Doyle. Not really."

"It was Declan that kept me there," she agreed. "It's not a pretty business, my friend. You get that Lauren was an arms dealer too, right? That was my in. I didn't expect him to...to offer me so much access. He wasn't psychotic. He was obsessive, hypervigilant and manipulative, but he treated the people close to him like royalty. So yeah, you can say I fucked Doyle to get into his sentimental little heart, after I got into his head. I did that. I'm hardly the first to use sex, and I won't be the last, and I saved a lot of lives by putting myself there. And it wasn't all a lie. He really treated me very well. Does that make me a whore? Or just a damn good agent? Honest to God, I don't know. I could sure as hell name my price with him. Anything I asked for. He tried to give us a good life. But yeah, if there hadn't been Declan, I don't know how much longer I'd have stayed. I'd have had to fake my death sooner or later. Ian would never, ever have let me go. But with Declan there, I was almost his...Well. He thought I was…he was so little, it only made sense to him. How would he know anything else?  But there wasn't much I wouldn't have done for him. So I stayed. Most days I just lived and breathed it all in. And occasionally reported in to my operator while I was supposed to be having my hair and nails done."

"My point is," Morgan said, slowly, "It's the mom-thing you got inside you. I've seen you go there. One of your babies is in danger, you turn mama-bear and get all eaten up inside until you know they're safe. That Kira. Honest to God, I think if her aunt hadn't been found, you really would have taken her in, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, like you and Ellie? You even had the paperwork ready to bring her across the country. I saw it. Cross-jurisdictional guardianship application, signed and witnessed. And I know she still e-mails you." Emily smiled at him, a little wet about the eyes. “That mattered, you know. Ellie knew you were fighting for her. That mattered, even if she found her home.”

"I do know. That's why I get it. I gotta be honest, I've been wrestling with the whole undercover sex thing, but you're right, it happens. I know it does. But hearing you talk about that kid - maybe it's just a handle I can wrap my head around, but I get it a little better."

"It wasn't any kind of Stockholm syndrome, you know." she cautioned him. "That’s a made-up bullshit thing some shrink came up with to get interviews. I knew what I was doing."

"Yeah, but didn’t it..." he paused. "Em, didn’t it wear on your soul? Or was it really just the job?"

"Fuck, yeah, it did. But maybe less than I'd like to admit. Women have been using sex as a power tool since the very beginning." She held his gaze. “It was a game I was trained to win and I won, Derek. D’you get that?”

“Except it wasn’t a game, and you lost nearly everything. And we lost you.”

“That’s also true. And I’m sorry for that part. Again.”

"I guess I've spent my career trying to protect women from being used like that, so it's...I just never knew anyone who...you know, worked at that level."

"High class all the way, baby." She raised her glass in a mirthless toast. Morgan didn't smile. She shook her head and tried again. "I'm sorry if it changes your opinion of me," she said. "But sometimes that's how the world is. If I hadn't consented freely and knowingly to be what Doyle wanted, he'd still be alive, there would be well-armed conflicts in parts of the world you don't even want to think about getting hot, and Declan would be training to be his successor."

"He is a pretty great kid." Morgan admitted, after a moment.

"And I hope he stays that way. At least now he has a chance."

"Tell me about Declan. From the beginning."

So she did.

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

AFFC: Samwell V (Chapter 45)

Thrice longships were sighted by the crow's nest. Two were well astern, however, and the Cinnamon Wind soon outdistanced them. The third appeared near sunset, to cut them off from Whispering Sound. When they saw her oars rising and falling, lashing the copper waters white, Kojja Mo sent her archers to the castles with their great bows of goldenheart that could send a shaft farther and truer than even Dornish yew. She waited till the longship came within two hundred yards before she gave the command to loose. Sam loosed with them, and this time he thought his arrow reached the ship. One volley was all it took. The longship veered south in search of tamer prey.

Samwell and a Summer Islander are shooting arrows again.

In case it matters, Sarella Sand was using a goldenheart bow in the prologue.

+.+.+

"It's very tall," said Gilly.

"Wait until you see the Hightower."

Bizarro jongritte.

+.+.+

Dalla's babe began to cry. Gilly pulled open her tunic and gave the boy her breast. She smiled as he nursed, and stroked his soft brown hair. She has come to love this one as much as the one she left behind, Sam realized. He hoped that the gods would be kind to both of the children.

When he says gods he means George R. R. Martin.

Born-in-battle has a new mommy. Say goodbye to Mance and his sister-in-law, I'm not sure they make it.

+.+.+

"Who would be so mad as to raid this close to Oldtown?"

Xhondo pointed at a half-sunken longship in the shallows. The remnants of a banner drooped from her stern, smoke-stained and ragged. The charge was one Sam had never seen before: a red eye with a black pupil, beneath a black iron crown supported by two crows. "Whose banner is that?" Sam asked. Xhondo only shrugged.

Euron Greyjoy, you little rascal! What am I going to do with you?

+.+.+

"My apologies," the captain said when his inspection was complete. "It grieves me that honest men must suffer such discourtesy, but sooner that than ironmen in Oldtown. Only a fortnight ago some of those bloody bastards captured a Tyroshi merchantman in the straits. They killed her crew, donned their clothes, and used the dyes they found to color their whiskers half a hundred colors. Once inside the walls they meant to set the port ablaze and open a gate from within whilst we fought the fire. Might have worked, but they ran afoul of the Lady of the Tower, and her oarsmaster has a Tyroshi wife. When he saw all the green and purple beards he hailed them in the tongue of Tyrosh, and not one of them had the words to hail him back."

Ironmen dressed like a Tyroshi! How clever.

Wouldn't it be funny to see Euron dressed like a Tyroshi? Imagine Euron wearing Daario's clothing! Hilarious.

+.+.+

"The Hightower must be doing something."

"To be sure. Lord Leyton's locked atop his tower with the Mad Maid, consulting books of spells. Might be he'll raise an army from the deeps. Or not. Baelor's building galleys, Gunthor has charge of the harbor, Garth is training new recruits, and Humfrey's gone to Lys to hire sellsails. If he can winkle a proper fleet out of his whore of a sister, we can start paying back the ironmen with some of their own coin. Till then, the best we can do is guard the sound and wait for the bitch queen in King's Landing to let Lord Paxter off his leash."

Lynesse Hightower shoutout.

Lynesse was awkwardly spotlighted in Catelyn V, ASOS, so I wouldn't be surprised if she became a factor.

As for the rest of the Hightowers, all I can think about is that random story we heard in Jaime's first AFFC chapter.

"Ser Jaime, I have seen terrible things in my time," the old man said. "Wars, battles, murders most foul . . . I was a boy in Oldtown when the grey plague took half the city and three-quarters of the Citadel. Lord Hightower burned every ship in port, closed the gates, and commanded his guards to slay all those who tried to flee, be they men, women, or babes in arms. They killed him when the plague had run its course. On the very day he reopened the port, they dragged him from his horse and slit his throat, and his young son's as well. To this day the ignorant in Oldtown will spit at the sound of his name, but Quenton Hightower did what was needed. Your father was that sort of man as well. A man who did what was needed." - Jaime I, AFFC

+.+.+

The bitterness of the captain's final words shocked Sam as much as the things he said. If King's Landing loses Oldtown and the Arbor, the whole realm will fall to pieces, he thought as he watched the Huntress and her sisters moving off.

Counting on it.

Someone has to assist Oldtown, but who? Cersei, Aegon, Daenerys, or Stannis.

+.+.+

It has to be Horn Hill, Sam finally decided. Once we reach Oldtown I'll hire a wagon and some horses and take her there myself. That way he could make certain of the castle and its garrison, and if any part of what he saw or heard gave him pause, he could just turn around and bring Gilly back to Oldtown.

Probably what happens.

How else is he getting Heartsbane?

+.+.+

Sam used the time to explain his plans to Gilly. "First the Citadel, to present Jon's letters and tell them of Maester Aemon's death. I expect the archmaesters will send a cart for his body.

It's not clear whether this happened.

+.+.+

Then I will arrange for horses and a wagon to take you to my mother at Horn Hill. I will be back as soon as I can, but it may not be until the morrow."

"The morrow," she repeated, and gave him a kiss for luck.

Until the morrow. The morrow.

+.+.+

"How long will you remain in port?"

"Two days, ten days, who can say? However long it takes to empty our holds and fill them again." Kojja grinned. "My father must visit the grey maesters as well. He has books to sell."

Who can say how long they'll stay? Hopefully they're still there on the morrow.

Those books* Sam brought from Castle Black get referenced in almost every single one of his chapters.

*Maester Thomax's Dragonkin, Being a History of House Targaryen from Exile to Apotheosis, with a Consideration of the Life and Death of Dragons.

+.+.+

"Can Gilly stay aboard till I return?"

"Gilly can stay as long as she likes." She poked Sam in the belly with a finger. "She does not eat so much as some."

Gilly's staying aboard until he returns. On the morrow.

+.+.+

The day was damp, so the cobblestones were wet and slippery underfoot, the alleys shrouded in mist and mystery. Sam avoided them as best he could and stayed on the river road that wound along beside the Honeywine through the heart of the old city.

Is that a joke about Samwell avoiding Pate's fate?

+.+.+

The gates of the Citadel were flanked by a pair of towering green sphinxes with the bodies of lions, the wings of eagles, and the tails of serpents. One had a man's face, one a woman's.

Is that a joke about Sarella Sand?

+.+.+

The path divided where the statue of King Daeron the First sat astride his tall stone horse, his sword lifted toward Dorne. A seagull was perched on the Young Dragon's head, and two more on the blade. Sam took the left fork, which ran beside the river. 

If this fork in the road means anything, I'm not the person to tell you.

+.+.+

The man glanced up and did not appear to approve of what he saw. "You smell of novice."

"I hope to be one soon." Sam drew out the letters Jon Snow had given him. "I came from the Wall with Maester Aemon, but he died during the voyage. If I could speak with the Seneschal . . ."

[...]

"How much longer will it be?"

"The Seneschal is an important man."

After minor mentions here and there, this is the first time in the series we're assaulted with the word seneschal.

I'm not done with this thought.

+.+.+

"How could you tell I was of noble birth?"

"The same way you can tell that I'm half Dornish." The statement was delivered with a smile, in a soft Dornish drawl.

Sam fumbled for a penny. "Are you a novice?"

"An acolyte. Alleras, by some called Sphinx."

The name gave Sam a jolt. "The sphinx is the riddle, not the riddler," he blurted. "Do you know what that means?"

"No. Is it a riddle?"

"I wish I knew. I'm Samwell Tarly. Sam."

Could Maester Aemon have meant this Sphinx? It seems likely.

+.+.+

"Well met. And what business does Samwell Tarly have with Archmaester Theobald?"

"Is he the Seneschal?" said Sam, confused. "Maester Aemon said his name was Norren."

"Not for the past two turns. There is a new one every year. They fill the office by lot from amongst the archmaesters, most of whom regard it as a thankless task that takes them away from their true work. This year the black stone was drawn by Archmaester Walgrave, but Walgrave's wits are prone to wander, so Theobald stepped up and said he'd serve his term. He's a gruff man, but a good one. Did you say Maester Aemon?"

Alright, follow me here.

No theories, just thoughts.

Every single year an archmaester serves as Seneschal of the Citadel. I checked the appendix, there's 21 archmaesters at the Citadel.

Despite all his travels, there is a possibility Marwyn has been the Seneschal of the Citadel before.

"No. Hear me, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and griffin, the sun's son and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal." - Daenerys II, ADWD

Unfortunately, no mention of perfume or any other scent appeared in this chapter. I'm not sold, but we'll keep Marwyn in mind.

+.+.+

"Aemon Targaryen?"

"Once. Most just called him Maester Aemon. He died during our voyage south. How is it that you know of him?"

"How not? He was more than just the oldest living maester. He was the oldest man in Westeros, and lived through more history than Archmaester Perestan has ever learned. He could have told us much and more about his father's reign, and his uncle's. How old was he, do you know?"

"One hundred and two"

Weird she knows about Aemon Targaryen.

Laughing at the thought of Aemon having any good insight on his family.

+.+.+

"What was he doing at sea, at his age?"

Sam chewed on the question for a moment, wondering how much he ought to say. The sphinx is the riddle, not the riddler. Could Maester Aemon have meant this Sphinx? It seemed unlikely. "Lord Commander Snow sent him away to save his life," he began, hesitantly. He spoke awkwardly of King Stannis and Melisandre of Asshai, intending to stop at that, but one thing led to another and he found himself speaking of Mance Rayder and his wildlings, king's blood and dragons, and before he knew what was happening, all the rest came spilling out; the wights at the Fist of First Men, the Other on his dead horse, the murder of the Old Bear at Craster's Keep, Gilly and their flight, Whitetree and Small Paul, Coldhands and the ravens, Jon's becoming lord commander, the Blackbird, Dareon, Braavos, the dragons Xhondo saw in Qarth, the Cinnamon Wind and all that Maester Aemon whispered toward the end. He held back only the secrets that he was sworn to keep, about Bran Stark and his companions and the babes Jon Snow had swapped. "Daenerys is the only hope," he concluded. "Aemon said the Citadel must send her a maester at once, to bring her home to Westeros before it is too late."

Yeah, let's have Samwell Tarly parroting these ideas of Daenerys being The Great White Hope. That won't blow up in his face. Or Dickon's.

+.+.+

"How far do we have to go?"

"Not far. The Isle of Ravens."

They did not need a boat to reach the Isle of Ravens; a weathered wooden drawbridge linked it to the eastern bank. "The Ravenry is the oldest building at the Citadel," Alleras told him, as they crossed over the slow-flowing waters of the Honeywine. "In the Age of Heroes it was supposedly the stronghold of a pirate lord who sat here robbing ships as they came down the river."

They should rename it the Isle of Crow. Hee.

+.+.+

It was cool and dim inside the castle walls. An ancient weirwood filled the yard, as it had since these stones had first been raised. The carved face on its trunk was grown over by the same purple moss that hung heavy from the tree's pale limbs. Half of the branches seemed dead, but elsewhere a few red leaves still rustled, and it was there the ravens liked to perch. The tree was full of them, and there were more in the arched windows overhead, all around the yard. The ground was speckled by their droppings. As they crossed the yard, one flapped overhead and he heard the others quorking to each other. 

We've got eyes on the Citadel.

Not that it matters, Bran doesn't appear to need a tree.

+.+.+

"Samwell. A new novice, come to see the Mage."

"The Citadel is not what it was," complained the blond. "They will take anything these days. Dusky dogs and Dornishmen, pig boys, cripples, cretins, and now a black-clad whale. And here I thought leviathans were grey." A half cape striped in green and gold draped one shoulder. He was very handsome, though his eyes were sly and his mouth cruel.

Sam knew him. "Leo Tyrell."

Yay, the asshole's back.

+.+.+

"Are you still a craven?"

"No," lied Sam. Jon had made it a command. "I went beyond the Wall and fought in battles. They call me Sam the Slayer." He did not know why he said it. The words just tumbled out.

He owned it!

Slayers slay dragons. That's what they do. They're dragonslayers. These are the rules.

I'm working off my own, you know, karma here, because I'm George, and what's he known for? He killed the dragon, you know, come on. Come on, I was almost abolished at one point when the Catholic Church was reviewing all the saints, I was terrified that George would be abolished, because they abolish a lot of fiction, I said George is only known for killing a dragon, how can they keep him in, but they did so, that was, that was good. - George R. R. Martin

George is Sam! It is known.

+.+.+

Marwyn wore a chain of many metals around his bull's neck. Save for that, he looked more like a dockside thug than a maester. His head was too big for his body, and the way it thrust forward from his shoulders, together with that slab of jaw, made him look as if he were about to tear off someone's head. Though short and squat, he was heavy in the chest and shoulders, with a round, rock-hard ale belly straining at the laces of the leather jerkin he wore in place of robes. Bristly white hair sprouted from his ears and nostrils. His brow beetled, his nose had been broken more than once, and sourleaf had stained his teeth a mottled red. He had the biggest hands that Sam had ever seen.

Um.

These are the characters that chew sourleaf:

Chett -> dead.

Emmon Frey -> going to die. duh.

Masha Heddle -> dead.

The pious dwarf -> dead.

Snatch -> sellsword introduced in ADWD.

Yoren -> dead.

Are you noticing a pattern here?

+.+.+

"Call it dragonglass." Archmaester Marwyn glanced at the candle for a moment. "It burns but is not consumed."

"What feeds the flame?" asked Sam.

"What feeds a dragon's fire?" Marwyn seated himself upon a stool. "All Valyrian sorcery was rooted in blood or fire. The sorcerers of the Freehold could see across mountains, seas, and deserts with one of these glass candles. They could enter a man's dreams and give him visions, and speak to one another half a world apart, seated before their candles. Do you think that might be useful, Slayer?"

I hate these stupid candles.

+.+.+

The archmaester peeled a sourleaf off a bale, shoved it in his mouth, and began to chew it.

Oh no.

+.+.+

"Tell me all you told our Dornish sphinx. I know much of it and more, but some small parts may have escaped my notice."

He was not a man to be refused. Sam hesitated a moment, then told his tale again as Marywn, Alleras, and the other novice listened. "Maester Aemon believed that Daenerys Targaryen was the fulfillment of a prophecy . . . her, not Stannis, nor Prince Rhaegar, nor the princeling whose head was dashed against the wall."

That other novice is a Faceless Man, and probably not a huge fan of Valyrians or dragons.

+.+.+

"Born amidst salt and smoke, beneath a bleeding star. I know the prophecy." Marwyn turned his head and spat a gob of red phlegm onto the floor. "Not that I would trust it. Gorghan of Old Ghis once wrote that a prophecy is like a treacherous woman. She takes your member in her mouth, and you moan with the pleasure of it and think, how sweet, how fine, how good this is . . . and then her teeth snap shut and your moans turn to screams. That is the nature of prophecy, said Gorghan. Prophecy will bite your prick off every time." He chewed a bit. "Still . . ."

He seems to be sensible? I don't get Marwyn.

+.+.+

Alleras stepped up next to Sam. "Aemon would have gone to her if he had the strength. He wanted us to send a maester to her, to counsel her and protect her and fetch her safely home."

"Did he?" Archmaester Marwyn shrugged. "Perhaps it's good that he died before he got to Oldtown. Elsewise the grey sheep might have had to kill him, and that would have made the poor old dears wring their wrinkled hands."

"Kill him?" Sam said, shocked. "Why?"

"If I tell you, they may need to kill you too." Marywn smiled a ghastly smile, the juice of the sourleaf running red between his teeth.

Oh dear.

They wouldn't kill Maester Aemon. That's ridiculous. This whole conversation is weird.

+.+.+

"Who do you think killed all the dragons the last time around? Gallant dragonslayers armed with swords?" He spat. "The world the Citadel is building has no place in it for sorcery or prophecy or glass candles, much less for dragons. Ask yourself why Aemon Targaryen was allowed to waste his life upon the Wall, when by rights he should have been raised to archmaester. His blood was why. He could not be trusted. No more than I can."

That's some world class bullshit from Marwyn. The Targaryens clearly destroyed themselves, it wasn't a society of elderly scholars. Surely he knows that. What is going on?

Loving the talk of dragonslayers killing dragons though!

The world the Citadel is building has no place in it for sorcery or prophecy or glass candles, much less for dragons.

If he has a problem with that, why is he there? Why is he encouraging Samwell to forge his chain?

+.+.+

Marwyn glanced at Sam again, and frowned. "You . . . you should stay and forge your chain. If I were you, I would do it quickly. A time will come when you'll be needed on the Wall." He turned to the pasty-faced novice. "Find Slayer a dry cell. He'll sleep here, and help you tend the ravens."

Didn't happen that way on the show, but I believe him.

+.+.+

"B-b-but," Sam sputtered, "the other archmaesters . . . the Seneschal . . . what should I tell them?"

"Tell them how wise and good they are. Tell them that Aemon commanded you to put yourself into their hands. Tell them that you have always dreamed that one day you might be allowed to wear the chain and serve the greater good, that service is the highest honor, and obedience the highest virtue. But say nothing of prophecies or dragons, unless you fancy poison in your porridge." Marwyn snatched a stained leather cloak off a peg near the door and tied it tight. "Sphinx, look after this one."

Am I crazy? This is nonsense, right? I refuse to believe a maester would poison a novice. If that were the case, why would they let Marwyn the Mage serve? Why would there be a Valyrian steel link for expertise in higher mysteries?

Other than Pycelle and Qyburn (who lost his links), I can't think of a single morally corrupt maester in the story, and we've met dozens. Don't even talk to me about Cressen, that was justified, okay? Lol.

Look at the people who hate maesters: Aeron Dam-phair, Qyburn, Cersei Lannister, Barbrey Dustin. That's not the side you want to be on.

+.+.+

"What will you do?" asked Alleras, the Sphinx.

"Get myself to Slaver's Bay, in Aemon's place. The swan ship that delivered Slayer should serve my needs well enough. The grey sheep will send their man on a galley, I don't doubt. With fair winds I should reach her first." 

[...]

"Where has he gone?" asked Sam, bewildered.

"To the docks. The Mage is not a man who believes in wasting time." Alleras smiled.

Finally, here we are.

We can only assume Gilly, Dalla's baby, Aemon's rum corpse, the horn, and the Castle Black books are still on that ship.

It's possible the ship won't set sail until the next day, and there's nothing to worry about.

It's also possible the ship left once impatient Marwyn arrived, forcing Gilly to get off, and spend a rough night alone in Oldtown.

He hoped he still remembered the way to the Citadel. Oldtown was a maze, and he had no time for getting lost.

x

Sam had sent Gilly out to get some, forgetting that the wildling girl had lived her whole life in sight of Craster's Keep and never seen so much as a market town. The stony maze of islands and canals that was Braavos, devoid of grass and trees and teeming with strangers who spoke to her in words she could not understand, frightened her so badly that she lost the map and soon herself. - Samwell III, AFFC

I don't know.

Side note, I never noticed Marwyn predicting the other maesters would send someone too. I wonder who?

+.+.+

"I have a confession. Ours was no chance encounter, Sam. The Mage sent me to snatch you up before you spoke to Theobald. He knew that you were coming."

"How?"

Alleras nodded at the glass candle.

I suppose I can't deny they work, but I loathe most glass candle theories. I don't want to read about Leyton Hightower having a glass candle - it's stupid, and I hate it.

Maybe Quaithe has one. I don't even care.

+.+.+

"There's an empty sleeping cell under mine in the west tower, with steps that lead right up to Walgrave's chambers," said the pasty-faced youth. "If you don't mind the ravens quorking, there's a good view of the Honeywine. Will that serve?"

"I suppose." He had to sleep somewhere.

"I will bring you some woolen coverlets. Stone walls turn cold at night, even here."

"My thanks." There was something about the pale, soft youth that he misliked, but he did not want to seem discourteous, so he added, "My name's not Slayer, truly. I'm Sam. Samwell Tarly."

"I'm Pate," the other said, "like the pig boy."

Prologue Pate! Strange seeing you in the first and last chapter. I thought you died.

How much do we hate Jaqen being anywhere near Samwell? Lots.

I'll trust the process.

Final thoughts:

Friends,

WE DID IT!

-> return to menu <-

[marinehero]

“ are you going to kill me? ”

QUESTION PROMPTS

ლ. His hand clamped like an iron vice around Shanks’s arm ( arm. Only one. There was only one arm. What had happened—) careless of anyone beyond the captain of the Red Hair Pirates in his grip as he stormed out of the bar, baring teeth in a snarl to any who might try to stop them. His mind filled with static, waves crashing against cliffs drowning out all else as he dragged them away from gathering crowds.

      It’d been pure chance, running into Shanks. Although, had he been given intel, he knew he would have thrown aside whatever business he’d been assigned to chase after the brat. If that’d been the case, maybe he’d have been more prepared for the drowning fury tightening in his chest. The pressure of it increasing with each step until he couldn't ignore it any longer, stopping them dead in his tracks. Vaguely registering that they were deep in a network of alleyways, covered in trash and moss he couldn’t care less about.

“ Are you going to kill me ? ”

     His hands moved before his brain could catch up to the words, clenching into a tight fist and throwing it hard against the bastard’s jaw. Dull satisfaction doing little to break through the maelstrom within him, staring down with a deep scowl marring his face though he made no more moves to attack.

     A single one of his punches could fell a man worth five hundred million. A single one of his punches could level a village. If he wanted to imprison the bastard for all of his crimes, than Garp would have dragged Shanks back to his ship by the ear, rather than hitting the man hard enough to hurt, but far from bone breaking, from truly damaging. No, his punch had served as an insult.

     Or maybe a promise instead.

" Don’t tempt me, you brat. "   voice cold and tight with fury, void of any laughter or the begrudging fondness that’d once been unshakable. Now, the mere idea of showing an ounce of warmth curdled like rot in his guts,   " I should, for what you’ve done, you damn pirate. "

     Distant part took note that this was the first time he’d ever struck the redhead with intention to hurt, part of him half-expecting Roger to rise from the grave and strike back in vengeance. He pointedly ignored both thoughts in favor of staring down at Shanks. The glare he was giving had sent lesser men fleeing to sea for their lives. His epithet, whispered and spat out in fear and hatred by pirates around the world, as their Devil undeniably well-earned in blood and countless incarcerated.

" You gave his hat away, "    ridiculous words to be spoken with such vehement outrage. Nonsensical to any who didn’t know, but of course he knew. When that hat had been the first thing he’d ever seen of Roger, all those decades ago when they’d both been little more than brats themselves,   " You gave away his damn hat. To Luffy, "   name falling out a hiss, weathered hand seizing the collar of Shanks’s shirt, shaking him.

     Shanks could have brought down hellfire throughout the Seas, could have been every bit of what the world thinks to be a pirate and Garp—  Garp would have gone after the brat. Of course he would have. But there would have still been laughter. He would have still smiled.

     But this. Shanks had crossed the one line Garp hadn't even realized existed, had never thought to prepare himself to one day face.

" He wants to be a pirate now !  You made him want to be a pirate ! "  the fear choking him ever since he’d heard Luffy shouted his claims to the world continued to grasp his lungs, would continue to do so until at least one of them was dead and he hated it,   " My grandson was supposed to be a marine !  He was supposed to— "

     Had Shanks known ?  Had it been on purpose ?  Did the brat think this was some joke ?

" I should. "   Answer repeated and spat out full of venom. He wouldn't. Couldn't. The damage had been done and killing the brat would solve nothing   ( and he already knew that Shanks' blood on his hands would forever haunt him, no matter how much he wished different )  but dammit all if he wasn't still sorely tempted.

[prismatic-dreaming]

👪 for perse i wanna hear abt her sister >:) vult au if its spoilery for innmys -🐺 kao

👪 what is their family like? what is your ocs relationship to them? does your oc have any siblings?

🔥 "Horrible. They're horrible, relationship's horrible, I don't really consider myself related to them at all. That bastard of a 'biological father' if you want to call him that only wanted to use and exploit me for his own gain. I'm glad he's dead and I helped him get taken down. And his daughter was a spoiled brat, a bitch, and a blackmailer. I despise them with all of my being." "I never really got to know my biological mother but I do feel bad for her, it seemed like she had it pretty rough. And then Aspen had her killed. I had adoptive parents, they were alright I guess, we weren't ever really close. We all had work to do. The only people I'd really consider my family were in Revelasia. They've done a lot for me and meant the world to me. Especially Thea. I... I miss her."

☙ Relationship is pretty similar for bio father and Aspen in DV, but she never met biomom and instead of adoptive parents she has a mentor from the adventurer's guild who scooped him up like a little street rat that he was.

The real juicy drama under the cut so it's not too long. Gets kinda dark. She's definitely my character with the most traumatic backstory.

Now for the actual drama, VQ edition.

🔥 As far as VQ universe goes, she grew up in communal raising for the early years, then was brought into the household of the current ruling family of one of Holo's city-states as the personal servant of their heir, Aspen.

🔥 The Chadwick family is well! very evil and corrupt! We love people in power in dystopias! She was chosen to be Aspen's handmaid because her own powers could be used to get rid of any evidence Aspen's ice powers. On Holo, it's quite rare for demons to have any sort of psychic powers called pathics, and more common for nephilim, half-human half-demons, like Perse. Those who have pathics are supposed to be given over to the Regime to be under its control, but of course the Chadwicks weren't letting their heir be taken away, plus she serves as protection for them if necessary with her powers honed.

🔥He didn't exactly enjoy his work for Aspen, as she's very much a spoiled brat who would force Perse to do things for her sometimes as she was more devout to Holoan religion than her parents, or for other things, but wouldn't hesitate to throw him under the bus if she was going to get in trouble for it. But, well, he didn't really have a lot of choice in the matter.

🔥However, everything she didn't know came crashing down on her one day when through happenstance, a human fellow servant comes in for something Aspen needed, recognized Perse and well. that's actually her bio mom. Who is very shaken up over all this. Aspen was there and both were in denial of it, especially for the fact that they shared a father, and Aspen despised both father and Perse over it. Both keep it secret with Aspen holding it over Perse and being crueler than usual over it until she just can't take it anymore and snaps. During her outburst the room is set on fire, burning Aspen in the process, and she narrowly manages to escape with her life. She has a rough time braving the elements, nearly dying in the process, but a new friend and a team from Revelasia heading back to base brings her survival.

🔥And even there the drama doesn't fully end. She's met with suspicion by one of the leaders (who, while she doesn't know it yet, is Neve) for using a different name when joining and her... interesting situation. But she does not only verify her claims but also Revelasia takes part in an ironic joint operation with the Regime to take down the Chadwick couple, and Aspen is taken into Regime custody. Neve is also. very blunt and bad at softness so she's handed some. pretty rough information about Mr. Chadwick's monitoring of her, and that she was initially conceived to be a personal soldier for him. Covering up Aspen's powers just ended up taking priority and plans changed.

So yeah! uh! pretty fucking rough! She despises him and is glad he's dead, and has a lot of resentment towards Aspen as well.

☙ As far as Dlennverse goes, her family is much less influential, but still unpleasant. I wanna have a little secrets since some of it may or may not be coming up during innmys ehe (also not gonna lie i still have stuff to figure out there i can't purely be coy and say it's a secret)

I also offer some character tokens by the lovely @vihala for them! I think you can tell who's who, but Perse is on the top and Aspen is on the bottom. I love cinematic parallels and designing them to be very opposite to each other. I had a lot of fun with their designs and I'm very grateful to Kat for putting together Aspen for me based on all the ideas and references I put together since I was having a rough wrist day at the time.

[saturnville]

drunken affair.

pairing: jax teller.

content: jax is drunk and his mind is wandering.

song: make it rain, ed sheeran

note: i’ve barely made it through season 1 of soa cus i couldn’t get into it, so pardon any … inaccuracies. also i typically don’t curse so if it’s cringy… i apologize in advance.

divider from @firefly-graphics

A bottle of whiskey was his companion for the evening. He loved whiskey, and didn’t mind it’s presence. It didn’t speak. It didn’t move. It didn’t have judgements curated examining the wickedness surrounding the one who nursed its neck with a warm, clammy palm. He loved whiskey. It ran down smoothly before enticing a burn that took his mind off the sorrowful life he lived. 

An eerie silence grabbed him by the throat and yanked. It drew a wet cough from the back of his throat. A stream of vomit crawled up but he forced it down with another swig.

A dirty hand swiped across his face aggressively, taking tears and snot with it. He flicked his wrist to rid of the moisture before massaging the torn material of the rocking chair. His calloused finger tips danced over the tears and needle sized holes that branded it. His kind wandered to his former wife.

“Freakin’ junkie.” His words were slurred, filled with hatred, and coated with disgust. “Almost killed my kid. Bitch.”

Another swig. The bottle was half empty. He’d only been drinking for thirty minutes. His stomach gurgled in discomfort and he treated it with a small gulp and an inhale of a freshly lit cigarette.

A heavy exhale came from him and a retched hack soon followed. His heavy head fell slack against the headrest. He sniffed repeatedly, twitching his nose like an animal.

His eyelids were heavy and fluttered over blue eyes. He hated his eyes. They were his father's, plucked out of the old man's ducts and forced into his own. He hated his eyes. And he hated his father.

"That bastard," Jax grumbled almost incoherently. Slobber dribbled down the side of his mouth which he sucked in disgustingly. "Ruined my freakin' life. Too weak to leave now I carry this mess on my shoulders." Another swig.

John Teller was a strong man. A heart and head of steel and hands on iron and bronze. But, boy, was a weak behind the scenes. SAMCRO was the light of his life to those on the outside. Behind the scenes, it drowned him and sent his sanity to the pits of hell.

Those notes he'd written were a gateway to a freedom he desired so deeply. John was strong on the outside but weak on the inside. Damn his pride and uncertainty. If only he opened his mouth and backed out when he wanted to, SAMCRO would be dead and gone.

John wouldn't be dead. Jax would be at peace.

Peace. Seemed like a far-fetched construct that was impossible to reach. After swimming in the waters of torture and misery for so long, it seemed impossible for the lifebuoy of peace to pull him out.

“Hate him,” Jax huffed. He stood to his feet faster than they should have. His face almost collided with the floor but the circling of his arms restored balance. “I hate you,” he said to no one in particular. The leather kutte around his torso seemed to suffocate him. He scratched and pulled at the material aggressively.

The cigarette fell from his parted lips and onto the ragged carpet beneath his boot-clad feet.

“I hate you,” he said louder, snatching the kutte off his body. He threw it to the ground like he’d done many men before, pounding, kicking, and stomping on the material until it was crinkled and covered in dirt. That four lettered word spew from his mouth repeatedly.

His body grew tired. His arms fell by his side, his legs cramped, and his heart broke in two. The patch on the chest of his kutte stared back at him. President. He shook his head in disgust and blinked away the forming tears.

Slowly, Jax bent down and picked up the partially lit cigarette and brought it to his lips and took a sorrowful inhale. He spat upon the kutte below him. “I hate you…ruined my freakin’ life.”

[lightdancer1]

Since I was singled out by name as somehow bad for liking a fictional child soldier

First, you silly sonsobitches, this is a fucking cartoon. If I was being nice to you people I would limit the response to the 40K meme and to noting that's all there is. But I'm not feeling especially charitable today. Y'know why?

Because you people lose your shit over a TV Y7 villain who was directly shown half-killing a main character who got better by Katara Ex Machina.

Well, I hate to tell you kids but I'm a fan of 40K, and my favorite faction is the Iron Warriors, led by the guy in the meme.

You know why I don't find Azula's deeds that noticeable in fictional terms? Because my favorite Primarch, this guy, is the kind of guy who made his in-universe debut by having one in ten of his sons beaten to death by the other nine for disappointing his expectations. He's the kind of guy who sits around feeling sorry for himself and working up a good hate and then going SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE when the hate gets built up enough to erupt.

This is a guy who even in in-universe terms in a series where the Elizabeth Bathory approach is a fundamental element of living longer used even by the 'good guys' is so renowned for brutality that his Legion was called the Corpse Grinders and then he shows up and makes it worse.

That is the kind of stories I read, where these dour gigantic superhuman monsters are the eighteen leaders of a genocidal galactic crusade and yes, they live up to exactly what that sounds like and then they turn on each other and it gets worse. What Azula does wouldn't even qualify her as someone to notice in 40K terms. If Azula is too much for you, you would literally curl up in a ball holding a teddybear sucking your thumb reading a 40K book.

You guys are literally too fragile to function.

Is this a copypasta rant because you're taken seriously? Hell no, this is me noting why I love my favorite magnificent bastard petty bitch of a Primarch who nuked one of his brothers as his 'oh hi, you're fucked, and I'm-a fuck you with an atomic hello.' Because sometimes people read stories for villains who are far more villainous than anything you've heard of and that's 100% why they're fun.

[we-dragons]

I'm from a different dimension actually Chapter 8 Damian x reader

The school is shut down for a week ironically because of an attack by The Joker and Two-Face, that Robin and his team took down. The teachers sent out a notice with homework attached and told us to stay inside. Nightmare came back somewhere in the morning I couldn't tell the time because I apparently fell asleep along with Boy Wonder before the end of season 1 of The Highlander. I gently placed him down on the couch, gotten dressed, and made some breakfast, I only had eggs so I made some scrambled and put them on a plate for him and me. Nightmare got the last of the bacon. I put a plate over Robins while I ate mine sitting at the small table in the kitchen going over my homework. Sadly I finished my homework before my eggs and they have gone cold. I silently morn my eggs eating the cold carcass. "You stare any harder at that screen and you might break it." I jump, my head shoots upwards and I sigh, but then my eyes drop on my cat. My jaw drops the furball is purring in the arms of a masked stranger who is petting his head. Robin was petting my cat holding him like a baby and the demon is purring. Robin still had his eyes, and limbs not even a bite mark was seen on his skin.

"You traitor, you barely know him." I playful scold the feline, he meows nuzzling his face in Robin's chest.

"Your monster seems friendly."

"Nightmare looks like he's been introduced to catnip."

"Just a few scratches here and there." He smirks taking a seat next to me."Thank you for breakfast."

"Mhm." I turn back to the screen, "Will you be going back today Robin?"

"I might."

"Hmm." I finish the last problem for today closing the device, "Well I have to go to work, your welcome to stay if you want." I smooth out my clothes tossing one last look at the melting ball of fur. I quirk an eyebrow but move out to the door. I stop Halfway through the doorway and look back putting on my meanest face. "If you break a single window in my home I will find where ever you are and break you. Bye Nightmare, love you, I'll be back in a few hours."

_____________________________________________________________

"Nightmare! I'm back!" my keys skitter across the floor but no black fur is seen. He's still in the arms of Robin though it's not Robin, Green eyes. My stomach sinks and my mouth goes dry. "Damian?" His is just as much shock as me, he puts down Nightmare and rushes to me the door slams behind me. And I'm being dragged then forced to sit, his hands grip my shoulders. "Your early, why did you arrive early, you not supposed to be back for another half hour." I hardly heard him, I scold myself now realizing the obvious. Why else would Nightmare feel comfortable around him he had been here before multiple times noticed how I treated Damian and that's why he was a purring mess in his arms. I said be nice to him when he was over not Robin, but of course, they smell the same Nightmare associated with both people. I should have spotted it sooner, the voice, the height, the tone of his speech. Dear God, I can mom telling how oblivious, like she did when she won Clue. It was right there, he asked the right question and baited me for answers. I don't know why this is a shock to me. Now that I think of it I have to stop myself from laughing

"What the hell," my voice quivers. "Damian, Damian Wayne. You help Gotham." I start snickering, pulling my hand over my face. I throw my head back laughing then fall over to the side. "Nightmare you knew didn't you! Haha, that's why you were you were melting like butter."

"Your laughing!"

"Did you assume I wouldn't!" I wheeze, my breath nearly coming out to form words. "I can imagine you fighting, but saving people that's something else entirely."

"Do you think so little of me?" He sounds disappointed.

"I don't mean it to offend you but what else can I say. I didn't expect this." I sit up, clearing my throat and looking him dead in the eye. "Can I just call you Damian now, or do I still have to you different names."

"Why aren't you more surprised?"I Smile sadly.

"I thought you would have read up on me, do you know who killed my parents that day at home." He stiffens, he opens his mouth but continues. "My Father's sister, my aunt, killed them both during dinner. All because my mother wouldn't let her see those journals you asked about. After that it many people took off their masks."

"That's all it took?"

"What should it take, she killed her own brother because she didn't get confidential knowledge. To be honest, I don't really care anymore."

"You need professional help." I shrug.

"Probably, but getting sessions is expensive and I don't enjoy answering "and how are you feeling?" questions. I had enough of that already from everyone else."

"Where's your brother, Emil?" I feel myself frown.

"He's with someone I trust, I can't tell you who, sorry."

"The file says you died, you also made a miraculous recovery, recovery from what?"

"I prefer not to answer that question, It's rather personal." I don't want to explain that either, I know the doctor was shocked to see me come back. They had to call the professor to have him take me and my brother. After that this entire fiasco.

"You know I'll find out either way."

"Listen, I don't know how I made it, I was tortured by my she who will not be named and left for dead. I prayed for anyone and everyone who would hear me, someone did, the police found me and I was rushed to the hospital. I decided to take a nap, and I woke up to the sound of Emil crying. He cried, even more, when I woke up, screaming even, the good doctor nearly fainted. I was plugged into wires of all sorts, and my uncle was holding a plug, I assume he pulled, tackled me. My body lit up in pain and felt like I was run over, the next I am separated from my family and rushed into a place where they check on me every three months. At least I got to choose the place, they pay for the school, and I cover everything else." I give in, it feels nice to tell someone, something even if it's not the whole truth. But it seems to shut him up. "Please don't go looking for Emil, they haven't caught my aunt yet. I don't know if she's looking for them next, I would prefer not to stand over another grave knowing she got them too." I stare at him gauging his reaction, his face is still stone, unmoving in the uncomfortable silence. I pick up Nightmare, who has been rubbing against my leg for a bit, and scratch his head as he wants.

"Fine, I won't push further but I have terms."

"Really?" What would he need terms for?

"1, you don't reveal my identity to anyone. 2, you will not acknowledge that you know my family’s identities. 3, I come whenever I like as Robin or as Damian. 4, I add terms whenever I please."

"Why would I agree to any of that? I'm the one who has your identity." He smiles.

"Because I will tell Batman this information, and he doesn't talk as kindly to people hiding something. You obviously still are, but for now, I'll let it slide I'm sure by now you've decided to watch the news, so you know what he does." I gulp, I did see his more recent victim and he looked traumatized.

"Alright fine, but I binge so if you fall asleep tough luck, I'm not going back."

"Fine," he reaches back and pulls out his mask which he puts back on, walking out to the kitchen. "I back in a bit, pull out your couch bed while I'm gone. I will be staying here a while." I get up after him.

"Hey, that offer is for when I thought you were some homeless bums who fights crime, gets money from villain's wallets. You have a perfectly good bed at home!" He turns back one foot on the railing and a grappling hook in hand. "Term 6, I will stay as long as I like." he jumps off like before, not giving me a chance to speak.

"Bastard! I need my alone time!" He's gone I don't even know if he heard me. I grumble pulling out the spare sheets and blankets to set up the bed. "He better be paying rent, smug rich kid."

"Meow." Nightmare looks over at the window Robin left of.

"Yes, he's coming back."

"Meow"

"No, I'm not going tell him, not until I have to."

"Merrow"

"Shut up." I kick the side of the couch holding the two large cushions that lay on it, the bed springs out and makes a satisfying thud on the floor. "Go and see if the data has finished downloading, then put it back in the box I'll make you something in a how you feel about tuna our downstairs grandparents gave me a can."

_____________________________________________________________

The sheets are made, the cat is fed and now I am going over how I was going to cover for another person. How much would he eat, can he survive on pastries, ramen, and eggs. How long was he staying, would his family come asking about him seeing as he was here before. At both times, when he broke my window, and when they came for coffee.

"Hey, open the door." The voice is cold but still recognizable. I get up slowly taking my time getting there along with opening the door. He hurries in, dressed in some normal-ish clothes that still look expensive, but he still dressed like he came out of a photo shoot. He not only has a suitcase but some grocery bags, I frown at those. He seems to notice because he forgets his suitcase and charges into the kitchen. "Hey!"

"Y/N I am not eating ramen and eggs for god knows how long. I will cook a decent meal and you will have something healthy."

"How did you know I only had eggs and ramen?"

"I went through your fridge," He places a bag of tomatoes in the bottom drawer where I see green onions and various other veggies.

"I make stir-fry once a month, you have bought enough greens and reds to make that for two weeks. I don't even have rice."

"You don't like it when people spend money on you, do you?"

"I don't need other people's money," He opens his mouth, but I stop him raising a finger cutting him off. "And before you mention Molly, she remains the exception. Not that me telling her not to stops her."

"And why is that." He stops putting the food in the fridge.

"Because I've been friends with her longer," I look back at his bags and frown. "How long do you plan on staying again."

"For as long as I please."

"Won't they come looking for you? Your family I mean, the Detective stops by almost every day."

"Grayson won't be a problem, I left them a trail that leads to several other places." He stuffs the last of the food in the fridge, getting up and looking out the balcony window. "Should take a long while." I can hear the smugness in his voice.

"Your happy you tricked your brothers aren't you." He turns around forcing himself to frown but the corners of his lips twitch.

"Ho, you're a bastard Wayne."

"You're really gonna curse me?"

"You didn't tell me I couldn't Damian." I grab my computer and open Hulu putting on Star Trek; Next-generation where I left off. "Hope you enjoy space adventure, because I'm not starting this over its seven seasons and 4 movies. I'm halfway through season 3, if you want context just ask." I glance up signaling that I am waiting for a response, he leans on the wall in front of my kitchen. I can't read his face, but his face of neutral displeasure wasn't much better. "So, your done feeling good about yourself, or is there something else you need."

"It's been something I've been wondering for a while now, those iridescent pieces you fed me."

"Part of my mother's work." Not a complete lie,

"Was that what those missing journals about?"

"No." More of a lie but not wrong. He groans anyway, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Man, you really like to cut in deep and waste time. Just come here and watch some Star Trek with me I need someone else to groan in pain about Counselor Troy's and Will Riker's on and off slow burn romance." Begrudgingly he walks over plopping down next to me.

"Your tastes in tv are odd."

"You have no idea, my tastes in something go everywhere, after this and Highlander I have several old cartoons next. First, I might have to gather what you know about the Quack pack, Goof troop, Ducktales, and all that pizazz. Though I have a feeling that you would like Darkwing Duck more, or it could possibly be too relatable." He gives me a look.

"How could I relate to a duck?"

"We are a long way from that now, at the moment we must bear witness to Captain Picard and his adventures commanding the USS Enterprise."

"Has anyone told you how unbelievably weird you are?"

"Sir, you have entered my life for what looks to be the long run. You will experience the kind of weirdness only Molly has ever seen. But now that you are basically my roommate you might see more." I pat his shoulder. "So, buckle up, because this is now you've got a seat on this roller-coaster, and you can't get off till the car reaches a complete stop. Now can we please get back to the show I want to see some cosmic action?"

_____________________________________________________________

"Was that a statement or a question?"

"He can achieve the perception of feeling with a chip that goes into his hyper-advanced brain, lets his brother take it but can't make his own."

"I lent you my computer to catch up to where I left off for one night and that's what you're hung upon."

"Yes," his eyes look serious while he shoves some oatmeal in his mouth. "You are the one who can't stand the slow burn."

"Touche."

Before we got to the last season, Damian had asked he could see the rest of the show before the finally. I didn't expect that he would binge because it was a weekend, he even made extensive notes on character weakness. He still went out on patrol every night but came back with no one tailing him. That's what he says at least. He looks tired, with bags under his eyes and just lacking energy altogether.

"While I'm at work please go to sleep, you look like you fought an energy vampire and lost."

"I wouldn’t have lost to a vampire, they’re not that hard to kill.”

“But they drink blood they need to get close; energy vampires are more psychic they don’t even have to be a real monster.” He stops eating/

“How so?”

“They could be emotionally, physically, and mentally draining people. You know like Deity Skimmer, the girl in our science class. You can’t kill the energy-sucking vibes she gives off, can you.” He snorts behind his hand.” I mean it, even creatures of the night need sleep.” I drop my dishes off in the sink. I walk off to the door putting on my boots, I hear the chair slide and I feel his judging eyes digging holes in the back of my skull.

“Once again your conditions said nothing about teasing you, suck it up.” He scoffs. “I’ll be back around 5, don’t break any more windows while I’m gone.” I close the door before I hear any remarks once more about the incident. Though I laugh to myself, I straighten out my outfit and head down to the wonderful smells of the coffee shop. I walk slowly down the stairs looking out to the crowd that had been seated in the lounge. My managers were out by the couches talking to one of the regulars. Pull me behind the counter and relieve my coworker Meg, she looks exhausted and excuses herself. She takes what I assume is her coffee and puts away her apron and rushes out the door. I finish out what she didn’t clean and wait for anyone to come up to the counter. *Ring* though it is loud I hear the bell for the door ring.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment, I need to clean the nozzle here.”

“That’s fine, I can wait.” I flinch but catch myself, so it looks like I flicked something. I turn around with the best smile I can pull off. The sleep-deprived brother of Damian, peers at me from under his hair a frown tugging on his face.

“Oh hey! You came here with detective Grayson last time. Is there anything you would like?”

“Coffee.”

“Any particular kind?”

“Anything that will keep me from sleeping on this counter.” He knocks on the surface twice.

“I Can recommend our D&D potion bottle, it’s a personal favorite of the owners.”

“Why not, how much?” He fumbles around for his pockets, I stop him.

“How about, I make get it for you, and then you pay.” He brings his hands back on the counter and nods.

“I will only be a few minutes, please make yourself comfortable.” I pull out the ingredients for our powerful concoction, the pho fried ice cream, a large potion bottle with a straw, and 20-sided dice. I place the potion bottle in front of him and the ice cream but hand him the dice. He stares at the shiny plastic unmoving.

“I would roll that.” He does what I say and lands on a nine. “Well, sir after this one you can either have another potion or chose two desserts of any kind from our display or menu.” He takes a sip from the straw rather slow; his eyes perk up a bit.

“How Much did you say this was?”

“Oh! That will be $9.23?” He pulls out the exact amount, and I put it away in the register, placing it in the compartment marked D&D.

“And I would like another one of these to go.”

“Sure, would you like it now or before you go?”

“Well now should be nice, I’m leaving in just a bit.” I pull out a cup that is relatively the same size as the potion bottle. I go to give him his cup and notice that he finished the bottle and ice cream. Confusion hits me, but I don’t stare too long to turn to clean the mess. “Have you seen Damian at all?” And there it was.

“No, not since the Gala? Did something happen?”

“There was a…disagreement so he ran out, but if you see him,” He handed me a piece of paper with a string of numbers and an email. “Tell me. That is my number and email.” He does not say anymore and walks out the door, the bell signaling his departure.

_____________________________________________________________

When I got back, I told Damian what happened, he isn’t pleased and is currently pacing the floor.

“My guess is that he knows.” I sigh over my tea and stare sadly at the replaced window.

“No doubt.”

“You know I was rather hoping not to be having another visit from the Batman. What will happen when they find out that I know about the caped crusader thing.”

“He’ll either force into secrecy, turn you into a child crusader, or confine you to the manor.”

“So in other words no privacy.”

“None.”

“As lovely as that would be you told me this was temporary, so why can’t you go back?”

“At the Gala I was supposed to keep you entertained at the table so that we could trap you into to talking about those journals.” I knew it.

“So, you lied to me.” I look at him, faking shock and betrayal.

“It was for the sake of the investigation; I didn’t think that I would end up-.” He examines my expression and face palms. “What’s wrong with you.”

“I like to call it “I laugh in the face of danger” Syndrome, in a moment of despair I crave comedy.”

“You're worse than Grayson.”

“I like him, so I’ll let this one slide.” I sip the warm liquid feeling soothed at the pumpkin spice. “What are you going to do now?” Nightmare jumps on the table noticing my concern and waiting for his answer from me. He walks to the corner where he put his bag then went to the closet pulling out my suitcase. He then grabs his outfit Robin outfit from the coat rack and his other materials. “Get packed, we’re leaving. I’ll grab Nightmare’s things gab whatever you need. And I mean need, don’t pick it up unless it’s necessary.”

“What? I can’t just leave, what about my job? School?!” He Pulls out my backpack and puts some food in it. “Damian!”

“Just trust me, I’ll take care of it! I don’t want you tangled up in my family’s nonsense.” He looks at me something odd swirling in his eyes. “Please.”

“Fine,” I grab my suitcase and pack my box and my compiece which hasn’t gotten back to me on its progress. I throw a few sets of clothes. I open the box to make sure the journals, the scales, and everything else, then I hide it under the clothing and my laptop in the front pocket. I thank myself for making sure to get a suitcase that has a double use as a backpack. In the living room, Damian is all packed the bag is strapped across his chest and he’s holding Nightmare.

“Let’s go.” He hands me Nightmare and pulls me to the balcony. He pulls out and belts with a ring pultruded out on one side swiftly put it around me connecting the loop to his belt. “Hold on tight, and don’t let go till I tell you.” I Sling an arm around him and grip on to Nightmare, he doesn’t hesitate and shoots across the balcony with his grappling gun. I screw my eyes shut. And wait to stop, my heart beats wildly in my chest Nightmare begins purring maybe in hopes to soothe me. I feel something wrong, but it would mean I was away from the Crows. I’m running again, even if it’s not me who chose this it still feels wrong. Because in the direction he’s going it seems that we were leaving Gotham. And for some reason, I feel like it would be a while before I returned.

[babylooneytoonz]

Sweet Temptations - Tommy Shelby x Fem! Reader

A/N- So I really hadn't expected to get this one done so early. But here we go, I am done and I'm not sure if it's any good.

Summary- (Y/N) is a married woman, stuck in a loveless, unhappy marriage with one of Thomas Shelby's rivals who mistreats her and abuses her. She embarks on this forbidden affair with him.

Read part-2 here.

Warnings- MAJOR SMUT MAYBE? Porn without plot? Read it at your own risk.

Requested by- @peakyfooky

Thank you to the creators for their lovely GIFs. These aren't mine. One of them was found on the internet so if it's yours, let me know and I'll credit you❤️

"Mrs. Button?" Your housekeeper stepped into the library of your mansion, her eyes trained on you. You were perched on an armchair, a book spread out on your lap, your finger holding a lit cigarette as you brought it up to your lip, the dried gash on your bottom lip burning slightly every time you tried to speak, so you just motioned to her to come in.

"Mr. Button requests your presence in his study."

You nodded, shutting the book and standing up, stubbing the cigarette into the ashtray and placing the book back on the rack from where you had pulled it out. You wondered what that vile, evil man who your parents had married you off to, for money, was upto now.

You were twenty four, married to this man for two years and still childless, because he was more into filthy street whores than he was into you. But you were okay with it. You would have felt worse if he had wanted your body.

Wrapping your arms around your body and rubbing the sides of your arms, you walked down the well lit hallway, towards the mahogany door that smelt like cigarettes and booze from a distance. You placed yourself by the door and knocked, hearing a grunt from inside. You stepped in, your eyes falling on the vile creature that sat lounged over the desk, his feet sprawled up on the desk, his baloon belly evident from underneath the layer of rich fabric that made up his shirt.

"Where were you last night eh? The maids fucking tell me you went out."

You bit the insides of your cheeks– there was nothing you wanted to do more than to slap the smug look from his face but the fresh gash from two days back still reminded you of what kind of a sick, twisted fuck he was.

"We were out of bread so I– "

"So I what? When I've given you twelve fucking maids to do these things for you, why do you insist on still going out? To whore yourself to men? Why?"

"Seriously, Michael– "

Before you could even reply, he had grabbed the nearest object on his desk, a tiny round decorative item that he had brought from his trip to America and thrown it towards you. Maybe they were your reflexes, but you found yourself ducking at the right time, the tiny object slamming into the wall behind you and breaking into many tiny pieces.

"You fucking bitch." He hissed,licking over his malignant, yellow teeth when there was a knock on the door.

"What the fuck do you want eh?" He yelled, his eyes not moving from yours as now you stood in a corner, your hands curled into fists, kneading into the fabric of your dress as anger coursed through you like lava.

The door opened and one of your husband's henchmen stepped in.

"Boss, Thomas Shelby's here."

Thomas Shelby– the striking blue eyed devil– the only one that managed to irk your husband beyond capacity, that one reason you were thankful to him for. Your husband was so busy planning and plotting to get this Thomas Shelby out of the picture, he didn't focus that much on you, for which you were grateful for.

"Bring the bastard in, of course." Your husband pursed his lips, his eyes flying to you. "Get us a drink now."

"I thought you had twelve fuckin' maids to do this for you." You spat angrily, moving to the liquor cabinet when the door finally opened and the atmosphere in the room changed and the wafting fragrance of a man's eu de cologne spread through your nostrils, a warm welcoming fragrance, that reminded you of anything but your husband's sweaty stink. The man that walked in was a handsome one, a cap placed over his side shaven head, his long coat flowing in after him. He had a cigarette in his grip. If you didn't know better, you wouldn't think this man was dangerous.

"Mr. Button, I see you accepted to meet me at such a short notice eh."

"Sit down, Mr. Shelby. I hear you have a proposition for me."

It was as though you were invisible in a corner but it was your husband's words that pulled you put of your concentrated stare on the man that had just walked in.

"What you fuckin' doing there eh? Can we bloody have our drinks?"

Mr. Button's directed gaze towards you caused the handsome stranger's head to snap towards you and that's when your eyes met his icy, blue ones, and unknowingly, you parted your lips, letting your tongue slide out and moisten your lower lip. There was something electrifying about the eyes; an imaginary pull that seemed to be binding you to him.

Quietly, you walked up to the men, placing your drinks on the desk for either of them and looked up at your husband.

"Can I do anything else for you, dear husband?" You said, sarcastically.

"Yes, just fuck off."

"Gladly." You muttered under your breath, taking a step away to turn towards the door, but not without sharing one last lingering glance with Thomas Fuckin' Shelby.

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

You could hear the men screaming from your bedroom but you couldn't care. In fact, a part of you found thrill in an imagination that maybe, a bad scuffle will take place and somehow, your husband will be killed in action. You had just stepped out of the shower, wearing nothing but an almost sheer negligee, a towel wrapped around your head and a loose fitting robe that hadn't been knotted up in the center. You could hear the sound of the motorcar from your window so out of curiousity, you walked up to the window and fixed yourself to it.

You could see the leader of the Peaky Blinders get into his motorcar with the men that had accompanied him, the car slowly pulling off the driveway. You bit your lip, too hard, drawing out blood, the metallic taste spreading in your mouth. You wanted him to look up at the window once and as if he had read your thoughts, his eyes flew up to the window, catching you staring at him. You didn't realize why, but a smile broke out against your lip, your palm latching to the glass pane of the window, as you watched him drive away.

It was almost two minutes later when you heard the sound of the motorcar again, and this time when you looked, relief spread through you when you saw your husband and a few of his men leave in their cars. At least now you had the house to yourself, atleast for a few hours. Usually when he left around midnight, he wasn't back until 9 or 10 the next morning.

You took off the towel, drying off your wet hair that were now clinging to your body, droplets of water running down your neck. You wrapped the robe around your frame, pulling out a cigarette from the box and lighting it as you stepped out of your room and walked down the hallway to the library on the ground floor– the only room in this godforsaken mansion that didn't feel alien to you– the only room that you found yourself spending most of your time in.

The minute you stepped into the hallway, a shiver ran down your spine as the chilly wind hit you, causing you to realize that the connecting door to the garden from the library was wide open.

"Hello? Janice? Is that you?" You called out, hoping to find your housekeeper trot inside, with a broom in her hand but no one answered. So, shrugging your shoulders in an incoherent manner, you walked up to the glass door, bolting it shut from the inside when you heard it, the unmistakable sound of a footstep creaking against the wooden floorboards somewhere, in the library, with you.

A sudden fear gripped you, you knew your husband had many, many enemies and it wouldn't be unusual for one of the crazy ones to have sneaked into your home and was now hiding in the library, somewhere, alone with you. You quickly grabbed a candlestick, curling your fingers tighter against the iron, taking a small, yet cautious step towards the library. Your eyes scanned the book racks, trying to spot anyone hiding in between them, your mind alert when suddenly, you saw him.

He was just a shadow, lurking in a dark corner at the back of your library, shielded by the last book rack, but you could see that he was facing you.

"I can see you, you know." You murmured in your husky voice, ready to strike him with the candlestick when he finally stepped out from the dark, into the light, your eyes now adjusting to see who he was.

"You." Was all you could manage to say, your heart suddenly palpitating, your knees already feeling like jelly. There stood the man you had secretly been sharing glances with all day, right in front of you, within your arms reach.

"My husband's not here, Mr. Shelby, this visit of yours is very inappropriate." You commented, half heartedly, meaning no word of it.

"Yet you made no fuss, Mrs. Button. When you could have screamed and alerted everyone in your home." Thomas Shelby's lips held the slightest of smirks against its corners, but his eyes were emotionless and bland.

You didn't loosen your grip over the candlestick, your eyes following every movement that the man made, as you saw him pull out his box of cigarettes and nip one between his teeth. His other hand moved to the pocket of his coat, pulling out a box of matches but somehow, it fell from his hand and fell to the floor, settling right in between you and him.

You took a step closer, your eyes still on him as you bent and grabbed the box, before he could. You then pulled out a match, lighting it and stepped closer towards him to help him light the end of his stick, his features appearing even more glorious under the pale flickering light of the match.

"I saw you leave in your car."

"You should be more careful with that door." He pointed towards the back entrance of your library that led to the garden. "Any lad can get in through the back and not all of them will be here for– "

"For what, Mr. Shelby?" You cut him off abruptly.

You could feel a weird, tingly sensation in your fingers. You wanted to reach out and hook your fingers on the fabric of his coat, take it off. So you did. His eyebrow shot up in surprise for he hadn't expected you to be so forward. You tugged slightly on his coat and smiled, "We have a fireplace in here that should be warm enough, Mr. Shelby, I don't think you'll need your coat. May I?"

You helped him slide out of his coat first before holding it in your hands and making your way to the coat hanger and hanging it over. Your eyes fell on the library door and like a stealthy cat, you quickly swiped the door shut, trying to hide this little whatever this was from the employees of your house.

"Care for a drink Mr. Shelby?"

He hummed in response, his eyes fixed on you, moving slightly lower and then back up again. It was funny how this one act of vulgarity didn't seem to phase you, and in fact you even liked it. You slowly turned away from him, walking up to the other side of the room, your bare feet grazing against the carpeted floor on this side. You pushed yourself up on your toes, trying to pull out the bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, making sure to give him a good view of you from behind. Your fingers clasped against the neck of the bottle as you pulled it down from the top rack and poured it carefully into two glasses, taking them back to him.

He gladly accepted the drink, his fingers almost brushing with yours when he took the glass, causing shivers to run down your spine. You knew it– the game that he was playing – intentionally touching you so very subtly, knowing how you were actually enjoying the flirting.

"What's a woman of your likes doing with a man like him?"

You could sense the distaste behind his words so you just parted your lips and let out a weak sigh before taking a sip of your whiskey.

"Call it a punishment for being born into a greedy family. Sold me off to the monster for some good pounds like I was a mare." You commented.

"Why didn't you run away? You could have gone to London, or even to America."

"It's not that easy, not when you're married to a gangster. You out of all men should understand that." You said, relishing the bitter yet sweet taste of the whiskey on your taste buds.

"Mr. Shelby, enough about me. I wanted to know the reason for your visit. I know you're not here to meet Michael." You slurred.

You saw the man's eyebrow twitch but you couldn't determine if it was out of amusement or something else. After a lingering minute of silence, you watched as he downed the whiskey in one go, almost slamming the glass back against one of the racks.

"Can we skip past the formalities now, Mrs. Button? I think you know why I am here."

You couldn't deny it. You and this man had a sizzling chemistry. There was a raw desire spurting inside you, that wanted nothing more to be satiated. You could feel it– the sexual tension, the need to touch each other, the need to feel him touch you at places you had forgotten how a man's touch felt like.

You nodded.

Thomas Shelby's hands grabbed you, his hands locking around your waist as he pulled you into his embrace and slowly turned around, so you were now pinned against the rack, his front pressing into you. You could feel his slow, ready grinding against your core, causing your body to erupt into a sensation of desires, like small electric short circuits everywhere. You parted your lips and let out a low moan, only to be shut up when his lips slammed against yours in a needy way. You were a believer, a devout Christian by faith, you knew the temptations the Devil was capable of and you knew that Thomas Shelby was nothing more than the devil in disguise. But this didn't deter you from wanting to taste into the fruit of sin.

Your hands curled around his head, your fingers latching into the back of his head, tugging at his hair, your mouth struggling to keep pace with the sweet assault on them. His pupils dilated due to his lust for you, he kissed you, ravaging your lips, biting and tugging at them in the most animalistic way.

"Fuckin' hell." You cursed as his teeth almost bit into the gash on your lip, the one where your husband had mercilessly beat you a few nights before, the taste of your own metallic blood in your mouth. Maybe Tommy tasted it too, for he immediately pulled away, his hands still holding you in place.

"Did he do this to you?"

You nodded.

"Come with me then. Leave that man." Those were the words he said to you as he grabbed you by your hand and dragged you to the desk in the corner.

"And go where? He'll find me. You know I can't fucking do that." For once, you could feel yourself weaken, the sudden realization of it all seeping through you, that you were trapped in a life full of torture and abuse and there was nothing you could do about it.

"I'll think of something, until then –" he brought his palm up to your cheek, his thumb brushing over the gash on your lip that was bleeding now.

"Thomas– " You moaned.

Maybe the way his name rolled out of your lips was too much for him to bear, he literally started ripping your robe off in an attempt to free you of it while you hands fervently ran against the buttons of his shirt to get it off. Clothes were ripped off and the library floor was stocked with piles of discarded clothes, both of you naked and beautiful under each other's eyes, by the desk by the fireplace.

Tommy's hands grabbed your bare arse, kneading it lightly until he barked at you to turn over and you complied. You felt vulnerable, bent on your own desk with nothing to cover your modesty, his eyes snaking over your back, your arse but you liked it. So much so that you were horrified if someone was to hear you, not because of what your husband would do to you, but because of how you would have to part with this man right now when you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you.

"For fucks sake, Thomas, I need you now. I don't want anyone to– "

"Your wish is my fuckin' command." Was all he said. That was all the warning you received.

And then you screamed in a sweet, pleasurable pain when he thrust his hard cock into you, making you grab the edge of the table while his nails dug into your hips. A series of curses followed and soon, you found yourself enjoying the way his cock was ravaging your core. His pace inside you was relentless, his hits merciless, hitting you at just the right spot every time, causing you to just sneak closer to your edge with every hit.

"Fuck," Tommy grunted in a low voice, sliding in and out of you, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing through the library.

"Fucking hell, Thomas– " You seethed, holding on to the desk as you felt your eyes roll at the back of your head, pleasure bursting inside you with every movement of his.

"You feel so good." He slurred, his voice thick with lust and desire. It was like music to your ears, a music you didn't want to stop listening to. But you also knew that all good things often come to an end. "Come for me now, love. Come on." His voice commanded you, making you tip over your edge.

And the command was all it took for you to come crashing down, your body trembling as your pussy clenched around his cock, shooting sparks all over your body. And after a few unsteady, light thrusts, you felt him twitch inside you as a final signal that he was there too, his warm seed spilling into you as he moaned something incoherent that you couldn't make out.

He stayed like that for a few silent seconds, both of yous erratic breathing empowering each others until you finally felt him slide out of you. You stood up, leaving a trail of his cum rolling down your thigh as you struggled to put your underwear on and then grabbed your robe silently while Tommy pulled his pants up and started rummaging for his torn shirt that had almost been ripped apart by you.

You bit your lip awkwardly now; a sudden void filling up your heart.

Thomas Shelby had gotten what he wanted, and maybe he would never look your way again.

Of course, this couldn't mean more than a one time thing to him, could it?

Suddenly, the sound of a match lighting brought you back into reality but you were startled to find him standing inches apart from you, his palm on your cheek, his index finger rubbing gently over your gash.

"You alright love?"

You gave him a weak smile and nodded.

You parted your lips to reply but a loud bang on the door caused you and Thomas to turn towards the door.

"Mrs. Button, is everything alright in there?" Janice called out.

"It-It is, Janice, is there anything you want?"

"Just wanted to let you know your husband's home."

"Fucking hell, looks like our time is up, Mr. Shelby," Your eyes flew to Tommy, as the curse escaped your mouth. He looked unbothered."I'll join him in a minute." You called out to Janice.

Tommy didn't say anything else. As quietly as he had come in, you saw him walk towards the door that led to your garden and you followed him. It was only when he reached the door and you unbolted it for him, did he turn and look into your eyes and speak.

"Until next time, Mrs. Button."

"Call me (Y/N). I don't want to be linked with that man. At least not with you around."

"Let me rephrase it then, until next time, (Y/N), who knows it might even be at your dear husband's funeral."

That was the last words that he spoke to you that night before you saw him sneak out through your garden until he wasn't in sight anymore and you stood there by that door, smirking inwardly at his words.

(What do you guys feel about a second part to this? Let me know?)

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

[ma-gic-gay]

Death had always been a finite concept. For both of them, presumably, but especially for Carly. Death was something she had to deal with far too regularly for her tastes (comes with the territory when you have a habit of marrying mobsters), despite her hatred of it.

Shootings, she could handle. And did, shockingly well. Despite the fact she couldn't handle being in a stable situation for more than a day, she was great in a crisis.

Of course, the fact she had Jason there was helpful. She felt unsafe, she called him and it was like she had her own personal body guard. It was, in a very strange way, nice to know he wouldn't hesitate to kill for her and has done it repeatedly in the past.

The deaths of the people who tried to kill her (or him, especially him- she prayed those bastards got the worst treatment they could) were the only ones she could handle.

It's a bit ironic she got killed from a shooting, three hours and twenty three minutes after Jason died, in a weird way. She always said she'd kill for him (realistically she knew he'd lose his shit if she ever did that because he's overprotective and hasn't taught her how to use a gun), and that's exactly what she did. He got shot right in front of her, she grabbed his gun while he was yelling at her not to and shot the person.

Slight problem though, she too got shot. Whoopsie daisies.

Getting shot fucking hurt. She was in and out of consciousness when she was at the hospital and no one would tell her about Jason's condition. They were married, for fuck's sakes, why the fuck wasn't anyone telling her how her husband was doing?!

Eventually, someone (probably Monica, she can't remember) told her he was dead. They got to him too late, they said, he'd been doa and their best efforts hadn't revived him.

After hearing that, she couldn't live with herself. He got shot because Vince was trying to shoot her and off he went to be her hero and make everything okay and he got killed. One phone call and he was at the Metro Court, hanging out with her and keeping watch when he noticed Vince in the parking lot and went out there to confront him. Vince pointed a gun at Carly and, of course, since Jason's a self sacrificing person, he died.

Which meant she was directly responsible for his death and that rocked her to her very core. She'd failed him. After twenty five years, she failed him. Even he'd have to admit this one. There was no spin on this (and she'd heard some strange ones over the years) for how she'd be able to live with herself after she failed him. It wasn't like she'd done something stupid, no, she got him killed. Carly knew he'd do something, especially since Vince was a dick, and she told him. Did he deserve to know? Yes. But only after she'd reassured his overprotective streak she'd be fine and he didn't have to kill anyone else for her.

According to something she'd heard from the doctors, in whatever fucking limbo this was, Carly had died of a heart attack. Likely brought on by stress. Bullets were fine but hearing of Jason's death killed her.

Yup, makes sense. Well, she'll be able to apologize for all of eternity once she gets to wherever she's going. Even after he forgives her (which, she's being honest, will happen as soon as they see each other), she's going to apologize and apologize.

Ooh, she gets to see Sonny and Morgan too! Her son and husband and best friend for all of eternity. What could be better?

There's something that vaguely looks like an angel and she notices it drags her up. Huh, guess she's going to heaven. Makes sense, Carly's a fairly good person. She's not a terrible one.

Except when she gets there she only finds Morgan and Courtney (Courtney, oh how she missed her), no Jason anywhere. Where the hell was he? Avoiding a party, probably. She has got to get him to go out more, especially now that nothing can probably happen. What are the rules of death?

"Where's Jason?" Carly asks after greeting the pair. They stare blankly until she asks again, "Where is he? He's here, right? I was told he's dead!"

Courtney's the first one to be stunned out of her shock. "Carly, he, um, didn't make the cut."

"For what? Give me that list, I'm adding his name at the very top. Where the fuck is he?" She exclaims. He's here, he's got to be here.

"You're aware of his job, right?" Is she aware of his job, of course she is!

"Yes, Courtney, it's why we got married. Where the hell is he? Or Sonny, or Mike!"

"Mike's taking a nap and Sonny's not dead." What?! "Or, if he is, he didn't make the cut either." Didn't make the cut for what? Carly will scheme, steal, seduce, lie and cheat go get those two up here with her, where the fuck are they?

"Because of Jason's job and the amount of people he killed, he didn't make the cut to heaven. He's in hell." Is it possible to die twice? She might just do that. He's in hell, which is a place for bad people! Her hero is in hell.

She's gonna kill someone. "I'm not perfect! None of us are perfect, I killed someone! Why the hell aren't we down there? He died defending me!"

"Shocking," Morgan says dryly. "Jason killed people for a living. He was a mobster."

"And I'm an accessory to all of that! I lead the mob for a week or two!" Carly exclaims. "He's a good person, we know that."

"We're not in charge of the decisions, Carly," Courtney attempts to comfort her best friend. It's a nice attempt. "That's for people with a lot more clout than us. If it was up to either of us, I promise he'd be here but you'll never see him again."

Never see him again? Oh hell no. "Is there any way to get sent down to hell with him?" This is impulsive and reckless and Jason wouldn't encourage it but she's got less care. She needs to see her best friend again, goddammit."Some paperwork I can file, some people's husband's I can seduce?"

"Someone can submit you for reevaluation."

"Great! Is Emily here?" Emily hates her, she'll surely want to help!

"Somewhere, yeah. Why?"

"Emily hates me. Can't blame her. Anyways, look, I want to help her write my reevaluation. I've ruined a lot of lives."

"Which Jason has always helped you feel better about."

"That's because he's my best friend, Morgan."

The next few weeks are spent making sure every single one of her transgressions is on the list and resubmitting her,,, whatever the hell it's called, Emily never gave details.

So it's really not a surprise when she's dragged down to hell by some gross creature, waving goodbye to her son and Courtney and sister in law (that's a weird thing to think about).

And when she gets there, it's just like a darker version of heaven. It's the same fucking place (away from the fire), just more her color palette. Weird.

"Excuse me, where's Jason Morgan?" She asks the creature who dragged her down here. "I was informed he'd be down here."

A shrug is all she gets in response. Well then, she's able to roll with the punches and searches up and down for him, eventually finding him in a room without decorations or anything but basic necessities.

She's got some decorating on her hands.

Carly walks right through the half opened door (he really didn't lock it? Weirdo) and gets the response of, "Get out."

"Don't expect me to start knocking just because we're dead," she quips, a smile on her face. Knocking is overrated. He looks normal and as he registers what's going on, he gets all squinty.

Once he actually realizes it's her, she's already half attacked him in a hug that he reciprocates. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Little bit of bargaining, Emily's assistance and voila! You'd be amazed at how many bad things I've done. Everyone sends their love, of course. Are there any stores down here? This room is so boring," she changes the subject.

"No, I mean why are you dead? You're supposed to be alive."

"I died three hours and twenty three minutes after you. Heart attack. Monica told me about you dying. No one else would." That was a very bad time when he was dead and she wasn't.

"Does this mean-"

"No, you are not responsible for my death. If anything, I'm responsible for yours. I'm sorry, more than you'll ever know," Carly tells him, eyes welling up with tears.

"You're not responsible. I got shot. It happens." Way too nonchalant for death.

"Because you were defending me, like always. Seriously, take a nice vacation off of that and start using your survival instincts. I don't have Emily to help me this time if I need to transfer afterlives."

"I was defending the business."

"Bullshit. I told you Vince threatened me and you already planned to kill him. You saw your opportunity and instead of shooting him, you got shot and died. This is my fault, 100%, and I will not let you make me feel better about this. You could've patched things up with Britt, hung out with a bunch of people but no, you had to die protecting me. Take a week off of being my hero, please."

"I'm not going to do that. The last time I thought about it, you took over the business."

"Well I can't just ask you to forgive me, so take a day off."

"You'll get kidnapped. And I don't hold you responsible because it was my choice to defend you and my choice to want to kill Vince."

"You're overprotective and it's nice but not when it kills you."

"You spent twenty five years running off every woman in my life because you were convinced they'd hurt me, you hated a ton of people because they did something to me and you almost committed several felonies. And I'm overprotective," he rolls his eyes.

"Not the point, first off and second, you've killed and kidnapped for me. In a very fucked up way, it's sweet. And you totally ran off the men in my life!"

"How did I do that?"

"By being the only person I can depend on. I don't know, look, they've all- except for Sonny, most of the time- hated you because you intimidated them. So you did the same thing, just not on purpose."

"Then it's not the same thing."

"How did we get so off topic? I'm sorry for being the reason you're dead. Do you forgive me?" Strange sentences.

"You're not why I'm dead, I made that choice-"

"You chose to die?"

"I meant the choice to jump in front of you."

"Which was instinctual, you've always protected me."

"Might have to do that even more down here. There's some real creeps."

"I really don't think they'll care that much. But okay."

"Vince is here."

"No revenge."

"He killed you and I'm just supposed to sit here and ignore that he did that?!"

"Maybe we can talk this all out."

"Carly, what part of this aren't you understanding? He killed you. I hurt him, that's how this works, so he knows better than to mess with you."

"Or we could go shop for decor. I'll pick out nice stuff, come on let's go!"

"I'm not going shopping. I'm planning revenge."

"It'll be safer if you're there with me."

"I hate it when you're right."

"Love you too."

"Love you."

The end fuckers :)

oh it's beautiful. thank you for this

[fallen029]

Miraxus Vampire AU? Pretty please?

The house sat high atop a hill, as Gothic as it was decrepit, a wrought iron gate wrapping around the sprawling property. It served it’s purpose, separating the tiny town in the valley from it’s contents, but truly, it was a bit pointless. No one step foot on the property.

Not willingly, at least.

That’s the villagers informed them of, when they answered the request. For fifty years, they’d suffered in relative silence, so they claimed, but no more. The house had been rather quiet, for half a century, if not more, and honestly, they claimed, the storied history of the Strauss Manor began to feel just like that; a story. A fable. Something their parents had terrified them with because their own had done the same to them.

The fear that surrounding it had begun to die down until, the youngblood of the tiny village didn’t fear it at all. Not when they reached their teens. It became a bit of a game, really. To see who could sneak away from their homes in the middle of the night, make the short trek up the hill and to the property. First, who could touch the gate. Then who could open it. Would someone step a foot in? Next thing you now, a few of the local teens were breaking into the mansion.

“It was horrific. The scream.” That’s what one of the women in the village insisted to Laxus Dreyar as he stood there, as full of disbelief as he was excitement over this new interesting case. Thieves, bandits, highwaymen; boring shit. This? This was something new. Something he’d never heard of before. He tried not to show his interest too heavily, given the villagers seemed so freaked, but as that woman sobbed over her tale, it was hard not to just rush right out to begin the investigation. “The boys, they came running back, fast as they could. Three of them went. My son, the boy next door, and another, but he…he did not return.”

“Why,” Freed, one of Laxus’ three understudies began, “did no one go and look? Up at the mansion? Surely you do not believe-”

“Stagnancy,” another in the crowd, a man, insisted, “breeds complacency. We forgot the stories. We stopped believing. But… They are there. In their mansion. They were asleep, but now, their slumber is over.”

“Uh-huh,” Evergreen, the only female of the ground, hardly glanced up from filing her nails. She wasn’t nearly as excited about traveling all the way out there for what she was sure was just a tragic accident. Teens playing around in a rundown building. Nothing good ever comes from that sort of thing. They’d find his body in the basement or something, having fallen through a hole in the floor, and that would be that. “Stagnancy. Sure.”

“But,” Freed continued to insist because he always seemed so serious about everything, “if you had just gone to look-”

“Even to look,” the woman insisted to them, “is to be cursed. They will come down from their mansion, when it is time to feast, and they will…will… Please, you must help us. You must do something. These…monsters will-”

“They’re not monsters.” That came from Bickslow, the last of the bunch, who’s tongue wobbled out of his mouth in his excitement. It wasn’t able to be contained, not in him. No way. He’d only dreamed of something like this his entire life. From the time that they got the request, it was all he could do not to die right then and there because he would never be happier. Not an ounce. “They’re vampires.”

.

Freed didn’t believe in vampires. None of the other believed in them. They were just a silly little ragtag team of young adults who’d met a few years back, all through Laxus. He was running a little business in a small town, taking on odd jobs and requests from the villagers. Anything from repairing a sprinkler system to solving petty crime, Laxus was down with it.

He had to be. Any source of money was all he needed. He’d been kicked out, in his late teens, of the group home his grandfather ran for unwanted children. There was no hard feelings there. Not anymore. At one time, his grandfather thought that Laxus could assist him in running the joint, but… Laxus just had other plans.

Or at least he was forced to when he found himself out on the street with only the skills he’d picked up from the group home to keep him company. He knew all the ins and outs of fixing plumbing issues, laying drywall, all sorts of things about electricity and getting the shit shocked out of him. He could figure out who stole from Gray, one of the typical troublemakers at the home. It was usually just Natsu, the other troublemaker. He could resolve rifts between the whiny little shits like Lucy and Cana, stop bullies like Erza from forcing the other kids to do terrible things, like actually learn how to read.

He could have run the fuck out of that place. Got all those kids homes.

But…he and his grandfather just couldn’t get along.

And maybe he didn’t want to get them homes. Give them a home, even. Not when he was still all fucked up about his own parents. His grandfather, Makarov, he was good at making amends with his demons, fucking up his own son how he had. He raised up other children, even his own grandson, in retribution and he found it.

Laxus just…had to do something different. Find his own path.

So he moved away and started his own business. With the only skills he knew. He settled spats around town, fixed anything that broke, and grew his brand. He picked the others up along the way.

Freed was the first one. A smart little shit that worked at the library Laxus frequented, when he was checking local records (land disputes were common), and he was treated like crap by the head librarian. Laxus saw talent though. And someone that he could get to do all the readin’ and stuff that he didn’t want to.

Evergreen was a bit different. She, uh, well, she and Laxus, well, uh, well… Well. They were gonna hook up one night, after Laxus met her at a bar, but she was just so fucking depressing. Atop the alcohol that was already dampening the mood, they ended up just sitting around on his couch after sloppily making out and she mentioned that she was looking for work and, well, he wanted someone to stick around the little building he’d begun to rent out, to be a receptionist or whatever. He needed one he wouldn't’ be tempted to, uh, ‘harass’ or whatever and, well, Ever was no longer someone he was interested in.

At all.

Then Bickslow, that freak, that fucking freak, Laxus had no idea what the fuck happened there. One minutes, the weirdo is standing in the little office, preforming some sort of circus act, it seemed like, juggling these little wooden babies, as he tried hard to convince them that he should be allowed to join up, because who didn’t need an acrobat in their act?

“We’re not an act, you dingus,” Evergreen had complained over from her desk as she fanned herself. “We’re- Hey!”

“You’re,” Laxus told him with a handshake after the Mohawked man threw one of the wooden dolls right at Evergreen, hitting her squarely in the face, “hired!”

They were a strange group, to say the least. But over the past few years, they’d become his group. His business was booming and they were getting requests from all about, high and low. If you wanted it, they could do it for you. Help build a house? You’re in luck. They could slap some wood together. Need a party clown for your gross kids birthday? Not only was Laxus great with kids, but it was literally the only talent Bickslow brought to the table. And now, apparently, after receiving a desperate letter in the mail, they were vampire hunters.

.

“This is so great,” Bickslow hyped them up as they hiked up the hill and Evergreen had only come along because how could you pass up a vacation from a rinky dink town to go tour a mansion? But even as the building only loomed in the sunlight, she could tell it was not somewhere she’d like a glimpse inside. “Actual vampires. You know, we had some of them, in the circus, that my parents worked in.”

“Bull shit,” Ever told him and Freed only sighed because he didn’t want to hear about the stupid circus again.

It was all Bickslow talked about. His tragic, tragic backstory. Tent fire, bunch of deaths. You could only hear it so many times before it just got to be too much.

“We did,” the man insisted with a tongue wag. “You believe me, eh, boss? Vampires?”

Laxus just walked along, heavy boots crunching everything in his path. With his headphones in, he could hardly hear those morons and their banter. They were his group, his team, his people, his friends, but damn were they annoying.

The sun was high in the sky as they arrived at the wrought iron gates and there was no fear in any of their bellies. Just a mix of interest and wonder as the three who didn’t believe couldn’t understand how those down in that rundown little village could let such a massive mansion fall into decay. Shameful, really.

“Vampires,” Bickslow whistled low, “definitely live here.”

Reaching for the gate, Laxus easily opened it as Evergreen muttered something about tetanus.  

“They’ll be in their coffins,” Bickslow was going on. “Sleepin’ away the daylight hours. We just open it up, ya know? The lid? And then we jab ‘em! Right through the heart. Crinkly old bastards, vampires are. The ones at my circus-”

“I do not,” Freed complained, finally, aloud, “want to hear any more about your circus.”

“Talkin’ is my copin’ mechanism.”

“Then find,” Ever retorted, “a new one.”

“I used to talk to myself a lot,” he whispered softly. “Before you guys.”

Laxus was only focused on the fact that the yard was so overgrown and, as he walked through the high weeds, he could feel little burrs sticking to his jeans as he went about. His eyes were only across the property though, focused on the heavy wooden doors rather than the broken out windows and the sun chipped paint.

“They said, down in the town,” Bickslow went on then, “that they see lights now. Now that those kids woke up the vampires. Ah, man, we shouldda came at night. Just one night. To see. Before we kill ‘em. I’d like to meet one, one day, you know, a vamp-”

“I thought,” Evergreen complained, “you just spent forever and a fucking day telling us about how you had met one?”

‘W-Well, I just meant-”

“You’re so full of shit, Bickslow, that-”

“Let me explain! Sheesh, boss, can you believe this? Won’t even let a man explain himself. Some people-”

“There is a person!” Freed was rarely one to exclaim, but he had to then, in shock. The others were all focused on the house, but his eyes had drifted, across the yard, over to the big oak tree that grew with little abandon, with no one to trim it. There, at it’s base, sat a young teen, staring right over at them. “I bet that’s the boy. The one who they have been missing.”

“Hey!” Laxus finally spoke as he turned to yell out to the boy. “Kid! We’re lookin’ for ya. Your family’s real worr- He’s a runner!”

“On it, boss!” Bickslow took off then, through the high grass, chasing after the kid who only ran around the house, obscuring the others vision. Freed was the next to give chase and Laxus cautioned them as Evergreen only rolled her eyes.

“I told you,” she said to Laxus as they stood there and waited for the pair to either come back empty handed or with the teen in tow, “that there were no vampires. Don’t you feel silly now? For coming all the way out here?”

Snorting, Laxus only crossed his arms over his chest and waited. Waited some more. Even more. Eventually, he and Ever were glancing at one another.

“Hey, guys?” Laxus called out as he began to walk then, the direction in which they’d run, Evergreen groaning, but not following. “If you can’t get him, that’s fine! Just come back and we’ll go explain down in the village, yeah? Freed? Bickslow? Look, morons, you’re not gonna freak us out, so just come on. The sooner we get out of here, the better. This places gives me the damn creeps. Those fuckin’ villagers are spooked about something, that’s for sure, and I’d really like to not stick around for them to turn on us or something. Who the hell lives like the middle ages? Huh? Didn’t even see any damn electricity in the whole damn village. Oil lamps like the stone ages. Something’s not right here. Something…”

He was just talking to himself then, he knew, as he rounded to the back of the overgrown property only to find no one there. Not a soul. His blood ran cold and something wasn’t right, because they wouldn’t have chased the kid into the woods, would they have? Maybe…inside? Turning to look at the back porch, Laxus considered walking up it, to the door there, and trying it, but something else caught his eye.

Cellar doors. They laid raised from the ground, no doubt housing a set of stairs that led to a little basement like room beneath the property. An old mansion like that, having a cellar wasn’t too spectacular or anything. But one of the doors was open and maybe the teen had gone down there? And Freed and Bickslow followed? And…

He stood over it then, Laxus did, a sick feeling forming in the pit of his stomach as he did so. He felt transfixed, no longer on finding his cohorts, but rather on climbing those rickety stairs down, deep into the earth, and looking for himself. What was beneath there. It felt like something was calling to him, drawing him deeper and deeper into the darkness and he had a flashlight, pinned to his belt, which he turned on once he got down to the bottom of the stairs. Shining his light all about, he found the landing beneath the stairs just to be empty. The wall before him, however, housed a door, and trying it, he felt his breath jumping out of his breath as the knob turned with the difficulty of age and lack of lubricant.

It was so cold down there. Damp. It was dusty and gross and no doubt at least one venomous spider was hanging on a web somewhere, just waiting for a schmuck like him to come around to infect, but he moved forwards into the new room regardless. It felt mostly empty as well, but there stood, on raised little platforms, three long, wooden boxes. No. Not boxes. He couldn’t say what they were because it would freak him out too much, he might panic, but he knew.

He fucking knew.

“Stakes,” Bickslow had insisted before they left town for the jobs. “We all need stakes.”

He’d whittled them, out of wood himself, the acrobat insisted, and made them both promise to drive them through the hearts of anything they thought didn’t have one.

“What,” Evergreen had complained, “does that even mean?”

Who knew?

But Laxus did, in that moment, as he approached the three coffins. Shining his light on the center one, he knew what he had to do. Reaching out, his hand fell on the splintering wood and lifted slowly. A body was in there. Slender. Feminine. But just as he was about to shine his light over the face, to get a better look, he felt something behind him.

“Ever?” he asked as he start to twirl around, but no, it wasn’t. IN a split second, he could tell it was the teen from before. “Hey, what-”

He struck Laxus, hard, in the back of the head with a blunt object. And then the man saw nothing.

.

His eyelids were heavy and he was groggy and the world felt like it was spinning at the man opened his eyes. Laxus could smell something sweet in the air, scented candles burning, soft and delicious and Ever was into that shit. Aromatherapy. She burned all sorts of things in office.

Did he fall asleep at work again?

“Are you awake?” There was a soft sigh of an unknown woman then, from somewhere else in the room, and Laxus felt like his head was pounding. “Good. I’ve been waiting for some time. And I don’t like waiting.”

His head lulled to one side then and, as he blinked away the blurriness, he could make out a woman sitting there, on the edge of a bed, a wine glass clutched in one hand as she stared over at him with bright blue eyes.

Her shocking white hair only highlighted just how pale her skin was and had he slept with this woman? Fucking hell, what a pick up. He’d been in a bit of a slump, since his last break up, and even surrounding towns hadn’t really produced much for him. His drunk ass had followed home a lot of less desirable, but this…man, this was something even Evergreen would have to admit was pretty damn amazing.

As he moved to raise his hand though, to his forehead, to stroke back his hair and maybe even stand, he found this impossible. Panic filling him then as he tried to move, tried to get up, Laxus found he was chained to a chair and fuck, it all came back to him as the woman only rose, glass still cupped in her hand, and giggled, softly, sweetly, and…and…

“Where the fuck,” he growled at her as in the glint of the moon shining in through an opened window, she flashed in a toothy smile, long, pointy fangs and all, “are my friends?”

“Take a breath, my dear. My, don’t you just look ferocious when you’re angry though?”

He was seething, still trying desperately to break his chains and what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck. How was he here? Why was he here? Was this a dream? It had to be, right? He’d hit his head on a beam or something, down in the cellar, yeah, and then…then…

“You have no idea how…happy and pleased you’ve made me,” the white haired woman was telling him then as she only came closer. “Showing up on my doorsteps like this. I would assume it a gift from a god, but then, I’m not exactly friendly with most gods.”

“What,” he growled as she was before him then, grinning happily down at him, “are you?”

“I’m timeless. Ancient, yet newborn with each passing day. A true beauty. A-”

“Abomination.” He turned his head when she ran her cold fingers down the coarse stubble that laid along his jawline. “You are an-”

“Hush, my love.” She looked away from him then, down at her cup. “There will be plenty of time for such things later. Such spats. Hateful, hurtful comments. It always comes, eventually. Before the end. And I will end you. Look-zus, was it? That’s what the green-haired man told me. A gift as well, he will be. A much better servant for the coming decades than that horrible teenager. Ugh. Boys. I need men. Real men. And look, two have just fallen perfectly into my lap.”

He spit, Laxus did, hitting her square in the cheek. For a moment, he saw it. A flash of something darker within the white haired woman. But then it was gone and she only reached up to touch her cheek, ghosting her finger tips over the sticky saliva there.

“Oh, my golden dragon.” That time, her hand came to run her fingers through his hair and he froze, as she leaned down, the gleam of the single fang she was showing him then, as she turned her head, blinding the man. “Hair like…lightning. I saw you and I just knew. I knew. Deep within myself. I knew that I had to keep you. Laxus. Hmmm. It feels heavy on my tongue. Yoru name. Nice. And heavy.”

“If you’re going to…eat me,” he whispered tersely as he shivered in the cold night air, “then just fucking do it.”

And she laughed that time, more than she giggled, removing her hand from his head and taking a step back.

“What exactly do you think you’re here for, Laxus?” She went to the window then, staring out of it with a long sigh. “I feel you have misunderstood my intentions.”

“You’re a…vampire.” The word felt childish and foolish, even being presented with all he was.

“If that’s the word you choose, sure, I suppose I am.”

“Then drink my blood and be done with it.”

“I do not mean to…feed on you, Laxus.” She huffed some, glancing over at him. “I have not your friends either.”

“Fuck you.”

“It’s the truth.” Shaking her head some, she whispered, “I had no intention of harming that boy that came here. Boy.”

It was her turn to spit, down on the ground, by her feet. He took stock of her then, Laxus did, from head to toe, from her striking dress to the way it was cut, just right, at the top, to extenuate her…well… It felt gross and weird to be so turned on as he could only really consider his death.

Still, the woman only said, “We stopped hunting them long ago. After my brother’s…accident. And I never enjoyed it anyways. Those people. Vile. Inbred. Gross. I hunt far from here and hardly ever come home. Just to check on my siblings. My brother’s…accident made it difficult for him to do much. My sister stays and cares for him and they have little desire to mess with those wretched people either. But then they come into our home and what is supposed to be done, I ask you? My sister, Lisanna, she did all she knew to. She didn’t feast on his gross, sick blood. She turned him. Into a servant. It’s what I’ve done with your green-haired friend. With him now, I have little need for the teen. Let’s just say my last…helper caught a bad break. Your green-haired friend will do just fine.”

“Freed…you fucking monster.”

“He’ll be much happier now, than he would have been, before. As a mortal.” She shrugged some. “Smart man, he is. I can always tell. That other one though…that boy…the jester-”

“Bickslow.”

“I did not turn him. I had no need.”

“What do you mean?”

But she offered no explanation.

“That woman,” she went on instead, “she was a tricky one, but my brother will be quite pleased.”

“You’re sick.”

“And you, my love, must learn quickly how to talk properly to your mistress. Least you make me angry.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, Laxus.” But her eyes were locked on the moon. “How many days will it take to break you? Not too many, I hope. Else I might get angry.”

“Why haven’t you turned me?” he asked then and he started shaking again, in his bolted down chair in the bedroom of the sullen vampire. “Like my friends? What the fuck are you going to do to me? Huh? Answer me! You fucking-”

“My brother doesn’t mind servants. And my sister…she was still…young, when we became… She has no need for me.” She downed the rest of her cup then, the woman did, before turning to look at him fully again. “But even queens of darkness have needs, my love.”

Jerking one last time, hard, against his chains, Laxus was spent and, bowing his head, he tried hard not to weep. She made a noise then, int eh back of her throat, before coming closer.

“Oh, poor Laxus.” She ran her fingers through his hair again, but he refused to lift his head. He couldn’t. “You never should have come here. Yet I am so glad you have.”

.

He slept uncomfortably through the night and into the next morning. In the light of day, Laxus spent as much energy as he could, pulling at the chains and cursing, but he felt hopeless then and, without any food or water for over twenty-four hours at that point, he felt a bit weak too. Or…had that woman given him something?

When he awoke again, it was to the night, and she was in there once more, the woman. But she wasn’t alone.

“-change the linens and there is a river, on the back of the property, for you to wash things in,” she was listing to Freed as he stood by, nodding in all the correct places. “And your friend…Bickslow was it? He must be fed. He is not…turned. I do not know if he can be trusted to make a trek out to get himself supplies, so if you would do so for him, this would perhaps be the most helpful. He seems…off. Yet, Lisanna seems quite taken with him. He will make a nice little playmate for her, I think. And…will need you to procure me a specific brand of wine. It is only sold in- Your friend is awake.”

They both turned, Freed and the woman did, from where they stood by her dresser. Laxus could only blink though as he felt tears well in his eyes. Freed’s however, was void. Dark. Different.

“Freed, man,” he whispered softly, “what the fuck did she do to you?”

He glanced to the woman, Freed did, and when she nodded, he only moved forwards.

“Mistress has been kind of enough to grant myself and Evergreen life eternally, so long as we serve her and her siblings faithfully.” Bowing to the man, Freed assured him, “There will be no greater joy in my life than-”

“We’re fucked, man. Fuck. Fuck. Where’s Bickslow? Bickslow!” Laxus throat burned and he turned his head back, yelling at the top of his lungs. “Where are you? Bicks-”

“Oi, boss, what’s with all the noise, eh?”

The bedroom door opened then, but it was just out of vision for the man. Still, he heard his voice then, his clear voice, not like Freed’s, Bickslow.

“Bickslow.” That was a new voice. And in to the room came another woman, the younger sister, no doubt, that the woman had spoken of. “You have to knock. Sis, I’m sorry. He’s not very trained yet-”

She just huffed some, the woman did, as she lifted a wine glass from where it sat on the dresser and pressed it to her lips.

“Ah, sorry ‘bout that, Ms. Boss.” Bickslow came further into the room, his back to Laxus as he saluted the vampire. She merely nodded at him. “See, the main boss here, he’s known to get in his head a little bit, yeah? Just give me a sec, and I’ll-”

“Bickslow, what the fuck is going on?” Laxus tugged at his chains as he saw another one of them, a white haired vampire, come to peek at him. She was younger than the main one he’d been speaking to. Early twenties at most. She grinned, bemused at him. “Are you insane?”

“Well…yeah, boss, but not about this.” He gestured about then, between the two sisters. “There’s never been nothin’ I wanted more than to meet some real life vampires. Or werewolves. Are those real?”

“They’re not,” the younger woman answered for him. Then she looked to her sister. “Right?”

But the older merely shrugged, her blue eyes still on Laxus. The golden haired man felt like he was going to faint.

“Well, Lisanna here, she was gonna turn me into her little slave and let me tell you, I bow unwillingly to no man!” But then Bickslow winked. “Willingly though, I found the perfect siblings to bow to. My Ms. Boss over here, my mistress. Queen of the night! Darkness! A what a beauty-”

“Uh, Bickslow.” The younger one didn’t seem to pleased. “I was the one that was going to turn you.”

“Of course, Lissy.” And he was quick to nod at her. “The kid here, well, she appreciate it. My jugglin’ and jokes. My flips and turns. It’s gig, yeah? She says I can be her own personal jester. I’ll always be an acrobat at heart, of course, but if only Ma and Pa could see me now. What would they say? Huh? What-”

“You fucking psycho,” Laxus growled at him and he would have hit him, if he could, but alas, his chains only felt heavier by the minute. “Bickslow. Fucking sick.”

“You do what you gotta do,” the man told him then, solemnly, with a shake of his head, “to survive.”

“I’m not going to be that way.” Laxus dark eyes found the main woman’s then. “Like him. Submit to you? Fucking sick. Never. You better just kill me. Or let me go. Whatever. Freed, Ever…they’re gone. And Bickslow want sto be here, fine. But just let me go and I’ll never come back. I’ll never-”

“Boss, you’re the lucky one.” And Bickslow beamed at him. “Can’t ya tell what she wants you for?”

“Lucky?” The youngest, Lisanna, was not feeling the vibe her jester was putting down. “You know, suddenly, I’m a bit hungry-”

“Ah, nah, Lissy, you ain’t ever even seen me do a back flip off the upstairs banister out there. Don’t ya wanna at least see that first?”

And they were chasing one another out of the room then, Lisanna and Bickslow, while Freed stood by emotionless and the woman, the mistress, only continued to take sips of her drink.

“I won’t do that. I swear it. Submit to you. Like a little bitch. You’re a little bitch, Bickslow,” Laxus growled after the man, but he was long gone. “Pathetic. I’m not pathetic. So just kill me. Do it! Kill me!”

She finished her glass, the woman did, before looking to Freed.

“Leave us, if you will, please,” she said simply as he bowed deeply to the woman before doing so. “And draw me a bath, if you would. There’s a well on the property. Then heat up the water over the- You understand, don’t you? Smart man. I appreciate you so much already.”

When he left, Freed drew the bedroom door closed and they were alone once more. Advancing on Laxus, the woman’s eyes stayed locked with his and he was going to spit at her again. He wanted to. When she leaned down so that her face was even with his though, he felt something different bubbling up instead of him.

“You,” she whispered as, with one hand, she reached to paw at the front of his jeans and, with the other, she moved to stroke at his jawline again, “will do as I say.”

He’d heard about it before. The hold that vampires had on the opposite sex. They could control them. Charm them. That’s what must have happened to him. Yes. She charmed him. Fucking vampire. Demon. Abomination.

But as he found himself falling into bed with her, his mind didn’t feel fogged. It felt clear.

Fucking gross.

The whole thing.

.

Awaking alone in bed, Laxus felt wrong and different and his mind was all cloudy, but when his blinked the blurriness away, he only sat Freed, standing there, by his bed.

“The Mistress has left a short list of things for you to do today.”

Not his bed. Right. Shit.

“Fuck your mistress.”

“Our,” Freed corrected and his voice was cool as he stood, hands clasped behind his back, “Mistress.”

“What the fuck did she do to you, man?”

He had no answer for him. Instead, the green-haired man merely said, “She wishes for you to go down into the village and inform then that you found their boy. The teenager.”

“I can’t return him to them as one of her servants.”

“He is not any longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“He had an accident. In the house. The other teens go spooked and ran away, leaving him there. “

“Freed-”

“You will find him with his neck crushed, downstairs.” Turning to walk away, the other man added, “Carry him to the village and tell them there is no vampire. But you will return, to this mansion, afterwards. Tell the villagers you have decided to live here, along with your friends, as a returning the body to them. If anyone causes you trouble, leave. The Mistress will deal with them harshly, should this be the case.”

“Fuck that. And fuck you, Freed. Do you hear me?”

No.

Freed would never hear again.

Eventually, Laxus shoved out of bed and stumbled back into his clothes. Then, storming out of the room, he set out to end things, once and for all. But at the bottom of the staircase, he found him there. Bickslow. Just sitting on the bottom step, playing absently with a little pearly white kitten.

“The kid, Lisanna,” he explained without being asked, “as a cat that just had a litter. Was never a cat person, but she let me name them. This one is Pappa! Then there’s one named Poppo and Puppu and-”

“Bickslow what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“A lot of things, I guess, boss.” He sighed some and looked tired as he didn’t even glance after the man. “A lot.”

“You understand what’s happening here, right?” As he got to the bottom step, Laxus only walked around Bickslow before turning to face him. “Freed…poor Freed, but Evergreen is being controlled and…raped. I guess. By these monsters. Do you understand that?”

“He ain’t rapin’ her, boss. I’ve seen the brother.” Bickslow snorted. “He just cries and sobs about his injury and how great his sister is and all this and that. Lisanna finds him borin’ and so do I. Ever just sits beside him all day and listens. I think you’re the one that got raped, actually, boss, if we’re being technical. The rest of us are just prisoners.”

“I didn’t… Shut up! And you’re not a prisoner.”

“Nope,” he agreed with a nod, Bickslow did. “’cause I’m the smart one.”

“Is that what you think?”

“That’s what me and my babies now,” he insisted as he nodded over to a box nearby where, when Laxus glanced in it, he found the rest of the kittens snoozing peacefully.

Fucking hell.

He found the body of the teen in the entryway and Laxus felt bad for the teen and what they’d done to him, but he couldn’t help him. He hadn’t been able to the whole time. But as he stepped over him and walked out the front door of the mansion, he hoped to help the entire world. Rid it. Of the evil.

This time he took the steps down two at a time into the cellar and it was pitch black down there, but he found his flashlight, down on the ground, in the coffin room. Flicking it on, he went to hers first. The Mistress. Threw it open and he was going to drive a stake right through her heart. End this. He had to end this. He had to…he…

Falling forwards, he rested his head, instead, into her chest, burying it there, like he had the night before and he was a goner, he knew. Charmed. Fuck. Fuck. He couldn’t do it.

“She will not be pleased,” he heard softly from behind him, the voice of what was once his most trusted friend, “if you do not do as asked.”

What choice did he have? Being charmed and all.

.

They were going on a trip. Him and her. A few days later. The Mistress insisted upon him accompanying her and Freed was going to stay behind, to be certain of things. Lisanna griped some, as she felt like she was being given a babysitter or something, but her sister only insisted and Laxus had yet to meet the brother, but he felt like that was for the best.

“You will meet me,” was all the Mistress instructed Laxus, “in Livingston. A town three over. Close to the bay.”

“Meet you?” he asked with a frown. “How will you get there?”

But she said nothing and as he set off into the night, he could have sworn her heard the shrieking of a bat overhead.

It was nearly sunrise, when he arrived, and Laxus was at least a bit curious as to how this would all play out, but the Mistress had an apartment there, in town, which she took him to. A coffin awaited her there.

“Freshen yourself up, for the evening,” was the one instruction she left him with. “We will be going out.”

He had so many questions. A lot of them. Ones that had been tugging at his mind for days at that point. But charmed and all, he could merely do as she asked.

When they left that night, they went even further out, to another town, taking the train there. When they arrived, the Mistress took him to a bar, where she mostly ignored him. Until, eventually, she told him to go rent her a specific room at a specific hotel.

“Wait for me there.”

And, well, charmed.

He was sitting at the desk when she came in. With another man. Laxus stared at her in shock and started to protest, as well did the man she was with, but she silenced both before they could even speak.

“He watches.” She eve shrugged. “He likes it.”

“He what?” the newcomer questions, but she just rolled her eyes, the Mistress did, and whispered something the blond man didn’t catch, and in the dim light of only the candles Laxus had lit, per her instructions, he saw the other man’s eyes…change. To something different. And the newcomer just nodded, following the Mistress as she led him over to the bed and shoved him right down.

Laxus didn’t want to though. Watch. It felt…wrong and gross and he was kind of, maybe, just a little…jealous?

Was that it?

He didn’t have long to contemplate it. The Mistress had shimmied out of her dress and the man had only tugged the shirt over his head before she pounced on him and it seemed so passionate, their hungry kisses. As he squared his jaw, Laxus found himself watching with dark eyes.

But something happened, when they broke apart. It looked like she was going back in, for another kiss, but her head missed and when it found his neck, Laxus could only hear the loud wail of pain from the man as, presumably, her teeth sunk deeply into his flesh.

Everything that had happened over the past few days felt sick and made him much the same, but this? This was by far the worst.

It went on for a few minutes. Was this…feed? He was horrified at the thought.

When she finally lifted her head, the bottom half of her pale white face was stained red with dripping, thick, hot blood and Laxus rose, to his feet, frozen afterwards though, as she merely got to her feet herself.

“Once a week,” she told him simply, “we shall do this.”

“Always,” he found his voice, softly, “men?”

“Whatever you’d like, my love.”

And he could only nodded, softly, as she wiped at her face with the back of her hands, smearing the blood across her.

The sickness was gone, as bad as that sounded, when she approached and he reached for her, and it was just so good, as they fell into bed together with the lifeless man beside them and he was fucked, he was so fucked, it was all fucked.

“The body…” Laxus questioned, softly, when they left that night, to rush back to the apartment, so she could hide out the daylight hours from the safety of her pine box.

“I have an…arrangement,” she offered simply. “Here. With the owner. Do not be jealous, Laxus.”

He wasn’t sure of the implication (or okay, fine, maybe he was), but still could only nod dumbly and they went along, in the darkness.

The Mistress instructed him to go back home, in the daylight, and she would meet him there. Laxus still felt dazed and almost as if the whole thing was a dream and he could run off, he could have, the whole time. He could have gotten on a different train, walked another way, gone anywhere else.

But he didn’t.

He went back to the Strauss mansion just as his mistress commanded.

.

“We old money. True,” the woman explained as she and Laxus sat together, on the couch in her room, sharing wine under the moonlight, “old money. I laugh now when I hear the term. The old houses, families, all who I knew growing up to rule the world? Gone. Disappeared. Yet we remain. My siblings and I. The last of the Strauss. Of the old days. Mama and Papa were good, hard workers, even with all their riches, and they raised us to be the same. When they got sick, I took over. A woman. A young woman. I was spit on by some, but who laughs now? Everyone else, dead. Their children, dead. Their great-great-greats all dead. For centuries. And I endure.”

“How did you…”

“Turn?” She hummed, deeply, softly, before whispering, “It’s not a pleasant part of the story. I feel in love. With an older man. He swept me off my feet. In the matter a matter of three days. He came into town, met me, and I was going to give it all to him, right then and there. I did, I suppose. In less than a weekend, he had me in his bed. I was so smitten. I thought it was a lovebite of some sort, at first. But no. You have options, Laxus, with thissort of things. Drain the blood, turn them into mindless little servants or…you can turn someone. And he turned me. How happy he was, with himself. Grinning. ‘Now,’ he told me, ‘you will be young and beautiful forever.’ And I have been ever since.”

For a long moment, they both sat there. Then, after a sip of her drink, she spoke again.

“Do you have family, Laxus?”

“A grandfather,” was all he could offer her. “And…these kids that I kinda helped him take care of.”

Nodding slightly without probing deeper, she said, “A shame. I could not leave my siblings behind. I turned them, when I explained to them, and I still ran my business the best I could. From the shadows. The night. I became an eccentric. All three of us did. An interest. Intrigue. It worked for a decade. But…then…why does she not age? Good genes. Old family secret. Another decade. How strange, how odd, the youngest still looks so…young. Another decade and another and we had to move. Somewhere new. Start fresh. We did this for awhile, but it only grew harder and harder and when we returned, eventually, to our family home, it sat alone atop the hill and the village beneath was filled with fearful little creatures, stuck int eh past that we’d long moved on from, my siblings and I. But my, did they make the perfect feeding ground. Who would believe them? That vampires lived atop the hill that overlooked their sleepy town?

“We fade in and out of it. Interest in them. Currently, for the past century, has it been? Less, perhaps? I found their blood revolting and their men of little interest. I must travel to find real men. Usually. But you just stumbled upon me. Found me. I’d say it was fate, but what is fate anyways? A human concept. And I have not been human in many, many moons. I’m a monster now, fine, an abomination. But I didn’t choose this. Look at me. Look, Laxus, like I command. Tell me I’m not beautiful? Desirable? What man does not want that? Eternal beauty. But it takes a special man to see passed the power. And the ones who do…they ask me eventually, to do to them what was done to me. To turn them. Do they not understand this curse? This terrible, sick curse? Disgusting. I do away with them quickly. Tell me, you do not wish to be cursed, do you, my love?”

“No,” he whispered softly, truthfully. “No, I don’t.”

“Good.” She even nodded as she tossed back some more wine. “You will age, grow, and die. How lucky, mortality is.”

“What happened to that man’s eyes?”

“Hmmm?”

“In the hotel room.” He grit his teeth from the thought. “You told him that I wanted to…watch and he was creeped out, but then you whispered somethin’ to him and-”

“Oh. That.” She even rolled her eyes. “It’s a gift, yes? That glazed over look men get around me. And women, I suppose, if I so choose. A…tool.”

“You,” Laxus whispered softly as his stomach dropped, “charmed him.”

“That’s it. Yes. I charmed-”

“I don’t have that look.”

“Hmmm?”

He rose then, from his seat, and looked all about for a mirror of some sort, but he could find none. Instead, he went to the window and, softly, was able to see his reflection in the pane. “My eyes are normal.”

“Yes,” she agreed softly, bemused, almost. “Why wouldn’t they be, silly?”

“I… The only reason that I’m doing all this is because… Haven’t you charmed me?”

“I told you, my little golden dragon. I don’t like to keep men around who must be forced to.”

“I don’t…I didn’t… I’m not doing this because I want to. Any of this. You hear me? You’ve forced me. You-”

“You’ve done nothing that you’ve not desired.”

“That’s not true.” Turning to look at her, he saw the disinterest etched on her face. “Look, I…I’m not…evil. I’m-”

“No one is evil. No one is good. We all do what we must. It does not bring me any joy, any pleasure, the things I do. Well, except, of course, for when it does.”

“I have to get out of here. I have to. I-”

“You could have,” the woman reminded. “I’ve let you have freewill. And yet you always come back. Why? Laxus? I have no hold over you. It seems like…maybe…you want to-”

“Shut up,” he growled darkly and he punched it then, the window before him, slicing up his hand and spraying glass all about outside.

“You just make your friend’s work harder,” the woman tsked and he shook with rage. “You’re so strong. You must continue to train, you know? What were you training for before? Or were you a laborer? It doesn’t matter. I like men kind of…brutish. Like you. Eventually, one day, you and I will no longer enjoy one another. And I will be forced to end you. It’s all part of the deal, Laxus. You understand. Don’t you?All loves come to an end.”

“I don’t love you.”

“Of course you don’t. And I don’t you, yet, my love.” She giggled again and he hated it so much. That giggle. It would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. “I need you to work tomorrow, on getting the yard in order. I can give you the money, if you need it, to travel out to get supplies. But you will return to me, Laxus, always. You know this, yes? I don’t need charm. I will make certain this occurs.”

“You’ve ruined my life.”

“I’ve changed your life, is a better word for it.” She hummed that time, getting to her feet to come over to him. “You will learn to like it. The revulsion goes away, with repetition. And tell me, Laxus, will you ever find a woman more desirable?”

He shook his head, slightly, as she moved to grab his wounded hand and bring it up to her lips, pink tongue poking out to run across the slices he had in his fists there. As he opened his mouth, slightly, and seemed at a loss, she only raised her eyes and spoke something to him for the first time.

“Mirajane,” she whispered and he could only nod.

“Mirajane.”

“We’ll be so happy together, I’m sure, Laxus. You have your friends here, to keep you company, and I my siblings. So long as you recall your place, there’s no reason for this to not last for a good, long time. Wouldn’t you like that?”

No, he wanted to say, but “Yes,” fell from his lips and as hers came to be pressed against his, and he should have never come. To that sleepy, old fashioned town. To that Gothic, decrepit mansion on the hill.

But he had.

And now he could never leave. 

.

[jzeeeeeeeee]

Game of Thrones 8.06 Series Finale Recap and Review

THE NIGHT IS DARK AND FULL OF SPOILERS

This should be kind of obvious but I'll be discussing the final episode of Game of Thrones here so if you're not caught up don't read this unless you want to be spoiled!

CITY OF ASHES

Tyrion walks us into the episode, literally, walking through the ashes of King's Landing, closely followed by Jon and Davos. Ash is everywhere, still raining down, floating in the air like snow. I can only imagine the smell, if the scent from piles of burning dead outside Winterfell was bad this must be a thousand times worse considering they've always said how bad the city smelled to begin with... The horror on Tyrion's face is evident and surely echoes our own, as he walks by dead children and a near-naked burnt man stumbling out of the ruined city looking truly shellshocked. Tyrion tells Jon he wants to go on alone and heads for the destroyed Red Keep. Jon and co. run into Grey Worm and the Unsullied sentencing some Lannister soldiers to death in Dani's name and under her orders. Jon tries to tell Grey Worm that the war is over and the enemy soldiers are prisoners now, pleading for their lives. But the overwhelming loss must have had a hollowing effect on Grey Worm, emptying him of every last fuck he had to give. It almost comes to blood between Grey Worm/the Unsullied and Jon/random Northmen but Davos intercedes, quickly urging Jon to go speak with Dani directly. As Jon walks away, Grey Worm goes back to slitting throats of Lannister men like it's nothing, as if to show Jon how truly empty his fuck-tank was.

Back to Tyrion, walking around the remains of the Red Keep. He follows the steps down just like he told Jaime and sees the gigantic mountain of rubble covering the exit he had described. He starts digging through the rubble and finds jaime's gold hand. Digging further he uncovers both his siblings, dead on each other's arms. The music is haunting, a slow violin rendition of Rains of Castamere. This scene was picture perfect in it's tragedy, the bricks washing all color out of the scene save for the Lannisters. I might not have liked the way Cersei's end came or Jaime's middle finger to his redemption arc but seeing Tyrion kneeling there crying over them definitely gave me the feels.

PLAZA OF PRIDE

Arya walks past dead bodies and ruins out into the square in front of the Red Keep where the mysterious remaining half of the Dothraki are riding around on their horses, cheering and raising their arakhs in the air. We switch to follow Jon who's walking past the Dothraki and Unsullied towards massive, imposing steps of what is apparently left of the Red Keep. It makes me think of the Mayan Temple of the Sun, draped with a truly ginormous Targaryen banner. Jon looks at Grey Worm when he gets to the top of the stairs like "this is not handicap accessible". Just kidding, Jon looks at Grey Worm like he's gone as bonkers as his Queen. Dani and Drogon come flying in overhead and land somewhere behind the ruined Keep. Drogon's wings behind Dani stretch out and fold as she comes walking into the foreground. The sight is truly amazing and I've watched that part alone a hundred times. This is a powerful leader with men fiercely loyal to her returning victorious, no longer that little girl in Essos constantly on the run from assassins. There's a nice juxtaposition of the Unsullied lined up with precision thumping their spears in perfect unison, while the Dothraki are in a frenzy behind their orderly rows, practically doing wheelies on their horses as Dani delivers her victory speech.

Ok let's just stop and appreciate this character for a minute. Let's just imagine going through what she went through, it truly must feel like destiny, step by step bringer her closer to madness, all that power she has. She has a huge dragon that is closely bonded to her, she's the Unburnt not just a Khaleesi, not just a Queen. She's conquered before, and liberated before. When a character is too OP you just know they can't last... Remember the speech she gave when she named the entire khalasar her bloodriders? These men watched her walk out of fire, TWICE, unharmed. Who wouldn't kneel? They must think her a goddess! Grey Worm is devoted utterly because he was freed by Dani and he controls the Unsullied. The naming as Master of War, a great boon to him I'm sure, leader of ALL her forces now. He's still covered in the blood of dead Lannister soldiers as he steps forward to accept the nomination.

Danaerys speaks passionately, fervently as any champion of fire would. I could practically see flames dancing in her eyes as she talks of liberating the people of King's Landing. The show told me she's going crazy so I guess she must be. Jon's eyes when she starts talking about liberating the entire world... But it seems Tyrion agrees with me and in a fit of pique and anguish he casts off his Hand of the Queen pin to the ground. Dani commands the guards to take Tyrion and he locks eyes with Jon as he's walked off, with this "Your girl done gone nuts bro" face.

Arya catches up with Jon on the steps, urging him to see that Dani is a killer and he's in danger from her since she knows his true heritage. I like how he's surprised to see her, asking for its the audience what she's doing there in the first place. He doesn't even question the fact she came to kill Cersei and walks off to go find Tyrion's cell.

BROKEN THINGS

Jon and Tyrion discuss what happened and Jon can't deny what Dani did was wrong but he's trying to justify it by naming all the things she lost along the way to madness. Tyrion reiterates what Arya was saying, that Jon's life is at risk because of his claim to the throne. Jon actually rolls his eyes before sitting down to take it all in. It seems like Tyron admits he had feelings for Dani here, saying he loved her though not as successfully as Jon did. He walks Jon by the hand to the idea that she's the biggest threat to the people, especially his sisters. He lays a choice at Jon's feet, knowing that only Jon has the chance to bring this to an end.

Jon leaves to go find Dani in the Keep. Drogon is stretched outside like the largest cat ever, briefly getting up to see who's disturbing his rest but let's Jon go by without even a puff of smoke. Dani's walking through the ruined throne room, stretching out her hand to the Iron Throne she's sought after for all these years, touching the arm briefly. The ruins of the throne room and the snow-like ash in the air are the payoff from the vision she had in Qaarth's House of the Undying. She's contemplative, making a meta comment about the throne being made of a thousand blades from Aegon's fallen enemies. This is a sort of dig because the throne GRRM had described and imagined was more like the one she does here. Jon comes in to rain on her parade, angry about the Unsullied executing Lannister soldiers along with the thousands of dead and burned children outside. He seems to be giving her one last chance, begging with her to see reason. As she says her final words about building a new world and breaking the wheel I'm heartbroken because I know what's coming next without anyone telling me. "Be with me. Build the new world with me. This is our reason, since you were a little boy with a bastard's name and I was a little girl that couldn't count to 20. We do it together. We break the wheel together." He kisses her passionately this time, "You are my Queen, now and always", not breaking away like he did at Winterfell and Dragonstone, and I know the instant the knife goes in her heart he's sobbing and so am I. It's like she had plot armor her entire life... until today.

THE IRON THRONE

Jon lays Dani's body down on the ground and suddenly Drogon's there, sensing something wrong with his mother. He nudges her with his head but she's gone, and the sadness that pours out of him is an echo of my own seeing her tragic story at an end. This girl had been on this path since her birth, freeing slaves, serving justice to those who deserved it and I'm supposed to believe right at the end she decides to kill all the innocent people she came to save. Ok fine I'll go along with it for now since we're on mega fast forward this season and maybe I just missed all the subtle steps on the way to Dani's madness. Back to Drogon... He's so full of anguish he let's out a few huge bursts of fire, melting the Iron Throne down to slag. The scene was awesome in the true meaning of the word but I'm a little confused why Drogon would understand the meaning of such an act. And why didn't Jon move out of the way more? He has a weird thing with facing dragons I guess, maybe he planned on yelling at Drogon like he did to his brother. The scene ends after Drogon snatches up Dani's body in one claw and flies away, never to be seen again.

Tyrion awakes, finding his buddy Grey Worm at the door. He's led out to the Dragonpit where the Lords and Ladies of Westeros (🤷) are waiting. I have no idea what kind of time has passed but guessing from Tyrion's hair it's been a few weeks since Dani's death. Sansa demands to know where Jon is but Grey Worm insists they are in control of the city and it's prisoners. Sansa doubles down letting him know King's Landing is surrounded by Northmen. Yara makes some threat about Jon getting killed by the Unsullied but Arya comes right back at her saying she'll slit her throat lol. I think it's right around here everything becomes a bit hokey to me. After some back and forth with Grey Worm about the fate of Jon Snow, Tyrion suggests they choose a king or queen (who will ultimately be in charge of that fate). That Tully dude, Lord of the Riverlands gets up to make a speech (maybe to make a play as king?) but Sansa shoots him down by asking him to just sit, be a good boy, and drink his bottled water. Sam suggests a type of democracy system where everyone gets a say and they all just laugh at him. Just like everyone imagined, Tyrion reveals Jon is the heir to the Throne and they all live happily ever after. Wait no, actually he walks around and talks about how stories hold the world together and Bran should be King. What in the ever-loving fuck? Who has a better story than a man who came back from the dead only to find he was not a bastard at all but the heir to the Iron Throne????!!! Ok I get that he killed Dani so that's a stain on his honor but he did it to save the whole damn world. He didn't want to rule but neither did Bran! Tyrion proposes kingship to Bran in a way that sounds like a marriage proposal from the realm. Then Bran shows more emotion than he has in the past 2 seasons, he smiled a little and says "Why do you think I came all this way?" Huh? Well I had thought it was to help defeat the Night King and the White Walkers but fine I'll go along with that too I guess... I thought for a hot second he'd say "I am Groot". Sansa declares independence for the North after we get a round of "ayes" from all the other Westerosi Lords and Ladies in favor of Bran the Broken as king. I face palm but on my 3rd or 4th rewatch I see that Tyrion's cleverness did shine through one last time. He knew that giving Jon to the Unsullied would mean more war, knew Jon didn't want the throne anyway, knew that the puzzle needed solving and I suppose he did it. Jon would go to the Wall and serve a life sentence in the Night's Watch as a compromise, apparently to keep everyone from getting what they want. We see Tyrion meet briefly with Jon to explain this and he's as baffled as I am there's even a Night's Watch left. What are they watching? Season one?

A DREAM OF SPRING

Another time jump of unknown proportions and Jon is getting on a boat, headed for the Wall. He sees Grey Worm on another ship about to set sail for Naath where I can only assume he'll die from butterfly poison trying to protect Missandei's people. As Jon rounds a corner he sees Bran, Arya and Sansa are there to see him off. Hugs all around, Sansa apologizes to Jon and I can't help but think it's forced, Arya will sail West of Westeros. When Jon kneels in front of Bran saying, "Your Grace" I'm still wondering what his Targ ancestry had to do with anything and why Bran thought it was so important for him to know. The last of the Starks are going to go on their separate paths again, but hey they won the Game.

We next get a cute scene of Brienne writing Jaime's deeds in the White Book, meaning she's the Lord Commander now. This part is uber meme-able, particularly when she makes faces trying to think of good deeds to write. After a few creative truths she closes the book without writing anything about how he saved the people of King's Landing from being burned alive with wildfire. This scene also shows us Bran the Broken has taken a raven for his sigil, it's now prominent on Brienne's Kingsguard armor.

We go next back to Tyrion, the Keep mended enough to have a small council meeting in the old spot he's meticulously rearranging the chairs. Sam, now Grandmaester, brings in a book called a Song of Ice and Fire, very Hobbit of him, setting it in front of Tyrion. The rest of the small council files in, Bronn as Lord of Highgarden and Master of Coin, Davos as Master of Ships, and Brienne the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Bran is wheeled in just for a minute so we can hear they're missing a few officers and see Sir Podrick is in charge of pushing his chair around now, making an ambiguous comment about finding Drogon just before leaving the running of the kingdom to the council (please give me a sequel of just that!). The scene ends with Tyrion starting his famous jackass/brothel joke but we never get the punchline.

NORTH OF THE WALL

Jon arrives at the Wall, which has been repaired with wooden gates. Then the most well-done cutting of scenes together happens as we bounce between Arya getting ready for her journey west, Jon's arrival and subsequent leaving of the Wall, and Sansa's coronation as Queen of the North. We see Jon moving through the wildlings and finally, FINALLY, he pets Ghost. Arya's on a ship with a huge Stark wolf on the sails. Sansa is at Winterfell newly crowned. It all ends kind of how it started, with Jon on his horse walking north into the woods, wildlings on foot following him into the future. The scene evokes a sense of adventure unknown and reminds me of the first scenes from the pilot where we first saw the wights and Walkers in action but instead of death it's life moving through these woods now.

UPS AND DOWNS

So my main reason for breaking this all down was because I've been asked over and over what I thought of this episode. Many of you know I'm passionate about this show and even now that's it's over I'm sure I'll rewatch it many, many times again, season by season. In fact, this will probably be the first blog entry I have in "Watching Thrones Backwards; maybe it makes more sense this way?"

That being said I feel like this ending was really perfect for what they set out to do. A show based on a book series is always difficult, and Thrones lost access to the written word once the show moved past the books. I've read every single book and felt that more character development could've been done here in Seasons 7 and 8, both of which would've been better with more episodes. It felt rushed without those extra moments this story deserved but instead we got what we got. And what we got in the last episode was amazing for this series, beautifully produced, imagery leaps and bounds ahead of anything else on television, well-acted, even if not always well-written.

The biggest criticism I have was that the dive into Dani's madness was too abrupt, and such a huge deviation from her character. But her last words will haunt me for all of time. "We will break the wheel together." And they did. Jon's act was a sacrifice for both of them and gave rise to the new system of electing leaders.

Time was also my enemy in this episode, I know that it opens pretty soon after the last one because there's still fires burning but as we go through it I felt less and less certain where we were on the timeline. At the Dragonpit scene Robin Aryn was much taller, does that mean years have gone by or mere weeks? Years of Unsullied occupancy in King's Landing doesn't make sense to me but ok whatever. And at the end stuff was kind of fixed like in the Red Keep and at the wall so that must've been years certainly! But Sansa was just getting crowned so did they really wait all that time to do it? I guess I'll need to wait for GRRM to help me clear that up, hopefully in my lifetime.

My other problem was that everything was getting tied up with pretty little bows, basically going down the list and checking off all the weird bets people were making online. I could've easily told you Arya would head west of Westeros, Sam would name that book a Song of Ice and Fire, and that Tyrion would never finish his joke on screen. I say "was" though because I'd rather have all these things tied up neatly than a lot of wtf moments. We had enough of those watching this series, and this being the last episode it truly was "bittersweet" so seeing storylines get sewn shut was much nicer after I had time to really think about it all. I'm over a dozen times through this episode now and it's held up amazingly well to rewatch.

Even with all the negative criticism I absolutely loved this episode. Each scene in this final episode looked incredible, Jaime and Cersei dead in each other's arms, the dragon wings behind Dani at the Keep, Drogon melting the Throne, even Jon walking off into the woods at the end. Cinematically it was successful, thematically maybe a little less so. But it made sense in a way the Dexter or Lost finales never will. Dany succeeded in the end with breaking the wheel - Shakespearean tragedy at its finest, Tyrion is for all intents and purposes ruling as Hand, Arya stopped killing everyone, Sansa's a queen in her own right, Bran is probably warging into Drogon somewhere off screen flying about and Jon pet Ghost. Team Stark FTW I give it a solid 9 out of 10!

*Picture credits to HBO Game of Thrones*

[risingroseart]

murder mans

Name: Jester Tynan Blackburn Killer Title: Shonrophair Pronouns: he/him

So uh... I may or may not have made up three OCs to cope with the fact that buzzfeed unsolved is on its final season,,, two of which are hosts that host a show with ryan and shane that is basically bfu except its not connected to buzzfeed,,, and one of which is a camera mans

Anyway while the other bfu ocs, Samuel and Oliver, are regular people, Jester...not so much. I'll just paste his description from... i think my artfol post? under the cut

Jester Tynan Blackburn (he/him) is a 27 year old artist and one of the hosts of the new "The Watcher: Spirits Undiscovered" and "The Watcher: True Crime Stories" web-series. (They're basically like BFU Supernatural and BFU True Crime, but with more different hosts and no longer connected to Buzzfeed.)

He's known to be sly, confident and sarcastic at times, and the rest of the crew often joke that he cannot feel fear. This isn't just a copy paste of how Shane is, though - Shane has stated before that he just isn't afraid because ghosts do not exist, but if he were to see any he would bolt. Jester says there may or may not be ghosts, but isn't scared of them at all. If they showed up, he wouldn't run or be afraid.

Jester is thought to be a direct and honest person by all his friends and coworkers, and usually makes jokes that are either really dry, sarcastic, or dark in tone. He seems to have trouble giving emotional advice or comfort sometimes, however when it comes to helping with physical, technical things, he's never shy to help with the task. The others consider him to be a guy with a hard exterior but a good heart. He also needs a lot of time to himself, which is why he isn't in every episode of the show, yet he is most certainly a fan-favorite.

That said, he does do a lot of overtime when it comes to researching relevant cases, often staying long after the crew and even Ryan have left. Some find his obsession with true crime creepy or off-putting, but to the viewers it's one of the reasons he is so popular.

His favorite shows reflect his obsessions; BFU, BBC Sherlock, The Mentalist and Murder She Wrote It are among his favorites. Jester's hobbies include writing, drawing, murder and singing.

Oh? Right, I didn't mention this yet.

Jester is putting on a façade. He pretends to be this reserved, slightly unnerving yet somehow charming fellow, who has a hard shell, but a heart of gold. In truth, however, he is a sly, cunning bitch, and the serial killer known as Shonrophair. And it is not that he doesn't know how to express emotion well, its that he doesn't have many of the feelings a person is supposed to experience, as he is not fully human.

He is half human, half creature of havoc, which is a really interesting type of being, but alas it is too much for me to explain in this text post. Due to this he has a thirst for suffering and a lack of empathy, craving destruction as long as his human side stays buried deep within as it has been since he was a child.

Shonrophair was planning to kill the crew of the show, however working with them has ironically proven to be a better cover than he had anticipated, and his "friends" have proven to be more entertaining that he expected. Perhaps the human in him isn't gone in its entirety, after all...Perhaps it never will be...

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Anyway so thats my problematic murder mans. i love him he's a fucking bastard