#take time to sit with this today and remember talent is a myth

[lamarckianenterprises]

As I’m experiencing my fair share of writer’s block with my other projects, I have decided to embrace the irony, and write about four writing myths that I think all aspiring writers should know about, and learn to avoid. And at the suggestion of a friend these myths have been helpfully sorted based on their likelihood of torpedoing someone’s attempt at creating new work. 

While the list is obviously intended for new writers, it will hopefully be of use to others as well.

This is honestly such a common stumbling block that I’m just going to say it outright, Talent is as Stirner would put it, a spook. Outside of perhaps the realm of sports and martial arts, there’s no secret sauce passed down from the gods, God, or genetics that magically sets a people apart from the rest. Terry Pratchett, Douglas Adams, Neil Gaiman, Shakespeare, Etgar Keret, they’re not famous authors with dozens of published works because they ‘bloomed into their God given talent’, it’s because they earnestly put in the work to improve their skills in a field they love.

So everytime you sit in front of that empty page, and can’t bring yourself to write, don’t think, “Oh God doesn’t want this for me”, “Oh I’ll never be as good as those talented people”, “There’s no point, it’ll never get easier, I’ll never get any better because I’m a talentless hack” because no one is talented, it’s a spook. It’s just a way for people to tamp down their jealousy by externalizing the process of writing. After all, the counterpart to “I’ll never be as good as those talented people” is “Because those people never had to work to get that good”, they didn’t earn it, god just gave it to them. 

Now I admit that everyone’s circumstances are different, and there’s a hell of a lot of ways for someone’s familial or personal wealth, social standing, and place of birth to offer genuine advantages for learning the craft. After all, it does still take time that not everyone can spare, and it still costs a fair bit to get the tools for it even if you’re learning it ‘by yourself’ since pen and paper sure aren’t free, and boy oh boy do gadgets love to break down.

But you have to remember to not put yourself down if you’re struggling to write, or think you’re just not good enough yet. Everyone goes through it, and honestly like eight years and God knows how many pages in I still go through it. Writing is hard, but it’s hard for everyone, you’re not uniquely terrible or talentless for feeling this way, it’s normal, it’s fine, you’re doing good. 

And honestly, everyone looks back and thinks, "Oh I'll never be as good as the old Masters", it's normal, but also honestly wrong. Like it or not one day your kid or grandkid is going to dunk on their version of modern lit and go, "God, I wish Hussie was still around, Homestuck was so good, nothing like the trash they’re pumping out today."

Probably not the first time you’ve heard this one before, but it bears repeating because I sure as hell fell for it so here goes:

Your first draft doesn’t have to be good, it doesn’t have to be presentable, it does not have to be anything but the barest expression of your ideas put on paper. You don’t have to worry about expressing your ideas as best as you can, you just have to try and express them. 

There’s no sense in stumbling over each paragraph in near isolation, and then doing it all over again as a finished whole later anyway, when you could just write it all out and proofread and edit it then. This doesn’t mean you can’t workshop ideas, or go back to add, or remove a tidbit, or a paragraph every now and then, but just don’t fall into the trap of real time editing. As the friends who I ask to proofread every other paragraph of anything I write will attest to, it's not going to make you a better writer, just a slower one. 

In the end your first draft is never going to wow anyone with its presentation, and it’s honestly not meant to. Ignore the urge to be a perfectionist and just write, don’t get bogged down in the petty details and craftsmanship till you’re done.

This is technically two Myths, but I think they’re closely related enough to count as one. Not every story needs an extremely well thought out and planned storyline and setting, but conversely, you generally can’t just sit down and write without a plan and expect it to be good. The latter mostly applies to longer form works, but we’ll start with the former for now.

As a writer, it can be easy to get caught up in an idea, and let it carry you along into a sort of feature creep. You’re not just writing a story about the dragon hunting adventures of a silly, lovestruck knight, and his fellow knight who yearns to be his equal and perhaps lover anymore, now you suddenly need to invent a setting, with your takes on fantasy races, their histories and cultures, and detailed descriptions of the various realms and what they contend with. It just keeps growing and growing until you give up and just resign the idea and all of your work so far to the realm of “Maybe I’ll get back to it later.”

Not everything needs to be Tolkenian in scope and planning, you don’t have to start from a world and work your way back to a story, if it’s not going to come up, then don’t worry about it. You can always expand on ideas as you go along and, as long as you keep note of everything you’ve established then you should be fine. 

That’s how Tolkien did it, and if Conlang George the usual outlier who made up like fifty languages for fun during WW1 and 2 didn’t just sit down and pontificate about every nitty gritty of his setting before writing the first ‘middle-earth’ story, then you really shouldn’t expect yourself to for every work.

But you should plan your works, it doesn’t have to be a big multi page pitch bible but, it’s generally a good idea to jot down a couple of paragraphs to set the story’s flow and premise, both to ground you as you riff along the details, and also just to remind you in case something happens.

Even if you’re writing the flashiest of fics with a concrete premise in your mind that you just need to put down to paper. It still doesn’t hurt to make a note of it first, you know, just in case literally anything happens to disturb your work, and you end up coming back to a blank page, or a few sentences you can’t quite remember the point of.

This is less of a conceptual trap and honestly more of a personal skill issue, and it’s honestly not all that relevant for someone who’s already read this deep into an article about common writer myths and mistakes. But when I first started out, I was transfixed by what I could best describe as an urge for linguistic or should I say stylistic purity. I didn’t want to be overly influenced by other people’s writing, I wanted to develop my own style, and that meant reading less, avoiding learning about writing from other people, and not seeking out criticism no matter how constructive from other writers. 

I grew out of it eventually, but it led to me picking up a lot of bad writing habits both from my hubristic avoidance of learning the fundamentals, and from course correcting out of it down the line. This was almost definitely caused by my fragile sense of pride, but I do think that a part of it was fueled by a mix of the first myth, and the common trope for writers in fiction to be depicted as somehow being isolationist in nature, that it necessarily involves some degree of separation from society at large to do ‘proper’ writing, when this is simply untrue. 

Writing and art in general are fairly collaborationist in nature, as a writer you simply cannot and will not improve if you are unwilling to work with people. If you cannot take criticism, if you don’t think there’s anything you could learn from other writers, if you intentionally cut yourself off from all that, you are never going to become a better writer. Not to yourself, and certainly not to anyone else. 

*

And that was four common writing myths that every writer should learn to avoid. There’s definitely more myths I could cover, such as the general expectation that a good work will get a good reception and thus a good reception equals a good work, but we’re already 1500 or so words into this article and, four is a good number for endings.

*

Lamarckian Enterprises is an Indonesian fiction writer and semi ironic christian greeting card designer. 

You can support their work at https://ko-fi.com/lamarckianenterprises.

#writing #creative writing #on writing #writer things #my thoughts #writing tips #talent #nonfiction #journalism

[griffintail]

Could you do the dream smp (separately) realizing that their child is just really smart? It could be like they're a prodigy in a particular subject or they're just really smart in general. Can you also include these characters: (and any more you want to add) Wilbur, Dream, Tommy, Eret, Techno, and Ranboo. Ty in advance if you decide to do this!

Smartest in the Room

Pairings: Parental! Wilbur, Dream, Tommy, Eret, Technoblade, and Ranboo x F! Child! Reader

Warnings: None :)

A/N: (F/L) means the first letter of your first name.

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

Eret

(Y/N) was young when she started studying the politics of the SMP and L'Manberg.

Naturally, she picked up on it with ease and rather mature with issues that arose.

Eret was very proud of her when she asked to sit and listen to the meetings to understand them even better.

There had even been a few times that (Y/N) could hold her own in a debate despite being ten years old.

"That does not justify your acts in this courtroom!" (Y/N) argued with Big Law, Eret sweating slightly as he had taken her to a case going on today for broken laws in L'Manberg.

"It does I'm a lawyer! You shouldn't even be here!"

"Name a law I don't know!" (Y/N) challenged.

---

"Yes, he did take your things first." (Y/N) stuck out her tongue slightly trying to balance in heels, Tommy crossing his arms as he watched her. "But you stealing in a return is still a wrong action and punishable. It will simply mean nobody wins."

Eret was very proud to see his little girl prosper and knew she'd only excel further when he came into her room to find her writing in a book.

"What are you doing princess?"

She looked up and smiled, showing him the book. "My policies when I can finally run for president."

Yeah, he was very proud of his kid. He wouldn't be surprised when she finally would manage to become president of L'Manberg.

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

Dream

(Y/N) was all-around smart and Dream knew it every day.

She could come up with excellent tactics and be quick to change them if need be when she played Manhunt with Dream, Sapnap, and George.

She could read some pretty advanced books and understand them with little difficulty.

She also learned how to be a pretty good liar with the help of her friends but Dream didn't know that one.

She learned a lot of different things and worked to master them every day.

Though, the thing she took the most pride in was her swordsmanship. She wanted to be just her father.

George screamed as he fell and (Y/N) pointed her sword tip to his neck, taking quick breaths. Sapnap laughed at George as (Y/N) grinned taking the sword away and helping George up. As she did, she looked up at the sound of clapping, grinning wider as she saw Dream, home early.

"You're pretty good, sweetheart. Why don't we go against each other?" Dream offered to her.

Dream was very proud to see her hold her own for a while against him and knew she'd one day become the master.

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

Ranboo

It was a surprise to Ranboo when (Y/N) excelled in reading and writing.

She could read rather fast and could comprehend what she just read.

Her calligraphy was also rather elegant for someone so young as she often wanted to write down what happened, just like Ranboo.

"You don't need to write everything down little enderman. You remember everything." Ranboo told her as they were sitting and she was writing in her own journal.

"I know, but I want my own memory book to make sure I never forget, just like you." (Y/N) smiled and Ranbo smiled as well, gently ruffling her hair.

Ranboo didn't know about her excellent reading until Phil called him over to Techno's where Phil was currently babysitting her.

"So, Techno gave her a book." Phil started off and Ranboo nodded, frowning slightly confused.

What was so bad about a book?

"...It was the Art of War and she read all of it and Techno quizzed her on it and she got every question correct."

"WHAT?!" Ranboo exclaimed.

"Techno's making her read Greek myths now."

"Techno!" Ranboo went to go talk to the other man.

Techno had another friend at least.

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

Technoblade

Many thought that Techno's child would be the most skilled swordsman in the land.

And they'd be correct but she didn't show it off. Instead, she became just as knowledgeable as her father, with his help.

She knew just as much about things from Greek myths to The Art of War as Technoblade.

Tommy would make fun of her for being a nerd occasionally but would quickly take it back when Techno would glare over her head at him.

She wasn't as much of a fighter like Techno, even though she was practically a master at most weapons other than axes but Techno was fine to encourage her with her smarts instead.

"Why doesn't she fight? She's a Blade! You call her little blade!" Tommy questioned his brother as (Y/N) was across the room reading next to Steve.

"She doesn't need to, I got that covered," Techno told him.

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

Tommy

A lot of people are quick to dismiss (Y/N) to be just like Tommy but people underestimate both of them.

She was rather well-rounded. With the help of her father, Tubbo, and Wilbur, she was rather smart and a pretty damn good fighter.

It tended to frustrate Tommy that many people would simply brush off her smarts and he would furiously call them back.

"Hey, shithead! Listen to what my amazing kid has to say!" He called to Fundy and (Y/N) grinned.

Tommy was very proud of her and also tended to show off her smarts to others. Though she tended to act just like Tommy.

She kept what she could really do away until she actually needed to do it.

"How the hell do we do this puzzle?" Tubbo motioned to the floor in front of them as Tommy and (Y/N) were exploring temples with him.

"That's easy, like this." (Y/N) simply walked over and completed the puzzle, like it was nothing. "Done!"

"Good job little (F/L)!" Tommy grinned.

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

Wilbur

Wilbur taught (Y/N) all about music from the moment she could start remembering. He took great pride in it.

He was very delighted when she started to pick up on things and gladly taught her more when she showed actual interest in it.

He taught her to play guitar and piano and even helped her practice her vocals. She picked up on all of it so quick and he was so delighted to share his art with her.

She wasn't a master yet, but Wilbur knew his little star would be one, one day.

Wilbur hummed as he strummed his guitar, staring at his journal with lyrics inside. What could the second verse be?

"Are we playing today?" (Y/N) peeked in.

Wilbur smiled. "We can be if you want. I'm working on a new song, like to hear it?"

She nodded eagerly as she sat in front of him. He strummed before singing for her.

"I heard there was a special place, where men could go emancipate. The brutality and tyranny of their rulers. Well, this place is real you needn’t fret, with Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, (Y/N), fuck Eret. It's a very big and not blown up L’Manberg. My L'Manberg. My L'Manberg. My L'Manberg. My L'Manberg."

(Y/N) grinned widely as Wilbur sang before he stopped and looked at her.

"Sound good?" He asked.

"Wonderful! Is there more?"

"I need to write more little star." He chuckled. "I'm having trouble thinking up a second verse."

"Well, it's about L'Manberg, right? What...what about, for freedom and for liberty, our nation sought to build on these." She sang the words similar to how he had been singing earlier.

He grinned brightly. "I love it."

His little star was most certainly going to be talented.

#mcyt reader insert #mcyt oneshots #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #tommyinnit x reader #wilbur soot x reader #eret x reader #dream x reader #dreamsmp x reader #technoblade x reader #ranboo x reader

[sinner-as-saint]

King Of My Heart.

Devil!Seb x Reader AU

Run-through: You always used to joke about how if one day you die and go to hell, you would most likely just follow the King of Hell around, annoy him, flirt with him and just be a brat and push his buttons, maybe even sit on his throne for the hell of it. It was always such a funny thought. And then one day, it actually happens…

Themes: devil!seb, somewhat bratty!reader, fluff, smut, mention of death by car accident, grumpy!seb

a/n: yeah, it’s a long fic… many apologies. Also it’s just a fic, don’t take it too seriously :)

Darkness engulfed you. And that was it. Stillness, tranquility and just nothing at all.

You woke up feeling nothing, not even your own weight. As though there was no gravity pulling you down anymore. You blinked a few times, trying to re-orient yourself and figure out where you are. Your mind seemed blank, void of memories.

Think… what’s the last thing you remember?

Fear. Speed. Danger – car crash. You had been in a car crash. So you must be in a hospital. But since when do hospital have vintage furniture, and marble flooring and such nice color themes. You cleared your throat and supported yourself up on your elbows, checking to see what hurt.

But nothing did.

“What kind of a hospital is this?” your memories might be all over the place, but you were sure hospitals didn’t have extravagant chandeliers.

Then a reply came. “It’s not a hospital.” A male voice spoke up, and you turned your head to look at him. He was sat in the corner of the room,.

Ignoring whatever he just said, you shamelessly checked him out. “Oh, you’re the most handsome nurse I’ve ever seen. Damn.” You were a very confident, somewhat inappropriate and shameless person.

He frowned at you, still sat at the velvety cushioned chair in the corner of the room. “I’m not a-“ he cut himself off and sighed loudly. “Look, you died. And you’re in hell.”

“What?”

He groaned and rolled his eyes. “You had a car crash. You didn’t make it. You died in the ambulance, and now you’re here. In hell.” He said it almost monotonously, like he had said it before a million times.

You looked around. Well shit.

“I had low expectations but this is actually kinda pretty, not gonna lie I-“

He cut you off, frowning again in disbelief. “You find out you died and are now in hell and the first thing you have to say is that it’s pretty?” he couldn’t believe it. He was kind of broody to be honest.

You shrugged, sitting up. “You expected me to scream and shout?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, signaling that that was actually the reaction he was expecting. How were you so calm? He could not understand.  

You scoffed. “I’m dead, there’s not much I can do. Besides, I won’t even ask why I’m in hell because let’s face it, I’m-,”

He cut you off again. “Okay.” He said rather bitterly, to shut you up and he stood up and closed the button of his dark suit. He was tall, and really, really handsome. Although, dealing with the fact that you had died seemed like it was no big deal. You couldn’t figure out why.

“Are you like, do you… who are you?” you asked, looking him up and down.

He finished securing his button and turned to face you with a smirk which could kill. “I’m the King of hell.” He said, and walked over to the door, opened it and walked out without another word.

Wow…

“Wait!” you called out as you jumped out of bed, realizing you were still wearing that tight red dress from the club. That’s what you were wearing when you were drunk driving back home. But you didn’t make it home.

The beautiful stranger was tall, so he took longer steps than you did. So you had to jog to catch up to him. You looked around as you did, this place was definitely not what you expected hell to look like. It was all very clean, and well-maintained. Marble flooring and antique furniture, a perfect balance of lights and shadows. It was, like you said earlier, pretty.

“Who takes care of this place? Do you have demon maids who dust and stuff?” you asked, once you managed to catch up with his long strides.

He groaned under his breath and kept walking, without even looking at you.

“Also where did you get all this furniture, you-,”

He finally spoke up, cutting you off.

“Why are you following me?” his tone was just as cold and monotonous as before. He didn’t turn to look at you, nor did he slow down. So you just kept walking beside him along the long hallway.

You shrugged, “I don’t know anyone else here.” You said like it was nothing. He was so tempted to stop and ask you to go back to the room but he didn’t. He wasn’t used to having company. This was all very new to him.

“You don’t know me either.” He spoke, grumpily. Clearly annoyed.

“No, but you were there when I woke up. Were you watching me while I slept?” you asked, genuinely curious.

He sighed, embarrassed at the actual reason why he was in the room when you woke up. “I was just making sure you don’t run off to someplace you aren’t supposed to be. You are reckless as it is” He answered, just as cold and bitter as before.

You smirked. “So you care about me? Didn’t know the Devil has a heart!” you were undoubtedly annoying him.

“I don’t.” he said, still grumpy and broody.

“Don’t care or don’t have a heart?” you asked, really beginning to push his buttons.

“Shut up.” He shut you up and kept walking.

And you kept following him.

“Where are we going?” you asked. And not much to your surprise, he didn’t answer. Well, maybe if you’re the King of Hell, you have the right to be so cold and plainly rude.

So you spoke up again. “Also, what should I call you? Lucifer?”

“No.”

“Satan?”

“No.” he sighed in annoyance.

“Luci? I like Luci.” You were talking to him as though he was your friend, and he wasn’t used to that.

“Stop.” He said, bitterly.

“Choose one then, or I’ll keep going. How about Prince of Darkness? No that’s too long, it’s-“

“Stop it.” he chided.

“Papa Goat? Seriously, tell me w-,”

He cut you off by stopping dead in his tracks and grabbed you by the shoulders, stopping you as well. “Go back to the room. And stop talking to me.” He said, sharply. He stared into your eyes and you were blown away by how pretty his eyes were.

You had spent your whole life thinking the Devil would have horrible red eyes, and red skin, and horns. Yet, here he was. Handsome as hell.

But you weren’t done questioning him yet. Ignoring his furious words, you spoke up again. “Speaking of which, why am I kept there? If this is hell, shouldn’t I be kept in a cell and tortured by your little minions? Or is that all just a myth?”

He stared at you in disbelief. “How dare you question my orders?” part of him was blown away by the confidence and audacity you had.

You maintained his icy stare, “Same way you dare watch me sleep. Now answer me.” You sassed. He frowned and let go of your shoulders, letting his hands drop back to his sides.

“I am the King, I don’t have to answer to anyone. Let alone a human soul. Now keep your little mouth shut, and get back to your room.” he spoke, slowly and bitterly.

You scoffed. “Fine, your Majesty.” You mocked him by doing a little bow. And he immediately started walking away. “But this conversation isn’t done yet.” You shouted after him, but he walked away as fast as he could, pretending he couldn’t hear you.

What would he say to you? He would be a little embarrassed to tell you the truth, but even he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it from you for too long. You sure were a brat, but you weren’t stupid. You were catching on already.

He tried to set the thoughts of you aside as he went about his duties as the King of Hell, yet each time, the image of you asleep on the bed would force their way into his mind. He has never felt like this in… forever.

He almost smiled to himself at the thought of you and how you ran that little mouth of yours. You were entertaining. A brat, but entertaining. He hadn’t meant to be so cold, and so rude. But he was the Devil, being gentle wasn’t his forte.

 You thought of him too, as you laid in the soft bed, looking up at the chandelier right above the bed. For a moment, you thought if this drops down on me, I’ll probably die on the spot.

Then you realized, well good thing I’m already dead.

You tried hard to feel bad for not being alive anymore, but there was no sense of sadness. You just felt light. You weren’t necessarily happy about being in Hell, but if this is it then you weren’t complaining.

You thought of the handsome Devil, and immediately a smirk formed on your face. You remembered how you would always tell people that you were sure you had the talent to annoy even Satan. And today, you proved it.

There was something about him which, surprisingly, didn’t make you want to run away in fear and hide from him. You remembered how he had held you by the shoulders earlier, and how warm his touch had been – a complete contrast to his bitter words and icy blue eyes.

You drifted off to sleep with a faint smile, and the thought of broody blue eyes on your mind; mindlessly concocting ways on how you could pester him more.

 -

The King was on his throne, barking orders and watching over his dark kingdom when you showed up, at the stairs which led to his majestic throne. You stood at the end of the stairs, looking up at him with a smirk and mischief in your eyes.

He looked down at you and raised an eyebrow, silently asking you to behave and not make a scene in front of all those in the room.

You looked around the spacious room and spotted many smirking faces. All dressed in black, guess that was a code here in Hell. And here you were, in your little red dress. The room was everything one can imagine how the Devil’s lair would look like. Quite dark, and shadowy. Shades of red here and there, but mainly just black. And there he sat, high up on his throne. Looking as arrogant and handsome as yesterday.

Without a second thought, you started walking up the stairs which led to him. Seeing you were coming up towards him, the King flicked his hand slightly and ordered everyone to leave the room. He didn’t want them all to endure your antics.

You stopped right in front of him and smiled. “Scoot over.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, confused and surprised. “Pardon?”

You chuckled. “Oh, a Devil with manners! I said scoot over, I wanna sit.” You repeated and he blinked a couple of times, frowning at your words.

“You want to… sit on my throne?” he had been around for so long, but no one – until today – had ever asked him to scoot over so they could sit on his throne. He was very much surprised at your audacity.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Would you like me to shout it out? Because trust me, I can d-,”

He cut you off by reaching out, grabbing your hand and pulling you onto his lap. He secured one arm around you and sighed. He figured it would be less embarrassing to have you on his lap rather than scooting over and sharing his beloved throne.

You were the one who was surprised this time. “Well, you know I usually wait a while before getting on a guy’s lap, but oh well.” You shrugged and made yourself comfortable on his lap. “You’re so warm.” You pointed out and snuggled closer to him.

He gently pushed you away. “Behave.” He muttered, still grumpy as yesterday.

You scoffed, smirking. “Or what? You’ll punish me?” you asked, forgetting for a moment that you were talking to the Devil. The King of Hell, and not some guy you met at a club.

He groaned. “If you keep behaving like this, yes. With pleasure.” He answered, unintentionally staring down at the low cut of your dress, before quickly peeling his eyes off you.

You giggled. “Ooh, kinky. I like it.” you commented and he groaned again.

“Stop it.” he muttered under his breath; as though he was so done with you. But he wasn’t pushing you off his lap yet, so maybe he wasn’t that annoyed. Not yet.

 For the next while, you bombarded him with questions. Questions he had answered many, many times before. So all of his replies were monotonous, and he sounded like being here with you was the last thing he wanted to do. But even in his grumpy mood, he wasn’t asking you to leave.

He didn’t know why. He had been alone for so long, that having the company of someone else seemed like the kind of luxury he could rarely afford. Even if it was the company of a brat, who wouldn’t behave at all.

“So if you’re the King of Hell, then does Hades exist?” you asked, curious to know. Despite being somewhat annoyed, he had been answering all your questions without complaining.

“Yes.”

You got all wide eyed and excited. “And Cerberus?”

“Yes.” Came the monotonous reply.

“Have you met them?” you asked, not dropping the topic.

He sighed and leaned back in his seat, with you still sat up straight on his thighs. “I’ve been around for millennia. I have met everyone and everything.” He answered, closing his eyes momentarily.

You were genuinely amazed.

“But how do you and Hades exist at the same time? I don’t get it.”

He groaned, “Like how you are a grown woman, yet act like a child at the same time.” He sassed, opening his eyes to give you a smug look.

You gasped at his reply and got off his lap abruptly. “You, sir, are rude.”

He smirked at your reaction. “Are you going to leave me alone and let me do my job now?” he asked, sounding like he was enjoying this.

You didn’t answer him. You just turned around and walked down the stairs and disappeared into the long corridor which would lead you to the room where you slept. Guess that was your room now. During one of your many banters earlier, you had brought it up again; asking him why you were being kept there and treated rather nicely. And as expected, he didn’t answer.

But you knew you were going to get it out of him sooner or later.

 Once in your room, you realized that there was nothing to do here, even in this grand bedroom. You weren’t alive, so you didn’t feel hunger or thirst. You inspected the bathroom, and found a large tub. Well, might as well take a bath.

You rummaged through the wardrobes, and drawers. You found everything a woman could need in there. And you were beginning to wonder, was your arrival pre-planned?

You could ask the arrogant, handsome King. But you knew he would never tell you. So you pushed all those thoughts aside and took a nice, long and warm bath.

-

On his way to his room, at the end of the day, the King thought of you. He walked down the long corridor, and heard nothing but the echo of his footsteps as he went. He hated it; the loneliness. He caught himself smiling faintly as he thought of you, and how perfectly you fit in his lap earlier.

He wanted to hold you close for a while longer, but then a sense of guilt washed over him. Because he wasn’t too sure that you would still act the same around him if you knew the whole truth. He figured perhaps that was the reason he was always so unintentionally cold towards you.

His smile slowly diminished as he entered his room.

He closed the door behind him and heard a giggle. He closed his eyes for a moment and groaned. “What are you doing in my room?” he asked, turning around slowly to find you sat on the edge of his bed. Wearing his clothes. “And why are you in my clothes?”

You rolled your eyes at him pulled your legs up, sitting criss cross on his bed. “Relax, your Majesty. I’m just borrowing a shirt and sweatpants. Which, by the way, you don’t seem like a sweatpants kinda guy. You look like you sleep in your dark suits.”

He sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets, looking at the ground for a moment before looking back up at you. “Well, if you’re done judging me. Do you mind getting out of my room?”

You shrugged. “Nah, I’m comfortable.” You spoke and let your body fall back onto his bed. You heard him walking around, but you couldn’t see him. “We need a name for you.” you said after some moments of silence.

“No we don’t.” as expected, he argued back.

Ignoring him, you searched for a name mentally. “See, if I saw you in the streets I would think that you were an Adrian, or maybe a Josh. How about Christopher?”

“No.”

You supported yourself up on your elbows and watched him as he poured himself a drink. “You also look like a Sebastian.”

He didn’t say anything, he simply turned around and glared at you. You smirked.

“Sebastian it is then.” You made that decision all on your own. “Hey Seb, make me a drink as well.”

He rolled his eyes at you and turned back around to the mini bar he had in his room. Although grumpy still, he made you a drink and brought it over to you. You remained sat in his bed as he handed you the glass.

You were about to thank him rather sarcastically when your gaze fell on a closed door, right beside the mini bar. You pointed towards the door, “What secrets are you hiding in there, your Majesty?” you asked, and took a sip of the liquor while he turned around to look at the locked door.

He turned to look at you again. He bent down a little and gently, but firmly, held your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He stared into your eyes with his stormy blue ones, and you immediately ran out of things to say. His stare was intense, and it pulled you under his spell.

“I know you’re not good with rules. And you hate being obedient with a passion. But I need you to understand one thing, never go beyond those doors. Break this one rule, and there will be consequences. And they won’t be pretty.” He spoke calmly.

With no ounce of anger or authority in his voice. Just overly calm. His words embedded into your brain and his tone was so low that it sent a tingle dancing down your spine.

“Did I make myself clear?” he asked, still staring into your eyes.

You nodded.

He gave you a faint smile. “Good girl.”

And then you had to pretend that him calling you a ‘good girl’ didn’t sent your mind straight to the gutter. It took you a few seconds to recover from his words and his brief touch, and once you did; you went back to being your bratty, borderline annoying self.

“Hey Seb?”

He hadn’t gotten used to the new name yet, so it took his a few seconds to process and answer. “What?” he spoke up from a couch, not far from his bed. Which was where you were sat, comfortably as though it were your own.

“Did it hurt?” you were about to use the cheesiest pick up line ever created on the Devil himself.

“Hurt when?” he asked with a frown, as if he was also preparing himself for whatever bullshit was about to fall out of your mouth.

You smirked. “When you fell from Heaven.”

And you laughed at the disgusted face he made.

 You ended up spending quite some time in his room. Annoying him with your useless questions, and nonsense talks. He put up with it though, he put up with you. He gave you faint smiles at times, whenever you said something funny. But overall, he remained his grumpy self.

You eventually left his room, and turned in for the night; giving him a goodnight kiss on the cheek. And he wasn’t expecting it so he remained frozen for a while.

You giggled at his reaction. “You totally like me.” You sassed as you walked out of his room.

 He thought about what you said to him, before you left, as he laid in bed at night. Another faint smile formed on his face.

He did like you. He just had a terrible way of showing it.

 -

For you, the greatest temptation was to do what was forbidden. It was just naturally embedded in you; the urge to do something you’ve been strictly told not to.

And although for the next few days, or who knows how long because time worked funny here, you hung out with Seb, and annoyed him and got most of your entertainment by pushing his buttons. You followed him everywhere, like a lost puppy basically. And he made you feel tingly and warm at times. Yet, you couldn’t get rid of what he had said the other day.

What could be behind those doors? What did he not want you to see?

Besides, you were really beginning to wonder about why you were here, and what your purpose was. Sure, you had been no saint on earth. And it wasn’t a big surprise that you were not here in hell. But why were you being treated differently? Why weren’t you in a dark, damp and cold cell?

 Then one day, you set off to find the answers to some of your questions. Seb was sat on his throne, in the dark, majestic room. And you sneaked into his room. You knew it was a terrible, terrible idea. But you had nothing to lose, right?

You were dead, and in Hell. What’s the worst that could happen?

You entered his room, and walked over to the door beside the mini bar. There was no locks, nothing. Perhaps, his orders were enough to keep people out of his room. But of course, you had the reputation of never being able to abide by the rules.

You pushed open the door and it creaked a little as it opened. You peaked inside and couldn’t figure out what you were looking at. You turned around and took one good look at his empty room, and turned back around to enter the forbidden room.

It was much more shadowy than there was light. As you stepped further in, you were amazed at what you were looking at. It seemed like a dream, but there was a pair of large, feathery wings enclosed in a glass cage. Some of the white feathers were on the bottom, some stained; brownish in color. You pressed your palm against the glass and admired the wings.

Was this why he had asked you not to step in here? Because of the cut off wings?

You looked around, more intently – desperately trying to find out why he asked you to stay out of this room. And then you saw it.

There were pictures. Of you. Pinned to the wall.

Pictures of you at university parties; getting wasted, pictures of you and your group of friends smoking weed and having edibles. Pictures of you at the strip club, and basically every bad things you’ve ever done in your life. There were even pictures of you taken at the club, on the day of the accident.

You were frozen in place. Only your eyes moved from picture to picture. He had been watching you? But why? And who even took these pictures?

You were trying to take in all of this, trying to process and understand it all when you heard a voice speak up from behind you.

“I thought we agreed on one rule.” He spoke up.

Speak of the Devil…

You turned around slowly, still in somewhat of a shock. “Why do you have my pictures?” you asked, ignoring what he said.

He sighed and looked down for a moment, before looking back up at you. “Why are you in here, when I strictly told you to stay away? Is it so hard to listen?” his demeanor changed. He wasn’t grumpy or pretending to be annoyed like always. He was angry. But something told you there was something else he was hiding beneath the anger.

And you were a little scared of the look on his face at the moment. But you persisted. “Why are my pictures here? Even on the day I died, I…” you trailed off and involuntarily, a thought flashed in your mind. “Did you kill me? On purpose?” you asked.

He frowned. “What? No!” he was getting more and more irritated. “I told you there would be consequences if you stepped in here.”

You couldn’t believe him. “Screw you! Why do you have my pictures? Who took them? You psycho-,”

He cut you off by grabbing you and backing you against the wall and pinning both your hands above your head. He leaned in dangerously close to you, his eyes began changing color; getting either dark red or black.

“Enough! You will not disrespect me, I am the King!” his voice wasn’t velvety smooth anymore, it was gruff and scary. His grip tightened around your wrists. “One fucking rule, why don’t you ever fucking listen?” he growled.

Your eyes watered at his tone. “Just because I treat you well, and let you do what you want doesn’t mean you won’t be punished when you overstep a line! Would you rather I send you to the dungeons, huh? Where they’ll rip you apart and put you back together over and over again?!” he was frantic, growling in his gruff voice which made you tremble.

This wasn’t the grumpy man who liked having you on his lap while he sat on his throne. This wasn’t the one who had been indirectly complimenting you these past few days, making you feel all warm and tingly. This wasn’t the one who would actually take the time and answer all your questions, even when they got repetitive.

This wasn’t him. This was the Devil humans were scared of. This was the Devil in all the folklore and myths.

You tried hard to hold back the sob, but it escaped your lips anyway. The hot tears fell down your cheeks as well. “No, please.” You sobbed.

He let go of you abruptly. Lowering his eyes to the ground. “Get out of here. Go!” he yelled again and you took off running.

 The minute you left the room, sobbing on your way out – he felt terrible. So terrible. He hadn’t meant to be so rude, or scare you away. He just didn’t want you to see all this, and hate him. But he was short tempered. And he couldn’t help it.

Fuck…

 You didn’t stop running until you reached your room. You slammed the door shut behind you and leaned against it, sobbing with your face into your hands. He was the Devil, for fuck’s sake. You should have never thought that he would ever be your friend.

He was the King of Hell, he was incapable of warmth. You should’ve known that. Yet, somewhere deep within you, you felt something for him. You didn’t know what it was, but each time he’d pull you onto his lap, or brush his hands against yours, you felt something. And you couldn’t understand why. You couldn’t understand anything. The pictures… your pictures, why were they here?

-

 He couldn’t sleep that night. Not when he had been so mean to you earlier. Not even alcohol was helping. Technically, he could never get drunk but he liked the taste. But even that wasn’t helping today.

So, after much overthinking and cursing himself for how he acted earlier, he set off to find you. He couldn’t deal with the burden anymore, so he decided he would just tell you the truth today.

He found you in your room, because there was nowhere else you could go. He knew you weren’t sleeping because the shape of your body moved under the covers upon his entrance. He sighed, this was his doing.

You were always so bubbly and talkative, so silence from you really hurt him. But he realized he was wrong, and he had to apologize. No matter what.

He cleared his throat, awkwardly. He didn’t know how to apologize to someone. He never had to, never wanted to. He never actually cared enough before. But now he did.

“I know you’re not sleeping.” He said, walking further into the room.

But all he got as a response was silence. He sighed, he was indeed expecting silent treatment from you. He deserved it, he had been ruthless earlier.

“I came to apologize.” He spoke up again, and took a seat at the edge of your bed. He had his back to you so he didn’t see when you lowered the blanket just a little and peaked at him with a frown. The Devil was apologizing? But before he noticed, you hid under the blanket again.

“Go away.” You said, as bitterly as you could. Your voice sounded muffled by the blanket, but he didn’t move an inch.

He sighed and shook his head at himself, and his stupidity and his lack of control over his anger. “I know you’re mad at me. You have every right to be. I just… I need you to hear me out. Please.” He sounded genuinely sorry.

Your silence suggested that you wanted him to go on. So he did. “I’ve been watching you. Since way before the accident.” He confessed.

You were shocked, under the blanket. “You creep.” You commented; your voice still muffled by the blanket.

He scoffed under his breath. “I’ve been called worse things.” He said, a faint sense of melancholy in his words. You caught it immediately.

You pulled the blanket down a little and saw that he still had his back to you. “So you’ve been stalking me?” you asked. And since the sound of your voice was clearer this time, he turned to look at you immediately. And he found you frowning at him.

At least you weren’t crying like earlier.

He lowered his eyes for a moment. “I’ve been… tempting you to sin. In every way I could.” He chose his words carefully, he didn’t want to ruin this anymore.

You scoffed, loudly. “Did you kill me as well?”

He groaned. “No. No I would never do that. Your… accident was predestined from even before you were born.”

You were quiet for a little while, looking at him and thinking how the hell you even ended up here, in this exact situation. “Why are my pictures in that room? And why were you stalking me?”

He was quick to correct you. “Not stalk, watch over you.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Okay, guardian freaking angel. Why though?”

He sighed. “I’m… I’m lonely.” He replied, finally voicing out the feelings he had tried so hard to conceal.

And you didn’t mean to, but you couldn’t help it. At his words, you wheezed uncontrollably. And he turned to give you a look which only made you laugh harder. He sighed and waited for your laughter fit to be over.

“So, you want me to be your little girlfriend? That’s why you have my pictures in your secret room?” you smirked. And just like that, your mood switched back to how you usually were.

He shook his head in disbelief. “Are you ever serious?”

“How can I be? I just found out Satan has been watching me all my life and probably has a little crush on me.” You raised an eyebrow at him, smirking still.

He playfully glared at you. “I needed you here with me. So I made sure you committed enough sins to… earn a place in hell, but not enough so that you would be kept in a cell and tortured.” Now that he said it out loud, he realized how selfish he was. “I know that sounds wrong, but I… I needed someone.” He lowered his eyes again, unable to face you. “I’m sorry.”

You took a few moments to process what he said to you, and took it all in. Were you mad? Not really. Did you wish he’d just tell you that from the start? Yes.

“You think I’m selfish.” He stated.

And you were quick to give him an answer this time. “No.” he looked up at you at the sound of your voice. “I know what it feels like to be lonely.” And just to clarify, you added, “I’m not mad at you.”

When he gazed into your eyes after that last exchange, something shifted. Something changed, in a good way. That warm and tingly feeling was back again.

You did have another question though, “Why did you act like you hated me in the beginning then?”

He thought over it and eventually told you the truth. “I thought, like everyone else, you would be scared of me. And that you would push me away, and I’d have to earn your trust and affection.” He paused for a moment, then continued, “But you were… absolutely shameless. I didn’t know how to act.”

Your eyes widened at his confession. “Ouch.”

“Not that it’s a bad thing, really. You’re perfect.” He truly thought so.

Meanwhile, his mood swings were giving you a whiplash. “So you liked me so much that you paved my way to hell, so I could be with you?” you asked, all of a sudden with a serious face. “You’ve been impatiently waiting for me to die, huh?”

He groaned. “Don’t say it like that. I-,”

You cut him off, smirking. “Chill, I’m kidding. Life wasn’t sunshine and rainbows on earth either. I’m not saying I’m glad I’m dead. I’m not saying I’m mad. I just wished you’d tell me all this on the first day.” You paused for a moment, then added, “Were you scared I would reject you?” you had a smirk on.

He muttered something under his breath. And closed his eyes momentarily, smiling faintly at how easily your mood switched to a better one.

“Why me?” you asked, another burning question of yours.

He nearly broke into a full smile at that question. Why you… he had asked himself that very question so many times now. But he never got an answer. It was always unclear, and it’s not like he needed a reason to like you. He just did.

“I don’t know. I knew you weren’t going to be on earth for long, and I’ve liked you since the moment I first saw you.” he gave you a cheesy reply and smirked softly. So soft that one might mistake it to be a smile.

You chuckled. “Yeah? And when was that?” Part of you was all cocky and confident at what you were hearing. Most girls would run away if they found out Satan has a crush on them, but not you. You were slightly twisted like that.

“When you went skinny dipping on your 21st birthday.” He answered like it was no big deal.

Your jaw dropped. “Dude… gross. You’re such a perv!” you said, smiling up at him. For some reasons, you didn’t mind it.

He shrugged. “Well, I am the Devil.” He said with a smirk.

You noticed how the tension which was present when he first walked into the room, had now disappeared. Unknowingly, both of you had inched closer to each other. You were within arm’s reach from him. You felt warm. You felt sparks flying between the two of you – ones that you had hoped to feel with another person your entire life, but never did until now.

“Still, you watched me while I was naked? Disgusting.” You said with a playful smirk on your face.

He scoffed. “Am I now? What about all those times you scrutinized my pictures and discussed my anatomy in complete details with your friends? Who was disgusting then?”

You almost blushed at the tone he used. He sounded like he knew he had full power over you.

“That wasn’t- I didn’t know you were real. Besides, that’s eavesdropping. Very rude.” You argued, like always.

He turned his body some more, facing you better. He reached out and gently caressed your face. His knuckles lightly grazing your skin. “No, not eavesdropping. Just making sure my girl is alright at all times.” He answered, softly looking into your eyes.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Your girl, huh?”

He smirked. “Why, won’t you be mine?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. You were mean to me earlier.” You said, purposely just to mess with him.

He groaned. “I’m sorry. I truly am. I mean it.” he sighed. “I… I got scared. I thought you would hate me.” He confessed.

You lifted the blanket off you and scooted towards him. You wrapped your arms around him from behind and placed your chin on his shoulder.

“Anything else you’re hiding from me? Any weird satanic ritual you conducted to summon me? Any goat sacrifices?” you asked, nuzzling his neck.

He smiled.

“No, none.” He replied, gently placing his hand on top of yours around his torso.

“And get rid of the pictures. It’s a little weird.” you said, pushing your face into the side of his neck.

“I will. I promise,” he turned his head to look at you. “I only kept them because I missed you.” he murmured softly.

You chuckled. “Still. Creepy.”

“You’re in Hell, what do you expect?”

 The banter went on for a while. And he sometimes got grumpy and groaned at your words, but he always had the perfect comeback.

“So… you like, like me? For real?” you asked, teasing him. Mainly because you liked how he looked anytime he tried to fight back a smile.

Only this time, he didn’t fight it. He genuinely smiled. “I more than like you.”

You giggled. “You’re a dork.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “That, I’ve never been called before.” He gave you another faint smile and stared into your eyes with his icy blue ones.

His eyes momentarily glanced down at your lips, then back up to your eyes. He began leaning in, without thinking much about it. You leaned in as well, and your lips met in the middle. And they felt just like you expected them to; warm and soft. Irresistible.

His kiss was gentle at first, he waited to see if you had any objections. But seeing you had none, he tilted his head to the side and deepened the kiss. He lifted his body off the bed slightly, turning around and lowering your body down on the bed and hovered above you.

Your hands reached out to cup his face while one of his warm hands mindlessly slipped under your shirt and caressed your skin along your side. He kissed you feverishly; pushing his tongue past your lips and stroking the top of your mouth. You moaned quietly and he pulled away for a second, letting you breathe before he leaned in again to kiss your skin.

He kissed along your jaw, and down to your neck. His lips were warm and soft as they peppered your skin with kisses, making you instinctively tilt your neck to give him an easier access to your skin. He smirked against your skin when he felt you squirm under him.

But then he stopped abruptly, pulled away and stared into your eyes again. “I… you’re really okay with this, right?” he sounded not so confident anymore.

You smiled and gently caressed his face. “You’re a little weird, a little broody and a bit of an arrogant prick. Not to mention you stalked me and made me a shrine in your secret little room.” you pointed out and he groaned in shame and hid his face into the crook of your neck. You laughed. “But that’s alright. I’ve been shameless, inappropriate and annoying as well. We’re one hell of a pair, you know like the King and Queen of Gotham city.”

“Like who?”

You sighed and muttered a ‘never mind’ under your breath.

He chuckled against you skin and then kissed his way back up to your lips. A soft, unexpected moan left your lips as he slipped his hand under the oversized shirt you were wearing (his shirt which you stole) and inched higher and higher up your leg, and caressed your inner thigh. He smirked when you moaned and he kept going. He leaned in to kiss your jaw and down your neck; his stubble brushing against your skin gently.

His knuckles brushed against the front of the underwear you were wearing; flimsy and serving no purpose because he could feel how wet you were through it.

“You really want me, huh?” he spoke against your skin, cocky as always; his lips hovering over the corner of your mouth.

He slipped his hand past your underwear and touched your wet folds, his two fingers circling around your clit for a bit. He smirked as you moaned when he pushed a finger past your entrance. Then another and started gently pumping them in and out of you. He placed his thumb on your clit and brushed it occasionally while he pumped his fingers in and out of you; your wetness dripping and smearing all over his hand.

You moaned out loud when his fingers touched you in all the right places; curling just right and massaging your walls perfectly. He searched your eyes again for any negative signs.

You whimpered and moaned each time his fingers brushed against your walls, and the sounds you made alone were enough to make him want to ravish and devour you even more. He reached out and wrapped his hand around your throat; squeezing just a little. His breath was just as ragged as yours; his lips inches away from yours.

He sped up again; his fingers stroking your walls perfectly and increasing the sweet, almost agonizing pressure forming in between your hips. You felt a rush and a warmth washing over you; you felt his lips kiss down your body. Each feathery touch of his mouth drove you wild, and the only thing you could focus on was his hands and mouth on your body.

You felt him dragging his lips across your skin and down until he reached your core. He kissed his way around it and eventually pulled his fingers out of you and pulled down your underwear; getting rid of them and placed his mouth right where his fingers had been.

He slipped his tongue past your wet folds, teasing your entrance relentlessly. Occasionally, he’d bite and tease the skin around your clit but he’d eventually get back to where you wanted him the most. He wrapped his hands around your thighs, locking you in his tight grip, leaving you no other choice but to endure his sweet assault.

The wet sounds his mouth made against your dripping core was downright filthy, and so was the moans coming out of you. Your hands slid into his hair, and you tugged on it gently as he ate you out like his life depended on it.

His tongue lapped up all that you gave him and he pushed his fingers into you again; slowly pumped in and out of you as his tongue flicked your sensitive clit.

You soon felt the familiar pressure forming in between your hips. He flicked his tongue over your entrance rapidly and soon, you came undone with a loud moan. A series of cuss words left your lips like a chant as your back arched off the bed. You squirmed under his touch and he watched in awe how your pretty face frowned in pleasure.

You gently cradled his face in your hands as he kissed his way back up your body. You noticed the dampness on his face and how it coated his chin and his lips. The sight of it was filthy enough to make you come again. He kissed you again, hungrily.

You sensed it then, the change in his demeanor. His kiss was slightly more rough and demanding than earlier. And while you focused on his lips against yours, he grabbed your shirt at the neckline and ripped it open. You gasped through the kiss, but he just smirked and threw the torn fabric somewhere behind you and ran his hands down your back; cupping your ass and pulling you closer.

His hands touched you wherever he could; your breasts, your waist – leaving trails of goose bumps wherever his fingers touched your skin. The cold tip of his nose ran along your throat and up to your ear, where he whispered all his obscene thoughts, making you blush. And you couldn’t help but notice how many times he mentioned how much he needed you.

He did indeed, need you. With you, he didn’t feel cold and alone. He felt warm and alive. He felt powerful with you by his side, yet he knew that he was ready to drop to his knees and surrender to you, if you ever just asked him to. He would do anything for you.

“Hey,” he gently grabbed your chin and looked deep into your eyes after he got rid of his clothes, and after you were done admiring the work of art his body was. “Tell me if it hurts.” He whispered, lips dangerously close to yours.

With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. You shuddered as you felt all of him, his beard tickled your skin as he kissed your lips repeatedly and told you how good you were doing. You hissed when he fully penetrated you, the thickness of his length stretched you to your maximum and you were gasping as he filled you to the brim.  

He gave you a quick moment to get used to his size, you whimpered and whined and felt your walls clenching around him. When you kissed him, slowly brushing his lower lip with your tongue, he took it as a sign which meant it was okay for him to move. You heard his ragged breaths as he removed himself out and pushed himself back into you again.

He sped up just a little, rocking his hips against yours and his hand reached up to wrap around your neck gently. He stared into your eyes, speeding up into you again. “Fuck… you feel so good...” his voice cracked by the end and he closed his eyes and bit down on his lip as he slipped in and out of you with ease. He leaned in to kiss your open mouth, shamelessly shoving his tongue past your parted lips and stroking the top of your mouth.

You felt all of him; his warm mouth against yours, the prominent vein along his cock, and his throbbing red tip and it brushed against your walls each time he rocked into your wet heat. He moved faster; your clit occasionally rubbing against the hairy base of his abdomen and adding to the pleasurable sensation.

He tapped your thigh, letting you know that he wanted your legs around his waist because that gave him a better angle. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he pounded into you relentlessly. You moaned again as he bit and licked the skin beneath your jaw, all while slamming into you relentlessly; stretching you out and pounding into you like his life depended on it.

His toned body rubbed against yours; your breasts pressed against his torso and he placed his forehead on top of yours. The simple gesture was so sweet and so intimate that suddenly, you didn’t want to let him go. You wanted him, here, with you.

You felt your walls clench around him, and tightening around his thick member; making him swear out loud. He panted against your lips, occasionally kissing you as he gripped your jaw with his hand. He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came – hard.  

You whimpered at how he kept pounding into you even after you came, and your face burned as you felt the knot forming again right at your core. Seb growled and bit down on your shoulder to keep himself from making any loud noises while he fucked you. He grabbed both your hands and pinned them down on the bed, above your head.

He was relentless, as though each moan, each mewl which left your lips only encouraged him to get more and more rough. He panted and groaned at how good you felt and shamelessly told you about it; whispering against your skin about how perfect you felt around him – wet and warm all for him.

You moaned as you felt your second release approaching while the first was weakening. Your legs were numb, and your body moved along with his like a rag doll; yet, you wanted more of what he had to give. You craved him. And he craved more of you.

“Cum for me,” he murmured at the side of your mouth as he very gently squeezed the side of your throat. But hard enough to make you lose your mind. A rush coursed through your veins as you felt your mind clouding with lust again. His large frame hovering above you as he tightened his grip around your throat just a little more.

He bit down on your lip as you lifted your hips to meet his thrust; chasing your release. Your body trembled under him as you came again; gushing out around his cock while he still pounded relentlessly into you before slowing down again. You felt him quicken his pace as he chased his own orgasm.

He groaned and whispered your name quite a few times before coming undone; buried deep within you – growling and mumbling swear words under his breath. His warm cum shot at your walls and trickled out of you when he carefully removed his length from your entrance and laid down next to you on the bed.

“I need you. I need you here with me.” He mumbled, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead.

You smiled and snuggled up to his side, his body heat wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. He wrapped his arms around you again and tucked your head under his chin; none of you minding the nudity.

“I want to be here with you.” you replied, then added, “I mean it’s not like I have much of a choice really, just don’t get all bat shit crazy on me like earlier, and get me some clothes and I need some m-,”

He cut you off by grabbing your face and pressing his lips to yours; shutting you up with a kiss. He deepened the kiss, pulling you closer and caressed your face softly.

“Don’t start already. We have all of eternity to argue.” He mumbled and rolled on top of you, pushing his face into the crook of your neck.

You giggled and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and kissing the top of his head.

Well, who knew your love story would begin in afterlife? And that the King of Hell would end up stealing your heart…

---

Devil!Seb Tag List:

@multifanloves

@sensationalistsblog

@thedarkplume​

@anarchyandchaos2713​

@reebgirl13​

@x-abi-sharp-x​

@fafulous​

@fanngirl19​

@sweetlittlegingy​

@whyamiheredotcom

@saintsebastian-stan​

@jukeboxbabyyy

@learisa​

@lexiii100100​

@fivesosbucky​

@great-goddess-of-sin

@dhliwayo

@yourenotreadyforus

@peppermintfairy

@nikishadow

@missrandomista

@calspalkira

@virtualenemygalaxy

@shucking-randomness

@herfaithfuldiaries

@xacx8

@buckyandsebastian

@crazyandanonymous4u

@buckys-plums3

@anxi-tea-d-epresso

Seb Tag List:

@virgoroses

@oliviastan17

@moshymosh

@great-goddess-of-sin

@richhdesire

@nd1998sc

@theoralpha

@nostalgic-bucky

@harrysperfectdimple

@gabypatd

@amirahiddleston

@unknown-salvatore

@1111zxc

@glossierfairy

@charlieferret

@winterboobear11

@heyitsmeimdead

@fultimefangirl

@almond-butter @chontellaa @tyranneosaurus @maggotzombie 

Permanent Tag List:

@softboibarnes

@grayxswan

@buckybarnesatemyheart

@amazonianbeauty

@destiel-artemis

@starkerhowlter

@unlikelycandylove

@the-omni-princess

@saharzek

@ladymidnightt

@honeyydippaa

@imsonick

@fafulous

@thewolf-and-thesheep

@irespostthingsiwanttoseelater

@observantgal

@lokilvrr

@sebastian-i-stan

@siriusjohnpotter

@fckdeusername

@msruchita

@cupids-quiver

@sebabestianstan101

@sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

@https-bucky

@nostalgic-bucky

@chontellaa

@minetticatinwonderland

@sexytholland

@thefridgeismybestie

@neerness

@itsnotevaitsiva

@matsumama

@uhh-katie-griffiths

@papersstark

@tt-nikithakppr

@heartislubbingdubbing

@vapingisntmything

@curtainlover

@ahappylilybug2019

@givinggoodvibes

@kaetastic

@mandi616

@xinyourdreamsx

@yoongi-little-kitten

@marvelouspottering

@unlikelygalaxygiver

@scuzmunkie

@hailmary-yramliah

@morrellica

@ravenesque

@mrsbarneswillseeyounow

@ariesmadness97

@dyanna-corona

@elementoffire1988

@joannie95

@psychicforest

@nsfwsebbie

@marshyrebelcloud

@enigma-xlii

@notyourtypicalrose

@yeahhemmings-

@xbuckxnastyx

@partlybcarnes

@blindedbyyourgrace17

@mommyloveslittles

@just-a-littlebit-of-everything

@cal-ifornication

@marvelismysafezone

@thedarkplume

@unicornslothfish

@squirrelacorngliterfarts

@sberumenm

@stuckybarton

@sweetlittlegingy

@crazymexicanfangirl

@fandomunited4

@teetles-and-other-stuff

@cashewsaremyfavorite

@brokensunflowersworld

@thesumofmychoices

@ya-lyublu-tebya

@rynabarnesrogers-reading

@phantom-solider

@marvelrose

@lostinspace33

@reniescarlett

@tardisin221bst

@shakespeareanqueer

@dreams-in-blxck

@jenn0755

@stangirl-fangirl264

@jesseswartzwelder

@lokigonnakmsforbucky

@isabelrichards

@dibsonamericasass

@bookish-shristi

@gabbie-is-sad

@breatheeagainnnn

@mannls

@everything-is-awesomesauce

@miraclesoflove

@infinityexe

@sebbysstangirl

@supernaturaldean67

@starstar1012

@saliarheva

@peaceinourtime82

@yikes-buckybarnes

@goodgodimaweirdperson

@nickyl316h

@tdbooth

@james-buchanan-bcrnes

@babyyysucc

@supernatural-fanfic

@buckybarnesplumwhore

@aesthetical-bucky

@nickyl316h

@aroyaldarknessblr

@fizzahocleirigh @adolesences @nightlygiggless @snugglemedaddy @lighttomydark @lemonadygirl 

Everything Tag List:

@charmed-asylum

@ravenmoore14

@stangirl-fangirl264

@xbuckxnastyx

@starkerhowlter

@fafulous

@smolandrare-coffee-bean

@alexxcorona113

@heartislubbingdubbing

@buggy-blogs

@livsheph

@tt-nikithakppr

@chowder200

@curlyhairedandconfused

@beckloves

@inez-lannister-stark-martell

@amantedelcalcio

@reniescarlett

@yourdearest-love

@siriusjohnpotter

@scarygoodgirl

@ladymidnightt

@unlikelycandylove

@fentybucky

@marshyrebelcloud

@talk-geek-to-me

@tasteslikeblueberries

@the-jer-bear

@aynaraxas

@dreams-in-blxck

@Socksracoon10

@moony-tonks-lupin

@anncutamarica

@secretlyactivated

@xoxabs88xox

@noirwarrior20

@chrisevansgirl

@Starydreamer

@shutup-sorry

@sofutostuff

@coconutqueen21

@precious-starkerr

@bangtan-serendipity

@swoonhui

@mayumiirenetheodora

@fvithsxo

@sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

@sambucky8

@marvelrose 

@morrellica

@mrsbarneswillseeyounow

@thewitchysoldier

@gogokeener

@fivesosbucky

@trop-mango

@grayxswan

@rvgrsbrns

@buckysegerton

@tonib666

@el-lizzie

@wintersswidow

@snazzyjazzyjayy

@enigma-xlii

@ii-ir-ii

@marvelousell

@angel-spidey

@the-omni-princess

@nsfwsebbie

@ahappylilybug2019

@babyboyjames

@stonerosedheart

@amirahiddleston

@sebastianstanbuckybarnes

@grincheveryday

@lauratang

@krazycags01

@teetles-and-other-stuff

@fckdeusername

@momobaby227

@unknown-salvatore

@lokigonnakmsforbucky

@mushyjellybeans

@gabypatd

@burninmatches

@socksracoon10

@wimpydummy

@emilykjhgsj

@cadence-on-beat

@rae-deation

@polireader

@caitlin-b-cls

@vousfleurdelys

@theunwantedomega

@xmaslightsandmarvelfics

@widowsbarnes

@nostalgic-bucky

@reann-loves-sebstan

@wolfernyx

@bellascrap

@thecurlsofgod

@briarrose125

@xoxabs88xox

@cherryslibrary

@kenzieam

@captainamerica-is-bae

@nightlygiggless

@threepupsinapuddle

@avengersbiggestfanever

@joannie95

@jukeboxbabbyyy

@buckys-plums3

@littlemisskosmix

@andreasworlsboring101

@imaslutforcaptainamerica

@fanngirl19

@xoasalxo

@thomasthetankson

@rita-tlr

@lestersglitterglue

@lost-in-the-stars03

@hailmary-yramliah

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan au #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader smut #sebastian stan x y/n #devil au #devil!seb #sinner-as-saint #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader au #marvel smut #marvel #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader

[thisisarcanereverie]

Should’ve Known Chapter 14

A/N:  FINAL TIME SKIP. Also we are reaching the point now where there are only maybe 3 chapters left in this series but res assured I will be doing asks and will be writing small side shots to this series. Because I did leave a bunch of detail to the imagination. Also PLEASE INTERACT IT GIVES ME LIFE. Like seriously hearing active feedback on chapters really helps motivate writers like me to write. 

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Wanda or Steve they are owned by Marvel, I don’t own the gif either.

WARNINGS:Angst, Swearing, loss, dark themes, 18 + from here on out. 

WORDS : 3,113

SUMMARY: Months turn into years and now the twins are six years old. Unexpected visitors arrive and things take an unexpected turn. 

In case you missed last chapter

series masterlist

ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

Sunlight danced through the crack in the sheer curtains in your shared bedroom and glinted off of the ring on your finger. 

Wanda couldn’t help but stare at you, appreciating every detail of your face, the way your nose twitches occasionally, the sound of soft breathing coming from you, and the rise and fall of your chest as you simply existed in this moment. She thanked every star she could that you existed. You changed her life for the better and she dreads to think of what life would have been like without you and the two beautiful children you gave birth to six years ago. 

You kept her grounded, you and the kids made her feel loved like she hadn’t felt since Pietro was taken from her. 

Wanda would be damned if she let anything take her family away from her again. 

Wanda still had her nightmares, the scars left behind from Vision and from Pietro, her parents, and Agatha were still there. But thanks to you those scars became simply that, scars. Scars that were faded but would forever remain there. 

However, as her old fears started to fade, new fears came to light. 

Some nights she dreams that Agatha had been right, that Wanda only brought chaos and death. She dreams that you and the kids died horrifically like everyone else she had ever loved. 

Other nights she dreams that she is the one who killed you. On those nights you spend hours combing your fingers through her hair and rubbing those familiar comforting circles on her back. Bringing her back to where she was now, that you and the kids were still alive. 

Then there were those special nights when her dreams were sweet and full of love. Sometimes she’s reliving a happy memory with her family before the bombing, sometimes she dreams of Vision and sometimes it’s with two boys that she doesn’t recognize but she knows she loves. However, if she’s really lucky, she dreams of you. Wanda dreams of sitting on the porch with you, sipping steaming tea with honey, grey and white in your hair, but your eyes are as youthful and as full of love as ever. Wanda dreams that her hair is peppered in grey and white as well, wrinkles of time written on her face, and that in the end she had never been what Agatha claimed she was. the Scarlet Witch, the Harbinger of Chaos, the Destroyer of the World. She dreams that all of that was just myth and that in the end all Wanda was, was Wanda Maximoff. 

Your wife. 

Wanda feels the corners of her lips curl upward as she remembers proposing to you. She did it at home, she hid it in the popcorn and you nearly choked on the damn thing. After spitting the ring out Wanda had the worst case of butterflies she ever felt. Wanda knew that marriage was an off subject for you and you weren’t quite sure how you felt about it and Wanda respected that greatly. However, she wanted to let you know that if you ever change your mind, Wanda would gladly marry you whenever you wanted, be it fifty years or an hour. So long as she got to be with you in the end. 

Wanda’s patience with you and the respect that she held for you and vice versa. You didn’t know you could fall even more in love with her. 

You and Wanda had been happily married for three years now and it was safe to say this was the happiest either of you had ever been. 

“Staring’s rude babe.” You muttered under your breath as your lashes fluttered before you fully opened your eyes. Taking in a brand new day in the same old world. 

“Stop being so beautiful in the morning then I’ll stop.” 

“Am I not beautiful any other time in the day?” You teased her. 

“No,” Wanda said before starting to litter your face in soft kisses. 

“You’re gorgeous in the afternoon,” Wanda whispered as she kissed your neck, nipping it slightly causing you to giggle. “You’re exquisite in the evening,” Wanda’s lips trails up your throat, her talented hands wandering as she did, “and you’re downright divine at midnight when the moonlight peaks through our curtains and bathes you in this silvery light.” Wanda’s lips are at the corner of your mouth now, your breathing now becoming hitched as Wanda’s lips are so far yet so close to your lips, “It’s at that time of day that I stare at you the longest.” Finally Wanda’s lips place a gentle but loving kiss on your lips. Her lips on yours never failed to make your heart flutter like it was the first time, fireworks and electricity running through you like wildfire. 

Just as you were about to deepen the kiss you heard the door to your shared room slam open, tearing your lips from Wanda’s to see two small figures rush and jump on your and Wanda’s bed. 

“Good Morning Mama and Mommy!” You heard the excited voices of your twins say. You and Wanda scooted aside to make room for the two already rambunctious twins in between you. 

Steve immediately went to cuddle by your side while Scarlet went to Wanda. Even when the twins were infants they had a preferred parent that they naturally drifted to. For Scarlet it had been Wanda and for Steve it was you. 

You looked at Wanda who looked at Scarlet like she was the world, in fairness she looked like that at Steve and you as well. And instead of scaring you, it felt nice. It warmed your heart to know that Wanda felt the same way, that the people in that room right there were your entire world.

Once the twins settled in between you, you and Wanda kissed the tops of their heads to which Steve giggled as you kissed raspberries on his cheeks.

“What’s on the agenda today little ones?” Wanda asked, Wanda often missed out on most of the day due to training with Strange. She’s gotten very proficient over the years at controlling her powers, Wanda’s learned more about herself and what she could do over the past six years and the more she learned the more frightened and amazed she was. 

“We’re going to go pick raspberries to make jam and pies!” Scarlet said excitedly. 

“Don’t forget,” You chimed in, booping your daughter's nose lightly with your index finger, causing her to giggle her bell like laughter, “that’s only after we finished our classwork today.” 

Steve let out a groan while Scarlet seemed to buzz with excitement. Scarlet loved learning, and Steve did too although not as much as his sister.

You had been homeschooling them, for fear of the worst. You knew that they were young and the likeliness of their powers showing themselves when they were really young were slim. However, you knew that their existence alone would cause a tsunami of reporters and agents ready to probe them. You knew there was a chance that their powers may never come, however until you were certain you and Wanda thought it best to homeschool them. 

It wasn’t bad, you took them to the park for them to play with kids their own age. After all, Nat did teach you the best way of hiding was in plain sight and acting naturally. 

---

You and the kids had just got done with school work for the day when you grabbed three baskets and headed to the raspberry bushes in the garden. Wanda had cast a spell on the bushes to make them grow raspberries anytime in the year. 

You laughed and watched lovingly as the kids ran around the yard playing tag. You counted your blessings that they got along with each other, maybe all the Sokovian whispers to your belly had done something after all. 

You gathered the three baskets of raspberries and brought them back inside. You washed the raspberries at the sink and occasionally checked outside the kitchen window to make sure that they were alright. 

After cleaning the raspberries you fixed them with a snack of apple slices and celery. You went on the porch to call them in when a vision of red, white and blue caught your eye. 

the Shield. 

It brings you back to Steve, his baby blues and his smiles and Tony’s funeral. 

You had heard what happened in New York with the Flagsmashers all those years ago and you would have gotten involved had you not been heavily pregnant at the time. 

You're brought back to the present when the Star Spangled Man with a Plan (now upgraded with wings) asks your twins where their mom was. 

“Sam...” You say, the tall man turned to you and it was then you see that he wasn’t alone. You don’t know how you could have missed the roaring of the motorcycle in the yard and the other tall man. “Bucky....”

The men walked toward you while the twins ran. 

“Mommy! Mommy! There are people here to see you.” They say at the same time, it wasn’t very often that you had company, much less unexpected company. 

“I see that,” You said evenly, keeping your face straight as the two men in front of you widened their eyes in realization. You tear your eyes away from them and to the two children in front of you and you knelt down to their height. “Why don’t you two go inside and play while Mommy talks to these gentlemen for a second.”

“Do you know who they are?” Lettie asked curiously, her eyes scanning the men. 

“Do we get to meet them?” Steve asked excitedly, looking amazed at Bucky’s metal arm. 

“I’ll let you know that in a second, but for right now go inside and play.” You said firmly, the twins waved goodbye to the men before heading inside. You waited until you heard the door close behind them to walk toward the men in front of you. 

“Boys,” You greeted motioning the porch chairs on the other side, “take a seat.”

Sam and Bucky listened and sat down. 

“Do you want a drink?” You asked, arms crossed. 

“Got anything strong?” Bucky asked. His eyes are not meeting yours. 

“It’s Scotland and I am a mom to twins,” You pointed out, “of course I do.” 

“I’ll take that then.” Bucky said, you looked at Sam who simply shook his head. You went in and grabbed the only bottle of Whiskey and a glass. 

By the time you gave Bucky the whiskey they seemed to have processed what they just saw. Sam looked at you with pity and concern, meanwhile Bucky looked off in the distance, anger radiated off of him in waves. 

“Are they Steve’s?” Sam asked. You simply nodded. 

“I only found out a month or so after the funeral,” You revealed, “I didn’t even know I was going to go through with the pregnancy until the events of Westview happened.” 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” 

“The less people that know the safer they are,” You explained, “I wanted to tell you.”

“But you didn’t” Bucky chimed in, his voice was shaky and his grip on the glass tightened. 

“They’re the children of the former Captain America and Sargent Steel,” You said, “I have to keep the people who know about them tight and few.”

“Who all knows?” Sam asked. 

“Director Fury, Director Rambaue, Pepper, Strange, Wong-”

“Does your husband know?” Bucky interrupted. Sam looked confused before he noticed the subtle wedding ring on your left hand. 

“Holy shit you got married.” Sam said, astonished. 

“Yes I am,” You confirmed feeling slightly awkward since it only took you this long to realize that you never officially came out to them. 

“My wife knows.” You said vaguely, you see both of the men's eyes widen in shock. Sam recovered faster than Bucky who took another drink from his whiskey. 

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Sam asked.

“That would be me.” 

You all turn your heads to your wife, still clad in her Scarlet Witch form. If it wasn’t for the fact that you had company you know your lips would be all over her by now. 

She winks your way and you flush. Wanda didn’t need to read your mind to know exactly what you were thinking. 

“Hold up,” Sam said, “You married her?!” 

“Yup.” You confirmed as her form sat down next to you and grasped your hand. 

“How long has this been a thing?” Bucky spoke for the first time in a while. 

“Why do you need to know?” Wanda asked, her hand firmly holding yours. Bucky held his hands up in surrender before taking one last swig from his glass. 

“The bottom line is, only Wanda and the rest know, and I guess now you two do as well.” You said. There was a long pause of silence, before Sam spoke. 

“I won’t say anything.” Sam said finally, before nudging Bucky out of his staring spell. 

“Boys,” You call out as you see that they’re about to leave. 

“I truly am sorry you had to find out this way, but I was only doing what I thought would keep them safe, and now that you know you’re free to visit them anytime.... It would be good for them to finally meet their fathers old friends.” You said. You see Sam and Bucky nod, you reach out for a handshake only to be pulled into a firm hug by Sam. 

“I understand Sarg, you only did what you thought was best.” Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you returned the hug. Bucky still couldn’t look at you. 

You knew that you had broken his trust and you would work on getting it back. You just hoped that whatever grudges he had against you wouldn’t stop him from forming a bond with the kids. 

After Sam lets you go Bucky surprises you with a hug as well, his beefy arms encasing you firmly. 

“We’ll be visiting again soon.” Bucky promises as he lets you go and shakes goes to shake Wanda’s hand. 

“Wait,” You say as Bucky already is making his way to his motorcycle and Sam prepares for flight. 

“Yeah?” Sam replies. 

“There’s one thing I don’t get,” you said, “what brought you guys here?”

Sam paused for a second before replying. 

“I was just flying overhead, Bucky and I got word that there might’ve been an abandoned HYDRA base here but, turned out to be a faulty tip.” Sam said before saying his final goodbyes as he lifts off into the air and Bucky peels out of the driveway. 

“He was lying.” Wanda says, her eyes giving off a faint red glow. 

“I know.” You say, Sam’s pulse jumped when he spoke about the abandoned HYDRA base. You softly grab her hand and bring it to your lips, planting a small peck to the back of it. 

Wordlessly you walked hand in hand with Wanda through the front doors and continued with the regular evening schedule. 

You and Wanda made dinner as the kids helped set the table and talked about the day. The kids asked questions about who the men were and you and Wanda answered as best as you could without giving them the full truth. Which was surprisingly more difficult. Eventually dinner ended and while Wanda got the kids ready for bed it was your turn for dishes. After dishes were washed and rinsed you let them air dry in the rack and went to tuck in the twins with Wanda. 

Wanda and you kissed their heads goodnight and then proceeded to the couch.

Just as you made your way to the couch you noticed Wanda standing still. 

“Wands, what's wrong?” You asked, reaching out to her. 

“Nothing it’s just,” Wanda started as she played with her hands, “I have a bad feeling, like something is about to happen.”

“Come sit on the couch and talk me through it.” You say as you lead her to the well loved couch. You and Wanda sit and immediately fall into the position you always do, her leaning into you and your arm swung around her shoulders. Wanda had long since transformed out of her Scarlet Witch form but she still looked magical to you. Her fiery locks cascading down her dainty shoulders and just a hint of sparkle on her cheeks remained. You felt Wanda give a deep sigh before speaking. 

“I don’t know what it is, it’s not anything deadly but it fills me with dread just the same.” Wanda said with her green hues giving off a faraway look, “something is about to happen and I don’t know what it is.” 

“Whatever happens,” you say, maneuvering her so that way she faces you, “we’ll face it like we’ve done most things. Together.” You press your forehead to hers and let your eyelids flutter shut and Wanda follows suit. 

“Together.” Wanda whispers back as she finally closes the gap between you in a promise like kiss. 

---

---

---

“Buck don’t do this,” Sam tried to stop the centurion. Over the course of six years the two men had grown close and eventually Sam had earned the privilege of calling the taller man Buck. 

“He has the right to know.” Bucky responded, icy eyes focused solely on the communicator that their mutual friend gave them for ‘universe level threat emergencies only’ 

“We promised her we wouldn’t tell anyone Buck.” 

“No,” the Brooklyn man gruffed, “you promised her you wouldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t promise shit. So don’t worry your pretty little head about breaking your promises.” 

“First off thank you for finally admitting that I’m pretty,” Sam said before attempting to snatch the communicator and failing. “Second off, we should’ve told her the truth from the start. Instead of leaving puzzle pieces to put together.” 

“She had plenty of puzzle pieces. It's not our fault she didn’t put them together.” Bucky said not looking the man in the eye, “He left her a message on the phone and a message in the personal notebook. It’s not ou-” 

“If you’re going to say not our fault again I’m going to slap you.” Sam interrupted. “You know damn well that (Y/n) was as strong as steel, but Nat and Tony’s deaths wore her down, but HE was the breaking point. HE fucked up man, HE has to live with that and THAT’S NOT our job to help him make up for that.” 

Just when Bucky starts to reconsider, the communicator beeped. 

MESSAGE SENT - - - MESSAGE RECEIVED  - - - MESSAGE INBOX (1) 

- ON MY WAY_CSGR

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximov #wanda marvel #the scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #lgbt pride #Bucky Barnes #sam wilson #sam x bucky #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #should've known #part 14 #MCU #Marvel MCU #Elizabeth Olsen

[prfctethereal]

My Everything - Tom Riddle x Reader

pairing: tom riddle x reader

word count: 3,175

a/n: uhh this is my first one shot imagine thing so i hope it doesnt stink. I’ve already posted this on ao3 but i thought i might give tumblr a try. -kennedy

***

A cold winter’s day was nothing as the potions classroom steamed up in the heat. Stressed students in their last year of school fumbled with their cauldrons, scribbling notes onto their parchment, trying to remember everything they would need for their NEWTs coming up in June. Smokey fog misted the room, suffocating the students. If only someone could crack open a window - too bad they were in the dungeons.

On today’s agenda, Amortentia, the most powerful love potion in the world. It was only revision but since I had done so poorly on it last year, I was determined to get a higher score this year. Luckily, we could choose our potions partners in our seventh year, so I partnered up with my best friend, and exceedingly talented potions maker, Tom Riddle.

I’ve known Tom ever since year one. My nervous self lost on a train in a sea of strangers, unsure of where to go, unsure of where to step. Everyone seemed so intimidating and daunting; I struggled to even speak up and talk to anyone. Alone I sat, in an empty compartment, scanning my new textbooks so I wouldn’t seem so daft.

It was hard being muggleborn. I thought I would’ve been behind everyone academically, only just learning about the wizarding world last May when I turned eleven and got my Hogwarts letter. Of course, I was ecstatic - who wouldn’t be? The idea of magic had always fascinated me, growing up on fairytales and myths. But then, I traded in Snow White for Standard Book of Spells: Volume One.

Yet, as I saw the compartment door open and I locked eyes with a reserved, charming boy, I sat my book down and gave a small smile. He returned the smile with a wave, before turning his attention to the spell book in my lap, cocking an eyebrow up.

“Getting a head start?” The strange boy had asked. At that moment, I had to decide what to say. I could tell the truth and reveal that I was a nervous muggleborn who was afraid of knowing nothing in my classes, but I had already heard about the prejudice around muggleborns. Many people believed they were inferior to pureblood wizards and I wasn’t sure if this boy was one of those people. I was in no position to pass up a friendship. So I lied.

“I was just so happy to be going to Hogwarts that I just wanted to get right into the learning. I mean, I've been waiting to go for my entire life.” I stuttered out, praying that I had said the right thing. The strange boy’s face relaxed as he heard that and held his hand out in front of him, waiting for me to shake it. Hesitantly, I leaned over, taking his hand in mine. His fingers were cold and slender, curling around mine in a menacing manner. All my thoughts told me to get out of there, to run away before anything bad could happen, but I was so alone. I wanted a friend more than anything.

“My name is Tom Riddle.” His voice was smooth like melted silver, enchanting me. I could feel a pink tint rise on my cheeks, encapsulating my face in a blush. Looking down to avoid his piercing blue eyes, I smiled softly. I shook his hand as he wanted, pulling away. His hands were foreign and they felt strange wrapped around mine. Yet, so alluring.

“I’m [Y/N L/N].” I blurted, placing my hands in my lap nervously. Regret flushed into my veins as I watched his mind process what I had told him. Was my name too muggle-like? Had I given away my secret already? Yet, he smirked. A good sign, I had decided.

We talked casually for the rest of the train ride. Avoiding as many questions about my family as possible, I noticed Tom doing the exact same thing. So I never brought it up and he didn’t either. He seemed interesting though. Like his last name entailed, he was a riddle and I was curious to solve him. I was never going to get anywhere though with just small talk. I wanted to be closer to him.

At the sorting ceremony, I watched as he went up to the sorting hat. Immediately after the hat was placed upon his head, it exclaimed “Slytherin!” I had at least read up on the different houses at Hogwarts. I knew what Slytherins were about; their pureblood propaganda was almost impossible to avoid when reading Hogwarts: A History. As I saw the glint of passion in Tom’s eyes when he heard the house, I realised I had made the right choice to lie about my blood on the bus. He was ever so pleased to be a Slytherin.

When my name was called, I begged not to be in Slytherin. Tom would find out my secret if I was around him too much, so I asked the sorting hat not to place me in the house of serpents. The most I remember from that sorting ceremony was hearing “Ravenclaw” come out of the sorting hat’s mouth and fainting onto the cool ground.

Waking up in the hospital wing, my eyes fluttered open to see none other than Tom Riddle sitting in the chair next to me. He was looking out for me and at the moment, he became my best friend for the next seven years.

But now, we were seventeen years old, sleeves rolled up, sweat beading at our foreheads. I wiped it away panting heavily. I couldn’t mess up Amortentia for a second time; I would never hear the end of it from Tom. We were both top students in all our classes but in potions, he was definitely on top. As I shrugged my cardigan off, I heard him snigger under his breath, shaking his head while chuckling. I gave him dagger eyes before turning back to my potion. I knew he was mocking me for being stressed. Not everyone could be so calm while potion making.

“Do you need some help?” I heard Tom’s voice from behind me, as I flicked my head around, revealing his cocky grin, watching me from over my shoulder. My lips were pursed tight as I gave him a small smile, trying not to reveal that I was struggling. Yet, as I was about to add bat wings to the cauldron, Tom put his hands on mine, pulling it away from the bubbling mixture. “I think you do if you’re going to add uncut bat wings into the potion.”

Frantically, I looked over at my potions book, seeing that Tom was correct - they needed to be roughly chopped. Taking a deep breath, I listened to his laughs as I grabbed my knife out, chopping them up into big chunks before adding them into the deep, velvety mixture, and stirred it three times anti-clockwise. All I needed now was to wait for it to simmer, so I sat back in my chair, tying my hair up to get it off my face.

Joining me peacefully, Tom sat beside me, a smug look on his face. His potion was simmering now too. We were both very quick at making potions, even if his potions were of a better quality than mine. I closed my eyes, taking a whiff of the aromas in the room. Nothing distinct could be smelt by me, except for the boy sitting next to me. All I wished to do was fall asleep right now, but I knew that I couldn't do that, so I sat up to take the potion off the heat. It should be finished by now.

Tom followed me up and I looked into my cauldron, unsure if it was any good. Questionably, I turned my head over to Tom, hoping he could smell it and test if it was working right. Tom trusted me with the information that he was born out of a love potion and couldn’t love anyone, so if he couldn’t smell anything, it should be perfect. As I gestured to my finished potion, I offered him to smell it and he leaned in. When the fumes raised up to his nose, his eyes widened in shock, his pupils dilating.

“Well, I can smell something in there.” He laughed, but I just sighed, on the verge of tears. I really needed to make it correctly but I had messed up again. Tom noticed that I was about to break down and placed his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a small hug. His soft hands came to my cheeks, taking his thumb and rubbing my flushed cheekbone. “Hey, hey, hey, it's okay. Maybe we can restart it before Professor Slughorn comes to check on it?”

But, it was too late. Professor Slughorn had noticed the lack of us doing anything and had wandered over to us, excitedly. I tried to hide my scarlet cheeks from the old man, burying myself in Tom’s torso, yet Slughorn had arrived, eagerly wanting to smell my potion. Reluctantly, I took the lid off my cauldron and moved out of the way to let Professor Slughorn smell my Amortentia.

Surprisingly, Professor Slughorn smiled as he smelt my potion. Confused, I tried to study his face and find out what he was smiling about. My question was answered soon after. “It’s perfect, Miss [L/N], it’s absolutely perfect. I can smell my late wife perfectly. Outstanding work! A big improvement from last year, aye?”

I was so shocked by what Slughorn had just said that I just nodded and gulped, looking over to Tom next to me. He looked even more nervous than me, avoiding eye contact with me as Professor Slughorn walked off. “You said you could smell something,” I asked Tom, “so why did you lie?”

“I didn’t.” Tom said quietly, leaning over his own cauldron. He took his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing nervously. I wasn’t paying much attention though, as I bent down over my own cauldron, taking in the aroma of the Amortentia. Old parchment, fire, and -

Tom caught my eye. His face looked pale, as if all the colour had been drained. Shyly, I looked away, turning my attention away from Tom and towards our teacher, folding my hands awkwardly in my lap.

“So, that’s the last lesson of the term. Over the holidays, I would like two rolls of parchment on the effects of Amortentia on a person. You may go now.” Slughorn said, before dismissing us. I grabbed my book bag before heading swiftly out of the potion classroom. As I left, I was met with a great gust of wind, sending shivers down my spine, cooling me down immediately, to a point where the sweat felt like icicles. Opening my bag, I searched for my cardigan, realising I had left it in the classroom.

Clumsily, I reentered the classroom, to see that the only one left in the room was Tom. He turned to me as I walked in, so I flashed him a calm smile. Strolling back to my seat, I took my cardigan in my hands, wrapping it around my cold body. Leaving the class, Tom followed after me, catching up to me and engaging me in conversation.

“So, everyone leaves tomorrow for the holidays.” Tom started, “What do you want to do first?” A dangerous smirk raised on his face, waiting for my answer. As a tradition, every year we stayed at school together, two of the only people who stayed, and caused mayhem to all the teachers and remaining students. It was the most exciting time of year. It always ended with us falling asleep on Christmas Eve in the Astronomy Tower, watching all the stars into the night. Unfortunately, this year was different.

“I have to go home this year.” Tom’s face fell as I said these words, his eyes filling with sadness. Before he could ask why, I answered his question. “I’m going to be eighteen soon and that means I’m going to get married. My parents want me to go home and meet my new fiancé that I’m going to have to marry. I’m sorry Tom.”

“Y-you’re getting married?” Tom stuttered, and he never stuttered. I looked away from him ashamed. He looked at me like I was some foreign person, someone who he didn’t know. I couldn’t even look at me.

“I’m sorry.” I spluttered out, as I turned the corner towards the Ravenclaw tower, leaving Tom down in the dungeons. I turned back towards him before quietly saying, “goodbye Tom.”

***

Morning broke and I woke up early to pack my suitcase up. Of course, I didn't want to go home. I didn’t want to be a victim to some muggle arranged marriage. In all honesty, my parents were ashamed of me being a witch. That’s why I never returned home each winter holiday, only going back to them in the summer holidays, when I needed to. Hoping that it would squash out the magic in my blood, my parents were forcing me to marry the blandest, most normal man they could find.

I decided to skip breakfast this morning, being unable to even look at Tom. Last night at dinner had been sufficiently awkward enough, even while ignoring him as much as possible. Yet, I could feel his eyes burning the back of my head the entire time. I couldn’t handle that again so I decided I could just get something to eat on the train.

It was currently nine o’clock in the morning. The train was scheduled to leave at ten so I had to hurry up, shoving as many as my muggle clothes in my bag as possible. If this day couldn’t get any worse, outside my window I could see the clouds closing in, small raindrops falling onto my window pane. Sighing, I pulled out an old sweater that I had given to Tom to borrow earlier this term. It still smelt like him - the smell was alluring.

The plan was to get out of the castle and onto the platform as soon as possible. I could talk to Tom one on one again once I had gotten back from my trip, but I was still terrified of what would happen. He was my best friend, surely he would understand?

Taking a carriage out of Hogwarts, I arrived in Hogsmeade, ready to take the train. With my suitcase in hand, I reached up to grab onto the train, yet I was pulled back onto the platform. 9:50am. The train would leave in ten minutes and I needed to get on. Also, it was raining harder now, and I wasn’t happy about getting soaked.

I knew it was Tom who pulled me away and I couldn’t disagree with his feelings. I had left him with nothing. I had ignored him for the past sixteen hours. I was being a bad friend, I know, but I couldn’t stand to see him sad and miserable. It hurt me. It hurt him. I hated seeing him hurt

9:52am. We had finally reached our destination. A small secluded area away from the platform. It may have been quiet but I was still being pummeled by the rain, shivering in my thin sweater. I looked up through my dew-covered eyelashes up to Tom, who stood much taller than me. His normally perfect curls were damp and limp, clinging tightly to his pale face. His eyes had a look of disappointment and confusion in them. His hands were resting on the sides of my arms, not letting me go. For a few moments, we just stood there, staring at each other, breathing heavily, until Tom finally spoke.

“Don’t go.” Tom finally said. 9:54am. I couldn’t find the words to say, the only thing coming out of my mouth was incomprehensible sounds.

“I have to go. My parents-”

“I don’t care about them. Stay here. With me.”

“What about my marri-?”

Tom looked away and I stopped talking. Out of instinct, I took my rain-sodden hand up to his cheek, turning him towards me. I leaned in closer to him, trying to get him to see where I was coming from. Yet, my heart fluttered at our closeness. He no longer felt cold, like when I first met him. His hands were warm. His eyes were kind. He was different.

“You will regret it if you go.” Tom muttered. “I know you will. I know you. And no man will ever know you like I do.”

9:56am. I really had to go, but I couldn’t leave Tom here. Slowly, I released him from my grasp and went back in, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him into a warm hug. His arms fell perfectly around my waist, pulling me in tighter. I never wanted to move, but I felt his hand leave my waist. My heart fell for a moment until he reattached his hand to my chin, tilting my head upwards. That’s when his lips connected with mine.

His lips were soft, something I didn’t expect. Truthfully, I didn’t expect a kiss at all. It was innocent as small as first, slowly releasing me, but it wasn’t enough. My heart wanted more, so I cupped his cheeks with my hands and pulled him in for another kiss, more passionate than the first. Our lips were synchronised perfectly, our touch igniting each other. It was as if I had never been happy before and Tom filled me with all the joy I needed. Then, he pulled away, placing a piece of my wet hair behind my ear. “Don’t go.”

9:58am. “I have to go. I can’t stay here. I’m not enough.” I looked down but Tom’s hand pulled me upwards again so I could feel his breath on my ear.

“I love-”

I pulled away before he could finish. He was making a mistake. He had no idea who I really was and it seemed like time to finally tell him.

“Tom, I am not who you think I am.” I started, feeling Tom’s eyes watching me intently. “I’m nothing more than a muggle born witch. I’m a mudblood. I’m nothing compared to you.”

9:59am. He didn't hesitate. He didn’t say anything. I was waiting for him to say something, to end this awkward silence, but instead, he just pulled me into another kiss.

“[Y/N] [L/N], I do not care that you are muggle born. You aren’t nothing. You are my everything and I love you. I love you so much.”

For one last time, he pulled me into a tight kiss and none of us let go. The rain poured down, keeping us in a tight bubble of our own heat. I could never let go.

10:00am.

I heard the train’s horn go but I didn’t care.

I pulled away, much to Tom’s despair, but whispered something, almost inaudibly.

“I love you too.”

#harry potter #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle angst #tom riddle fluff

[mistaeq]

Tuesday, 29th December

Greek Mythology!Duwang Gang AU: Headcanons

TW // sliiight nsfw-ish or non-con hints in dionysus' part. come on it's dionysus.

Today I offer you these babies. Tomorrow who knows. Hope you enjoy, I had fun with writing these.♡

Greek Mythology AU: Duwang Gang Headcanons. [includes: Higashikata Josuke, Nijimura Okuyasu, Kujo Jotaro, Hirose Koichi, Yamagishi Yukako, Kishibe Rohan]

WORD COUNT: 2k

HIGASHIKATA JOSUKE as APOLLO

Seen as the most beautiful god, Apollo has been recognized as a god of archery, music and dance, truth and prophecy, healing and diseases, the Sun and light, poetry, and more. One of the most important and complex of the Greek gods, he is the son of Zeus (Joseph) and brother of Artemis (Holly). As the protector of young, Apollo is concerned with the health and education of children.

He's seen every early morning, on his chariot, to bring the sunlight up in the sky, all over the Olympus. Josuke's the dream of many nymphs, who look at him from afar, singing songs for the god with their sweet voices, a sound so sweet, a sound so celestial... which is covered up by Apollo's voice fucking around the Olympus with young Dionysus (Okuyasu), pulling pranks on Poseidon (Jotaro) or getting drunk.

You're the most envied creature out of everyone in the Olympus, because Josuke only has eyes for you. Envious nymphs stare at you, and comment on you, trying to convince themselves that they're way better than you are.

"Don't listen to their envy and their insults, they don't know how to cope with the fact that I have clear preferences..." he'd say, caressing your cheek and neck. "This is what poisons relationships and romances... envy... jealousy... but we don't have these useless problems, do we, love...?"

His relationship with other gods on the Olympus is usually fine, but it's not like he cares about hiding his feelings. Almost everyone who knows Josuke, will get to know after not even a week that the god is crushing on you, and that he wants to marry you. You sure hope he's not gonna behave the same way he did to Daphne...

It seems that he has healing powers, and if you happen to not to be a deity, he'll gladly use them on you, Josuke wouldn't forgive himself if anything happened to you.

NIJIMURA OKUYASU as DIONYSUS

Surely not known for his capability to reasonate, Dionysus was the ancient god of wine, fertility, ritual madness, theater, and ecstasy. The god is shown to be a beardless, sensuous, naked or semi-naked youth. Though Dionysus was mostly a kind and generous deity, he could be cruel when he needed it. For some reason, Aphrodite (Yukako) doesn't want to get close to him. She looks scared.

He doesn't do much, during the day. Let's say his favourite thing are feasts. Not really chaste ones, to be completely true. Okuyasu's mind is almost totally hedonistic, and won't feel guilty just because he spent a day watching dancing maenads and had fun teasing them with his Thyrsus instead of caring about whatever mortal dude needed him on Earth. Most of the time he's drunk, but Josuke has his back for some reason.

Many say they don't envy you for being the god's favourite creature, but you don't really care. You enjoy lying down with Okuyasu, caught in a ecstatic feeling as he turns you on with his touch and teaseful words whispered at you.

"Tell me, is it embarrassing for you to be the only one to lie beside me during feasts?" He'd run his lustful gaze and hand all over your body as he asks so, and smirk a little. "No? It isn't...? Sounds like you really like it instead, to be completely honest. Good... really good, in fact. Kiss me now."

He doesn't really have a brilliant relationship with other deities, apart from Apollo. He sometimes sees Echo (Koichi), but not much more. Still, everyone knows it when he has someone he's interested in. The man becomes possessive, Okuyasu will make sure everyone knows you're his. He might give a demonstration during feasts.

He likes to feed you grapes, and in case you liked wine, Okuyasu would want to hold the glass for you as you drink. He likes to do this for you, and you don't mind letting him.

KUJO JOTARO as POSEIDON

Poseidon is the violent and ill-tempered god of the sea. He is nowadays known exclusively as a sea god, but in ancient times, he may have been the god of the earth and fertility or even the supreme god of the sky. His huge height and strength come from his Titan parents, Cronus and Rhea. What he can't acquire with romance and gentleness, he does with violence and craftiness.

He sometimes uses the sea as a coping mechanism for his tiring life. Jotaro doesn't find his ocean so bad to be in, he concentrates and spends his time doing stuff gods... do? What does he really do, is not clear? Apollo and Dionysus tried to stick their heads into the water to spy on him several times, without any result. It's not like he's so happy when mortals need his help, but he can't pull back from his duty.

Poseidon probably noticed you because you weren't bugging him for pointless stuff. He likes pleasures too, like most of the deities do really, he just needs to find the right creature for him. Jotaro doesn't enjoy partners who talk too much.

"Don't worry about being a bother for me. You're the first one who isn't truly bothering me, I take it as a goal by now." he'd say, after he closed you in a bubble in order to bring you under the sea with him. "I never dare to show my realm to people who I judge as annoying, remember that."

It's not like he doesn't have a good relationship with other deities, he basically doesn't really care. He'll just be happy with being under the ocean whenever he feels Josuke and Okuyasu approaching, or not to be there during Apollo and Calliope (Rohan) debates. Give him some deserved peace and an ocean and he'll be grateful forever.

If Jotaro lets you in his private place which is the ocean, consider yourself special for him, for he hates having people there, above all people who are there for him purposely.

HIROSE KOICHI as ECHO

Echo is a mountain nymph, or oread. The myth says that Echo offended the goddess Hera by keeping her in conversation, in order to prevent her from spying on one of Zeus' lovers. To punish him, Hera deprived him of speech, except for the ability to repeat the last words of another. Because of this, his good heart is often misunderstood, but he managed to be appreciated nonetheless.

Koichi would rather have no conversations, for he's not able to say nothing more than the last words his interlocutor said. But he's down to make people understand what he wants to say, by writing it down or through gestures. Apollo approached him once, and brought Dionysus along. He doesn't know how to feel about hanging with gods, but since his issue isn't a problem to them, he'll keep them around. Until they misbehave...

When he gets to know you and notices you aren't willing to exclude him for he doesn't talk properly, his heart melts. Echo wants to spend most of his time with you now, since you make him feel comfortable about the problem Hera caused him.

"I love you, I love you, love you, love you, you, you..." he'd repeat, after you told him that. When he wants to say something like this, you say it for him, so that he can repeat it and say it as well. "You're important to me... important to me... important to me... to me... to me... me..."

Look, he's trying his best, really. Deities aren't known for their inclusive ways, and when he asked you if it was because of his past, you quickly said it wasn't. Nobody cared about it there. Deities were like that with every nymph. Echo had a chance to build up a good relationship with Calliope (Rohan). The muse taught him a lot.

He has fun bringing you to places where your voice echoes, to make you judge who does it better between him and the nature. Needless to say, Koichi always wins.

YAMAGISHI YUKAKO as APHRODITE

Aphrodite was known primarily as a goddess of sexual love, beauty, fertility and even occasionally presided over marriage. Even prostitutes considered Aphrodite their patron. She's had many mortal lovers, and none of them should have ever dared to make her upset. She won't be down for forgiveness, she's really never been. Still, Aphrodite found herself often in trouble due to her personality.

Differently from many other deities, Yukako's real fun consisted in watching humans' love stories bloom and wither. Sometimes she was the reason, sometimes she wasn't. Mortals were so easy to play with. It was when she thought that playing gods was just as simple, that she got caught into a trap. Since that mistake, she decided she would have been amused enough to be happy by mortals' love stories.

Oh, Aphrodite's so used to creatures - above all gods - who tried to stick around her for her body only, so that when you give an appreciation for her intelligence, she'll remember it and love you forever. It's like you signed up a free trial to be loved.

"You know, it's difficult to make me feel love so strong I don't even think about the lustful part... but apparently you managed to do so..." she'd say, sitting in the calm forest as she hands you a flower. "It's good to know someone doesn't love you for your body only but for yourself as well."

Yukako's relationship with other deities and creatures is just... ambiguous? She may never judge what's behind everyone's gaze. Hatred? Love? Lust? Who knows. All she knows, is that the only sight of Dionysus makes the ground under her feet disappear in fear. Compared to him, she'll just be fine in everyone else's company.

Everything she does, it's for the good. If it happens to harm you, Yukako definitely didn't mean it. It'll be enough to tell her, and believe me, it won't happen again.

KISHIBE ROHAN as CALLIOPE

In Greek mythology Calliope is the muse who presides over eloquence and epic poetry. He's called the "Chief of all Muses". He's down to help every literate artist who needs him, gives inspiration and guides the mortals' talented hands, as far as they deserve his power. Calliope's used to be mentioned, and might happen to get upset if not. Even if he's only halfway a deity, he's known for his confidence.

The most famous out of the Muses, Rohan won't forgive anyone who's never heard about him before. He can be seen around Echo a lot lately, since he found the nymph's story interesting and won't hold back from inspiring a mortal with writing about what happened to Koichi. He's used to collect creatures' stories, in order to be written by someone who's talented enough to talk about them properly.

He probably got interested in your story first. Then, for some reason he grew possessive of it. Calliope won't let a mortal put their filthy hands on a story so pure. Let the Muse be the only one who can properly love you.

"This story of yours is so beautiful, I can never have enough... and it's mine only, is it, y/n? Is it?" he'd ask him forever until you answer yes, he'll find no peace at all. "Let me get inspiration from you. Let me be the only one who can properly appreciate your life... just like you deserve."

His relationship with other creatures and deities is... rather good? Rohan's used to have debates and discussions with Josuke, and most of the time they just disagree. Though, many envy his capability of being so creative and smart, mortal writers ask for his help several times. Aphrodite and him sometimes fight over Echo.

He'd write lots of poetries in order to edulcorate your feelings towards him and make you forgive him for his excessive possessiveness. Rohan often succeeds.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo part four #diamond is unbreakable #jjba au #greek myth aesthetic #greek mythology #greek deities #higashikata josuke #josuke x reader #nijimura okuyasu #okuyasu x reader #kujo jotaro #jotaro x reader #hirose koichi #koichi x reader #yamagishi yukako #yukako x reader #kishibe rohan #rohan x reader #jjba headcanons #christmas time

[delos-mio]

Out Of The Woods - college!AU - PART 3

A/N: I’m partial to this chapter, but perhaps that’s just me. I’ve not gotten a lot of feedback on this series sooooo idk if I’m just sharing it for me at this point lol but I’m having fun and that’s what matters, right?! Anyways I’m always around for thoughts, feelings, questions!

Only an essay, a few chapters of reading, and a couple shifts at work separated you from your hang out with Nikolai. You found yourself wondering what he was up to, what made him smile that day, what he’d look like on top of you now. That last one tended to linger a minute before you violently shook it from your head. You hardly knew each other anymore, not to mention you had a boyfriend- you couldn’t let yourself start to fantasize about him like that. But he was so sweet and gentle, so sassy and smart. It didn’t hurt that he was still painfully handsome either.

You were sitting at work, more or less twiddling your thumbs, when you felt a buzzing against the white countertop of the receptionist desk you sat behind. When you looked at the screen, an unknown number appeared. You unlocked your phone and opened your texts. Seeing the first line preview made your heart leap into your throat immediately.

N: Hey it’s Nik. Just thought you should have my number too :)

Y: Hey there you glad you didn’t lose that paper

N: I could never! What are you up to?

Y: Just at work, pretty slow today so I’m kinda bored

N: Hopefully I can keep you a little company. Where do you work?

Y: John Richard Salon- it’s that one downtown across from that hot dog place

N: Oh yeah! Seen it a million times. Do you do hair? Is that a secret talent of yours?

Y: God no lol I’d be horrible at it. I don’t have the dexterity for it. I’m just their receptionist

N: “Just” please I’m sure you’re their best employee

You stopped to roll your eyes, but also couldn’t stop the heat from rising on your cheeks.

N: Do you like it?

Y: It’s pretty good for a low responsibility job- it pays the bills too so I’m not complaining

N: That always helps

Your name had been called from off to your side, making your head snap up and you locked eyes with Deja, who was easily your favorite coworker. “And just what has you smiling like an idiot? Hm?” she asked with a smirk and leaned across the counter from you.

“Remember that guy I was telling you about from the party?”

“Oh yeah, the one you fucked in high school?” she teased.

You let out a long sigh. “Well, he just texted me. We’re supposed to hang out on Friday,” you said confidently, raising your chin in her direction to show her there was nothing of consequence going on between you and Nikolai.

“Hang out. Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Deja looked at you with a raised eyebrow and you could only respond with a look of your own.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you laughed. “Seriously. We haven’t hung out in years and it’s nice to have someone to hang out with who knows me. And wants to hang out with me,” you added under your breath.

“Don’t tell me Matt is back on his bullshit…”

You simply raised your thumb and index finger just slightly apart, squinting at the space between them.

As you were catching her up on the last week, John walked over and flipped over the open sign, locking the glass door in front of him. You took that as your sign to help clean up so you could get out of there as soon as possible. The girls all pitched in, sweeping up the few stray clumps of hair on the old wooden floor and wiped down all the counters for the morning.

While you were on the bus for the short ride back to your apartment, you suddenly remembered the conversation you were having with Nikolai before you closed up shop. You cursed under your breath and pulled out your phone again, quickly thumbing a message back.

Y: Sorry! I got caught up closing

N: No sorry needed, you were at work after all

Y: lol I suppose that’s true. They don’t pay me to sit around and look pretty

N: They should

Y: Oh god lol stop

N: Have I told you that I’m really looking forward to Friday?

Y: No but I’m looking forward to it too

You had since made it home and crawled into bed, happy to finally be off your feet and talking to the boy who disarmed you with a single smile. For the next few hours, the two of you texted back and forth, mostly about classes and work, but you couldn’t stop yourself from occasionally flirting with Nikolai. You really needed to work on actively not doing that, but you allowed yourself one last evening of toying with him. When the clock rolled over to 1am, the lids of your eyes were beginning to grow heavy and a long yawn escaped from your lips.

Y: I think I’m going to fall asleep on you I’m sorry

N: Holy shit I didn’t realize it was so late

N: I should get to bed too. I have a presentation in the morning

Y: Don’t let me keep you up!

N: But darling that’s all I want ;)

N: Sweet dreams- I’ll see you Friday

Y: Goodnight Nik

-----

Friday finally came and you were nervous as you fixed your hair one last time in the wide bathroom mirror. You opted for tight jeans, a pretty low cut tank, and a zip up hoodie. There was no way you were going to just hang out at his house looking like you were ready for the club, but you still wanted to remind Nikolai that you were cute. Genya had already left for the night, so you weren’t able to have a second set of eyes give your outfit the final approval; you could really use the reassurance right about now. As you casually boosted your chest one more time, there was a light knock at the front door. You opened it to Nikolai in a skin-tight tee for your school and a light canvas jacket. His hair was perfectly disheveled and his jeans clung tight to his thick thighs. You caught him giving you a long onceover before giving you a wide smile.

“You look amazing,” he breathed out, pulling you in for a tight embrace. You let your hands wander over his broad back, exploring the pull of his muscles under his jacket.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you smirked as you pulled apart. You locked up behind you and let Nikolai walk you downstairs and out to his car.

“Pizza?” he asked, one hand low on your back, the other gesturing vaguely you assumed in the direction of the car.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you smiled from ear to ear. Immediately, you could see the tension leave Nikolai’s shoulders. As you stepped foot into the parking lot, the sky decided it was the perfect time to open up and unleashed a sheet of rain unlike any you’d had so far this fall. You yelped as it began to pour, throwing your hood over your head. Nikolai acted quickly and threw off his jacket, holding it high above your head to keep you dry as you both splashed quickly to his car. This gesture made your heart swell; you were starting to think Nikolai may be a real lift knight in shining armor. He opened your door and made sure you were out of the rain before joining you and whipping his soaked coat in the backseat. You were both laughing at the situation and he was visibly relieved that you took the whole hiccup in stride. “Let’s get fucking dry ,” you laughed and he needed no further request to set off in the direction of his apartment.

Nikolai actually didn’t live too far from you, you realized when he pulled up across the street from the brown duplex. It was still raining when you parked and you again sprinted to the front porch in a desperate attempt to stay a little dry. When you got close to the door, you realized that it was a lot louder inside than you thought it would be. Nikolai must have noticed too because his jaw immediately set, irritation flashing behind his hazel eyes.

“Fucking Aleks,” he muttered under his breath before pushing the door open. A large party was taking place, unbeknownst to Nikolai. There were people passing in front of them, a lively game of beer pong in process, and more than one person going through their cupboards. Nikolai gestured for you to head inside and he slammed the door shut behind him. “Do you mind waiting here for just one second? I have to talk to Aleks quick,” he asked quietly into your ear, his hand resting on the side of your face. You nodded and he gave you a small smile before setting off for the kitchen. Aleks was laughing against the fridge with a couple other guys, barely registering it when Nikolai was standing in front of him, arms crossed tight over his chest.

“Dude! I thought you said you were going to the baseball house!” Nikolai scolded.

“Nikolai! I’m so glad you’re here, man. No, we decided to have people over here instead. We’re always at the baseball house,” Aleks smiled, giving Nikolai a friendly punch to his shoulder; Nikolai didn’t budge an inch.

“I kinda had plans here tonight, remember?” he said through gritted teeth, giving a small nod back towards where you stood. Aleks’s face dropped as it all came back to him.

“I am so sorry man, I totally forgot.”

“Obviously,” Nikolai scoffed.

“I mean it. It slipped my mind. I’m really sorry dude.” It was hard for Nikolai to stay mad at Aleks for long, if at all. You saw Aleks give Nikolai a long hug, evidently sorting out whatever disagreement they just had. Nikolai made his way back to you, a little less high strung.

“C’mon,” he said and took your hand, leading you around the corner to a short hallway. He led you into a room and quietly shut the door behind you. The first thing that struck you was all of the maps and works in progress strewn across his desk and hanging on the walls. You walked around in awe and marveled at Nikolai’s decor. He had numerous prints of classic paintings and frescoes, almost all of them related to myths or historical events.

“Nikolai, this is amazing! It’s so,” your head was spinning as you looked at all of his art, “it’s incredible.” You turned back to him and he was right behind you, an amused smile pulling at his lips.

“I’m so sorry. I thought we’d be able to come and spend some time together without 80 other people.” He looked genuinely upset that he couldn’t follow through with his plan of having dinner and talking all night on the couch.

“Hey, it’s ok. We can still hang out. Why don’t we make an appearance, play a game of beer pong or whatever, and then we can watch a movie in here or something?” you offered. Nikolai’s face lifted a little at that and he lightly squeezed your hand, nodding his head in agreement. “I gotta get out of this hoodie, though. It’s fucking soaking,” you laughed.

You shed the wet garment and hung it carefully on the back of one of the chairs near you. Nikolai had changed out of his wet shirt as well; he must have moved in the blink of an eye because you didn’t even notice him switch clothes. When you looked at him again, his gaze was fixed on you, his expression hard to read. “What is it?” you finally asked with a nervous laugh as punctuation.

“You’re so pretty,” he said with a small smile. You looked down at yourself- your hair was a complete rat's nest, shirt and jeans soaked through, and though you hadn’t looked in a mirror you could feel your makeup was a mess too. And here he was, arguably the most handsome man you’d ever met, lost for words as you stood in front of him. You bit down on your bottom lip and shook your head before taking him by the hand and leading him back into the party.

Nikolai grabbed each of you a drink and you wandered together to the beer pong table where Aleks was taking his last shot with his partner. Aleks grinned when he saw the two of you walk up and declared he was playing you next after he ‘kicked their ass’. He sunk the last shot and whooped loudly, high-fiving with his partner. Nikolai took his place on the opposite end of the table with you and re-racked the cups.

“Sorry I’m about to embarrass you in front of your date, Nik,” Aleks smirked arrogantly. Nikolai only bounced the light ball against the table top, catching it swiftly on the back of his long fingers. He repeated the trick, unbothered by Aleks and his shit talking, also not correcting him that you were not in fact on a date.

“We’ll just see about that,” he laughed as his first shot sank directly into the front cup. You giggled with him and took a shot of your own, somehow making another shot. You’d played a few times before, but you didn’t consider yourself skilled by any means- certainly not as skilled as these boys. Nikolai was so proud of you, he threw his arm over your shoulder and pulled you into his side. “Good luck, man.”

Aleks was frustrated as his winning streak began to slip through his fingers. Nikolai was clearly the better player, which was making Aleks crazy, though he had also had about five more drinks than Nikolai. You only made one more shot after your beginner’s luck, but Nikolai didn’t mind at all. He happily carried your team and took care of the remaining cups, always encouraging you when you made a lousy toss. Before long, Nikolai was flicking his wrists high over his head like he was making a free throw and sinking the winning shot. The small crowd around the table cheered and Aleks grumpily crossed his arms. Nikolai gathered you in his arms and lifted you easily off the ground, spinning you with him as you celebrated your very first beer pong victory, all thanks to Nikolai.

“Better luck next time!” you taunted sarcastically and Aleks finally gave you a small smile. The next team in line took your spot and you slid back into the crowd undetected and back to Nikolai’s room. “I didn’t know you were good at every sport,” you teased before taking a seat on the edge of his bed.

“Is beer pong really a sport?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. He walked over to stand in front of you and ran his hand over your finally drying hair. “Movie time?”

“Yes,” you replied simply, possibly a little too quickly. Nikolai smiled at you before walking over to his bed. He pulled back the covers and crawled onto his side of the bed, patting the spot next to him, inviting you in. He had chosen some movie to put on evidently, but you truthfully didn’t notice what. You flicked off the lights and jumped in next to him with a smile. Nikolai laid out on his back and you curled up comfortably on his chest.

“I had a really good time tonight, rain storm and surprise party and all,” he said, his voice low in your ear.

“Me too,” you said with a smile, still distracted by the art on his walls. “What inspired your decor choices?”

Nikolai turned his head to look at the picture of the Minotaur over his desk. “As you know, I’m a history major,” he started. “My concentration is in classical studies, specifically the Hellenistic period.” He rolled his neck to face you again. “That’s actually my favorite myth.”

“You know, for being a creative writing major, my Greek mythology is a little rusty,” you prompted, leveling your most charming smile at Nikolai.

“Would you like me to regale you with the tale?” he asked with a dramatic flourish.

“I’m all ears, Mr. Lantsov,” you laughed, positioning yourself so you could rest your chin on your hands laying on his chest and gaze up at him.

“Alright. So, Minos had just become the ruler of the island of Crete, but was still in competition with his brother for power. He prayed to Poseidon to send him a sign of the god’s favor- a bright white bull. Minos was tasked to sacrifice the bull to honor Poseidon, but he was so enamored with the bull that he decided to keep him, believing Poseidon would accept an alternate sacrifice.” Nikolai absently petted your hair.

“But he didn’t?”

“He did not,” Nikolai laughed. “As punishment, Poseidon made Minos’ wife, Pasipahae, fall in love with the bull.”

“Such a Greek god thing to do.” You smiled up at him.

“Isn’t it?” Nikolai beamed back. “Pasiphae had the master craftsman Daedalus create a hollow, wooden cow for her to climb in so she could mate with the bull. And thus, the Minotaur was created. Pasiphae did her best to nurse and raise the Minotaur as a babe, but he grew too fast and became unruly. Minos consulted the oracle at Delphi on what to do, and as a result commissioned Daedalus to construct a gigantic labyrinth to house the Minotaur under the palace in Knossos.”

“Years go by, and one of Minos’ sons is killed by the Athenians, who I guess were jealous of a string of recent victories by the king. From here, there are a few versions on why Athens begins sending youths as tribute, but the most common is that Minos waged and won a war to avenge the death of his son. As the losers, Minos required the Athenians to send seven youths and seven maidens to be sent every seventh year to cast into the labyrinth to be consumed by the Minotaur.”

“The third sacrifice came around and the hero Theseus,” Nikolai started, contempt clear in his voice, “volunteered to go as a sacrifice to Crete to slay the Minotaur. He told his father, Aegeus, that he would put up a white sail when he came back home if he was successful, but would have the crew put up black sails if he was killed by the Minotaur. Once he was in Crete, Minos' daughter Ariadne fell head over heels for Theseus and helped him navigate the labyrinth. In most versions of the story, she gave him a ball of string so he could retrace his steps and a sword to slay the beast. Story goes that he killed the Minotaur and led the Athenians out of the labyrinth, sailing away with them and Ariadne away from Crete.”

“I’m gathering that you’re not a Theseus fan,” you said, eyes still trained on Nikolai’s face. “Why?”

“A number of reasons.” Nikolai paused, clearly deciding on how much he wanted to nerd out. “One being that on the way back to Athens, Theseus abandoned Ariadne on the island of Naxos. He forgot, however, to put up the white sail like he told his father he would. Aegeus saw the black-sailed ship approach and threw himself into the sea, presuming Theseus was dead. But doing so just secured the throne for Theseus. The other being that he murdered the Minotaur.”

“But didn’t the Minotaur kill a bunch of kids?”

“Or was he fed children after being abandoned by his mother, unaware of any other way to live? I don’t subscribe to the idea that the Minotaur is a monster. There’s also quite a bit of evidence that suggests Ariadne saw him as a brother, having to make the impossible choice of her ‘abomination’ of a brother and a man who had convinced her he was in love with her.” Nikolai spoke with such passion and knowledge that it made your stomach tighten. This was a Nikolai not many got to see, a Nikolai you wanted to hold and kiss and laugh with. Fuck, you were in so far over your head.

He’d never been more attractive to you than in that moment. The light from the TV dancing on his perfect cheekbones, his hazel eyes dark as he spoke. “I don’t know. I have a soft spot for him. I feel like the Minotaur got a raw deal.”

“Well, you’ve made me a believer,” you smiled and the way Nickolai beamed back at you made the heat rise in your chest.

“You should stay here tonight.”

“Nik,” you sighed, rolling off him. “You know I can’t do that.” He had no idea how badly you wanted to just scream out ‘yes’.

“I know, I know,” he conceded, staring straight up at the ceiling. “Really wish you could, though.”

“Someday.”

“Is that a promise?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.

“I’m not the oracle at Delphi,” you said over your shoulder, making him snort. “I can’t tell the future.”

TAGGED: @agentsofsheilds

#Nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone #grishaverse #prince nikolai #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov au #shadow and bone au #grishaverse au #nikolai lantsov fanfic #shadow and bone fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #masterlist #ootw

[euronymous-files]

translated from Norwegian

"He came into my life at a time when I had just started listening to extreme and loud music. I sat at home in Råde and listened to local radio from Oslo. [...]

Frode Øien had a program where he invited the then unknown band Mayhem to visit because they had recorded a new demo tape. They were just incredibly mysterious and used pseudonyms and stuff, and I mean remember they took over the whole radio broadcast. To me, it sounded like Frode was set aside as host and the band took over for a couple of hours. It was absolutely magical. They played their own music, but not least they played lots of other things that were completely unknown, Hellhammer, Bathory, lots of early black metal and other extreme things. They obviously had great insight into what was going on and were by definition the only Norwegian band that existed in all these genres at once. They were the starting point for everything you could call extreme metal. It all starts with Mayhem."

Anders tells of how he became "insanely fascinated". [...] “The following week, a guy who was a competition winner appeared and said he was the brother of someone in the band. His name was Aarseth, and that led to me simply browsing the telephone directory, and I found only one Aarseth family in Ski. I took the chance and called and hit right on Øystein. That conversation must have lasted an hour or two. He met someone who was open to the same things as him, and then he was like a wandering library and very enthusiastic. His fervent commitment was something you felt right away, something he literally lived for. He gave my whole musical approach a kind of passion I had never experienced before.” To the young Anders, four years older Øystein Aarseth appeared as a kind of natural messenger of all the new things that were about to happen, and he swallowed everything he was told. He took in all the tips Øystein shared and received a lot of music that engulfed him, first from Øystein, then also from other bands.

"In the 80's it was not so common to have contact with people in other countries. If it were not unknown, getting to know people abroad was much more difficult than it is today. The only method was letter writing, and this whole underground scene was very much based on that. We wrote to each other and attached leaflets and fanzines and other things. You picked up the things you had on tape and changed the recording. Øystein introduced all this to me. I also went to practice with Mayhem. Back then I was 13 and a half years old, and got a first-hand impression of how the music sounded in your face in the rehearsal room. It made me completely obsessed that I should also start such a band. I had finally found my thing. This was very early in the development of black metal. We who came in right away make up a small but significant group of people. Among those I became acquainted with at that time are or were virtually all members of the most famous and prominent bands. Øystein had an incredibly central role as a source of inspiration and door opener for how to engage with music on the side of the industry, to be independent, in your own world."

Were there other aspects of him than the purely musical that inspired you? The energy, the courage, the talent? "What I took to myself very early was to sacrifice everything for this here. If you wanted to get somewhere with the music, you had to choose it over all other possible leisure activities and side tracks you could end up on, to only care about this music and abandon absolutely everything else. This was something he introduced as an opportunity. Many people did sports and had boyfriend projects and all sorts of things, social things that take a lot of time and resources, but here it was an alternative race to unfold in which I really took to. I had lived in a block and terraced house environment until I was ten years old and moved to a farm. I went from a life where people rang the doorbell all the time to being socially isolated. Now I got a platform that made it possible to break out."

Were you and Øystein friends or is there another way to describe their relationship? "I was a fanboy in the beginning. He got really mad when I copied everything he did. Then he was clear that this is not the way to do it. He was very careful about it. I was very young, and I was looking for band members myself in Fredrikstad and Østfold. When I started Cadaver, there was more mutual respect and a more collegial friendship. Things slipped a bit for him in '92 -'93. In the summer of '93, a few months before he died, he was very much looking for old friends. It was clear that he had been going through a period with a lot of focus on other things, but now he was looking up old friends to play the new Mayhem things that he had been working on for so long. I was with him several times during this time and felt that we had a friendship that was more mature. I had my band, had released an album and been on tour, and now Øystein was finally facing a breakthrough with the album he had talked about releasing for six or seven years. That he was killed became even more sad because of it. He knew he had made something very significant and very good, but never saw it come out."

[...]

"I was in a way close to the events", Anders says. "I also knew Pelle and was several times in the house where they lived in Kråkstad. When such things happen, you are shocked and think about what you could have done differently. But that Øystein did as he did was probably most related to his penchant for myth-making and image-building. He took it too far of course, but his way of thinking about things was that everything could be used for what it is worth in a PR context. I think it would have been perfectly fine if not everything that happened, it would not have made any difference. I remember hearing about him doing it, but not thinking much about it. He probably had an idea that this was so extreme that he had to do something about it. That might say something about how he liked to see things from above. He did not consider himself a direct part of it and did not see that there was anything wrong with it. I think he saw it in a kind of bird's eye view, but it's very difficult to say."

Where do you think Øystein would have been today if he had not been killed? "It's an exciting thing. We who knew him wonder if he had not grown tired of having to move closer to the regular music industry. In a way, he was a bit about to do it himself with his label, and also realized he could not run distribution on his own. I was part of his distribution. It worked so that he sent ten copies of a record to everyone he knew and trusted. All sold nine and sent money to him, and were allowed to keep one themselves. Those records are probably worth 10,000 kroner today. He signed several bands at the end, and the same day he died, Enslaved signed a contract with him. He had other things going on too, so I'm not sure where he ended up." "However, there was a lot going on around him that could have had an unfortunate effect", Anders believes. If he had not been killed by Varg Vikernes, or "The Count", it would probably have been rolled up that he was nearby when Holmenkollen chapel burned. "I do not know if he had been able to sit in jail. He was probably tougher in words than in reality. But what is mainly wrong with the myth of black metal and Øystein was that he created something with knowledge and will to succeed, as it was afterwards. It was rather the opposite. His ideas were to have this as a non-commercial business. You should deserve to hear this music. Being a listener in itself required a number of criteria. If it was up to him, as he told it, the whole scene would be a kind of lodge, and if you were first inside you would hear what others did not hear. But it was going to go away anyway, because it got too big." "Then he did not experience the internet, but it would have been something for him. Because he had so many extreme political ideas, the internet as it has been very much appealed to him. For example, he would be amazed at how widespread conspiracy theories have become. He was interested in extreme political directions, in Pol Pot and communism. I think he too had ended up in a more experimental musical direction. He was an extremist in everything he did and did it full on, and he probably still wanted to hunt for more and more extreme expressions."

[...] What is the best thing Øystein did? " "Freezing Moon". What I find very musically exciting is that it contains so few notes. The atonal and asymmetrical in the arrangement gives an introduction to something completely different than rock. It's the atmospheric, and the movements as we call it, and the riffs that are there. Øystein was concerned with throwing everything away and starting all over again, and it was such a song. It will always be a pillar in the Mayhem catalog and in the development of black metal."

read the full interview (in Norwegian) here

#euronymous #oystein aarseth #mayhem #black metal #files #archive #interview #anders odden #cadaver #satyricon

[frywen-bumbles]

The Way to a Man’s Heart Goes Through His... Cat? Ch5

AO3

Days later Jaskier is still thoroughly embarrassed by accidentally calling Geralt while drunk. He is sure he had picked Essi's number but what is done is done. They haven't talked much after that. The next day Geralt inquired after Roach but since then it's been radio silence and it does not bother Jaskier at all. Geralt must just be busy, that's all. No other reason what so ever.

   <my mom comes to visit today!!!>    <i missed her>    <when i grow up i want to be just like her!>    <i wish you could meet her she's so nice>    <she yelled at daddy for not answering her>    <oh no that was supposed to be a secret>

<i swear i won't tell a soul>

   <that's good. daddy said i shouldn't lie to him any more but he wouldn't like if i told someone mom yelled at him>

<yeah, it's bad to lie to your parents> <but maybe little secrets like this are okay> <no more texting anyone without permission though!>

   <yeah, i'm sorry I lied mrJ>     <hows the trip going now? i hope you don't have to be alone today like yesterday>

   <no, today i got to help uncle A with a new video!>    <uncle A came here yesterday and he and uncle L were being gross>    <they make the best videos>    <but daddy is better than them>    <daddy is the best>    <even grandpa says so but he told me not to tell uncle L because he would get upset>

<that's very sensible off him>

   <i helped making this video too!>

There's a link to a youtube video Jaskier clicks open without much thought. Except when he sees the channel he has to check to make sure he got it right. He knows this channel, he has watched almost every single video, including the one Fiona just sent him.

 Camera zooms into a ginger headed man holding a sword, knee-deep in what looks like a natural pond.

 "Oi, did you see it?" the cameraman asks laughing so hard the camera shakes

 "Of course, not, you bastard! You were holding me down while it swam past!"

 "Do you know what it is?"

 "Fucking drowners I bet." the ginger man grumbles and lets out a yell as a blue-skinned monster leaps out of water. "Oi, fuck you, put that camera down and come help me!"

 "Eh, you're doing fine! Show me that arse!" the cameraman laughs and the camera shakes.

 "Fucking bitch ass cat!"

 "I love you too!"

 The camera moves to reveal a second blue-skinned monster closer, close enough to reach the camera.

 "Oi, cub, catch!"

 The camera flies in the air and for a while nothing but sky and leaves are visible. The camera turns back to show the cameraman killing the monster with a sword, a spray of blood flying in the air.

 "Still struggling there, love?"

 "I killed four while you were a prick killing only one! I'm not cooking for you tonight!"

 "Oh, I'm wounded, how will I survive without the love of my life cooking for me?"

 The ginger man gives the giggling cameraman the finger, a smile tugging at his lips.

Jaskier doesn't even glance at the comment section where the evergoing debate about the videos is going strong. In Jaskier's opinion it's stupid, no real witcher would post videos like this of their work. It's just two guys having too much time and energy in their hands making the videos look as realistic as possible, probably a combination of CGI and practical effects.

He has to admit, he is slightly hooked. Kittencam69 has been making these videos for a couple of years and while this is no way his favourite video, it's clear it was important to Fiona to be a part of making it.

His favourite videos are probably the ones where the ginger man yells from his window at werewolves. Or the one where they fight a wyvern, the effects of that one were truly gorgeous.

Why would someone spend their talent on something like this is beyond him, but who is he to judge? He still can't believe how anyone thinks the monsters in the videos are real though. He's far more interested if the two men are really dating or if that's just their way of talking to each other. He's 95% certain they are dating.

A text from Yen interrupts his thoughts.

   <I found a book for your paper>    <I'll drop it in an hour>

<oh, thank you, that's very kind of you>

   <shut up and accept the book>    <you don't want your paper turning out shite>

This time around, when Yen comes, Jaskier is wearing trousers.

"Here's your book," Yen greets him and tosses an old book on the kitchen table hard enough Jaskier has to leap to grab it before it slides off the table and drops on Roach who is of course right there.

"Hello, nice to see you, why won't you come in and have some tea?" Jaskier says with a mocking voice and bows, pulling a chair out for her.

"I see you haven't set the house on fire," Yen says as she sits down.

"Please, I'm not that terrible of a cook!" Jaskier exclaims as he puts the kettle on.

"Right, you were eating nothing but instant ramen last time I was here."

"That!" Jaskier points at Yen in mock outrage, "was one day! One unfortunate day I was a mess and you think I live like that?!"

"Of course, I'm never wrong." Yen smiles sharp and Jaskier can't help the cold shivers running down his back.

"You're terrible, that's what you are..." he mumbles as he digs out mugs from the cabinet. "So what this book then?" Jaskier takes the book he'd put the cover down on the table and almost drops it. 'Fifty Years of Poetry' stares at him from the cover of the book.

"Oh, just something I had lying around, you know," Yen drawls in what Jaskier is quite certain is mock indifference. He squints his eyes at her in suspicion.

"So you're telling me you had one of the most sought after books in the academic world just 'lying around' and decided to give it to some random uni student?"

"Please, don't think I'm doing this for you." Yen waves him off, "You're an idiot."

"Why, thank you for the compliment, ma'am." Jaskier bows again. "Do you want the pink or the white mug?"

They settle down on the table, cups of tea and some biscuits Jaskier got after last time Yen visited.

"I- ah- had some questions about Geralt." Jaskier admits shyly as he puts the 'Fifty Years of Poetry' safe away from the table. He wouldn't want to ruin a book that valuable by accidentally spilling something on it.

"Hm, what did he do?"

"Oh, no nothing! It's nothing like that. I was just- maybe if you could- you don't have to of course-"

"Just spit it out, Julian," Yen interrupts him, sounding both put-out and bored, a feat Jaskier can only hope to master.

"Maybeyouwouldknowifhe'sseeinganyoneorsomething..." Jaskier manages to mumble out, which makes Yen burst out laughing.

"Oh, gods, I thought this was something serious, you had me for a moment there." Yen falls into a fit of giggles Jaskier is sure is aimed at him. Or perhaps at the thought of Geralt seeing anyone but the way Yen thrills at his discomfort tells him it's the former.

Of course, the hot cat dad is not single, who is he even kidding. He should probably just think about the book he got. And his thesis. And definitely, not the hot cat dad whose bed he's been sleeping in for the past month.

He is doomed.

***

It's high time to do something about the vegetable garden.

Or literally anything to avoid his thesis, if Jaskier is completely honest with himself.

Roach is chasing something in the bushes and Jaskier is happier not knowing what unfortunate small animal will face its maker. He stares at the vegetable garden which at this point seems to be about 50-50 vegetables and weeds. At least the plants are alive.

"I should have done this several times already, right, Roachie?" Jaskier asks the cat who emerges from the bushes covered in leaves and dirt. She gives him a wide berth and digs a hole at the other end of the patch.

"I swear to gods, Roach, if I find cat poop when I'm weeding this thing you will not get out for a week, do you hear me?"

Roach does not listen to him. Of course, she doesn't. She covers the hole she made and runs back into the bushes.

"That's disgusting, Roach. You have a perfectly fine litter box inside why would you do that to me?"

Roach doesn't answer. In fact, Jaskier is quite certain she's not listening to him at all, far more interested in whatever is the bushes.

A large lock on the door of the shed stops his gardening endeavours quite efficiently. He tries in vain to find the key somewhere close by but has to give up after a while.

"Okay, so if I were a key where would I be?" Jaskier rummages through the kitchen and the living room, only finding a stash of cat toys under the sofa.

"Oi, what are you so happy about? I know it was you who hid them there!" Jaskier cries at Roach who jumps in the middle of the pile startling him.

His search leads him into the study, Roach hot on his heels. She jumps on top of the bookshelf and Jaskier finds himself marvelling yet again how effortless Roach makes the almost two and a half metre jump look like.

"Hey, Roachie, came in to check what I'm up to?" Jaskier asks as he tries to open the top drawer of the desk. "Aaah, shite, why I never remember which side is locked..." he mumbles as he moves to the other end of the massive desk and opens the top drawer on that side.

All he finds is stationary in an amazing array of boring and practical to colourful and silly. He suspects the likes of the pink glitter pens with pompoms at the top are the results of Fiona getting to decide what to get.

He moves to the bookshelf next, more out of boredom than any real thought about finding the key. The books all look incredibly boring, ranging from computer science to physics and the sort. Nothing that would catch Jaskier's eye.

He takes one book out in random and opens it to leaf it through if to do nothing else at least he gets to avoid writing his thesis. But what greets him in the pages makes him almost drop the book entirely.

Monsters.

Pages after pages about monsters. Detailed drawings, stories, myths, facts. Anything in between.

Jaskier feels his fingers turn numb from the sheer shock. He looks at the bookshelf again and pulls another book, then another and another.

Monsters. Potions. Magic. Elder races. It's all there. Jaskier can't even comprehend the sheer volume of knowledge that has been at his grasp for over a month without him knowing anything about it and it makes his head spin. He needs... he needs to read everything.

The bling of his phone brings him back from his frantic search for more and more books.

   <mommy said she comes to see you>    <she wants to see my new tutor>

Jaskier stares at his phone, panic rising in his throat. He's... well him? Not some sort of accomplished tutor Fiona's mother is surely expecting.

<When is she coming?>

Just as he presses send he hears the front door open.

"Julian? Are you here?"

Oh shit. Oh. Shit.

He's so screwed.

   <now>

"Yen? I'm upstairs, I'll be right there!" he shouts. He's so screwed. Yen, of all people, is Fiona's mother.

She is going to kill him.

Another surge of panic hits him. He asked Yen if Geralt was single! She's his... wife? ex? An old flame? Whatever she is, that is not someone to ask something like that.

"Julian? What are you doing- oh! You found Geralt's books."

"I'm sorry...!" Jaskier whispers, suddenly terrified of the woman in the doorway. "I didn't mean to snoop, I swear, I was only looking for a key to the shed to find some gardening tools, I never meant-!"

Yen silences him with a dismissive gesture with her hand, "I don't care about the books. If he's stupid enough to leave them for you to find it's not my problem. What I came here for was to talk about Fiona. Care to offer me some tea?"

"Tea? Um, yeah sure... tea coming right away..." he feels like he avoided death.

"Sooo, I'm finally face to face with the famous Mr J." Yen says when she has a steaming mug of tea in front of her.

Jaskier slumps on a chair opposite of her and buries his face in his hands.

"Please, don't murder me, I didn't know you were her mother..." he mumbles from between her fingers, wailing up in his misery almost far enough he doesn't hear Yen snort.

"Please, I wouldn't murder you for that. For something else though..."

"Please, don't murder me for any reason," Jaskier begs, not lifting his face from his hands.

"Don't worry, you're way too unimportant to be murdered." Yen pats his arm.

"Why am I relieved to hear that?" Jaskier moans and finally uncovers his face to look at Yen. "So, you presumably wanted to talk about Fiona before you murder me?"

"True. She has her final tests coming up before summer and she's fallen way more behind than I thought."

"Wait, wait, I thought you didn't want to murder me?" Jaskier squeaks. Yen gives him a terrifying smile.

"Like I was saying. She has fallen behind on her studies. And I need you to tutor her, properly this time, not just helping with her homework. I will pay you of course. And a bonus if I feel she did well enough in her tests."

"Pay me?" Jaskier asks, suddenly way more interested. He could, in theory, save the extra money towards a deposit for a place for his own, which he'll need soon if some other gig doesn't come up during the next few weeks.

"I'll give you double what Geralt is paying you. Tripple if Fiona's grades are good enough."

The biscuit Jaskier was eating drops from his mouth.

"Ah, shite, fuck!" he tries desperately to stop the crumbs from spreading everywhere, failing spectacularly.

"I'm so glad we have an agreement. I'll see you around, Julian." Yen rises from her chair and before Jaskier has the chance to collect a single thought, she's already gone.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfic #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #Yennefer of Vengerberg #cirilla fiona elen riannon #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #frywen writes

[revlyncox]

Dreamers (2021)

Working toward a better world, a world of racial justice and an end to interlocking oppressions, requires imagination. On this weekend when we remember the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., let's also consider both the history of civil rights and the unbounded creativity of speculative fiction by writers of color as sources of inspiration. 

Expanded and revised for the Washington Ethical Society, presented January 17, 2021. 

“We are creating a world we have never seen,” writes Adrienne Maree Brown in Emergent Strategy. On this weekend, as we remember the legacy of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., support a peaceful transfer of power, and recommit to his legacy and the work of civil rights yet to do, it may seem like a luxury or a distraction to engage with imagination. It is not. Just like we cannot allow oppression to steal our joy, we cannot let it steal our imagination. Neither threats of violence, nor attempts to push us into re-creating a fictional and regressive society of the past, nor manufactured austerity preventing relief from reaching working people, nor white supremacy in any form should be allowed to steal our imagination. Our ability to dream of a better world is a matter of collective survival.

What does it take to dream big? What fuels our ability to imagine a future without limits like racism, classism, and sexism? Entering a dream state where equality is possible takes some practice. Music can get us there. Listening to activists who are moving our society forward can help us get into that frame of mind. Great art can invite us into that kind of transformational trance.

Dreaming is important. Dreaming gives us creativity, energy, and a warm vision around which we can gather a community. Dreaming is not enough. Once we have imagined a better world, we have to (we get to) build it, to keep building it, and to rebuild the parts that got torn down when we weren’t paying attention. The next step is to use those dreams as a doorway to action.

Dr. King’s words and actions demonstrated connections between systemic racial inequality, economic injustice, war, threats to labor rights, and blockades to voting rights. All of those forces are still relevant. He and the other activists of his era left a very rich legacy, for which we are grateful. We are not done.

I’ll be drawing today from Dr. King’s 1963 work, “Letter from a Birmingham Jail.” (Also available as an audio file from the King Institute.) I think the critiques he offered in that letter are still valid, especially for us in this community that strives to be anti-racist and yet must acknowledge that we are impacted by the norms of what King calls, “the white moderate.” His letter was a response to Christian and Jewish clergy, who had written an open letter criticizing nonviolent direct action. Though Ethical Culture uses different language and methods than our explicitly theist neighbors, I think it is incumbent upon us to hold on to the accountability that comes with being part of the interfaith community. So I believe this letter is written to us as well. Dr. King wrote:

I must confess that over the last few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the … great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the White Citizens Councillor or the Ku Klux Klanner but the white moderate who is more devoted to order than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says, “I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I can’t agree with your methods of direct action”; who paternalistically feels that he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by the myth of time; and who constantly advises [us] to wait until a “more convenient season.” Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.

I would like to think that, in this community, we have made some progress since 1963, and that majority-white communities have stopped explicitly trying to slow the pace of civil rights. Indeed, WES can be proud that racial justice has been woven into its goals from the beginning, though we must also be honest that a perfectly anti-racist history is unlikely. At the same time, I see people who claim to be progressive rushing to calls for “civility” or “unity” without accountability. Understanding the direct link between the intended audience of this letter and the people and communities with which we have kinship today is an act of imagination that we must embrace in order to learn from the past and to continue Dr. King’s legacy. “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” can help us understand why we need to dream of something different in the world.

We need dreams and we need plans. We seek inspiration as we continue to work toward bringing a dream of economic and political equality fully into reality.

One place I turn for inspiration is toward socially conscious science fiction. Looking at how the art form has offered critiques of what’s wrong and pathways to what’s right, I see suggestions for how we can nurture the dream of a better world.

Science fiction has even helped me understand spiritually-connected social movements, such as the one depicted in Parable of the Sower and Parable of the Talents by Octavia Butler. The series depicts a self-governing poetic community that tries to live sustainably in an environment affected by catastrophic climate change, and that maintains an improbable vision of exploring the stars. The poetry uses the word God, but not in the way that it is normally used. Recognizing that WES is not a community that makes use of theism, I hope you’ll be able to hear how that metaphor is used in the world of the story. In Parable of the Talents, the main character, Lauren Olamina, writes a poem for her community:

God is change

And hidden within change

Is surprise, delight,

Confusion, pain,

Discovery, loss,

Opportunity and growth.

As always, God exists

To shape

And to be shaped 

(Parable of the Talents, p. 92)

In the book, the community that reflects on change in meditation and song is able to use that energy to maintain resilience, even in the face of white supremacist violence and criminalization. Butler imagines an inclusive community led by People of Color who strengthen and encourage one another, inject their strategic planning with an expectation for backlash, and still imagine and make their way toward a better world. Her books provide inspiration to those who know that the negative extremes of the world of the story are possible.

Socially conscious science fiction spins dreams that are extreme, that challenge us in good ways. In science fiction and in practical experience with progressive movements, we learn that dreams need help to become reality.

The alternate universe where justice rolls down like water may seem too fantastic to believe, it may be cobbled together in ways that seem mis-matched to mundane perceptions, and it will certainly take work to achieve. Nevertheless, like Dr. King, I believe “we must use time creatively.”

Dreams Are Extreme

The first thing to note about dreams, whether sleeping or socially conscious, is that they are extreme. Things that would be totally absurd or unthinkable in everyday reality are woven into the fabric of a new vision. The dream might be a positive one, in which we imagine what it would be like to live in a better world. On the other hand, dystopian dreams can also be effective at stirring us to action. In an imagined world, we are met with the possibility that a flaw in our current society might go too far. Absurdity comes uncomfortably close to the truth.

Dr. King spoke about the role of discomfort in “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” saying that nonviolent direct action is meant to bring that discomfort to bear so that those in power will sit down and negotiate, to recognize people of good conscience. This is different from using violence as coercion, which is destructive to democracy; this is using peaceful means to declare the right of people to have a voice in what concerns them. Dr. King writes:

Nonviolent direct action seeks to create such a crisis and establish such creative tension that a community that has consistently refused to negotiate is forced to confront the issue. It seeks so to dramatize the issue that it can no longer be ignored. I just referred to the creation of tension as a part of the work of the nonviolent resister. This may sound rather shocking. But I must confess that I am not afraid of the word “tension.” I have earnestly worked and preached against violent tension, but there is a type of constructive nonviolent tension that is necessary for growth.

Tension has a place in literature and drama that can also be used for racial justice. I once served as an intern at a regional theater. In one of the plays we presented that year, the plot hinged on something unexplainable and highly improbable, which is one definition for science fiction. It was the 1965 play Day of Absence by African American playwright Douglas Turner Ward. In the story, white citizens of a racist town awaken one day to find that all of the African American residents have mysteriously disappeared. They slowly come to realize that they cannot function without the neighbors they mistreated and took for granted. Rather than try to solve their problems, they spend the rest of the play panicking and blaming each other in comedic ways.

Between the satirical script, the exaggerated makeup, and the abstract set, the show turns reality inside out in an effort to alter the audience’s collective conscience. Day of Absence shines a spotlight on the links between racial oppression and economic oppression, and is an incitement to join a movement for change. Consistent with the Revolutionary Theatre aesthetic, the play is meant to make people uncomfortable. We should be uncomfortable with the real systems of inequality parodied in the play.

It worked. Audiences were uncomfortable. Some patrons were able to take that discomfort and use it to grow. Some patrons were not ready to deal productively with their discomfort. For art or spirituality or dreams or anything else to offer the chance for transformation, creating the opportunity can’t wait until everyone is equally ready to begin the journey.

One goal of satire is to take something that is true and to exaggerate it until the truth cannot be ignored. When that something is oppression, making art that can’t be ignored and suggesting a justice-oriented overhaul to society is going to seem extreme to some people.

Speculative fiction by writers of color, even when not satirical, can also use exaggeration for a positive effect. The 2019 HBO Watchmen series explored this, creating an alternate history that lifted out problems with racism and policing in our own timeline. The Broken Earth trilogy by N.K. Jemisin explores extremes of climate change and identity-based exploitation, and weaves in glimpses of generational trauma between parents and children trying to survive in a society that rejects their wholeness. Extremes in literature can reflect back to us the plain truth.

Similarly, a dream that draws people together for the hope of a society that is very different from what we have, a dream that re-imagines the future of justice and economic opportunity, is going to be considered extreme, which is not a good thing by some standards. Every time there is a popular movie or TV show in the science fiction/fantasy genre that uses multiracial casting, and every time a speculative fiction novel by a writer of color receives sales or awards, there are claims that social justice warriors are running amok, or that trends have gone too far. Allowing for multiracial imagination is considered a violation of balance, a bridge too far. Inclusion is considered extreme, rather than a tool for bringing imagined futures into being.  

Dr. King explored this critique of extremism. In “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” he expresses some initial frustration at being labeled an extremist for his peaceful methods. It seemed that any movement toward change was too radical for the white moderate clergy. But the status quo was not and is not acceptable. Dr. King writes:

So I have not said to my people: "Get rid of your discontent." Rather, I have tried to say that this normal and healthy discontent can be channeled into the creative outlet of nonviolent direct action. And now this approach is being termed extremist. But though I was initially disappointed at being categorized as an extremist, as I continued to think about the matter I gradually gained a measure of satisfaction from the label. Was not Jesus an extremist for love: "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you." … (Dr. King gives a few more examples before he goes on.) So the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice? … Perhaps the South, the nation and the world are in dire need of creative extremists. (paragraph 24)

I believe the nation and the world are in need of creative extremists. We need dreamers. We need bold playwrights, courageous writers, and artists who cannot be ignored. We need the power to imagine a more just and radically different future.

Dreams Need Help to Become Reality

Another point that connects science fiction with visions of equality is that dreams need help to become reality. We hear often that “the arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice,” but the unwritten part of that is that actual people have to do some bending. Dr. King wrote about that, too; though he uses “man” in a way that was common at the time to mean people of all genders, and he invokes his own religious tradition, we can all hear the collective responsibility in this passage. In his “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” Dr. King wrote:

Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men willing to be co workers with God, and without this hard work, time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation. We must use time creatively, in the knowledge that the time is always ripe to do right. Now is the time to make real the promise of democracy and transform our pending national elegy into a creative psalm of brotherhood. Now is the time to lift our national policy from the quicksand of racial injustice to the solid rock of human dignity. (paragraph 21)

We can and should have hope. We still need to act according to our values. No act of encouragement, no vote cast, no letter written is a wasted effort. We must use time creatively. In the case of arts, literature, and entertainment, we must also use time travel creatively. Progress does not happen by accident.

Nichelle Nichols, who played Lieutenant Uhura in the original Star Trek series, spoke about the creation of her character and why she chose to stay on the show. None of it was an accident. When she first met with Gene Roddenberry, she was in the middle of reading a book on Uhuru, which is Swahili for freedom. Roddenberry became more convinced than ever that he wanted a Black woman on the bridge of the Enterprise. Nichols said:

When the show began and I was cast to develop this character – I was cast as one of the stars of the show – the reality of the matter was the industry was not ready for a woman or a Black and certainly not the combination of the two (and you have to remember this was 1966) in that kind of role, on that equal basis, and certainly not that kind of power role.

Nichols was also an accomplished singer and stage actress. The producers never told her about the volume of fan mail she was receiving. She was considering leaving the show to join a theatrical production headed for Broadway, when she was at an event (probably a fundraiser for the NAACP, but Nichols doesn’t remember clearly) and was asked to meet a fan. The fan turned out to be the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. He told her how much he enjoyed the show, and that it was the only show he and his wife allowed their children to stay up late to watch. She told him that she was planning to resign. “You cannot!” he said. Nichols goes on:

Dr. King said to me, ‘Don’t you understand that you have the first non-stereotypical role in television in a major TV series of importance, and you establish us as we are supposed to be: as equals, whether it’s ethnic, racial, or gender.’ I was breathless. ‘Thank you, and Yes, I will stay.’

Nichols’ decision to stay had a ripple effect. Whoopi Goldberg said that the first time she saw Lieutenant Uhura on television was a major turning point for her as a child. Mae Jemison, the first African American astronaut in space, spoke about Uhura as an inspiration. Stacey Abrams is a fan.

The inner workings of a TV show with cheesy special effects, beloved as that show may be, might seem inconsequential to the future of human rights. I maintain that anything that expands our ability to dream of a better world is necessary. Stories that give us building blocks for change make a difference. And representation matters. People are hungry for diverse, respectful, innovative stories. Representation increases the chances that someone from a marginalized group can get the resources to tell their own stories rather than relying on the dominant group to borrow them. In this age of communication, it is possible to engage people from all over the planet in a conversation about our shared future. The trick is that we have to work to make sure all of the voices are included. The dream of a better world needs people who can make it a reality.

Imagination is key, and it is a starting point. In Emergent Strategy, Adrienne Maree Brown writes:

Science fiction is simply a way to practice the future together. I suspect that is what many of you are up to, practicing futures together, practicing justice together, living into new stories. It is our right and responsibility to create a new world. What we pay attention to grows, so I’m thinking about how we grow what we are all imagining and creating into something large enough and solid enough that it becomes a tipping point.

Earlier, you heard another quote from the book, in which Brown names the Beloved Community that we can use imagination to grow ourselves into. She names “a future without police and prisons ... a future without rape … harassment … constant fear, and childhood sexual assault. A future without war, hunger, violence. With abundance. Where gender is a joyful spectrum.”

Brown frames this imagined future world, this Beloved Community, as a project of both imagination and community organizing. A better world is possible.

Conclusion

The arts, in particular science fiction, can ignite a kind of a dream state. By using time and time-travel creatively, we can envision a world of justice, equality, and compassion. We have yet more ways to craft stories and plans that respect the inherent worth and dignity of every person. The dream of economic equality, the dream of equal voting rights, the dream of equal protection under the law all need foundations built under them.

If we wish to count ourselves among the dreamers, let us take action. We can continue to build coalitions with partner organizations of other faiths and cultures. We can send representatives to workshops and meetings, and listen carefully to their findings when they return. We can read about dismantling oppression and share what we find with each other.

This community is a place where we can dream freely. Let us use time effectively. Let us enter into the powers of myth, creativity, and art to imagine a better future. And then let us work and plan to make that better future come to pass. May our dreams refresh us and energize us for the tasks ahead.

May it be so.

[ladyanaconda]

Irken of the Opera #2- First Meeting

Daily Irk

Akru 8th edition.

UP-AND-COMING PERFORMER VANISHES 

Irk’s famous Lythikos Mausoleum is known for granting entertainment and keeping our mighty Empire’s culture alight. Today wouldn’t have been different, but the gala’s star, Tenn Sakhak, has mysteriously vanished from her dressing room. Security has searched under every crack and crevice in the mausoleum, but she is nowhere to be found. 

Rumors say that she’s been spirited away by the infamous ‘Phantom of the Mausoleum’. This mysterious character has already generated quite the controversy throughout the Mausoleum. Though nobody’s ever seen him in person, some dancers or staff claim to have glimpsed him in Box Five or moving through the rafts in a black cloak. 

Real or myth, there’s really no proof that miss Sakhak was kidnapped. After a thorough check up in her dressing room, the authorities didn’t find any signs of struggle or fight. In fact, witnesses have stated that she never even left her dressing room and no one went in, bringing more questions.

Where has miss Sakhak gone? 

                                                          X-X

Tenn awoke groggily, rubbing her forehead as her vision adjusted to the lack of light. Her head was throbbing. Owowow. What happened? All she remembered was getting herself ready for the performance in her dressing room, then someone coming from behind and putting a cloth over her mouth. She tried to fight, but…

As her vision adapted, Tenn examined her surroundings. She was in a nicely decorated room. Violet and purple carpets hung from the walls, and there were lots of cushions with matching colors. Her own bed was a wide with a mauve duvet and nice, comfortable pillows. In fact, There were lots of candles spread around the cave. 

She had no idea of how she got there, but she did know she had to return to her dressing room and get ready. Damn it, Red was going to have a heart attack if she didn’t show up!

As she got off the bed, Tenn heard the unmistakable sound of an organ being played. So someone did live here. Perhaps they could tell her what’s going on and how she got to this place. 

The entrance of the ‘room’ led to an even bigger room also illuminated with candles, a few lamps and decorated in shades of purple. Whoever lived there must really love that color. A magnificent chandelier hung from the ceiling, bathing the place in colorful lights. The music was coming from an large ivory organ in one side of the room; its pipes glistened with pink and gold light from the chandelier. 

A tall Irken dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt under a black vest and jacket with matching black pants sat in front of the organ; his fingers gracefully flew over the keys and pressed them rhythmically. Tenn had heard people playing the piano or the organ at the elitist events she often attended, but this man made them all look like amateurs. 

“Excuse me?” 

His reaction was almost comical: slamming his hands on the organ’s keys, thus bringing his music to an abrupt halt, the Irken jumped off his seat and turned around abruptly, his lekku straight. His wide purple eyes were fixed on her. Now that she saw his face, Tenn noticed the right half was concealed under a white half-mask. 

Wait a minute. Purple eyes, white half-mask… She had heard the gossips and rumors about him, but she’s never really paid any attention to them. 

“You are the Phantom.” Tenn deduced. 

“T-Tenn! You’re awake!” What the-?! She wasn’t supposed to wake up until much later! Didn’t he use enough chloroform? damn it, he wasn’t ready! sweet Irk, what to do now? “I…” Purple chuckled nervously as he pulled on the collar of his shirt. 

Okay, he could do this. He’s been talking to her all this years. The only difference was that there wasn’t a mirror between them anymore. Purple took a deep breath. 

“I’m glad you’re finally awake, my dear.” He said, calmly this time, offering Tenn a smile.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Tenn insisted. “You’re the Phantom of the Opera, aren’t you?”

“That is one of the names I’m called, yes, but you know me better as your Angel of Music.” 

Angel of Music? That couldn’t be, he wasn’t real. He was just a figment of her imagination that she made up as a smeet to have someone to talk with in her loneliness… At least, that’s what she told herself all these years. But his voice was so familiar, and all those singing lessons… they couldn’t be a figment of her imagination. could they? 

“Would you like to take a seat, my dear? You look a bit pale.” Tenn stepped back when he took a few steps forward.

“I’m f-fine, I’m just… processing it.” Tenn said quickly. “But you’re the infamous Phantom too. The one who hung the stagehand backstage!” 

It took Purple every ounce of self-control not to panic again. He had been hoping she wouldn’t bring that particular topic up. “Just for the record, it was an accident.” He clarified. “A rather tragic accident. He drowned in the lake and I just put him there.”

“Lake? What lake?” Tenn blinked as she recalled what she wanted to ask in the first place. “Where are we?” 

“Oh, right!” Purple spread out his arms, gesturing to his surroundings. “Welcome to my humble abode and your new home, my dear!” 

Tenn glanced at the chandelier. I wouldn’t call it humble, she thought. “Right. And where are we, exactly?”

“Under the Opera house, of course!” 

Tenn stumbled back a bit, blinking. “Under the opera house? Are you kidding me?”

Purple’s smile faltered a bit. “Well, it’s not like someone like me can just rent an apartment in the neighborhood, right? It’d attract…” he turned away, hiding the masked half of his face from view. “…Unwanted attention.” 

Tenn did sit down in the nearest chair this time. Resuming: she’s with the fucking Phantom of the Opera, who turned out to be her ‘imaginary’ friend and mentor,  in a big house underneath the Opera House. It almost felt like she was having a very weird dream. 

“Okay… So why did you bring me here?” 

“I…” this is it, what he had been waiting for for years. He took a deep breath. “I love you,” Purple finally confessed, kneeling before his beloved. “I brought you here out of love, my dear Tenn! Ever since I first heard you sing, I wanted you, needed you here with me to compliment my music.” 

Tenn stepped back warily. “Love?” She frowned. “You have quite an odd way of showing it, considering you kidnapped me.” 

“I had no choice. You wouldn’t have come willingly.” Admittedly, he was right. She wouldn’t have. “I apologize for deceiving you, forgive me!”

“How can I when I barely even know what kind of man you are?” Tenn retorted, frowning. “Have you heard the saying ‘never trust someone who hides his face? Let me see you.” 

As she reached out for his mask, however, his hand grasped her wrist with a tight grip, his expression darkening. 

“Don’t touch the mask. Ever.” The tone in which he spoke sent shivers down her spine. “As long as you don’t touch it, you’ll have nothing to fear from me.” He stepped back from her, his mood lightening again. “Besides, what matters isn’t the face, but the heart,” he placed a hand over his chest. “And mine is filled with love for you.”

Tenn wasn’t satisfied with that. What’s the big deal? It couldn’t be that bad, could it? Besides, if he actually wanted something serious with her, he’d eventually have to show her his face, anyway. Was it such a sensitive topic for him? Then again, she had heard rumors that the Phantom’s face was so horrible that it haunted one’s nightmares for a long time. 

“What are you afraid of? I’m your prisoner, remember?” Tenn pointed out matter-of-factly. 

“You’re a prisoner of love, my dear. I’m not that bad once you get to know me!” Purple insisted. She didn’t look convinced, though. What to do now to break the ice…? “You must be hungry. Follow me, I’ve prepared something tasty for you!” 

Tenn wasn’t sure she wanted to eat anything made by him (part of her considered he might poison it or something). Following him into a small dining hall, the Phantom pulled out the chair for her to sit. Well, at least he was a gentleman. 

Admittedly, the soup he made was tasty. He hadn’t even gone out of the room when she practically devoured it along the bread, cheese and fruit in the table. If anything, Purple was a good cook. 

                                                           X-X

The following days, things started a bit… rocky, to say the least. 

Tenn tried to escape a few times, but Purple’s home was like a labyrinth and she always ended up returning back to the main room, much to her chagrin. And no matter how many times she demanded or even asked nicely that he take her back to the surface, he always refused. She tried following Purple when he left to run his opera house, but always ended up getting lost and returning to where she started. Then she’d vent off in the cushions imagining they were Purple’s head. 

Despite this, Purple was nice. He acted gentle and kind, never raising his hand against her not doing anything to hurt her. He spoke sweetly and left her a rose every day as she slept. Other times, he entertained her with some of his magician skills, or played the organ for her. 

He hoped that, in time, she’d grow to love him through these small details. 

After a while, Tenn grew somewhat comfortable with her captor. She was mostly impressed by his refinement, culture, and gentlemanly manners for someone who’d lived underground most of his life. Purple demonstrated to be a talented architect, magician, technician, illusionist (this part wasn’t so surprising), and, surprisingly, painter.

But his greatest passion was his music. Purple was a gifted composer and he’d play anything she asked; the way he performed the Requiem for Cyanin, The Conquest of Vort and even the Fall of the Springgas had no comparison.

One morning, though, she casually saw him working on blank music sheets. Every now and then he’d write on them, only to cross them out seconds later and write something else. 

Tenn tip-toed from behind to take a look at it. She managed to read the words Soliloquy before Purple suddenly put the sheets into the desk’s drawer. 

Damn it, when did she get behind him?! He quickly hid his work before she could see it completely. 

“Don’t.” Purple warned her sternly.

“What was that? Is it another opera?”

“It’s… something I’ve been working on, but it's not ready. It’s still not finished. Besides,” Purple’s expression became pained. “It’s not something I want you to hear.”

“Why not?” Tenn inquired.

“Because it burns.” Purple said darkly. “It burns with a fire not from heaven. You’re lucky not to come to that kind of music yet.” 

Tenn felt a shiver down her spine. “If you say so…” her lekku straightened up as she saw something in the corner of her eye. A tiny, hairy, six-legged-!

Purple swore his heart almost went up to his throat when Tenn shrieked and he felt a new weight in his arms. It took him a few seconds to realize she had jumped into his lap and was now clinging to his neck. His cheeks felt hot. 

“What the-? What’s wrong?!”

“There’s an antula over there!” Tenn pointed at said spider-like bug walking calmly on top of the table. “Kill it!”

“But it’s harmless.”

“I don’t care, it’s nasty!”

Sighing, Purple placed Tenn on his seat and went to deal with the problem. He took a blank paper sheet, but instead of rolling it up to squash the antula, he gently led it to walk on it and then placed the critter on the wall so it could go back to its cobweb.

Tenn just couldn’t believe it. “What are you doing?! I told you to kill it, not let it go!” 

“For your information, those critters are the closest things I’ve had to companions over the years.” Purple said simply. “Besides, it did nothing to you.”

“I swear, Purple, if that thing crawls on top of me at night, I’ll kill you!” Purple shivered in delight at the show of temper. 

“I’ll take your word for it, my dear.”

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #almighty tallest purple #almighty tallest #invader tenn #iz tenn #PurplexTenn #The Phantom of the Opera #phantom purple #phantom of the opera crossover #humor #one-shot #fluff #somewhat romantic

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Forty-Eight: A Cat Walks Past ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Hiashi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: River Runs Deep ] [ AO3 Link ]

For as long as she can remember, Hinata has...seen things. Things...that other people can’t.

When she was young, her father simply assumed it was make-believe - creatures and beings from her imagination that she would play with and talk to.

...but her mother knew better.

Hanako had seen them too.

Out in the garden behind their home, hidden away from the rest of the village and their superstitions, she had shown her daughter the world of kami and yōkai. For on her mother’s side, and her mother’s mother, pale eyes - all seeing, as each would call them - could peer behind the veil of the mortal plane, and into that of the gods, and spirits.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” Hanako had explained when Hinata first clung to her yukata in fright at the sight of a little kami. “The spirits are powerful, yes...but they are to be respected. So long as you give them what is due, you will have nothing to fear.”

At least...so she’d first claimed. Slowly, she introduced Hinata to the idea of yōkai. Of those spirits more in tune with darkness than light.

“For all good things, so too must there be bad. Yes, some spirits may try to hurt you if they know you can see them...so you must be careful, Hinata. Be open to the gift you carry...but use it wisely. Do not be afraid...but be wary. And remember: such a gift will be coveted by some, and feared by many. Only tell those you trust. People with narrow minds and fearful hearts will harm what they do not understand.”

Hanako was a good and patient teacher. But like so many wells of knowledge...she was lost before she could be fully explored. In the weeks that followed the birth of her second child, her health declined...and Hyūga Hanako was no more.

And so many of Hinata’s questions were left unanswered.

She had nowhere else to turn.

At first, she attempted to ask her father. But he denounced such claims: told her that her mother had been delusional and sick. “Do not follow in her footsteps, Hinata,” he told her, gaze stern and earning a flinch. “There are no such things as spirits. Or, if there were...they abandoned us long ago.”

While many of Japan held such teachings in high regard, the true belief was slowly dying. Humans, in their greed and ingenuity, were slowly forgetting their gods and myths. Miko were being stripped of their power, and temples were dwindling in visitors. Only the old seemed to cling to the supernatural of their land.

And those who could see, as rare as they were.

Both warned by her mother and chastised by her father, Hinata resolved herself to bury her gift - ignore its visions and pretend the veil could no longer be pierced. Her head was kept bowed, her eyes on the ground. To her studies she kept, awaiting the day she, like her mother, would be assigned a husband, and start the cycle all over again.

The Spring of her seventeenth year, Hinata awaits outside a shop where her father has gone to do business. Dressed in a lilac kimono, she idly holds her bag at her front with both hands, staring out without seeing. Every time they go out - which is often - Hiashi has her dressed like a doll, hoping to catch a young man’s eye. He’d prefer to have her married soon, hence taking her into the village at every opportunity.

So far...it hasn’t worked as planned.

...Hinata hates going into the village. It’s crowded, carrying a myriad of smells...some of which are unpleasant. And unlike their rural estate, it feels so...dead.

Only a few tengu sit on a nearby roof, hawking and smoking as the humans pass beneath them, completely unaware. Hinata avoids looking at them directly, eyes held to a neutral place on the building across the street.

She might do her best to ignore what she sees...but a small part of her still finds a kind of relief when she sees them. A reminder that the spirits do still exist. She isn’t crazy. Nor was her mother. And humans haven’t yet completely rooted them out.

While yōkai aren’t always a pleasant thing to behold, Hinata still can’t help small smiles when she sees little spirits toddling about. Arguing tanuki ambling along, kitsune fanning their faces as they gossip. She even once saw an oni come down to their well to take a drink before making his way further down the mountain.

She’d refused to go outside for three days after that, just to be sure he was gone.

Her favorites are the little kodama that linger in the trees around their home. Such curious little things, and the only ones she interacts with directly anymore.

The thought brings a small smile to her face, lost in her daydreams as Hiashi’s voice barely carries out to her. They’re only broken when something unusual passes by in the road before her.

It takes a moment to realize why the cat catches her eye. Sleek, with black fur that stands on end around the scruff of his neck, he paces by before hopping up onto a half wall across the street. Beginning to bathe, he washes at his face, tail flicking idly.

But, wait...no…

...tails. He has two.

Hinata stiffens. Is...is that…?

As though sensing her staring, the feline looks up mid-stroke, paw raised as ruddy eyes stare right back.

...it feels like he can see her very soul.

Unable to look away, Hinata remains even as Hiashi comes back, muttering something about the shopkeep she doesn’t hear. Then on he goes about her still standing here without a single beau approaching and giving a hint of interest. Something something look more appealing, something something flutter your eyes and give a coy smile.

She doesn’t listen. She’s still staring at the nekomata, who still stares back. His eyes narrow.

“...Hinata!”

Startling as her father raises his voice, she breaks her gaze to look at him. “I...I’m sorry.” Whatever he said, it’s sure an apology is necessary. There’s always something to be blamed on her.

“Come, we’re going home. I’ll not find what I need today.”

Still a bit dazed, she simply falls into step.

Behind her, unseen, the cat follows.

Back home, Hiashi simply takes his leave, not having any further tasks for her. Yet unsettled, she moves into the back garden, sitting on a stone bench and watching mushi flutter about the flowers her mother planted before she died.

“Are you really without a husband?”

Gasping, Hinata looks over to see a man leaning on the corner of the house nearby. Arms folded, he hooks an ankle over the other, posture utterly lax and expression aloof. Dressed in black hakama and a matching haori, he looks rather unremarkable...save for the velvety ears atop his head, and the twin tails that twitch behind his knees. At his hip is a sheathed blade.

It...it’s the nekomata? Did he follow her?!

Too flabbergasted to have an answer, she just...gapes at him.

“...and that confirms you can see more than your typical human,” he goes on, tone drawling. “Funny...you don’t look like a miko…”

“I...I-I’m not…”

“But you can see like one.”

“...yes?” In truth, Hinata knows little of miko beyond the vague rumors of what they’re said to do...or, have done.

“...guess that explains it.”

“E...explains what?”

“Why you’re not married.”

A blink.

Seeing she’s confused, he sighs. “If anyone finds out about your sight...they’ll call you a witch. While powers like that would have seen you revered in years past...times are changing. Humans are losing sight of what true power and enlightenment is. You know how hard it is for someone like you to find a mate?”

Hinata’s cheeks go pink at the word ‘mate’ rather than ‘husband’.

“...but I was also unsure because miko often marry gods.”

“I...w-what?!”

“Didn’t know that particular tidbit, did you?” At that, the nekomata grins, revealing sharp teeth. “It’s true...miko are said to be the bridges between the mortal and the divine. Many take kami as mates. So when that fool you have for a father said you were still looking...it made me...curious.”

In a blink, he’s at her front, a long nail under her chin and lifting her face. Stiff in surprise, Hinata doesn’t dare move. Up close, she can see his red eyes, squinted as he examines her more closely, pupils shrunk to slits. Thick black paint lines his eyes, accented with red. Like most spirits, he’s completely without flaw - there’s not a single blemish in his skin. His hair - though untamed in the back - seems otherwise settled perfectly. Just as it should be. And he smells like incense smoke.

And blood.

After a long pause, he gives her another grin. “You’re pretty for a human,” he notes.

“T...thank you…?”

“Not sure one should accept compliments from a yōkai. Though...you aren’t exactly typical, are you?” He taps a finger to his chin, looking her over again.

Hinata can’t help the feeling she’s being appraised.

“So...what do you say, little veil-cutter?”

“Say? Say about - about what?”

“Your father wants you to find a husband. And what better husband for a miko than someone from the spirit world…?”

Slowly, pale eyes go wide. She -? But -? He -?

Still grinning like a cheshire, he amends, “I might not be a proper kami, but...better a yōkai than a human that would hate you for what you really are...right?” A hand waves. “I suppose for your sake I can go through the typical courtships your kind favor. I’ll pay your father a visit a little later. In a human guise, of course. But I think there might be some advantages to having a miko around.”

“B-but I’m not a -?”

“Maybe not trained, but you’ve clearly got the talents.” Red eyes flash. “...and those talents can be...useful.”

At a loss, Hinata can only watch as he leaps with feline grace to the wall.

“Before I go, I’ll give you my name: Uchiha Sasuke. And you will see me again.” With a wink, he disappears.

Heart pounding in her chest, Hinata tries to rationalize what just happened. A yōkai - a nekomata, no less - has decided to...to...marry her? Why?!

She can’t help but wonder what her mother would think.

...and yet…

He has a point. Her father has always insisted her talent is a sign of derangement. In this day and age, miko and those like them are condemned as witches where they were once called upon to convey the spirits’ messages. Maybe...she really would be better off with a husband not human.

Nibbling her thumbnail worriedly, Hinata glances back to the house. He said he would come calling later...should she warn her father? Tell him the man is a fraud? A yōkai? Knowing Hiashi, he’d only dismiss her. There’s little point.

...but does she really want to marry a spirit?!

     Gah, this isn't as fleshed out as I wanted Dx I didn't have time to research as much as I wanted to, so...sorry if this is a little bare-bones. I LOVE Japanese mythology, but I wasn't fully prepared to pull this off as...detailedly as I wanted.      Anywho, have a back-in-time verse mixed with myth to get a villager!Hinata and nekomata!Sasuke! Nekomata, from what little I could speed-read this late, are...not very nice. Which, to be fair...some things canon!Sasuke does aren't very nice, so...it's hopefully a believable parallel.      I might do more of this if a prompt allows, and hopefully have more time to look into the time period I want and the myth behind the yōkai more properly. For now...this is all I got lol      Anywho, time for bed! Thanks for reading~

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #hyūga hiashi #river runs deep [ au ] #365daysofsasuhina

[jaywrites101]

The City In FreeFall: Chapter Four

This is part of my ongoing Beta for my new book The City In FreeFall, slated to be released sometime early in 2020. New chapters are released here and on AO3. Special shout out to my StreetTeam members: @ciestess and @leave-her-a-tome for their advanced reading and suggestions.  On to the story! Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Beaten, bruised, and broken. Oh yeah, today was going exactly according to plan… 

I made it through the front door of our apartment and immediately stumbled towards my bed. The alarm clock next to the bed read 1:48 in bright, red numerals. I wasn't failing Math, so I did a few mental calculations. I had to be at the warehouse by 8:30, which meant I'd have to leave the house by 7:00 at the latest. That left five hours to sleep and set the third part of my plan in motion.

The agonizing pain in my lungs reminded me that five hours wasn't nearly enough time to recuperate. Stupid lungs. They should know better than that by now.

As I approached the bed, everything went dark. I could vaguely feel myself collapsing, in a numb, underwater sense. I was well past my breaking point, but this was different. My mind was still running at top speed, even though my body was failing. Last time I blacked out, it happened too quickly for me to process what was happening. This time I was aware enough to be afraid of it. 

I woke up tied to a chair. On top of our apartment. Leaning over the precipice.

I panicked! The sight of the street below filled me with adrenaline. I threw myself against the straps, completely disregarding my previous injuries. But an orange, scaled hand stopped me from leaning forward.

I thought he was a myth! But that hand was real. The sun setting behind him burned right in my eyes! He pushed my chair further and further back despite my protests. My heart was trying to beat itself out of my chest. Wind tousled my hair while I screamed. Once again, I couldn’t stop myself from looking down. The ground was so far away, the pedestrians below were like ants on a picnic table. My eyes were glued to the asphalt twenty stories straight down.

With a herculean effort, I forced myself to look back at the thing in front of me. Burnished orange scales broke up his silhouette. Humanoid, but not human. His head--Oh God! There was nothing human about that head. Bulged over with a massive lower jaw. And at the top. Two glowing crimson eyes. It was like staring into the depths of Hell and seeing that Hell was staring back!

Movement behind him drew my attention to his tail. It twitched aggressively. "What do you know about Warehouse 15!" he growled. His voice! Even now, sitting alone in my cell, I shiver just remembering it. It was a low growl, impossibly loud! It was the voice of a dragon.

This was DinoHyde.

"Don't kill me!" I pleaded.

"Wrong answer!" he roared in return. With one hand--one--he pushed the chair all the way over the edge. I thought for sure I was about to fall. But the monstrosity still had hold of the back of the chair. Even as all four of the legs swung out into space, that grip held the chair in place. The straps cut into me. Slicing my already bruised body with every shudder.

"Y-you won't kill me--You can't kill me! DinoHyde n-never kills people." At this point, I was pleading more to myself than to him. He pulled me up, just enough to force me closer to those wicked eyes.

"What do you think happens to those people who mysteriously disappear in this city?"

"They were killed by the gangs?"

DinoHyde didn't answer. He didn't need to. I'd heard the tales in the Heap. We all did. Stories that a wild dinosaur was cloned in a lab and exposed to human DNA. No one really believes it. We all grew up just outside that lawless age where vigilantes took up arms to keep the peace. Most of us just assumed DinoHyde was just another vigilante dressed up in a spandex suit. 

Those scales seemed real to me. Somehow, those eyes bored themselves into my skull and pulled out my greatest fear from the deepest recesses. Tears burned their way out of my eyes. Even my mantra was forgotten.

"What do you know about Warehouse 15!" he asked again.

"I-I don't know anything about Warehouse 15," I cried, expecting to fall at any second. "It's just an abandoned Barron Corp storage site. I needed to find a place the SmashStones and the BloodBlades could go wild without getting anyone else hurt! That's it, I swear!"

DinoHyde seemed taken aback. He blinked his eyes a couple of times, at any rate. "You're not working for Lawson?"

"Who?" The name struck a chord with me, but I couldn't place it. I certainly wasn't working for him, whoever he was.

DinoHyde seemed to sense the truth. More confirmation of his supernatural powers. "It's not important," he said. He paused for a minute, his head cocked unnaturally. 

A breeze blew around me. For a moment, I actually thought he was going to drop me. But the moment passed and DinoHyde swung me around back onto the roof. I was stuck facing away from the mutant vigilante. 

I craned my neck so hard I swear something popped, but I still didn't get a good look at him--he just stepped into my blindspot no matter what I did. "You should be in school, kid," he said. His voice was still gravely, but much less harsh. He still didn't know what to make of me.

"I'm not going to school anymore. I'm not going ever again," I returned stubbornly. God, I was such a prick.

"You don't know what you're playing at."

"How can you say that? We're on the same side!"

DinoHyde growled. "You're not on anyone's side, kid!" His voice returned to that deep reverberating tone that scared me so much. "You've made enemies of everyone in the city what with the stupid stunts you just pulled! Stealing a cop car, joining the SmashStones, marching right on up into the BloodBlades stronghold--it's a wonder you haven't killed yourself already!"

At the mention of my heroic deeds, my injuries started throbbing again. In addition to the busted ribs and the hole in my chest, I also had bruises on my back that stung like acid, a tender, itchy line across my throat, a cramp in my left leg, and a collection of cuts on my arms and shoulders. "I guess I just don't have the talent for dying."

DinoHyde smacked at the back of my head lightly. My vision doubled as my eyes crossed from the pain. Add one concussion. Lovely.

"Give it up, brat. You don't have what it takes to make it in this line of work."

"Screw you!" I spat indignantly. "You know, i-if you were out protecting people instead of throwing kids off building tops, I wouldn't have to be here, a-and my friend would still be alive!" 

You know, I didn't think I was doing anything particular by bringing the conversation around to Jerry again. It took me by surprise to realize I meant it this time. Seeing the myth right in front of me… Damn… That gave me someone to blame. Someone besides the gangs. After all the lies and half-truths… This was real. And it hurt. Like a bitch.

I bawled for a solid minute. I've never been any good at handling grief. Even now it's easier to just escape into the past and forget the last couple of days… forget what's happening to me.

DinoHyde let me cry. He waited for me to calm down before he said, "I was sorry to hear about Jerry." That was it. No nonsense, or he's in a better place now like all the other adults kept repeating. 

Just, sorry. 

"He was a good kid,” DinoHyde continued. “Smart. Honest. I wish I could've stopped what happened to him."

"THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU!" I shouted. "You're the monster vigilante! You're the one going around playing hero! Why didn't you--or any of the others--protect him!"

I expected him to smack me over the head again, or maybe tell me off for being a brat. I would've deserved either. But instead, DinoHyde just made an odd wheezing noise that I eventually recognized as a sigh. "It happened in the daylight. I can't operate so freely during the day."

"Whatever," I huffed. I wasn't ready to forgive him so easily. "As soon as you let me go I'm going to clean up your mess for good. There won't be any more kids in caskets."

"It's not that easy."

"Well, maybe you just haven't been trying hard enough!"

DinoHyde spun the chair around into the setting sun once more. He towered over me, those red eyes blazing. "Listen to me kid! What you're doing won't work. The gangs aren't just going to kill each other off just because Sam Farsight has a grudge against them. All you're going to do is start a war that'll burn down this whole city."

I dug my toes into my shoes and forced myself to stare anywhere but at his eyes. The building next to us had a park on its roof. Empty, of course. Most buildings locked their roof access at sunset. It was--

"Sunset…"

"What are you going on about now?" DinoHyde asked.

"It's sunset! And none of the buildings near my apartment have a park on them! Where am I? What time is it??"

DinoHyde huffed. "Relax, kid. We're near the docks, and it's only 7:30-ish."

I quickly ran some more mental calculations. "There's still time, but I've got to hurry. Are you going to let me out of this chair?"

"I will. But I won't help you. What you're doing is suicidal. Both Cutter and SmashStone will be pissed. Even I can't take them both on at once."

"That's fine," I snapped. "I didn't want your help anyway."

"This isn't a game, brat!" DinoHyde growled again. (He does that a lot.) "If you go through with this they will kill you. And I won't be there to save you."

"Then I'll die!" There was something in the force of it that gave the vigilante pause. Conviction, plain and simple. I knew the dangers. But that wasn't going to stop me. "At least I'll die knowing it wasn't in vain. Knowing that I made a difference."

"Kid…" DinoHyde began. But he stopped. Making another one of his strange sighs, he reached behind me and unbuckled the straps that bound me. I wasn't going to stay and chat. I was already limping off to the door.

"Kid!" he tried again. "Listen to me--look, there's a better way. A proper way. Just back down from this madness and I'll--"

"I don't want your help! I'm doing this my way. I don't want anything to do with you!" I limped down the steps, all twenty flights of them. DinoHyde didn't follow after me. I don't know what he did after I left. I didn't care. Was I reckless? Yes. Was I stupid? Yes. Do I regret my actions that day? Oh, most definitely. Did I care at the time? Nope… I was convinced I had things figured out. DinoHyde was just one more test of my resolve.

#The City In FreeFall #book #super powers #superheores #fantasy #StreetTeam #my writing #support authors

[innerpostmentality]

Breakfast at Tevis

Four thousand years ago gods and magic shaped and ruled and were plentiful in the world. Man and all the creatures were shaped and marked by it. Then things began to change. Gradually those things of magic diminished and the things of science took precedence until magic became a myth tucked away safely in children’s fairy tales and skilled entertainer’s parlor tricks. It’s been a thousand years of progress unmarked by true magic.  …………………….. Things are about to change.

This fic is part of a collaborative AU created by my talented friends @tornbetween2loves @kennaxval and myself. This part was written 50/50 by myself and @tornbetween2loves. Special thanks to @tornbetween2loves for the gorgeous mood board for Crown Prince Aeneas and the beautiful Sarissa   Disclaimer: all original TRR characters and references belong to Pixelberry, however we are claiming their beautiful children as our own creations. Please see the Series Master List here: Arcana Unbound Series Masterlist Pairing feature: Aeneas X Sarissa Word count: 4300 + Warnings: mild angst, erotica  Tags: @darley1101 @gardeningourmet @speedyoperarascalparty @hopefulmoonobject @bobasheebaby @carabeth @sawyeroakleyscowboyhat @riseandshinelittleblossom @stopforamoment @teamtomsato @furiousherringoperatortoad @indiacater @sirbeepsalot @alesana45 @strangerofbraidwood @museofbooks @furryperfectionlover @ao719 @blackcatkita

  Aeneas led Sarissa out to the limo and Evan opened the door for them. He climbed into the car and held his hand out for her to help her in.  "I was not sure you would join me this morning. And I do apologize for the early morning. I wanted to be certain I spoke to your father before there was any news of us."   The ride to Tevi's was short this early in the morning. Tevi's had expanded over the years since Liam and Hyclea had first gone to breakfast there. When Hyclea gave them the Queen's seal, a personal endorsement, their business doubled then doubled again. But the quality was always maintained in their food. And at least once a month the royals would come visit.   "Sarissa," He kept her hand and was stroking gentle circles around her knuckles with his thumb. "It is early so I do not think any press will be there when we arrive. But it is a possibility when we leave. Have you considered what you want to tell them?"   Sarissa’s brow furrowed as she thought about Aeneas’ question. “Honestly I hadn’t thought about it much.” She squeezed his hand and looked at him sheepishly. The press never really paid much attention to her, they would bypass her and swarm her brother. “Do you have some pointers for me? Maybe I could just follow your lead.” She looked away, suddenly nervous. She knew that she would be in the spotlight being courted by the crown prince. This would take some getting used too. She was trained to fade into the background, be unnoticeable.  She looked up into his violet eyes and knew he was worth the nervousness and any awkwardness she might feel being in the spotlight. She smiled at him warmly. “Can’t we just tell them the truth?”   Aeneas looked pained as he held her gaze. His voice was that deep, soothing velvet that was almost mesmerizing. "If this Social Season were only about me I would call a press conference and tell them how completely remarkable and enchanting you are. But Social Seasons.." he sighed before he continued "Social seasons garner support for the crown from the nobility and the public. It is like a lottery where every person feels like they might win. I," he shook his head, "I have to be perceived, initially at least, to be fair. And that is so contrary to what I feel."   “I understand.” She looked deep into his eyes. “So once the social season starts you will be spending equal amounts of time with all the women who participate.” She broke their gaze and looked down as hot tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Her voice was soft and filled with uncertainty. “What if you find you like one of them better than me?”   "No." Aeneas lifted her chin. "Look at me Sarissa." His voice was serious and he waited until she met his gaze. "Listen to me. I need you to hear me not only here." He touched her head gently. "I need you to hear me here." He touched the center of her chest over her heart.   "This is exactly what I was trying to tell you last night when I told you that my brother was the better catch." He shook his head and looked in her eyes then gently turned her head so she could look out the window as he pointed at all the traffic and people. He shifted so that he was right behind her and she could feel the warmth of his body as he spoke gently in her ear. "There are billions of people in the world. Millions in our country that I must think of. That I must care about. That I must try to take care of. And if you chose to sit beside me it means that you will have to share me and I will have to share you. Even beyond the social season we will have to watch each other dance with others and share intimate conversations with others. We will be apart negotiating alliances, trade deals, attending summits." He turned her slightly and gently stroked her jaw as he urged her to face him again, his features held a deep longing hopefulness. "But in the midst of all that, at the end of all that, I want to believe, I need you to believe in this."  Aeneas brought his mouth to hers. His fingers trembled as he threaded them into the silkiness of her glorious hair. Passion like he'd never known unfurled in him and he was vaguely aware as he groaned his need for her. He was completely torn between his rational side that knew he needed to stop and recover his composure, and the imperative of his emotions that drove his body to passion.   Sarissa was overcome as she felt her own emotions and passion rise to meet his. She could feel how desperately he wanted her, no, needed her and any small shred of doubt she had was gone. This was exactly what she wanted. Her whole life had been preparation for this moment and gave her strength. She was meant to be his queen. She just knew it. And she would jump through whatever hoops necessary to get there.   He released his grip on her hair and tried to pull away from her but she kept her lips on his as she grasped his hand and pressed it to her chest, covering her heart. After lingering a few moments longer in their passion, she pulled back, breathless. Their lust-blown eyes locked together as Sarissa cupped his face in her hands. “I hear you, Aeneas. I know what it means to be with you. To love you.” She brought her face close to his again. “You’re worth it. You’re so worth all of it.” She kissed him again gently, deepening the kiss as she stroked his cheek.   He was shaking his eyes closed when he broke the kiss finally. He pressed his forehead to hers. "Sarissa.. oh God..." He let her go and leaned over. "Give me a minute. We are going to be at Tevi's in a few minutes and I cannot get out of the car like this." He struggled as he tried to control his breathing and calm himself. He chuckled and turned his head to look sideways at her. "You are dangerous."   Sarissa scooted over a few inches on the seat to give him some space as she smiled at him innocently. “Dangerous? Me?” She winked at him playfully.   He reached out and grabbed her hand and held it as he closed his eyes and just breathed slowly. "Have you been to Tevi's before?"   She nodded. “Sure. They have great coffee.” She squeezed his hand gently. “Are you ok?”   "Well this is not exactly how I pictured this morning. And it amuses me on some not completely mortified level.  You are so beautiful. Do you know that?"   Sarissa blushed and smiled at him shyly. “Thank you. You make me feel so wonderful. Everything you say to me makes me feel like I’m the most special girl in the world.” She looked up into his eyes, her cheeks still flushed. “So what will we tell the press today? Because I fear that they may take one look at us and know what we are feeling.”   He smiled at her the violet of his gaze intense. "You are. I need you to remember that through all of this."   He chuckled. "The press will always speculate. But if we are pressed I shall tell them that we are planning a surprise party. That should calm them a little."   The limo pulled up in front of Tevi's and stopped. They waited a few minutes while security confirmed everything was ready for them. Evan opened the door and allowed Sarissa to exit the limo a moment later Aeneas exited the car. He stepped out and smoothed his jacket and offered her his arm.   They were escorted into the courtyard dining area and to a table situated next to a beautiful Jacaranda tree. Aeneas pulled her chair out for her before he sat down across from her. The waiter handed them menus and asked them what they would like to drink. Aeneas smiled at her. "I requested this table. It's rather special to my family. It was where my parents had their first official sort of 'date'. That was back in prehistory. And the walls were built to keep the larger dinosaurs out."  “How lovely. You’re such a romantic.” She smiled. “This is utterly charming. Having our first date in the exact spot where your parents had theirs.” She giggled. “Good thing we don’t have to worry about those dinosaurs anymore.”   Aeneas got lost in her eyes for a moment. He blushed. "Yesterday I would not have thought that I was a romantic. I was pretty methodical studying the files." He frowns. "Was I mistaken thinking that you had a class this morning? I was surprised when your dad said 7:30."   Sarissa’s face reddened as she dropped her eyes to the floor. “Yes, I was supposed to be in class at 8. But I wasn’t planning on going, even before you showed up.” She looked up into his eyes curiously. “Do you have a file on me Aeneas?”  "Of course. Sarissa, you wanted to be a royal guard." He shook his head and chuckled. "And when I asked for files on the ladies attending the season they were thorough. I have files on Calais and my mother. I have no idea how that happened."   She smiled at him, her eyes sparkled. “Well you can officially move my file from the ‘royal guard’ pile to the ‘attending social season’ pile.” She giggled. “So what kind of stuff is in my file? Do you find that it’s accurate? Will I be able to have any secrets from you?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Or maybe you should just throw that file in the trash and see what impression I can make on you?”   Aeneas started to speak but then the waiter came back with their drinks and asked them about their breakfast preferences. He ordered them a basket of assorted pastries, pieces of cheese pie, and a sliced fruit plate.   "I hope you do not mind me ordering for both of us?"   He looked thoughtful for a moment as he thought about the contents of her file. "You are described as a dedicated student with excellent skills. You are a senior with emphasis on security, infiltration and threat analysis. You excel in your physical combat courses. You are 21, two months younger than me. Red hair. Gray eyes. 5'7". Daughter of Bastien Lykel and Olivia Nevrakis-Lykel Duke and Duchess of Lythikos, second child of the couple." He grinned.   "It is woefully inadequate. Tells me nothing about which side of the bed you sleep on. Whether you snore. Does not tell me if you prefer the orange walnut sticky rolls or the chocolate eclairs. It's basically useless."   Sarissa giggled as she took a sip of her coffee. “Interesting. Well, I prefer to sleep on the right side and I will always choose the eclairs. As far as the snoring goes....” Her eyes danced as she gave him a sultry look. “...you’ll have to wait to discover that for yourself.”    “Would it surprise you to learn that I also have a file on you? And Calais? And Leo? And your parents?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “And I’ll bet my files are a lot more detailed and informative than yours.”   She smiled as she thought of her father teaching her to remember details about those she wished to protect. Not just the public knowledge details, but personal details. Observations. Even her mother had encouraged the idea. She had figured that the files would come in handy if she ever chose to take a different path and attend social season.   He grinned at her wide enough to show his dimple as he selected a cardamom cream horn and shook his head. "I know who your parents are so it does not really surprise me. But I am curious since you have been studying me. Is there anything that surprises you about me?"  Sarissa tilted her head to one side as she reached for a pastry. She contemplated his question for a moment as she took a bite. She smiled at him brightly. “To be honest, everything about you surprises me Aeneas. From a fairly young age my dad taught me to maintain a certain distance from you. Not a physical distance, a personal one. He said it was important for me to maintain a professional relationship with those I aspire to protect.” She smiled as she licked a bit of frosting off the tip of her thumb. “So even though I was aware of certain personal details about you, I’m finding you to be nothing like I imagined. You are so kind, passionate and protective. I feel so safe around you. And not just because of your guard detail.”  Cream filling clung to his upper lip as he continued to smile at her. "I am glad you feel safe with me. I shall always do my very best to keep your faith in me, Sarissa."   He sipped his coffee and the cream filling disappeared. He looked thoughtfully at her for a long moment. "How many more classes do you have to finish your degree? I know you are a senior but I also know people who have the credits to be a senior but have changed majors so are not so close to graduating." He laughed and shook his head. "Then there is my sister and brother. They are just set upon making me feel like the slow child."   Sarissa giggled. “You, the slow child? I find that hard to believe.” She smiled as she sipped her coffee. “I have never changed my major, I have always known what I wanted to study and who I wanted to be. So I will be graduating after this semester.” Her eyes sparkled as she gazed at him. “I plan to finish my coursework online for the remainder of the semester.”   He nodded as he took another bite of the cream horn. "Sarissa I know you were really upset with Calais and Xiphos last night. I was too. Then I realized what happened with me. I do not think either of them were really keeping something from us. I mean I do not believe they were really together before yesterday."   Sarissa nodded in agreement. “I didn’t understand how they could feel so strongly for one another in such a short time.” She locked her eyes on his violet pools and her voice was deep and sultry when she spoke. “But I do now.”  His eyes flashed and then he sipped his coffee and took a bite of his cheese pie.   "Yes...."  He studied her intently for a moment. "Anyway, Calais was pretty upset about upsetting you. And Sarissa, I think they are... very serious. I hope that doesn't upset you."   Sarissa took another bite of her pastry, then washed it down with coffee. She nodded in response. “I’m not upset that they’re serious.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m upset because your sister has had this crush on my brother for months, maybe even years, and she never told me.” She sighed and looked down at her cheese pie as she picked at it with her fork. “I guess my feelings are just hurt. I thought we were best friends. But Calais kept this huge secret from me.” Her voice was shaky as tears welled in her eyes.   Aeneas looked sympathetic as Sarissa got emotional. "I wish we were private. When you are upset all I want to do is hold you and somehow make it better. Sarissa.." His voice was soft and soothing, "Calais does consider you her best friend. She is..." His expression got pained and serious. "When she came back from school to work on her doctorate sculptures here she was much more closed off.”  “Has she talked with you about what happened?"   Sarissa avoided eye contact as she shook her head. “No. I always knew something was different. She came back changed.” She took a deep, shaky breath and exhaled slowly as she wiped a tear from her cheek and looked him in the eye. Her expression pained, she smiled at him sadly. “Another secret she’s keeping from me.”  He extended his leg under the table and pressed it gently against hers. He looked in her eyes, his were full of sympathy. "Not just you Sarissa. She hasn't told me what happened either."   Her head snapped up as a shocked look crossed her face. “She didn’t tell you? But..... she tells you everything.” She looked away, suddenly feeling very ashamed. Here her best friend had gone through something so traumatic she couldn’t talk to anyone about it. And all Sarissa could do was be angry at her for finding happiness with her brother. She buried her face in her hands. After a long moment she raised her head to look at Aeneas with remorse. “I’ve been acting like a selfish brat. I’m so sorry.” She shook her head. “May I ride back to the palace with you after breakfast? I’d like to speak with Calais.”   He nodded and handed her his handkerchief. "She did not tell me about her feelings for your brother either. I do not know what happened. But I know she was hurt badly by someone."   Sarissa nodded as she dabbed the corners of her eyes with the handkerchief. After taking a moment to compose herself she cleared her throat and smiled at him. “Enough sadness. This is supposed to be our charming, romantic first date.” She winked at him with a smile. “So what are your plans today Aeneas?”   He lifted a brow at her and smirked. "I have a couple of meetings after my cold shower. Then I am heading to the children's hospital to take some stuffed lions to the children. I have a fitting. Then another meeting with father and the Italian ambassador about an upcoming trip. Then I expect to fall over from sleep deprivation and dream of you." He smiled and winked at her.  Sarrisa’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “Are you always this busy?” She rolled her eyes at herself. What a dumb question. Of course he was always this busy, he was the damn crown prince! She sighed and closed her eyes as her cheeks reddened. “I-I’m sorry. That was a pretty stupid question.” She smiled at him sheepishly.  He smiled. "We are a working monarchy. Father insists that we have regular contact with the people in addition to the state affairs. Most people still envision something more like sitting around on couches being fed peeled grapes I expect." He shook his head. "There are no bad questions Sarissa. You are welcome to ask me anything."  He called the waiter over and asked for a basket of pastries to take with them.  "For mom and dad." he explained. "Are you ready? I think we may have dodged the press if we leave now."  She nodded and drank the last of her coffee. “Thank you for breakfast. I have very much enjoyed your company, Aeneas.” She smiled at him again, her dark eyes sparkling.   Once they were back in the limo Aeneas looked at her shyly. "Sarissa, would you mind.. might I hold you?"   Sarissa beamed as she scooted close to him on the seat. “Of course.” She reached out and tentatively placed her hand on his knee, drawing small circles with her fingertips. She fought to keep her breathing steady as she felt his arms around her. Her stomach fluttered as their eyes locked together. Her voice was soft, barely a whisper. “Aeneas....will you kiss me again?”   He grinned. "I think you are plotting to keep me in the car."   She laughed and he kissed her. Gently he explored her mouth. He stroked her cheek then he moved to feather kisses along her jaw to her ear. He whispered hoarsely, "You are so beautiful." he gently nipped her earlobe and then kissed it, playing with it with his tongue.   Sarissa moaned softly as he nipped her ear, her hand slowly moved from his knee to his upper thigh as she kissed his neck. She smiled into the crook of his neck and whispered, “I could stay in this car with you like this all day.” She trailed kisses up to his ear and nibbled gently. “But then you’d have to cancel your meetings and your trip to the hospital, your fitting and your meeting with your father and the ambassador.” She pulled back breathless to look into his eyes, her eyes dark with lust. “And the cold shower would not be necessary.”   A groan was pulled from deep inside him. He grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. His eyes were blazing, luminescent violet rings around his lust blown pupils. His voice a deep velvet caress as he murmured, "If I expire from need you will have to explain to my parents and yours why they can't remove my smile."  She smiled and kissed his lips softly, speaking into the kiss, “I don’t mind explaining. I’ll even take all the blame.”   "Sarissa… I.." He closed his eyes as he struggled. Then opened them to look deeply into her eyes. "I told your father I would respect you. You have no idea how much I want you. But you deserve so much more than the back seat of a car." He pulled her tightly against him and kissed the top of her head. His whole body was tense and almost vibrated with his restraint.    Sarissa pouted as she snuggled against him. She could feel him tense next to her and she placed her hand on his thigh. She sighed deeply and said in a very serious tone, “You’re right. We wouldn’t want to piss dad off. Especially not before you find a milk producing yak.” She chuckled softly, her body shaking against his.   He held her tightly as he controlled his breathing by counting in his head. Dizzy with her scent and her softness and the feel of her in his arms. He laughed with her as he murmured in her hair. "I promise I will find that yak if it is the last thing I do."  "Hey... Thank you for talking with Calais. You really are her best friend. I think your brother and I made peace last night when he was leaving. Forgive him, Sarissa, do not carry hurt with you."   Sarissa nodded. “We’re all going to be okay aren’t we Aeneas?” She sat up straight and turned to look him in the eye.   He grinned. "Well yesterday I would not have been able to answer that question with any kind of conviction.” He kissed her knuckles still as he looked into her eyes. "When I look at you, when I hold you I can't help but believe that we all are going to wind up fine."   She smiled at him as she lightly stroked his cheek. “I feel the same way. It’s amazing the difference a day can make.”   Aeneas opened his arms to hold her while they were taken to the family entrance of the palace. He stroked her back. "I wish we could just spend the day together. I hope we will be able to manage that before the insanity of the season gets underway."   Sarissa kept her hand on his thigh, making circles with her index finger. “An entire day? That would be amazing.” She looked at him hopefully. “Can we try to make that happen? Pretty please?” She stuck her bottom lip out in a small pout and batted her eyes at him.   He chuckled and tugged gently on her bottom lip.. "Does that work with your dad?" He kissed her forehead. "You know I will try to make it happen."  She grinned widely at him. “Actually, it does work with dad. Well most of the time anyway. I’ve always been daddy’s little girl.” She turned to look deep in his violet eyes with a sultry gaze. She leaned close and kissed his lips softly. She pulled back after a moment. “Imagine what we could do with an entire day together.”   "My virtue feels imperiled." He couldn’t help himself. He knew he shouldn't but he stole another kiss before he signaled for the guards to let them out of the car. "I will talk with you later Beauty."   She climbed out of the limo, his taste still tingled on her lips. “Thank you for breakfast Aeneas. I had an absolutely wonderful time.”    He bowed over her hand, flipped it and kissed her wrist softly before he let her go.

#choices trr #trr fanfic #trr au fanfic #arcana unbound

[reallylonglies]

Taylor Swift - Demon Hunter: Part 1

It was when she had me in the headlock that I began to wonder if I might have struck a nerve.

Was it something I said?

I thought back through everything I had said to her that day.

“You look nice today.”

Wasn’t that.

“Have you done something different with your hair?” 

Pretty standard conversational fare, shouldn’t provoke this kind of reaction.

“Your boyfriend is a fire demon, and you need to exorcise him.”

I thought it might be that but then who can tell with teen girls, honestly? 

“Why are you mad?” I asked her, or at least tried to ask her. My voice was a little strained because her elbow was tightening on my throat and her hair was hanging over my face so that every time I inhaled I got a mouthful of it. 

“Why are you in my dressing room?” 

Oh, yeah. Maybe it wasn’t even the fire demon thing, maybe I was just intruding. Suddenly it all made sense. Mystery solved. Case closed. 

I made some strangled noises and tried to spit out a clump of blondeness but it wasn’t going to work. Country singers have big hair and now a good solid third of hers was clogging my airways. She was going to have to let me go if I was going to explain.

“You’re going to have to let me go for me to explain,” I whispered gently into her thoughts. It’s just mild telepathy, nothing fancy. I don’t have a nosebleed whenever I do it or anything.

She dropped me and shouted an expletive. It was uncouth, I was shocked and taken aback. You don’t hear that kind of language in the other realms.

“You can’t be shocked and taken aback, you’re the one who broke into my dressing room,” she shouted, her eyes had narrowed to thin slits of rage.

Perfect, I thought, we can use this.

“Use what? Who the hell are you?”

“See, this is why I don’t use the telepathy thing - once I get into the swing of it I start sharing thoughts I don’t want to and before long everyone knows where I’m going for lunch and there’s a queue for the burrito bar. It’s like inception. Suddenly everyone wants a burrito and I’m left at the back of the queue where the burritos are just wet tortillas filled with cold rice and the memory of beef.”

She kicked me in the face. She has really long limbs. 

“I will admit I should have explained myself better.”

“Yes.” 

She folded her arms and looked at me. There was an awkward silence before I realised it was now time to explain myself better.

“Have you ever heard of muses?” 

“Like the Greek myth?” 

“No, not the band. The Greek myth, you know, this is why my job has been hell since 1994… Oh, wait, you said myth didn’t you? That is the correct answer… That doesn’t happen often. Imagine if those muses were like the Greek myth except also they’re fire demons that possess men of influence and try to trick them into forming a global government of badness that will bring about the fall of mankind.”

“So not really like the muses at all then?” I liked her sarcasm, it was spunky, she’d need that in the hellscape. Demons love spunkiness.

“There are nine of them, plus assorted demons and servants. Can I move on to the good part?” 

“Is that the part where you leave my dressing room before I call the cops?” 

“No. It’s the part where I tell you that you, Taylor Alison Swift, are a Lightning Rod.” 

They never react the way that I want them to. It’s not like telling someone they’re a wizard and they get to go to wizard school. Tell someone that and suddenly you’re like their best friend in the world: it’s all fun and laughter and shopping for owls. Tell someone they’re a kind of magical exorcist and the fate of the world depends on them and suddenly you’re the bad guy. 

“Yeah, I’m calling security.” 

“Wait, wait, wait!”

She paused, her hand hovering over the phone. 

“Listen.” 

She did, I saw her eyes, once angry slashes of rage, grow wide. 

“What is that?” 

“That’s me. You can hear me.”

“No, it’s like music. Like a melody.”

“It’s the sound of me disturbing the dimensions by being here, you can hear it because you’re a Lightning Rod, Taylor,” I always feel weird about this bit, sometimes they can smell us, sometimes they can taste us on the air, but every once in a million years there’s one that can hear it. Every one of us, demons, sprites whatever, we have our own little tune. We know each other’s, but Lightning Rods don’t have them because they’re technically mortal. It’s like having someone who hates the internet scroll through your Instagram and tut. I think that’s what it’s like. I don’t show up in photos so Instagram’s not really my bag. Stupid demon laws. 

“What’s a lightning...thing?” she asked, her eyes a little misted as she concentrated on my tune. 

“It’s a kind of exorcist. The muses are drawn to you. You’re like catnip...Demon-nip if you will.”

Her gaze snapped back to me, fire in her eyes again.

“What does that mean, am I in danger?” she asked. She didn’t sound afraid, more angry, like this whole thing was just some big inconvenience to her.

“No danger,” I said, “If you let me train you.” 

“Ugh,” she sank into a chair, “Fine.”

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

New York, midnight. Rain falls. 

He cracks open his hotel room door and stumbles in. He doesn’t feel good. Who would, in his condition? 

“Hello John,” she whispers gently as the storm outside throws light across her face. She’s draped in a chair with it’s back to the corner of the room. The dress he left her in is gone, and she’s dressed all in black. A hood obscures most of her face. 

“I thought I just…” his drunken vision swirls to the hotel door. His memory takes him back on a stumbling journey through the lobby, out into the street, crying girl in a dress. 

“You left me to make my own way home, John,” she said. Her lips were blood red. 

“How did you…” he was on the 20th floor. The elevator had taken ten minutes. 

“I’m in good shape, John,” she looked at him, she was holding something silver and small. He wanted to look at her, and at the same time he wanted to close his eyes tight until she was gone.  

“What do you want?” with a sudden wave of discomfort he realised how much she was scaring him, this wide-eyed nineteen year old girl whose heart he’d been toying with. He looked around the room, she’d taken the mirror off of the wall above the mantlepiece, it was leaning against the fireplace. She’d scratched something into its surface. “What did you do with the mirror?”

“Do you remember when he came to you? He said he’d help you and you shook his hand, and you never saw him again.”

“What are you talking about?” he didn’t like her voice, it sounded different: powerful.

“And even though you never knew his name, you always remember that after that encounter everything started going right,” she stood up, her clothes were wet from the rain. She held out her hand, her nails sparkled. 

He didn’t want to touch her but something in him was compelled to reach out. 

Before he knew what was happening he was on his knees, her arm was tight around his throat and she was pressing something cold against his head. 

“Look up,” she said, wrenching his neck so his face was opposite the mirror. He did not expect what he saw. Two faces fought against each other on the surface of his skull. One moment he recognised his own deep set eyes, his square jaw. The next second, a different face, rounder, with odd, taught features seemed to pull against his skin and try to gain prominence. 

“Get out,” she said, but as he tried to get away from her she wrenched his body back into position, “Not you John.” 

She pressed the silver object harder into his skin, it hurt like hell. Something inside him was tearing. To his horror, the face in the mirror began to speak. 

“You can’t beat me Swift, they’ve all tried - even Aniston gave it her best shot, he likes having me here.”

“Sure,” she said, her grip tightening, “But how many of them knew your tune.”

She whistled. Two brief, one long, and then two more quick notes. Rising and descending in pitch like a small hill of sound. 

Something felt like it was splitting within him. Like his skin was pulling away from his whole body and falling backwards. In the mirror he watched as something horrifying emerged from his limp frame. She let him fall to the ground like a sack of rotten potatoes.  

“You’ve had your fun with him, asshole,” she said, and kicked the mirror hard. It shattered and burst into flames. 

He woke in a cold sweat. The mirror hung above the fireplace. 

A nightmare.

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

“I just don’t think it’s fair to name-check him,” I said, reclining in an armchair. I liked her home studio. It was warm, my office in the Inbetween is cold and damp and the demon who sits next to me smells of actual brimstone. 

“Why?” she said, strumming her guitar pensively, “His demon, his song. Doesn’t the world get to know what he did?” 

“The demon or the man?”

“Both,” she stopped strumming and bowed her head, “Is it the muses that make them all assholes or do I have just awful taste.” 

“Look,” I said, putting on my most authoritative voice, “You’re the best in the business. You’re a talented exorcist. I hear back at the office they’re even making a pamphlet about you for us to give to the next generation of Rods. You’ll be an inspiration.”

“That is not an answer to my question,” she said, putting her guitar back into its stand and spinning around in her chair, “I’ve heard of guys battling their inner demons but I never knew I would be the one that had to do all the vanquishing. It’s exhausting.”

I always came to watch her record the songs. There was something exciting about watching the lights flicker and the room shake as she trapped a demon in a melody. She was the first aural Rod since the invention of recorded sound, this innovation was helping us keep some real pieces of work at bay in her pieces of work. 

As she hit that first line of the chorus I felt the ground quiver below me. Fabulous, a real spectacle. Something worth manifesting for. 

#taylor swift #taylor #lover2019 #reputation #urban fantasy #demon hunter #fan fiction

[weirdlizard26]

For the ask meme? All of them.

jay,,,

give me a sec to edit this post ok

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

wine glasses are like reading glasses except you wear them while drinking wine

i’d say water bottles but only the ones that can handle heat and stuff and not poison your drink with plastic or whatever

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

i havent had a lollipop in a good while so thats my choice

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

havent tried either but boy i’d love to try just a little bit of cotton candy at leastonce

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

bro,,,,,, that was like 10 years ago, how am i supposed to remember that,,,,,,,

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

i usually drink soda from plastic cups but honestly? nothing beats the experience of sipping that sweet sweet ambrosia from the bottle,,, but also i’d love to try soda in a can some day!

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

idk what half of these would look like but sportswear always wins in my book

7. earbuds or headphones?

ok i actually googled whats the difference and im more of an earbuds person! theyrejust safer i think and it makes me kinda anxious when im home listening tomusic and cant hear anything going on around me

8. movies or tv shows?

tv shows! well, unless the episodes are like 40 minutes or a full hour because its hard to focus for that long kfjsndkfs

9. favorite smell in the summer?

pavement after rain and also. grass.

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

haha thats a funny joke you made there *starts crying*

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

just a couple of meat+cheese+mayo sandwiches! if its summer mom cuts tomatoes or cucumbers for us and as they start getting more and more expensive we replace them with pickles!

12. name of your favorite playlist?

sorry i couldnt choose!

13. lanyard or key ring?

key ring!

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

aaaa i love fruit flavored ones!

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

aaaaaaaa i dont remember if it was elementary or middle school but we were assigned this really cool ukrainian book that ive actually read before they assigned it. well, nobody here will recognize it but it was Тореадори з Васюківки by Всеволод Нестайко and it was about 2 boys who were best friends growing up in the countryside and they went on adventures and had fun and their friendship made me so happy,,, i guess i was all for cool friendship portrayal even back then! it was mostly laughs and jokes but some moments were actually serious and hit me really hard and i remember them to this day actually

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

its a myth, sitting was created as a personal attack on me

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

my trusty old sneakers!! theyre all black and the sole is very soft and nice

18. ideal weather?

when the sun is out and its just warm enough to show off your new graphic tee and also very soft and nice

19. sleeping position?

i just lie on my left side like a fool

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

notebook!

21. obsession from childhood?

TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES!!! AND DANNY PHANTOM!!!! i even made a ghost fighting costume once,,,, tho it wasnt much of a costume, it was just fingerless gloves i cut out of paper. they were extremely uncomfortable. but very effective in fighting ghosts!

22. role model?

kfjsdnfk i have a bunch! might sound weird but one of them is bdg i think??? and the other 2 are some online acquaintances whom im too afraid to interact with more often than i do

23. strange habits?

repeating silly lines i hear on tv / in anime/cartoons? and also i never touch food with my right hand unless its plums?? and there are more but. you know. bad memory.

24. favorite crystal?

all of them!!!!!

25. first song you remember hearing?

my grandma used to sing this to me over the phone

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wUPnqqPXQsw

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

go for a walk!

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

slep

28. five songs to describe you?

we are the people by empire of the sun

home by cavetown

strawberry blonde by mitski

smile like you mean it by the killers

afterlife by arcade fire

29. best way to bond with you?

wash your hands very thoroughly and make jokes

30. places that you find sacred?

i see nature i go crazy from how much respect i have for it

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass andtake names?

*wearing hinata cosplay* im here to play volleyball and kick your ass and as you can see ive already played today’s match

32. top five favorite vines?

road work ahead

a avocado!! thanks!!!!!

REBECCA THIS IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK

i fell can you help me :(

that vine where ukulele sounds like human voices and people sounds like ukuleles

33. most used phrase in your phone?

idk how to check that??? sowwy

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

the stomach meds ad they keep showing on tv

35. average time you fall asleep?

3am? 4am? idk for sure

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

t-trollface…

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

havent used either (cause ive never traveled anywhere too far away) but the latter looks pretty and i feel like it would fit more stuff

38. lemonade or tea?

depends on my mood!

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

dont kick me but im not sure if ive ever tried either ;w;

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

the school’s cat who hates most people actually kinda warmed up to me even tho im terrible with animals

41. last person you texted?

jay uwu

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

afabs cant have both huh

but i want both. please give me both.

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

all of these sound nice but my lazy ass will always go for hoodies

44. favorite scent for soap?

aaaaaaaa im allergic to a lot of soaps but i like flower scented ones

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

i love all of them dearly but lately ive been more into superheroes i think. im not sure really sure what exactly i feel

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

something really really long

47. favorite type of cheese?

there are different types????

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

i hope im a pear

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

become a good person. thats all.

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

i dont remember what it was but i remember i was with my friends and we couldnt stop laughing for several minutes and ive never felt happier

51. current stresses?

UNIVERSITY FUCK OFF!!!

52. favorite font?

i like comic sans

53. what is the current state of your hands?

they arent doing so hot tbh, my dermatitis is back again

54. what did you learn from your first job?

i dont have one!

55. favorite fairy tale?

gonna be honest chief, i dont remember too many of them ;w;

56. favorite tradition?

on new year’s we turn the lights off, light up a candle in the kitchen, laugh at president’s speech and only then starts eating

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

getting over a lost friendship, passing high school finals and uni entrance exams and coming out to my best friend

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

singing!! being able to learn how to do most things pretty quickly!!! and i cant think of anything else but honestly these two are quite enough for me

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

uh oh! guess what! i dont have a catchphrase and im very self-conscious about it!

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

im torn between sports anime and slice of life

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

because humans dont have wings we look for other ways to fly

from haikyuu

obviously

62. seven characters you relate to?

tsukishima kei from haikyuu

mae borowski from nitw

apollo justice from ace attorney

flame princess from adventure time

donatello from tmnt

sokka from atla

kageyama shigeo from mob psycho 100

63. five songs that would play in your club?

mr brightside, bohemian rhapsody, smile like you mean it by the killers and allof haikyuu ops and eds

64. favorite website from your childhood?

if social media counts, vkontakte i guess?? i didnt really go anywhere else and it still exists and i thriving so im not sure if it should count fkjsndkjf

65. any permanent scars?

yeah, the one from my very first vaccination from when i was a few months old i think and also some traces of when i had chickenpox

66. favorite flower(s)?

idk a lot of flower names but i really like tulips

67. good luck charms?

dont have any at the moment but i’d love to get one!

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

whatever fish mom used to buy when we were kids >:(

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

bro my memory isnt good enough to remember those,,

70. left or right handed?

im a righty but i had to become a lefty for like a month when i broke my pinkie

71. least favorite pattern?

i like traditional ukrainian ornaments

72. worst subject?

history :P

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

ice cream + fries

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

idk how pain levels work but i try not to take meds unless the pain is interfering with studying

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

idk but i had a box full of my teeth for so long they turned to dust and i had to throw it away

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

RHNGRHGNRHGRNH EVERYTHING except for freshly made mashed potatoes

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

if its green it can stay

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

have never had either of those and i hope i never will cause they sound gross!

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

i dont have a license, so.

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

kfjsndfks depends on the mood tbh!

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

fireflies!

82. pc or console?

i WISH i had a console but this is too broke for that,, i played a couple of times tho and it feels more fun than pc!

83. writing or drawing?

please dont make me choose, ive abandoned both and its making me feel bad

84. podcasts or talk radio?

podcasts :O

84. barbie or polly pocket?

idk what polly pocket is but barbie rules!!!

85. fairy tales or mythology?

i feel like sometimes fairy tales are kinda like watered down myths so i have a right to say i like both

86. cookies or cupcakes?

my heart goes to cookies

87. your greatest fear?

finding out im faking any part of my identity

88. your greatest wish?

get through whatever’s going on right now

89. who would you put before everyone else?

mom

90. luckiest mistake?

when i recorded an undertale medley and got a few notes wrong but it actually ended up sounding better than originally

91. boxes or bags?

boxes!

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

fairy lights……

93. nicknames?

never really had many? my bff calls me mr smith sometimes but thats all i can think of fkjsdnfs but also! steve used to be my nickname before i decided my life my own and i get to choose my name

94. favorite season?

spring ;w;

95. favorite app on your phone?

sudoku

 96. desktop background?

 97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

my own and my mom’s

 98. favorite historical era?

eh im not very fond of the past because not every time period had soap

#wl26 #wl26 answers #flamingerrs #jay just so you know i love you a whole lot #i really did that huh #long post