#harley: ye (just admiring her wife no thoughts)

[cookiescr]

This is what happens when you don’t listen to your wife and don’t wear smudge proof lipstick…

#harlivy #harley quinn #poison ivy #dc #gay #sapphic #art #artists on tumblr #doodle #drawing #my art #kuki #ivy: i told you so #harley: ye (just admiring her wife no thoughts)

[rowyn-writes]

Dying From a Broken Heart

Part Two of Confidence

Warnings: Violence, angst, language, arguing, blood, fluff

Pairings: Jack x Winchester!Reader

Characters: Jack Kline, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Rowena, Eros, Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: While you and Jack are at the motel, you make a shocking discovery. You're not dealing with a pack of werewolves like you thought, but Eros, God of Love and Lust. You finally figure out the connection between Eros and the victims. . . Only to find out that you're next.

You and Jack were still doing research when Sam and Dean came back. "Okay, so get this." You said, turning around in your chair. "Every year, six people go missing and are found dead with their hearts torn out."

"A ritual?" Sam inquired.

"Exactly what I was thinking, dear brother." You grinned. "Now, big city like this, six missing people is something you'd hardly notice."

"Yeah, but why would a werewolf preform a ritual?" Dean asked.

"That's what Jack and I kept asking ourselves." You said, looking over at your boyfriend. "Why in the world would a Purebred werewolf need to preform some kind of ritual?" You stood up, rummaging around in your backpack for a book. You gave a triumphant smile as you held up your Greek Mythology book.

"Eros. God of Love and Lust." You opened the book to the page that was dedicated to the god.

"But their hearts were torn out." Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "What would Eros want with hearts?"

"It's a sacrifice for him." You informed the men. "Think about it. None of the vics had bites or even scratches. At first, I thought it was a Purebred werewolf because the attacks didn't line up with the lunar cycle. But the more I thought about it, the more that this makes sense. People used to worship Eros and make sacrifices for him, but now hardly anyone believes in him anymore. So Eros goes out and gets his own sacrifices."

Sam and Dean seemed impressed while Jack seemed proud. "Okay." Dean nodded. "That means that since he failed with the last victim, he's going kill again."

You tried your hardest to think of some kind of connection with all the deceased. You knew there had to be something in common since they were dealing with a god. They seemed to be picky with their sacrifices.

"What are you thinking about, Y/n?" Jack asked, resting his hand on top of yours, something that didn't go unnoticed by your brothers. Dean was about to say something when Sam stomped on his foot, earning a grunt from Dean.

"I'm trying to find the connection between everyone. Because I know there has to be one." You picked at a tear in your jeans while you tried to connect the dots.

Then it hit you like a ton of bricks. You stood up abruptly, startling the men in the room. "I know what Eros looks in for a sacrifice." You stated, grabbing your notepad to look at the stuff you had written down. "Everyone we interviewed said the victims just had a big announcement. The 55 year old man was celebrating his 30th anniversary with his wife, the 28 year old woman was newly engaged, the 45 year old man just started dating again after his wife died, and so on until the fifteen year old girl. She had just gotten her first girlfriend when she was attacked."

"What are you saying, Y/n?" Jack questioned.

"I'm saying that Eros is targeting people with an immense amount of pure love. That's what he's looking for!"

"Wow." Sam said, looking at his little sister in admiration. "That's genius, Y/n." He patted her on the shoulder, only to furrow his eyebrows. "What's that on your collarbone?"

You gave Sam a confused look as you headed to the bathroom. There, on your collarbone was a dark red circle. You sucked in a sharp breath.

"I know who the next target is." You told the men.

"Who?" Jack seemed worried by the look on your face.

"It's me."

.

. .

. . .

"How did this even happen?!" Sam exclaimed.

"I don't know!" You defended yourself, your voice raised slightly. "The whole time we were out I was with you guys. Jack and I never left the motel room while you two were gone."

"That is true." Jack nodded. "Y/n and I stayed in here and she agreed to be my girlfri-"

You put your hand over his mouth. "Now's not the time, babe." You could feel Dean glaring a hole through you and Jack.

"Okay, let's think about this for a second." You said, trying to calm everyone down. "Maybe this is a good thing."

"A good thing?!" Dean roared. "Y/n, how in the hell is this a good thing?!"

"Dean." Sam hissed, cuffing his brother. "Calm down and let Y/n talk." You threw Sam a grateful look.

"This way we can lure Eros out, and kill him. Apparently all it takes is a wooden stake dipped in lambs blood."

"I don't like this plan." Jack muttered.

"See! Thank you." Dean said, clearly pleased with the Nephilim.

"Jack-"

"No, Y/n. You're not going to put yourself in danger just to kill this god. I won't allow it."

"Oh for the love of-" You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Eros is coming for me either way. It's better to be prepared and have a plan rather than to just sit here and let him tear my heart out!"

"Don't talk like that!" Jack insisted angrily. You understood that he was worried about you, but you were a grown woman and could make your own decisions.

"It's inevitable, Jack." You said softly. "Eros will come for me. We know from the victims that he kills them 24 hours after being marked. I have maybe 18 hours at best."

Dean was furious. "This is your fault!" He growled at Jack. "You're the reason my baby sister is being targeted!"

Jack looked taken aback. "I didn't want this for Y/n." He said sincerely. "If I could trade places with her, I would."

"That's the problem!"

"Dean-" You started, only to get interrupted by your oldest brother.

"You think you're in love with her, but you're not! It's unnatural. Nephilim, they can't fall in love. All those stupid movies that Y/n and Sam let you watch made you think you're in love with her. You can't love Y/n."

You felt your throat close up, hurt by Dean's words. "Is it that hard to think someone could love me?" You whispered.

Dean's hard glare softened as his eyes landed on you. "Of course not, sweetheart. But Jack. . . He's not right for you."

"Oh, and you know what's best for me?" You growled. Your hurt turned to annoyance and anger.

"Yes, I do. I'm your brother."

Sam and Jack gave each other looks. It was bad when Sam and Dean argued, but when you and Dean argued, it was catastrophic.

"And John was my dad, and he never knew what was best for me! That doesn't mean anything!"

"Oh, so family doesn't mean anything to you?"

"Dean, come on man, you know that's not what she meant." Sam tried to reason.

"Stay out of it, Sam!" Dean yelled.

You could tell Sam was growing annoyed with Dean. His frown deepened, his eyes hardened, and his hand began to twitch.

"No! I won't stay out of it. I am tired of you mistreating Jack and Y/n!"

"Oh, I do not mistreat them!" Dean argued. "Jack, do I mistreat you?" Jack seemed uncomfortable being put on the spot. You knew he looked up to Dean, but Dean had also said some rather hurtful things about Jack.

While Sam, Dean, and Jack continued their argument, you were able to slip away unnoticed.

You were crying now, the thought of dying scared the crap out of you. And your brothers and Jack arguing didn't help the situation.

You looked around the parking lot, looking for something to hotwire. You came across a black Harley Davidson Dyna Super Glide Sport. And the dumbass was stupid enough to leave the keys in the ignition.

You started the engine, listening to the bike purr. You threw back the kickstand and began driving. You didn't know where you were going, all you knew was that you had to get out of there.

You weren't stupid, of course, you had your gun and a silver dagger just in case.

You planted both of your feet on the ground at a stop light. You were still crying, and you couldn't figure out why. You were just so angry.

You ended up stopping at a small dive bar outside of Little Rock. There were a total of ten people there, and most were men.

You flag down the bartender and order a beer. Around twenty minutes later, a man slide in the seat beside you. He said nothing as he ordered a drink. The man seemed so familiar to you, but you couldn't put your finger on it. He had curly, dark brown hair, and beautiful blue-grey eyes. He was handsome in all aspects of the word. But he was nothing compared to Jack.

"I've never seen you here before." He said to you.

"Oh, I uh - I'm just passing through." You gave him a tight smile.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You grabbed it, looking down to see that Dean's as calling you. You sent him to voicemail, something that was bound to piss him off.

"Guy troubles?" The man inquired.

"More like brother troubles." You laughed. "I'm Y/n, by the way."

"Elliott." He smiled, showing off a gleaming row of white teeth. "So, what's going on with your brother?"

"Brother's, actually. They treat me like a baby, just because they're older than me."

"That's what brothers are supposed to do." Elliott shrugged. "They're supposed to look out for you, protect you." Your phone rang again, this time, it was Sam. You sent him to voicemail as well and put your phone on silent.

"Yeah, I guess." You agreed. "But -" You cut yourself off, not wanting to dump all your feeling onto this random stranger.

"But what?" He asked, curious to what your response was.

"There's this guy, this amazing, wonderful, sweet and funny guy. He cares about me, and I care about him, but my oldest brother, he thinks we shouldn't be with each other." You confessed, taking a sip of your beer.

"Is he respectful towards you?" You nodded. "He cares about you and treats you right?" You nodded once more. "Then what's the problem?"

"I don't know." You mumbled. "My brother just doesn't trust him, even though he has no reason not to."

"Call it a brother's intuition." Elliott grinned. You blinked as your vision began to blur. "Hey, you okay?" You let out a slurred response. "Let's get you some air." Elliott helped you out of your chair and outside. You felt the cold air nip at your cheeks, making you feel a thousand times better.

Your head began to spin, the world shifting around you. "I don't feel so well." You groaned. Your body went limp, and the last thing you felt was a pair of strong arms wrapping around you to keep you from falling.

.

. .

. . .

"Guys!" Jack yelled over Sam and Dean, trying to catch their attention. "GUYS!" Jack's eyes flared orange, finally getting Sam and Dean to stop arguing. "Where's Y/n?"

Sam and Dean looked around the room frantically. Jack looked into the bathroom and found nothing. "Damnit!" Dean growled. "How could she have left without us noticing?!"

"Well, you and Sam were rather angry, I think it was very easy for her to slip away." Dean glared at Jack.

"So help me God, if a single hair on her head is out of place, all hell will break loose, and it'll be on you." Sam sighed, shaking his head.

Dean dialed your phone number, looking apprehensive. "Y/n, I swear if you sent me to voicemail on purpose, I am going to kill you! Answer me, damnit!"

"Let me try." Sam mumbled. "Y/n, please call and let us know you're okay. We're worried."

"I can find her." Jack said hopefully. He closed his eyes, searching for any sign of you. He saw you sitting next to a guy in a bar, he saw the man put something in your drink, and he saw you pass out outside of the bar.

Jack grew angry. He knew what happened to you was wrong, he could feel you were in distress. "She's in trouble."

.

. .

. . .

"Wakey wakey, sunshine!" Elliott cheered as he threw water on your face. You gasped, bolting awake. You found that you were bound in a chair, the thick rope cutting into your skin. You looked around to see that you were in some kind of a abandoned building.

You were relieved to see that you still had on all your clothes. "I was worried for a second. I thought I might have given you too high of a dose for your body."

"You roofied me." You groaned.

"I did! But you have to understand, Y/n, I would have never gotten you out of there otherwise. You're one of the strongest sacrifices I've ever had."

"Eros." You said in realization.

"Ding ding ding! We have a winner!" Eros almost seemed happy by the situation. "You are going to be one of the best sacrifices I've had. A hunter with a strong heart full of compassion and pure love. The perfect candidate."

"Please," You whimpered. "Let me go."

Eros sucked in a breath, faking remorse. "You see, I wish I could. . . But I can't. I need you. Ever since the last sacrifice escaped, I've been looking for a new one. And then your brother's, boy wonder and you roll into town. I knew as soon as I saw you that you were perfect. Almost too perfect."

You felt a tear slip down your cheek. "Please. I don't want to die. I'm only 21, there's so much things I haven't done yet. Let me live." You pleaded.

"I was hoping you'd say that." Eros grinned, pulling up a chair in front of you, sitting with his chest on the back of the chair. "I was actually looking for a wife." He gave you a wicked grin that made you squirm in your seat. "I need an heir, or heiress, I don't discriminate. I just want someone to pass my powers off to, to teach. So, I can let you live if you agree to be my wife."

"Rot in hell." You spat, disgusted by the thought of marrying Eros. He grew annoyed, as he punched you, your head snapping back.

"That's too bad." Eros shook his head. "But, at least I'll get to enjoy killing you."

You watched in horror as Eros' fingernails grew into sharp, claw-like hands, almost like a werewolves. You screamed in pain as he drew his finger over your face. "Shh, shh, love. It's gonna be okay." You gave out a small cry, struggling against the ropes.

"The more you struggle, the more it's going to hurt." Eros said in a singsong voice.

You began whispering apologies in your head, to Sam, Dean, Jack, Cas, Rowena, everyone. There were so many unfinished words, so many unsaid 'I love you's,'

"I'm sorry." You whispered. You screamed out once more as Eros dug his nails into your chest.

"Y/N!" You heard Dean yell. Sam, Dean and Jack appeared from behind a crate, your brothers carrying guns, and we'll, Jack himself was a weapon.

"Ah, ah, ah." Eros grinned wickedly. "I am holding her life in the palm of my hand; literally. So put down those shiny guns, and step away from them." Sam and Dean looked at each other. Eros scowled as he dug his nails deeper into your skin. You cried out in pain, feeling his nails getting closer to your heart.

"Alright! Alright!" Sam said hastily, setting down his gun and stepping away, encouraging Dean to do the same.

You were quite the sight for the men. You had blood coating your clothes, a bruised eye from the blows that Eros landed earlier, your hair was a mess and you face was streaked with tears.

"Get away from her!" Jack bellowed.

"Oh, look, it's your lover boy." Jack's words only made Eros angrier, as he retracted his hand, and swiped his claws over your face, creating four long gashes.

"I said get away from her!" Jack's eyes began to glow orange, and he trembled with anger. Eros looked frightened as he was sent flying back into the wall.

Sam and Dean surged forward, both carrying a wooden stake dipped in lambs blood, while Jack went to help you.

"It's okay," He whispered. "I've got you." You gave out a small whimper as he cut the ropes. "Can you stand?" You tried to stand up with the help of Jack, but your knees buckled beneath you. Jack scooped you up in his arms. You buried your head in his chest, turning away from you brothers, who were currently killing Eros.

"Take me home." You mumbled before darkness enveloped you.

.

. .

. . .

When you awoke, you were in your bed at the bunker, surrounded by Cas, Sam, Dean, Jack and Rowena.

"Y/n." Dean breathed a breath of relief as he hugged you. You winced in pain, your body still sore from you attack. "I am so sorry. I never should have said those things to you. I'm so glad you're okay."

"It's okay, Dean." You assured him. Even though you said you were fine, there was still pain swimming in his eyes.

"We couldn't heal your wounds with magic," Rowena informed you. "Since Eros was the one to injure you, it will have to heal naturally. I did make you some herbs that will stop the pain, however."

"Thanks, Rowena." You smiled. The room began emptying out, everyone wanted to let you rest. Jack, however, didn't leave your side.

"I'm sorry, Y/n." He whispered.

"Why are you sorry?" You asked, squeezing his hand.

"I let you get hurt. I should have gotten there sooner." You saw there were tears in his eyes. You frowned as you scooted over.

"Come lie beside me." Jack hesitantly climbed into the bed, pushing aside the covers. You wrapped your arms around his middle and rested your head on his chest. "You got me out of there when you did. I'm okay, and that's all that matters."

"But-"

You cut Jack off with a kiss. "I don't want to talk about it anymore." You mumbled, cupping his cheek. "I just want you to hold me."

"I can do that." Jack nodded, pulling you closer to his body. You decided to put on a movie as you and Jack cuddled. Halfway through the movie, you ended up falling asleep. Jack didn't sleep that often, but he felt so at peace that he fell asleep as well.

When everyone came to check on you again, their hearts melted at the sight of you and Jack. "Oh, just look at them." Rowena whispered to the men. "They're so cute."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "They are."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Tag List: @mila-dans @blairrrose

#jack kline x winchester!reader #jack kline x reader #jack kline imagine #jack kline x y/n #jack kline #winchester!reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester imagine #sam winchester imagine #dean winchester little sister #sam winchester little sister #rowena mcleod #rowena #castiel #castiel imagine #supernatural fluff #supernatural imagine #supernatural x reader #supernatural

[randomfandomimagine]

Always Welcome (Luna Lovegood x Reader)

Character: Luna Lovegood, Xenophilius Lovegood

Fandom: Harry Potter

Tags: Fluff, Christmas

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,2k words

Requested by anon: Since it's the last moment to request a ficlet... Could you please write a ficlet with Luna Lovegood (HP) who invites her friend (preferably a female!reader, also a member of Ravenclaw) to spend Christmas together at her home, which they accept, and then one day during Christmas break when the reader asks why they were even invited, Luna confesses they are pretty much the only person in Hogwarts she cares about and wanted to have them close during this time? Thanks in advance! 

A/N: Sorry that this took me so long to post, but thanks for being so patient and lovely! Although it’s well past Christmas, I hope you enjoy!!

Luna Lovegood x Gender Neutral Reader

_

You didn’t know why you were so nervous. Maybe because you wanted Luna’s dad to like you as much as she seemed to do. Maybe it was simply because it was the first time you met a friend’s parent or even spent a part of Christmas away from home. Nonetheless, you knew you were excited despite your mild anxiety.

Luna, leading the way in front of you as she cheerfully skipped through the fields, was oblivious to all these thoughts. She was over the moon to have you there with her on such a special day.

When she stopped before the door of a strangely shaped house that could only be inhabited by wizards, Luna turned to you. You admired the construction, feeling your love for magic grow even further. It was one of the main reasons why you were so close with Luna. Not only was she unique, genuine and lovely, she was also purely magical.

��There’s no need to be nervous” She said with her soft voice, causing you to look at her. “Surely, he may think you’re a bit odd as I do, but that’s okay”

You chuckled, taken aback by such statement. Whether deliberate or not, it had managed to ease your anxiety a bit. It was ironic seeing as everyone in Hogwarts thought Luna Lovegood was a bit odd herself. With time, however, you had realized that it wasn’t a bad thing. It was a wonderful thing in fact.

“Thanks, Luna” You nodded your head, appreciating her honesty as always.

She paused for a moment to dedicate you a sweet smile that calmed you even further. Then she reached out to take your hand and drag you with her.

“Come on, there is nothing to worry about” Luna knocked on the door to warn her father of your presence. “I told him so much about you that he feels as though he already knows you. That way you won’t have to dread talking about yourself”

You smiled, appreciating the thought. It was definitely embarrassing to go on and on about yourself on such a superficial level, especially with someone you didn’t know. Realizing this, Luna had done all she could to avoid it. In fact, she had also told you a bit about her father. You knew that Xenophilius Lovegood was the main person behind the magazine The Quibbler, that he had lost his wife many years ago, and that he was definitely very much like Luna. As soon as the door opened, you could tell she was her father’s daughter.

“Hello, my dear Y/N” Xenophilius received you warmly. “It is so great to finally meet you! My Luna can’t stop talking about you”

When you glanced at her, she was smiling still.

“Thank you, sir” You shook his hand, trying to be as polite as possible. “And thank you for having me in your lovely home”

“Oh, no need for formalities: you can call me Xenophilius” He effusively patted your hand before letting go of it. “If you can pronounce my name, that is”

Surprised by his little joke, you laughed. Although she had told you her dad wasn’t the joking type, you assumed that was an attempt to relief the tension as well as to address he appreciated the effort you were making to adapt to the wizard traditions.

When you came in, you saw the small house filled to the brim with muggle decorations and themes that made you feel at home. Surely, you had spent one or two Christmas at Hogwarts, but you hadn’t actively participated in much of the traditions, a part of you wanting to spend a muggle Christmas with your family. The other part of you, that begged to be immersed in the literal magic, was internally screaming in joy.

Although there was a normal Christmas three, non-magical mistletoe and lots of ordinary decorations, there were also magical details sprung out around the house. The mixture felt like a combination of yours and Luna’s personalities, and so you reached out to squeeze her hand as a thank you for such a warm welcome.

“Come on in” Xenophilius invited you into the house, stepping to the side to make room for you.

The inside of the Lovegood home was like the definition of magical. You had seen the Weasley’s Burrow and was fascinated by it, but this… it had a special charm, unique and quirky like Luna. And it was lovely. Somehow, you felt right at home.

“Make yourself at home” Xenophilius said, as though he had just read your mind. “After all, you’re always welcome here”

You quickly turned to him, taken aback by his words. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, now busy with serving the plates and setting them over the table. Apparently, they had been waiting for you to eat. Moved by his nonchalant invitation, you peered at Luna. Just then, she was staring back at you. When your gazes met, she grinned and motioned for you to follow her with a nod of her head.

You both sat at the table, and you opened your mouth to offer to help, but ultimately decided against it. Luna had already warned you, reminding you that you were their guest and you wouldn’t move a muscle. Deeply endeared by their thoughtful attentions, you just sat there and smiled to yourself.

_

It didn’t take long to get used to the Lovegood residence. It was a cozy place, hosted by attentive people that made everything in their power to make you feel comfortable. Xenophilius Lovegood was charming, with all his eccentricities that Luna had clearly inherited from him. The company was flawless and the conversation was interesting. You learned quite a lot about magical creatures that you had never even heard of, but that were the most curious ones in your opinion.

Luna insisted on taking a walk around as soon as you finished eating, assuring that nargles could take the opportunity that you were vulnerable and full to get in your ears and make your brain go fuzzy. It seemed to be better to keep moving, and you didn’t mind taking a walk with Luna. It reminded you of the times you would wander around the castle at Hogwarts with her, talking about anything and everything.

When you turned to her, you saw Luna was dreamily looking up at the sky, admiring the darkish shade of blue that was taking over it as night slowly fell. You smiled at the sight.

“Is there something on your mind?” She suddenly asked, clearly noticing you.

“Yes… Luna, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course” She cheerfully replied, turning to you as well. “Curiosity is a virtue”

You suddenly felt lucky to have been sorted into Ravenclaw, otherwise you might have never become friends with her.

“Why did you invite me here?”

“Well, because I like you” Luna simply shrugged. “And… because I wanted to be around you during this time”

“Thanks” As a gesture of your gratitude and affection, you reached out to take her hand. “I really appreciate that”

“As my dad said, you’re always welcome at our home” Luna didn’t only let you hold her hand, she intertwined her fingers with yours.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn​ / @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ / @dancewaterdance02​  / @thisismysecrethappyplace​ / @bitchingpretty​ / @lookinsidemyhead​ / @c-taylor-wanna-be-a-glader​ / @welcome-here-in-my-world​ / @x-joie-x​ / @under-the-clouds​ / @legallyblindgamer727​ / @lotsoffandomrecs​ / @goldenhoney-cas​ / @bravelittlesunflower​ / @lxncelot​ / @fortheloveofbenyandtom​ / @suenami3​ / @ta-ka-shi-ma​​ // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! // Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

#luna lovegood #luna lovegood x reader #harry potter #rfi writings #ficlet #luna lovegood ficlet #harry potter ficlet #hp #hp ficlet #reader insert #requested #christmas

[dercolaris]

Maybe

Quite a long story compared to my other stuff. Round about 8800 words. Uff. Beside that I don't really want to say much about it - just read it. The main characters are Selina and Jonathan, but you should get an idea yourself of ​​the relationship between them in the story.

Thanks for double-checking the story, @shin-arei!

Have fun!

The black-haired woman stretched herself extensively in the cool air and gave a small moan when she finally stood on the roof of the old museum building. Gotham lay sleepy under a thin layer of snow, the few flickering lanterns cast lulling light on the deserted, extremely dark streets. It was a breathtaking sight. One of few that Selina Kyle would never get enough of. She closed her eyes and listened into the sleeping heart of her home city. This silence in the night was so unusually beautiful. Her lungs took a deep breath before looking for a way to quietly exit the roof. Selina grabbed her leather whip, let it hiss at a nearby billboard, and shimmy around the trusty tool on a neighbouring balcony. After landing safely, her gaze fell on the worn leather material in her hands. The years in Gotham didn’t leave one without a trace - neither objects nor people. Catwoman sank into a thick web of thoughts for a brief moment. Yes, the time had changed the hard underground life even more in the last months. How much Selina wished for the simple days of her youth, when it was enough to just care for food and shelter everyday. A time in which there was no crazy Joker, who murdered people at random and also no Penguin who had subverted all organizations, whether state or private, and thus in fact became the mayor of the city. Rival families with Mafia-like structures offered more leeway than a single ruler of the streets. At that moment Selina rebuked herself and pushed her googles onto her forehead. It wasn't as if it wasn't already difficult to survive in Gotham then, just the number of crazy people had increased dramatically in recent years. The thief shook her head slightly and turned to face the fire escape. She slid down elegantly, landing safely on the floor like a cat. Her whip found its way back into the holder on the belt. A loud roar of sirens darted past the dark alley towards the central bank. The black-haired woman watched the common spectacle with a smile, counted the fifteen police cars in total and looked up at the sky. As if on command, the light signal appeared in the shape of a bat in the grey, milky clouds above her. Selina couldn't help but chuckle slightly. She breathed a kiss on her hand and whispered softly: "Good luck hunting down the bad guys, my Dark Knight."

There were always rumours that she was very close to Batman, actually to the point that some rogues strongly believed they would share a bed at night and having a strange romantic love affair. That wasn't entirely true, even if Catwoman couldn't deny the millionaire's aura. Still, Gotham's self-proclaimed playboy wasn't interesting enough for her. Bruce simply wasn't a challenge. Peace, joy and rainbows was certainly nice every now and then, but the black-haired woman would never get used to the perfect wife and mother role. This thought clashed like a train without brakes into the otherwise homogeneous image of a possible permanent partnership. When the sirens had died down in the distance, the thief ventured out of the dark alley. Her break-in had gone unnoticed so far, and since the law enforcement officials were demonstrably busy with more important things, she would get away with no chase tonight. How boring. Selina walked in the opposite direction of the central bank, trying to get to the next street corner as quickly as possible. Her bag with the change of clothes was hidden in the ladies' room at the dingy Jack's Coffee fast food place. With luck, no one had suspected anything. Catwoman immediately smirked at her unfounded paranoia. It was known that women usually avoided the dirty take-away restaurant and there were practically no women on the streets of the city during the night time hours anyway. If her clothes were safe somewhere it was in the shabby loo at Jack's. A little shiver ran down the thief's back. This calmness was deceptive. Deceptive and at the same time absolutely beautiful. The snow fell slowly from the sky like a white veil. Catwoman did a little pirouette, chuckled happily and sucked the pure, icy air deep into her lungs. During the day a wild pack of stressed people raged across the paths, but now the roads belonged only to her. Like a proud cat in the night.

The black-haired woman passed some unknown shops with even more unknown names and stopped in front of a pane of glass. The cold steamed up the filthy window, but behind it her eyes caught some very old-fashioned clothes. Washed out shirts, dusty ties, turtle necks in stray colours. Her eyes slid to the name of the shop. "To the old tailor," her lips mumbled softly, followed by an ironic-sounding snort, “hmpf, very suitable, don't you think?" The thief continued on her way, turned left at the street corner and reached the filthy snack bar. When she pushed open the double door, the stench of alcohol, cheap perfume and sweet cigar smoke came towards her. Selina turned away, suppressing her cough. Only when her nose got used to the smells did she dare to enter. The guests' eyes were fixed on her. A bunch of older, failed men who spent their retirement years drinking their brains away. Catwoman felt no pity for these existences. The black-haired woman had known most of them since her messed up childhood and there was no one there who did not deserve to sit here at this filthy bar in one way or another. With this ulterior motive, she walked steadfastly through the rows of tables and passed the door to the women's toilets. The swirling light from the white neon tube completed a picture of pure disgust. The two washbasins lay in ruins on the smeared floor tiles, three of the four toilet doors had been torn from their hinges and the brownish green broth that rose from the bowls suggested that cleaning, or rather maintenance, had been on the to-do list for several years. The thief pushed open the remaining door with a shiver and locked it behind her. She wasn't particularly demanding when it came to her short-term hideaway, but she had a certain standard to consider this environment as totally unworthy.

The next opportunity to store her belongings would have been in Ivy's small apartment, but that shouldn't been possible for the next hundred years. A silly dispute between them had escalated to such an extent that, in blind anger at the stubborn botanist, she had turned one of her priceless new plants into compost. It was only through persuasion from Harley that she had gotten away with her life again. Selina sighed softly and pulled the tight leather suit from her body. The black-haired woman was infinitely grateful to the lively woman for her constant attempts to mediate between the botanist and her. Even with all nine cat lives, she would probably be dead without Harley by now. She and Ivy had a love-hate relationship that alternated between the two extremes. If they loved each other, no words were needed to understand what the other wanted. If they hated each other, the thief felt to stand in front of an overpowering praying mantis which was damn hungry and would like to eat her in one piece. She secretly admired Harley for the way she knew how to curb her girlfriend's temper. A life with Poison Ivy was just as dangerous as a relationship with a deranged clown. When Selina was finally in her dark jeans, greyish hoodie and black winter jacket, the pent-up tension of the evening fell literally away from her. Her leather outfit disappeared into the backpack, followed by her googles, gloves and, of course, her stolen goods. A quick glance at the smartphone immediately made her smile. “Selina, I know you broke into the National Museum tonight. Be glad Scarface is keeping all the police and me busy. Bring the stolen items to police headquarters by tomorrow night and we'll forget about the whole thing – Bruce.” She chuckled softly and slipped the cell phone into her pocket. The never ending game of cat and mouse with Batman made stealing so attractive and exciting.

She shouldered her backpack, opened the lock on the toilet and left the place of horror with quick steps. As the black-haired woman slipped through the snack bar, the waitress at the counter pulled loudly accumulated secretions up her nose, only to spit it out in a bucket next to the deep fryer. Stifling an emerging nausea, Catwoman pushed open the double doors with bated breath. The cool, fresh air felt like relief. A few liberating breaths later, Selina looked up again at the cloudy sky. It was still snowing incessantly. For a brief moment the thief thought about returning to her old apartment, but decided against it and turned towards the docks. The footprints were quickly covered with new snow. Her eyes examined the streets that slowly disappeared under the white ceiling. Far from the main road, civilization seemed to have come to a complete standstill. A few lights were still burning in the small windows of the skyscrapers, but the number was dwindling and the amount of functioning lanterns decreased with every new bend in the remote corners of Gotham. Selina stopped suddenly. She looked into the empty streets of the city and began to wonder whether her decision to go to him was the right one. After the violent argument with Ivy, the thief had actually sworn not to enter into a relationship, whether as a partner or purely for business. So how did it come that the black-haired woman got in touch with a permanent resident of Arkham Asylum, who was at least as ruthless and destructive as the infamous Joker himself? Her thoughts were wandering again to the night five weeks ago in the sewer system, when she tried to sneak into the town hall unnoticed. It was her plan to put a little warning on the mayor's desk. The good, old man was corrupt, but threats could put him back on the right track easily. At least a threatened disclosure of his involvement in several child trafficking cases often had the desired effect. That evening, however, something went terribly wrong. Selina had basically never had anything to do with Waylon Jones alias Killer Croc before, which the thief almost made for the mutated monster's dinner that night...

She waded slowly through the filthy waist-high water of the half-tubes. The constant dripping in the seemingly endless corridors of the sewer system made her shudder. entering buildings like this was by no means her style, but in turbulent times it was necessary to cover uncomfortable journeys. The ends justified the means. Catwoman grabbed one of the wooden beams on the barricade in front of her and jumped with a little swing onto the dry wooden panel on the other side. The bars on the apparent exits completed a gloomy picture that could create claustrophobic feelings in stray souls. Anyone who was not familiar with the constantly winding corridors was doomed to certain death. Selina sighed softly and looked at her GPS device. The town hall was not far away. Hopefully. The thief stretched a little when she suddenly heard a distant growl. Her head tilted to one side, her body tensed. She listened closely into the corridors, but could not make out any source of noise through the high ceilings and elongated halls. She had known from the beginning that she was not alone in these tubes. There were many homeless people who scolded these aisles of their home. Still, the sound had certainly not been human. Selina took a deep breath and dismissed it as a kind of imagination. The mind could play bad tricks on you if it was under-challenged by insufficient stimuli. Unfortunately, the bare, grey walls offered little to no change. Nevertheless, the black-haired woman got a queasy feeling. An uncomfortably oppressive feeling that she couldn't judge. More worried than she wanted to admit, Catwoman decided to reach her destination as quickly as possible and to choose a different route for the way back. She slipped across the planks with skilful steps.

After a good six hundred meters, the growl reached her ears again, followed by a faint bubbling. This time, however, the sounds were much closer than before. She paused and turned on her own axis. Selina tried hard to make out the source, her eyes sliding hastily into the six corridors that branched off from her position. Disorientation. These pipes were not her territory and there was something in this stinking water that most likely moved here every day, if not lived here. At that moment the thief had frozen into a pillar of salt. She was unsure how to proceed now. A slight tremor under her feet made the decision for her. The shock grew stronger and with a glance to the right, Catwoman recognized the lizard-like scales that snaked towards her with unimaginable speed. Her eyes widened even more. Only a second later did she sprint towards the nearest platform and hit her claws in the crumbling concrete to bridge the too great distance. Behind her, the wood was cut into thousands of small pieces. Selina landed on a swaying plank and tried to control her breath. The bubbling got louder again. The body in the water was directly on its way to her again after realizing that there was no one on the last platform. The black-haired woman looked at her gloves and jumped sideways against the concrete wall in time, when the terrible sound of wood bursting through the hallways again echoed. Her claws dug deep into the grey wall. "Ah, little kitten, come down to play!" The booming, deep voice below made her shudder. A reptile rose from the water, there was no other way to describe this creature. The red eyes sparkled menacingly, the nostrils snorted powerfully. It growled, laughing out loud, and spat amused: “Don't make it so difficult for yourself, dinner! Your death will be quick if you come down now, I promise!” The creature slowly built itself up to its full size and suddenly Catwoman was aware that this thing could grab her directly from the wall with one movement. She jumped a few inches higher and began to flee forward.

“You silly humans are all the same!”, thundered the crocodile before it hurried unexpectedly fast after her. Selina tried hard to get a head start on the creature, but the concrete was not a preferred material for moving quickly. Too daring a jump made this fact clear to her. With too much swing, her claws hit the ceiling on her left foot and she completely lost her footing. The porous mixture crumbled into the dirty water with a splash. The thief was holding on to the ceiling, looking for a firmer place for her foot. The creature below seemed to be watching her with pure amusement. As if to confirm, it laughed deeply and growled happily: “I sense your fear, kitten. Just keep it up, yeah? I like to chase my dinner!” Inferior. At that moment, Selina felt inferior to her enemy. A feeling she hated profoundly. She clenched her teeth and looked ahead. Nobody was superior to her! A narrowing, possibly for a previously planned ventilation shaft, was a good four hundred meters in front of her in the wall. This thing would certainly not fit into it. The black-haired woman took a few deep breaths and planned her route with practised eye. Targeted steps and jumps. One after another. Selina let out a low scream and crawled towards the opening with a few jumps. The water under her splashed up to the ceiling. She breathed quickly. It would be a very close call, but the thief had a slight head start. The creature struck her with its paw, caught her lightly on the thigh, but then fell sideways into the water. A sharp pain pierced her body, but she couldn't give in now. Taking advantage of the monster's slip, Catwoman hurried into the opening and fell backward onto the slippery concrete floor. She slid a few meters back into the corridor. Just in time when the scaly claw reached into the narrowing, searching for its prey. The claw scratched the floor a few times, but then pulled back. The crocodile's ugly face appeared, the red eyes glowing with lust for murder. It hissed softly: “Don't feel too safe, pussy cat. You are in my territory now!” A loud splash told her that the thing must have retreated back into the water. She then dropped her head on the floor and groaned in pain.

A look at the thigh revealed a superficial but heavily bleeding scratch wound. Selina swallowed hard, sat up a little and reached into her belt pouch at the hip. Her shaky fingers found the bandages. After a few attempts, the black-haired woman managed to apply a pressure bandage on the injury. The thief tried to calm her breath and clenched her teeth tightly. She had just closed her eyes for a second when the low growl came from very close behind her. In shock, Catwoman turned her gaze backwards, only to stare into the grinning face of the monster - a few inches in front of her. The narrowing was just a small passage to another tunnel system! Selina tried to flee, but the inhumanly strong paw closed like a vice around her torso and gradually choked her breath. The thing laughed triumphantly: “I have you now, small kitten! Surprise, surprise. Who would have thought? And now I'll break every single bone of you before I eat you whole! Any last words, pussy cat?” The crocodile slowly pulled her out of the shaft, unimpressed by her attempts to cling to the firmament with her claws. Selina lost her last grip and screamed out loud as she fell backwards into the dirty water. “No, it can't end like this!”, she thought with fear. Her body gasped for air, the disorientation in the water made her almost panic. The thief finally penetrated the surface of the water with her head and found herself facing the ugly monster. Suddenly her body was indescribably cold. "Your fear smells so good, kitten!", purred the monster contentedly, licking its pointy teeth. It continued to hold her in the tightening grip. Selina thought she was already hearing the breaking of her ribs when the monster suddenly stopped. The nostrils quivered, apparently sensing something new in the area. A quiet male voice confirmed the crocodile's suspicion: “Waylon Jones, where are your manners? Didn't the therapy in Arkham do anything for you?” The creature wanted to turn around at the voice, when a sharp scythe pierced his shoulder. The monster spat a loud, deep scream and loosened its grip on Catwoman. The blade twisted a few times in the solid flesh until the creature let go of its victim and plunged back into the water. It was visibly withdrawn, a trail of blood in the dirty broth followed his retreat. The ugly face appeared once again briefly, snorted angrily under pain: "You will regret that, Doc!" Then it was gone.

Selina was breathing a little quieter than before, briefly closed her eyes before turning to the man behind her. The thief suddenly turned pale. She recognized the figure with the gas mask, the hemp rope around his neck and the worn, dirty clothes. Scarecrow. The silence fell between them. Apart from the dripping of the water and the occasional puff of breath from the filters of the gas mask, nothing could be heard. Only after a few seconds did the man grasp the hem of the mask in order to pull it from his face in one flowing movement. He attached it to his burlap sack, walked slowly over to Catwoman and put his arms around her torso. Selina reacted instinctively. She scratched his thin arm once with her claws and hissed. A hand went tight around her throat, the needles on the gloves hovering only millimetres above her skin. His suddenly melodious voice laughed harshly: "Do that again and I'll throw you back to Croc! Or no, no, no, no. I just skin you, little kitten, and sell your fur to the highest bidder. Or just keep it to me and sew a mask from this rare material! " He gave a hysterical laugh when a sudden jerk shot through his body. The expression in the man's eyes had suddenly changed, the laughter had abruptly stopped. "I or rather we try to help you, Catwoman, even if Scarecrow might not have given you that impression." Selina looked at him in shock, which prompted him to continue calmly: "Now listen carefully to me, Miss Kyle. Waylon will not take long to come back, his flesh heals by itself after all. He is not a... ", the man paused briefly, thought a second about his next words and then continued," ... man, that licks his wounds and leaving such incidents without retaliation. We have to get out of here. Immediately. What you do afterwards is up to you, but we're in serious danger right now.” The thief held her sore thigh and gasped softly. The alarm bells were ringing louder than ever in her head. The man suddenly held out his hand to her, the blue eyes in the sunken eye sockets fixed on her. Selina swallowed chunks of a large lump in her throat and hesitantly took hold of the cold fingers of her counterpart. A miniature smile crept on the pale face of the former psychiatrist.

A small grin curled up in the corner of the thief's mouth. The doctor had taken care of the scratch wound, but kept his word after the treatment. The black-haired woman had been free to go. Following her nature as a cat, she went straight back to the heart of the city to resume her normal life. Selina looked down at the snow-covered street and stopped on one of the many manhole cover. Hot air came out of it, froze instantly in the cold. She would avoid the sewer system for the next thousand years. Selina smiled mischievously as she pressed some snow into the small holes in the lid with her feet. The scratch had healed pretty well in the meantime, but an uncomfortable drawing spread as soon as she came near the underground passages. A terrifying experience. It was only after the second visit to Jonathan that Selina really understood why he had helped her in the first place. The former doctor was known to be obsessed with fear, even if he could no longer feel fear himself. That is why he studied all the more the reactions triggered by fear in other living beings and that evening it was a unique field research for him. Without his assistance he could watch the thief in a moment of absolute panic, fear and despair. After this realization, Selina had given him a hurtful slap in the face. There was then five days of silence between them, until Jonathan broke the ice and apologized to her in a very awkward-sounding text message via SMS. The black-haired woman and Harley had been horribly amused at the fact that he was actually still using conventional methods like texting. The thief smiled happily when the memories of the evening with the Harlequin came up. At the same time, however, the question arose again, why she actually continued to visit the sinister doctor since the incident. The first time she had at least had the excuse of a follow-up examination. In the meantime, however, there have been five more meetings with the former psychiatrist, which admittedly had little to do with the incident. Harley's lively voice still echoed in her ears: “What is wrong about visiting John? You can just admit it, Kitty – you somehow like him."

She had, of course, vehemently denied this absurd claim. Jonathan? No thanks, never. She was maybe a bit desperate when it came to men, as none came close to her level, but it wasn't that bad. Inwardly, however, her mind often began to play the same game that she had with Bruce. "What speaks in favour of you liking him and what speaks against it?" "What are the advantages and disadvantages of getting involved with Scarecrow?" She admonished herself in such moments not to let it get that far to think about it . Anyway, Jonathan was too absorbed in his work. Selina hesitated and cursed inwardly. It could have been relative to the black-haired woman whether the smart doctor could find time for her in a probably toxic relationship. It just wasn't up for discussion – or was it? Selina pulled the hood a little lower over her face and crossed the street to the docks. The port area has been a fairground for the underground elite for ages. An image, that this district would probably never get rid of. She shivered heavily and her fingers found their way into the pockets of her winter jacket. It felt twice colder by the water. The wind swept around the little fishermen's houses with a hard hand, covering them with powdery snow. The thief only growled softly when another wind caught her and chilled her cheeks. With quick steps she looked for the twenty-fifth warehouse, which was much easier to find without a damn snowstorm. Now she was standing in front of this door again. An inconspicuous, somewhat sunken wooden door in the middle of nowhere, already attacked by the salt in the sea air. The cast iron handle had become brittle, the rust had eaten around the handle. The hinges were in no better condition. Selina bit her lower lip and made a fist with her right hand. What was she doing here again? "Visiting a friend," she muttered to herself, "you are visiting a friend." She knocked twice on the door. Footsteps, barely audible to other people, moved toward the entrance, followed by the click of a few locks. The door slid open slowly and two icy blue eyes looked at her first sceptically, but then almost relaxed.

As usual, Jonathan didn't say a word, just stepped aside to let his visitor in. Selina nodded to him with a smile, entered quickly without bothering to remove her shoes on the doormat. His hiding place was one of the cleanest of the rogues she knew, but still not particularly inviting and as long as he didn't complain, she would of course get her way. As expected of her, Jonathan said nothing about it this time either. He went to the table with a variety of liquors and looked at her expectantly. "A sherry, my dear." The thief sat down in one of the two comfortable, if somewhat antiquated, red armchairs. Visiting a friend? Visiting an accomplice? Visiting a partner? Selina smiled mysteriously and rested her chin on her hand. Maybe. Time passed incredibly quickly in Jonathan Crane's presence. Selina watched the man across from her carefully. There was a certain exhaustion in his eyes, the dark circles below them supported the assumption that he had not slept enough in the past few weeks. He leaned tiredly in the upholstery of the armchair, his head tucked back. His long fingers were cramped around the already empty whiskey glass. Jonathan had talked roughly about his work - an endless chain of complicated formulas and hypotheses on the subject of fear. The thief smiled and sipped her sherry. The professor of phobias dealt with fears. How very surprising. The black-haired woman began to wave the liquor in her hand when she whispered softly: "May I ask you a question, my dear?" Her razor-sharp, green eyes fixed him with a trace of curiosity. The curiosity of a cat. She didn't wait for an answer from him and added, smiling: “Why are you doing all this? All this effort, the constant trouble with the law and especially Batman. You are a seasoned man. Academics with distinction and over twenty years of practical experience. What is all this for, Jonathan? What makes an intelligent, distinguished man like you put his perfect, orderly life at risk?"

His slim body winced a little at the question. Selina could hear a low sigh. The older man ran a hand through his thin brown hair, but remained silent. Catwoman raised an eyebrow, finished the sherry with two more sips, and placed the glass on the massive side table. The seconds stretched out into minutes. The stinging of the alcohol in her throat was already ebbing when Jonathan turned his sunken face to her and said in an alarming calm voice: "I'm ready to answer, Miss Kyle, but only on the premise that we will play a game of Backgammon while we talk." A smile crept onto her lips as she slowly nodded. The former psychiatrist then pushed himself out of the chair with a groan and stepped into an adjoining room of his hiding place. Selina watched him go, almost amused. The thief quickly understood how to have a proper conversation with the initially strange doctor. Anyone who didn't know him could well suspect he was not interested in social interactions with other people. Alone the fact of his constant sifting through the counterparts brain could lead to this fallacy. Of course that wasn't true. Rather, Jonathan was concerned about a high-quality exchange of knowledge for which it required a conversation partner on an equal footing. Catwoman stretched with relish and purred softly. A pleasant scent of lavender played around her nose. The silence in the doctor's office was a welcome relief from the hustle and bustle in her apartment. Even if she loved every cat like her own child, every now and then Catwoman wanted a place just for herself. A place that offered an escape from the daily rush of the city. Selina rubbed her tense neck with her fingers. The black-haired woman knew she would never leave Gotham City. Even if the skyscrapers collapsed like a house of cards, there would be no reason to actually leave. Her lips formed a small smile. In Gotham she was born and in Gotham she would die. This city was her home and would be her graveyard, when her ninth life was gone.

The thief was torn from her thoughts when the doctor stepped back to the table with the board game. Catwoman had to get used to his quiet steps. Usually it was she who sneaked up on others. He put the board on the rough wood and opened the container for the stones. His long, bony fingers built up the basic position in a practised routine. During this activity, too, he did not say a word. Selina smiled, clasped her hands and followed his every move with her sharp, green eyes. Even with the simple construction of the game, Jonathan seemed careful. She bit her lower lip slightly. It was an act of total concentration, almost sublime, every pressure on the stones deliberately measured. In short: the epitome of the word control. Her eyes roamed leisurely over his relaxed-looking face. What a deceptive picture. Catwoman had already met his second, chaotic personality and no matter how relaxed the professor might seem now, the monster in him could in principle appear at any second. A wolf in sheep's clothing. His blue eyes suddenly looked directly into hers and he spoke calmly: "Would you like to begin this game, Miss Kyle?" His lean body took a seat in the red chair, his gaze still entwined with hers. The thief smiled and met his opals with her natural playfulness. She took the dice and let it dance skilfully through her fingers. "You're very special indeed, Jonathan Crane," she whispered softly and tilted her head to one side, running her free hand through her dark, silky hair. He snorted at the comment, leaned back a little further in the chair. Selina could almost hear the clockwork going crazy in his head. Did his mind ever rest? Probably not. The thief licked a little over her bottom lip, briefly looked disparagingly at the white dice before turning back to him: "We haven't even started to play and you already determine the rules of the game. And that's so latent that I almost didn't trip over this trap. Don't you think that's a little unfair, darling? ”A small smile crept onto Scarecrow's sunken face. A direct hit. Catwoman put a finger to her lips and nibbled lightly on the tip, then stroked the smooth top of the dice gently. She let it finally roll onto the board. While the cube was still looking for an end position, the thief whispered: “In Backgammon, the dice decide who starts. Surely you will be able to accept this small little loss of control, do you, my dear? ”A three crept into the corner of her eye as the dice came to a standstill. The black dots spoke a silent, almighty argument in the atmosphere. Selina continued to look him in the eye and patiently waited for his reaction.

After a few seconds the professor finally stirred. His leathery-looking fingers paused briefly over the dice, but then grabbed the sides and rolled it back and forth a few times with the tips of his fingers. Jonathan watched the numbers with a mysterious smile as he calmly replied: "Are you up for a little mind game, Miss Kyle? Who's in control if we play by the traditional rules of the game?” His fingers released the dice towards the board. Instead of following the geometric, rolling figure, he fixed on her green eyes again. He went on cautiously: “I've already worked through both scenarios with the offer to you in my head. Whether you have the preference or not is only marginally important to me any more at this moment. But how is it for you? Well, you have to wait until the die is cast - quite the opposite of what you could archive with agreeing with me. My generous offer would have provide a clear, unambiguous starting point and an opportunity to plan ahead. I didn't think you were so willing to take a risk, Miss Kyle, but of course I accept your decision.” Selina shuddered at his words. Once again she reminded herself that the elite of Arkham Asylum sat in front of her, even on both sides of the treatment room. The former psychiatrist was considered one of the most successful employees who had ever worked in the closed ward. A real expert on the treatment of anxiety disorders. After changing sides, he was now one of the few patients who were virtually resistant to all therapeutic approaches and who ensured regular exchanges of broken, frightened doctors. The dice had come to a rest in the meantime, but none of them dared to look down at the board. He didn't blink in direct eye contact with her and it felt like the icy blue buried a few centimetres deep in her head. Selina put her hand flat over the die, hiding the number. Finally she closed her opals and whispered muffled: "I'll start." An almost amused smile twitched in the corners of the mouth of the former psychiatrist. He then leaned back relaxed in the chair and merely nodded to her, a sign that she could begin. Selina bit her lower lip, inwardly cursed loudly at herself. The words had actually come out of her own mouth, but they felt incredibly strange in her mind. “Please don't blame yourself for this decision, Miss Kyle. After all, it wasn't yours from the very start."

Catwoman looked at the thin man, puzzled by his statement. He rested his chin on his right fist and spoke way too calmly: “I didn't give you a chance to determine yourself at this moment. And yes, I am happy to accept that it will worry you internally or even frighten you a little. Your fear of being inferior has one, pardon the pun, terrible attraction for me.” She remained silent at his remark, just looked down at the board. The thief frowned and ran her fingers over her chin. It was her turn. Selina lingered a few more seconds in her rigidity. This was more than just a simple game of Backgammon. This was a bitter fight of brains and this realization awakened the animal that had previously been slumbering in her. A game that suits her perfectly. The dice rolled on the velvety, dark green background of the playing field. Catwoman studied the initial situation and spoke softly: “What's so special about fear, Jonathan? Why the fascination with something you should actually run away from?” Her fingers set the first stones on their way to the goal. The first step was taken. Selina took a deep breath, leisurely sat up and stared into the gaunt man's eyes. Jonathan's lips were not more than a thin line on his pale face. The question seemed to preoccupy him. That gave her time to plan more moves. After what felt like an eternity, the former psychiatrist leaned forward a little, grabbed the dice and set it in motion. His fingers slowly brushed the rough wood of the edge of the field. “What's so special about fear,” repeated Jonathan dryly. He sighed barely audibly, paid only a fraction of his attention to the numbers and began to explain almost unemotionally: “Fear, Miss Kyle, drives us. Fear is the engine of our whole human existence. Do you remember the night in the sewers. What do you think gave you so much strength at that moment to master the long jumps and even ignore the horrible pain in your leg? Naturally adrenaline, the stress hormone, but let's take a step back here. Why or rather how did you signalize that a stressful situation needs to be dealt with? I have some suggestions for a possible answer here. How about the fear of being inferior or failing. Afraid to feel pain, even to be tormented by Waylon before he stops playing with his food and finally puts an end to your torture. Maybe also the fear of dying and being there alone without leaving a trace on earth. Fear is paramount here, Miss Kyle. That's why we're now sitting here and playing a game of Backgammon."

While he was explaining he had made his move, his thin hands were already resting in his lap again. He looked collected, calm, absolutely controlled. Yet the thief could feel that something was different in him as soon as they talked about fear. As cool as his voice might sound, there was something indefinable in his icy eyes. A deeply buried feeling that was looking for a way out of several turns in his calculating mind. Selina looked at his petrified face and the now cramped posture. Her thoughts slipped back to Scarecrow again. He was like a powder keg packed with broken glass and nails, ready to burst at any second. Jonathan rarely let his second personality get the better of him, but when the fuse burned the collateral damage was immense. A manifestation of overflowing feelings. The sinister desire in Scarecrow's twisted mind then oozed from the depths of his eye sockets like boiling, pitch-black tar and wetted the otherwise orderly world in indescribable chaos. In these moments he even competed with the Joker's destructiveness. The black-haired woman pulled away from his petrified face and looked down at the board. She was playing against Jonathan Crane now, not Scarecrow. A smile crawled onto her lips. As the dice rolled over the surface again, she could almost grasp the tension between them. Selina suppressed a laugh, tilted her head to the side to play with her dark hair and spoke mysteriously: “Let's not fool ourselves for a moment here, Jonathan. Where does your fascination for fear really comes from?” A faint clink made the thief startled. The former psychiatrist had put the bottle with the whiskey on the edge of his glass a little too quickly and poured himself a generous amount of the orange liquid. His thin fingers slowly turned the cap back on the bottle. The icy blue met her blazing green again.

He opened his mouth a little, paused in that position for a moment, before beginning to speak calmly: "There are things you shouldn't know, Miss Kyle. Everyone has inner demons, which they are better to carry to their graves. So I don't allow myself to answer your question for the moment and hope you're willing to accept my decision.” Catwoman gave a muffled laugh at this answer. She could hear him snorting softly, followed by the soft crumpling of the chair in which he was shifting restlessly back and forth. The speed of his reaction alone was a clear sign for Catwoman that she had scratched a sore spot on the former psychiatrist. The thief played with the round token, placed it on her chin and kept tapping her skin lightly while thinking. Was it risky to continue digging at this point with her claws? To tear open the wound further and to feel in the warm, pulsating flesh until it hit the root of all evil in his mind? The black-haired woman couldn't hide a smile any longer as she placed the stone eight squares down on the field. Today was probably not the right time for it. "We all have our little, dirty secrets, my dear”, said Catwoman as she leaned back, her fingers slowly intertwined, "and if you don't want to share yours, I'll have to live with it for better or for worse." She put one of her legs over the other, grabbed her knee in both hands and look playfully into his eyes. The thief could almost hear his heavy swallowing. The Adam's apple moved all too clearly on his throat. His fingernails kept tapping the glass briefly. Jonathan took a deep breath, took a small sip of the whiskey and began to reply: “There are some secrets that people can keep together, of course. Such secrets that can even lead to feeling closer to the person. Such as your knowledge of the Dark Knight's real identity. Of course, this requires a high level of trust between the persons.” He paid his attention to the game for a moment, set the dice in motion and put his glass on the side table.

The wind whistled through a few leaks in the window seals. Selina briefly watched the snow drifting through the fogged windows when she turned back to the professor: "Can we please leave Batman out of our conversation. It's enough for me that Harley and Pamela keep asking about his identity.” A low laugh made her puzzled. Jonathan hadn't even laughed once since she'd met him. All the more surprised was the amused expression in his opals, followed by the barely noticeable smile on his rough lips. He pushed his round glasses up his nose a little and spoke coolly: “Please don't think I'm so naive, Miss Kyle. If I had wanted to get his name out of you, I would have used different methods from the start. No, it's a good thing that I don't know anything about the Bat other than its dark form.” The former psychiatrist fiddled with the drawer of the table next to him and pulled out a small cedar box. The clasp opened with a click. He pulled out a grenadilla cigarette holder and a pack of Davidoff cigarettes. Jonathan fished one of the coffin nails from the container, put it on the holder and lit it with a match. After a long drag on the cigarette, the professor let himself slide a little deeper into the chair and pushed the smoke out of the side of his mouth. She had given him permission to smoke in her presence as long as he tried to keep the fumes away from her. Without further ado, his fingers set two pieces in motion one after the other. During his turn he spoke in an almost neutral tone: “I have not forgotten your introductory question, Miss Kyle. The motives a person has to move from thinking to action are complex, but my background was and is scientifical research. In a world like ours, in which clever minds are slowed down by laws and some unworthy creatures are given a right to life that they would otherwise not be entitled to, it is inevitable to turn against the natural order in personal development. Whether I like this fact or not is not up for debate any more."

Selina shook her head a little and rethought about this explanation twice in her head. Before she could reply, Jonathan anticipated her with a question: “You know that I live according to the quid pro quo principle when it comes to contact with other people. So allow me to ask what exactly drives you to your actions, Miss Kyle?” He took another deep drag on the coffin nail and let the ashes fall into the designated ashtray on the table. The thief gave a small smile. This question was probably unavoidable. She took the dice securely in her hand, weighed it around a bit and after a few seconds of reflection replied drily: "I think a wild mixture of many factors." Her fingers released the cube and looked for her glass. The sherry stung in her throat. Selina licked her bottom lip and continued softly: “For one thing, I want to survive in Gotham and let's be honest: stealing is a very lucrative business. What I steal together in one evening, others don't even earn in the whole year. On the other hand, I can also do something good for the people of the lower classes. I've lived on the street myself long enough and know how rough times have become. Sharing the money or food with them makes me feel good.” She felt his eyes carefully watching her speak. He seemed to perceive every word and analyse it deeply. The former psychiatrist put the cigarette holder down on the ashtray, took his glass and slowly swirled the whiskey in the dim light. He looked lost in thought into the liquid. "We both move on a very narrow line, Miss Kyle", said Jonathan when he looked slowly up. "I admit that our moral concepts may differ, but both lead us to turning against the law or staying in its grey areas."

Catwoman clicked her tongue irritated. The black-haired woman put her head sideways in her hand and kept eye contact with the doctor. Moral. A word that was barely worth a penny in Gotham as it seemed to her. The thief was all the more astonished at the use of the word from the mouth of a reckless rogue, who was considered extremely unscrupulous and who had probably not missed any atrocity in his long underground career. She wrapped her black hair around her index finger when she replied calmly: “What moral concept, my dear? Don't get me wrong, but the past few months you haven't exactly covered yourself with fame. Many have scruples about working with Joker, but it doesn't seem to be a huge problem for you. You actually let yourself be bought by the entire underground and work for the side that can currently pay the most money. Where's the morale there, Jonathan?” The wind briefly took hold of the fire in the fireplace. The flames hit the air wildly. It was to be seen who would get burned in this fight. Selina got up from the chair and stretched a little. She needed some movement. The warmth of the room mingled with the heat of the alcohol in her blood.

His voice fell almost gently in her ears: “It's true. I work for whoever can pay me the best. I worked a long time for Falcone, three weeks later for Maroni and in the end I attacked them both with Joker. Still, I have a moral codex, Miss Kyle.” She heard him get up and slowly walk towards her. Catwoman didn't turn to him. A cold breath on the back of her neck signalled that he had to stand right behind her. He continued with his low and nearly whispering voice: “I work for everyone, but not with everyone. You steal to collect the money for your own ends. I am offering my services to do basically the same thing. I won't deny it: I've worked for humans, or rather monsters, where any normal mortal would have likely fled. It doesn't fill me with pride or disgust when I look back on it, but my research literally devours money. On the other hand, I choose my work partners very carefully. I would never work with someone who does not share my moral standards. My moral to fight for a better world in the spirit of scientifically research. A world without fears. Mister Tetch shares a passion for the human, fragile psyche and the ways to break it in the hope of extracting new therapeutic approaches from it. With Mister Nygma I share an interest in the battle of brains, the trial of strength on an intellectual level and the fight against the neglect of the intellectual elite. I would take Jervis and Edward to fight at my side at any time and at the same time accept the risk of working on their goals for them free of any charge."

Selina sighed softly. She was still in the process of morally putting herself above him and this explanation didn't change that fact either. The thief turned to him and looked into his blue eyes, looking for a trace of remorse. The icy cold inside confirmed her suspicions. She whispered softly in his direction: “You could use your talent for so many good things, Jonathan. Like in the night you saved me.” The black-haired woman placed her fingers lovingly on his thin cheek and tenderly caressed the frozen-looking skin. The thief caught herself thinking of worn leather by the light touch. He did not withdraw from her, lingered quietly in front of her and opened his mouth to say something. Not a word came out, just a soft sigh. Selina slowly ran her fingertips over his clearly palpable cheekbones. Her voice was just a breath: “Where is this man, John? Where is the doctor who took such good care of my wound? Where is the psychologist who had spoken to me sensitively when I got out of the sewer, just steps away to have a panic attack?” The former psychiatrist continued to look into her eyes, his glasses slowly slipping off his nose again. He cleared his throat, pushed the thin metal up between the thin frame and spoke for the first time that evening with a hint of uncertainty: “He's here, Miss Kyle, right next to a monster. We both inhabit this head with a well-functioning brain and yet we use it very differently. Where I do good, he does bad. Where I heal, he hurts. Where I calm down, he fires up. Whenever I try to return to normal, he seeks out the depths of this world. It is pointless to look for a place for me in this society."

The thief stopped her movements and studied his face. A look of sadness crossed his frozen features. The black-haired woman let her free hand fall to his fingers, slowly cradling them. At that moment she recognized a certain disorientation in his doing, a buried desire to get back on a solid, bright path and escape his greatest fear. Selina put her hand flat on his cheek and warmed the cool skin. Loneliness. She took another deep breath and spoke softly to him: “Everyone has their place in society and contributes to it. We can only choose whether our contribution is positive or negative. Look at me, I am a thief and still bring more joy to the city than some police officers. I have a lot of friends around me on all sides. I can trust Harley, Pam and even Batman. Maybe even you, Jonathan. Think about it, my dear.” The thief stood on tiptoe and gently covered his lips with hers. They moved slowly, waiting for the professor to react. His lips stayed calm, completely unmoved. Selina broke the one-sided kiss. Even if he hadn't reacted, something changed in his eyes. A spark of hope. Catwoman gave him a small smile and slowly stepped back from him towards the door. He clearly had a choice. It was in his hand either to continue on his way to destroy Gotham or to embark on a new path.

#DC #Batman #Selina Kyle #Jonathan Crane #Scarecrow #Catwoman #Killer Croc #waylon jones #Pre Arkham Verse #Backgammon

[queenofgotham800]

Could you do a victor x reader where she is his wife and gets kidnapped by Harley and the birds of prey ?

Kidnappin

(Victor Zsasz x Reader)

Warnings: Gramatical Errors, Swearing, Kidnapping, Fighting, Mentions of Death

Summary: One day, when your husband Victor came from his work, you weren't home. Birds of prey and Harley Quinn kidnapped you and Victor is running to save you.

(A/n): I'm sorry this took me so long to write. I hope you will enjoy this 💚

"Hey babe, I'm home!" Victor shouted through your shared little apartment. He put his keys on shelf and went to empty living room.

"Babe?" Victor shouted your name, looking for you everywhere. You usually answered.. Something was wrong and Victor knew it.

"(Y/n) this is not funny, where are you?" he knocked even at the bathroom, but nobody answered.

Maybe you were shopping.. Victor thought and checked his phone. He typed your number fastly, his hands were shaking in fear. What if something happened to you?

"C'mon... Pick it up.." Victor mumbled and heard familiar beeping in bedroom. You would never leave your phone home, you always carried it with yourself anywhere.

Apartment looked untouched, so it wasn't robbery.

Victor knew that this was not a good sign and he decided to go to Black Mask club, to ask for some useful informations.

Entering his workplace, he still thought about you. Worrying every second, he walked furiously through the club, to the last couch on which was sitting Roman Sionis.

"Boss, have you seen (Y/n) recently?" Victor asked Roman, who was surrounded by his guests. He seemed to be comfrontable about them sitting so close to him. Victor couldn't imagine that, he wasn't much of an social person.

"Ehm.. No?" said Roman.

"Wait Victor, what happened?" Roman managed to shake off from him two girls and ran to Victor.

"It's just.. (Y/n) is gone. I have no idea where is she. Everything in our apartment was untouched and she left her phone home. Boss, I have no idea where is she now. She could be.." Victor couldn't find the right words. He couldn't say it, becouse you were surely somewhere safe and alright. At least he wanted to believe in that.

"Oh, she is alright. She probably went outside for a walk," Roman took a drink from the table, "Just a moment ladies," he winked at them and Victor rolled his eyes, "Boss, she left home her phone and also her keys."

"Maybe she.." Roman started but Victor, first time in his life interrupted him, "She is in danger."

Roman didn't liked you much and he was not amused by the fact that he has to help Victor with looking for you. It was just pure jealousy, becouse Victor used to spend more time with Roman when you weren't Victor's wife back then.

"So what should I do with that? Maybe she left you, did you though about that?" Roman yelled at Victor.

"I have no idea, maybe call your goons for help with seraching," mumbled Victor. He couldn't believe what did just Roman said.

"She wouldn't leave me," he said and Roman, who was already leaving turned at him with raised eyebrows.

"Well, you never know.." Roman sang quietly and went back to his guests.

Victor just stood there in disbelief. You were his wife. You meant everything for him.

With little hopes that you are still alright.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Gotham City

You woke up in collorful place, tied with fluffy pink handcuffs, sitting on very uncomfrontable iron chair.

"What the Fuck?" you sweared, moving with hands up and down.

Your last memories were at the weird post woman, who brought you the box, which you didn't ordered. At first you thought that maybe Victor ordered something and then... Nothing...

"Okay, but we have to be extra careful with this one," somebody said from behind the door, which lead to the next room.

"Okay.. So 3..2..2 and half.."

"Damn! Harley, just open the freaking doors already," another voice said and doors opened.

Harley Quinn and Birds of prey entered the room.

"No, no Cass, you will stay outside," Harley said and closed the doors, leaving someone behind.

"What is this circus?" you asked 4 ladies, who were standing with all of their confidence before you.

"We wanted to.. Set you free," said Harley and others looked on her in disagreement.

"So, you are going to kill me?" you asked, scared about your life. What if you never see Victor again?

"No! No! I'm sorry, I didn't meaned it like that," Harley facepalmed and made a funny expresion.

"We freed you from that motherfucker," Renee Montoya came to you, checking the handcuffs which were hurting your wrists.

"What? No, I'm alright!" you laughed and looked on girls. Harley was surprised, but kind of confused. Renee looked annoyed, The huntress was not impressed by your answer and Dinah Lance was totally angry.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous is that man. He killed my...Ugh.." Helena kicked off the table in anger, meanwhile Dinah was handling her anger very well.

"Well, I am sorry but I have nothing to do with it. Can I go home?" you asked, looking on Harley, who tried to calm down Helena from broking another stuff from the weird room.

"Why does this room look like a circus? I mean.. It's filled with clowns too..." you smirked, "He will come for me and you know that. He will turn every building and every stone in Gotham untill he doesn't find me."

"Ohh..Wanna bet?" Dinah lifted her eyebrows and you accepted the bet straight away with wide grin, "Yes."

"Please don't insult this pretty place, I build it," Harley laughed and fixed the table, which was laying on ground. You rolled your eyes and tapped with feet.

"Are you nervous?" Dinah asked.

"Oh.. We have here master detective. How could you deduced this thing mrs. Lance?" you smiled and then looked over to Montoya, "No offence, Renee. I have to tell you, you are the most sane of them all."

Renee tightened the handcuffs, which were now literally cutting in your flash.

"Ouch, am I hostage or what?" you asked.

"Well, we thought you need to save, but it turnes out you enjoy being with your terrible husband!" yelled Helena and you smirked, letting out little laugh.

"Yes, I enjoy being with my terrible husband! Do you have some problems with that?" you yelled back.

She made few steps closer to you, ready to hit you, but Dinah stopped her.

"Go out, I want to speak with her in private," Dinah said and on big surprise ladies left, leaving you with her alone. She dragged a chair closer to you.

"What happened to you (Y/n)?" Dinah asked you, slowly touching your cheek. You used to be friends, but then you met Victor.

"I met Victor and you didn't aproved our relationship. I see that it still didn't changed and you are still not aproving our relationship. I bet this operation, this kidnapping was your idea," you would point at her if you weren't handcuffed.

"No (Y/n). But I was right! He changed you! So much!" Dinah pulled away from you.

"You changed also. You left the club.. Betrayed Roman Sionis. Not like I like that guy, but it's Victor's boss, so in some way you betrayed Victor too and who betrays Victor, betrays me," you said, looking in her eyes. She was without words. Dinah just got up from her chair and left with shutting the doors loudly.

Victor exited the club after finding no help there. He found nothing helpfull. Where could you be?

He decided to go back to your apartment to look for clues. He couldn't call police, becouse this was clearly out of their division. They wouldn't help him, they would either arrest or shoot him in place and that wouldn't help you.

When Victor opened doors, he noticed weird note laying on ground. How it's possible that he didn't noticed before?

There was written on a pink paper:

Say bye to your wife (Y/n), she is with us now.

Nobody was signed, but due to pink collor and font, it was obvious who kiddnaped you.

You were waiting in the weird room for Victor. Since Dinah left, your head was flooded with thoughts. Where is Victor? Is he looking for you?

Your heartbeat fastened when somebody opened doors. But it was just Harley Quinn.

"What?" you yelled at her. She sat on couch, with pile of collorfull clothes.

"We kidnapped you, so you would be away from him," she said.

"But I don't want to be away from my husband. I love him!"

Harley examinated your face and continued, "And he? Does Victor truly love you?"

"Of course he does. I wouldn't be his wife otherwise. I would be dead," you smirked and Harley frowned.

"I brought you some clothes, if you really wanted to join us," Harley pointed at big pile.

"So.. You think I change my husband for your super sassy awesome colorful clothes, which I always admired? It's tempting, but I love Victor."

"You know what to do, when you change your mind right?" Harley turned to doors and you got the best idea. Well, hopefully.

"Wait," she turned back to you, "I think.. I.. I'll take that offer," you smiled, trying to cover your lie.

Harley smiled back, but shaked her head, "You are lying," she said and left you alone in room again.

"But I want to join!!!" you screamed, so she could hear you through the doors, "You can't keep me away from him!"

Doors opened again. This time Huntress was standing in them, frowning at you angrily.

"Can I leave?" you asked and she made her way to you, slapping your face painfully.

"Do you know why are you here?" she screamed in your face, pulling your hair to back.

"Becouse I am his wife and I am a threat to you somehow?"

"NO!" Huntress pulled your hair, and you hissed.

"Becouse you are my ticket to him," she smiled and stepped away from you.

"Are we playing here at good cop and bad cop?" you laughed silently, "I am no ticket. I'm the final destination."

"He killed my family," she started, but you interupted her.

"I don't even know you," you said and she gave you another slap.

After that, you saw tears forming in her eyes.

"You are perfect match for him. Now I know why did he married you."

You kept the pokerface, looking somewhere behind her.

"Heartless bitch," she mumbled and left.

This was just a trap. They didn't wanted you in their team, they just wanted to kill Victor. You didn't knew if you should laugh or cry. You missed Victor. And at this point, you didn't wanted to be saved. Becouse if he saved you, they would kill him instantly.

"Hey," somebody was behind you. You nearly screamed, but some hands covered your mouth, "shhh."

"Who are you?" you whispered.

"I'm Cass," she sat on couch. You were surprised, she was just a child, "Who are you?"

"I'm.. (Y/n). Kiddo what are you doing here?" you asked her. As you could see, she was offended be the nickname 'kiddo'.

"I know who you are. You are his wife," Cassandra said and you rolled eyes, "Besides that I'm great hairdresser, but okay."

"How you can be with him?" Cassandra asked you.

"Becouse I love him? What's so weird about it?" you asked her. She stayed quiet.

"Cassandra? Do you know the real reason why am I here?" you asked her.

"Dinah said it's becouse your relationship with him makes you bad and it changed you somehow," she said and you frowned.

"She is just jealous," you rolled eyes, "but that's not the real reason and you know it. They want to kill him and I have to get out before he get's here."

Cassandra was thinking what to do. She wasn't just some child and she hated that Harley and Birds of prey rarely took her in action. She was learning from them, but most of time she was alone becouse they had to deal with 'dangerous evil people'.

But the woman, tied to chair wasn't dangerous nor evil. Her husband was...

But why would they hurt her like this if she was innocent? Cassandra could see the red prints of hand on your cheeks.

"Who did you that?" she asked.

"Crossbow killer."

"She uses the name Huntress."

"I don't care," you mumbled and watched as Cassandra observed the handcuffs on chouch.

"How? How did you?" you looked back on you hands, which were bleeding. Through the pain, you probably didn't felt how she took them away.

"Just get out," Cassandra said and you gave her little smile.

"Thank you."

She smiled back and opened window which was covered with yellow paint.

You climbed through it and jumped down. It was just a first floor in some weirdly looking house and your legs were okay with that. After the jump you decided to run away as fast as you could.

You bumped into some hooded figure, which was running too.

"I'm sorry," you said, and continued to run away. But then you heard a voice of your husband.

"(Y/n)? Are you alright? I was so afraid," Victor spoke and put down his hood.

"Yes, Victor. Just keep this on your head," you pulled the hood back at his head, bit concerned about surroundings. This was not safe territory.

Victor listened and hugged you.

"We have to get out," you said, giving him little kiss.

Victor just nodded and caught your hand. You both run away into safety of your apartment. Victor later installed cameras and alarms on doors and gave you few weapons.

Harley's House

"So? Who did it?" Renee asked.

"I think we all know it," Huntress said, looking on Dinah.

"I would never," Dinah said, looking on Harley.

"Girls, can we stop blaming eachothers?" Harley said to broke the wheel of blame.

"But we need to know who did it. So who is the traitor?" Renee asked, that was when Cassandra walked into room.

"Cass, we are talking about serious things right now," said Huntress.

"I did it," Cassandra said, and everyone was looking at her in disbelief.

"But why would you?" Dinah asked.

"Becouse it was wrong. You lied to her, you were her friend!" Cassandra pointed at Dinah, "And you, you were beating her," she yelled at Huntress.

"Cass, I think you see it from wrong point of view," Harley said and hugged her.

"No Harley. I know that these things what we do are epic as fuck, but.. This was wrong. We can't do this to good people which are in love with wrong people," Cassandra said and pulled away from Harley.

"Cass.. I.." Harley started, but she was cut off by Dinah, "She is right. We can't judge good people just becouse they love wrong person."

"But Zsasz is.. He is a monster! You were saying he changed her," Huntress said.

"Is she a monster tho?" asked Cass.

"No.. It didn't changed her that much," Dinah said and thought about the times when you took her into shopping centre and bought her some clothes, when you went in cinema to watch movies. She missed you a lot, but you were with Victor and things changed. You didn't changed. Only things changed.

"You know who would suffer the most if your plan actually worked?" Cass asked Huntress.

"(Y/n), becouse Zsasz would be dead," Renee said, looking at the empty table.

"She seemed like a nice person to me and believe me, I have eyes for that," Harley smiled, but then her smile dissapeared.

"She would suffer the most, becouse she would be the reason of his death. Becouse she loves him," said Cass and left the room.

Harley and Birds of prey had to think about new ways of getting Victor and Roman away from the Gotham City. Plus there were many other villains in this city that were in standing in their way.

Your apartment

"Babe, I just wish I was faster," Victor said and kissed you forhead. You were both sitting in front of Tv, watching horror movies, cuddling under the blankets.

"No, It was a trap. I'm glad I was faster then you," you smiled, but deep inside, you were scared that they will look for you and Victor again.

"Wow, so you got kidnapped and saved my life in one day," Victor smiled, "Mrs. Zsasz, you are my hero," he gave you kisses on neck, and finished it with a slight bite.

"Ouch, Victor," you laughed and threw a pillow at him.

He laughed too and pulled you closer, "What are you going to do with that pillows?"

"I'll use them as a barricade to block your bites," you laughed and threw the pillow away.

"Awww... You are so cute," he said, pulling you closer to him, giving you bowl with popcorn.

"No, you are cute," you said to him and laid on his shoulder. This day was awfull, but everything bad was forgotten, ugly memories of being kidnapped were replaced by happy ones with your husband Victor.

#birds of prey #victor zsasz bop #victor zsasz imagine #victor zsasz x reader #victor zsasz #victor zsasz x oc #victor zsasz fanfiction #Victor Zsasz x you

[popculturebuffet]

Paul Dini’s Jingle Belle: “Sanity Clauses” review or Santa’s Court Ordered Family Therapy Holiday Special

Merry Christmas everyone! I”m finally back on the reviewing reindeer after a week out with a cold, aside from the usual ducktales review, and it’s once again a comission from friend of the blog and the only guy who pays me for reviews weirdkev27. If you have your own holliday hyjinks you’d like me to review I do reviews of television and comics for 5 dollars an episode/issue, wtih variable prices for trades in comics case depending on length. Hit me up via my dm’s here on tumblr or send me an ask for my discord if you want to know more. WIth that plug out of the way away we go.  This one was a bit unusual... in that when Kev bought it up I assumed he was going to buy a few issues of Jingle Belle, Paul Dini’s creator owned character we’re talking about today, and just have me review those. What I didn’t realize is he was buying me the full package, a collection of pretty much every jingle belle tale, as well as the released after it “Handmade’s Tale”. one shot. So yeah, while I had’nt really thought of rules for this kind of thing before from now on your free to buy a work for me to review... just keep in mind i’ts both not required for me to review something, and will not wave the commission fee as I use those fees to pay bills, buy things I need like charger cables, and just generally keep my bank account afloat while I look for a day job. 

But... since I hadn’t firmly established any of this yet, and since Kev’s gift means a bunch more commissions from a guy who not only made sure I could afford Christmas, but who has provided me steady work while i’m out of work... this one’s on the house.  So with all the jargon settled, who is Jingle Belle? Jingle Belle is an indie comics character created and owned by Paul Dini in 1998. Paul Dini is an animation god, who thanks to this review I know more about his career than I did before and as much as I always should have. Dini got his start in the 80′s, writing for everything from He Man to Gary Coleman Adventures, before getting called up to the big leagues for Tiny Tune Adventures around the time of the animation renaissance. To my shock, as  I wasn’t aware he wrote for that fine program, he wrote 35 episodes including my personal favorite Prom-ise her Anything.  But while a talented comedy writer, his main talent would show when he moved on to Batman the Animated Series as a writer and story editor. He was one of the main creative forces along with Bruce Timm, with the two going on to make the DCAU, aka some of the best superhero shows ever made, after already making easily one of if not THE best with BTAS. And Timm’s influence showed, Co-Creating Harley Quinn with Timm, and writing the series best episode Heart of Ice, which reworked Mr Freeze from a hoaky silver age villian into the tragic and thoroughly sympathetic character he’s been since that episode. Seriously that’s another one to add to the review pile.. which is giant and sentient at this point. And seriously EVERY episode on his imdb page credits is an utter classic and one I remember fondly. The guy is one of the most talented and seemingly nicest guys in the business and both the world of batman and the world of animation owe him a LOT.  So to my surprise, I found out in the 2000′s he had a comic, Jingle Belle.. then for whatever reason just never dug into it till now. But now post digging Jingle Belle is Paul Dini’s long running series of one shots and series at various companies following the adventures of Santa’s rebellious teenage-ish daughter.. techincally she’s in the 200′s but still looks and acts like a teenager. The idea came about when he got a christmas card from Stephen Speilberg, and wondered how the kids of famous folks dealt with that and if they resented their famous fathers. And whose more famous than santa?. The series spins both out of that brilliant idea and out of Dini’s love for sunday comic strips, back when the panels were larger and creators were given more freedom to go nuts, though even today i’ve seen plenty of great stuff so it’s not all lost pauly.  So in that spirit rather than one long ongoing Jingle Belle is instead a series of one shots, stories in anthologies and what have you, one and done stories more focused on the comedy. The comic has bounced around from various publishers, starting as something pitched to Oni Press, home of Scott Pilgrim and not much else, and has bounced around various publishers since, most recently ending up at IDW, where the trade i’m reading from comes from. So how does a great concept from one of the world’s most creative minds shake out? Let’s unwrap this present and find out. 

We open with an appropriately christmasy rhymey opening as we get the story of Jingle Belle: She’s the daughter of santa claus and mrs. claus, in this case the Queen of the Elves. Which isn’t established until the next story but whatever. And as you’d expect she grew up a cheery, rosey little girl who loved helpiing dad in the workshop.. then everything changed when puberty attacked. 

As you can see Jingle is now your standard Bratty Teenage Daughter sterotype. At least in this story. See this initial story feels much like a pilot: It’s clear things aren’t ironed out 100% for the idea, and i’ts more a self contained way to get across the general idea, that being Santa has a rebellious teen daughter, via what comes off as an snl skit in comic book form. THat’s not an insult, it’s a GOOD snl skit, and I am genuinely surprised only one movie company’s attempted adapting this comic: the concept is great. I’m just letting you know what i’m working with is all. 

So naturally as a high concept comedy skit, Jing soon, after sharing some cigarettes with the local eskmo boys and accidently lighting her Reindeer’s butt on fire and wrecking her sleigh and some surrounding property, Santa is at his witt’s end and we end up in family therapy. And honestly.. Santa in a family therapists office is a great concept. IT’s why I compare it to a sketch: It’s just a simple one line proposal that’s really damn funny and really damn eye catching. It’s often REALLY hard to get a good santa parody going, so I admire how well he pulled it off here.  But what really centers it is Jing giving her side, making her a bit more than the mostly one dimensional bratty rebellious daughter she’s been pegged as. Oh sure tha’ts still mostly what she is here, I’ll leave it to later stories to flesh her out hopefully, but she gives vallid reasons WHY she acts out: She points out no one even knew Santa had a daughter, and she has no songs or specials or any of that about her. The most Santa can offer up is “Jingle Bells” because the boys say “jingle all the way”... which really, especially in 2020, just makes HIM come off worse for not only slut shaming his daughter, but that the best defense he can offer is “Well some local boys talk about how you boned them that counts right?”. 

That.. poorly aged joke aside Jingle brings up another good point on how sh’es on his shit list.. errr.. naughty list. Still a good gag. And yeah the therapist is understandably surprised Santa dosen’t give his own daughter presents, though his wife does give a valid counter to that: He has to hold a higher standard than anybody. 

And that’s why I’m really intrigued by this concept and want to read more: WE have plenty of stories about Santa’s kids, i’ll grant, from him adopting a kid like in elf, to him passing on the legacy with films like Arthur Christmas and Fred Claus, or even just films about his legacy, like the Santa Claus, aka that time Santa died and his clothes forced Tim Allen into a job he dosen’t want with weight and beard gain he didn’t ask for via yuletide mummy’s curse to become the new santa and nearly loose custody of his child. What i’m saying is the concept is inherently fascinating and The Santa Clause is deeply terrifying if you stop to think about it for two seconds.. as is the sequel what with it’s Nazi Robot Santa Claus Tim Allen. Yes really. 

But this one’s unique in that it’s not about the legacy. Oh sure Santa tries to get Jing interested, and his last attempte wound up with them having to take the bus, another great gag and i’m glossing over most because this is a very funny little comic, but the main focus is more on what kind of pressure that puts on a kid: wouldn’t you rebel too if your parents wanted you to be perfect and to follow in the family business of being basically a perfect human being? Jing herself sums it up perfectly towards the end of the story. 

Granted after a tearful hug, Jing internally says “that new snowboard is mine.. but i’ts hard not to feel that a godo chunk of this is genuine. Sure she’s playing her parents a bit but.. you’d crack too if your dad was freaking Santa. I’m really intrigued to see where this goes both comedically and character stuff wise. 

So we end on another christmasy narration bit as Belle plays good for a while, snapping only when it docent seem like she gets her snowboard. A comedy ending and an eh one. Not the best honeslty, I feel the comci would’ve been better ended just at the snowboard is mine bit, but i’ve seen worse. 

Final Thoughts: A really good story. WHile it’s rough around the edges, clearly Dini and others have buffed them out over two decades, and i’m really intrigued to see more of this this holiday season and others. Again some parts, mostly playing Jing being sexually liberated for “OH HAW HAW SHE’S A SLUT” laughs is cringe inducing, but most of the jokes have aged well and for a pilot it’s not bad. I really look forward to reading more of the character and diving into her this season and beyond. 

Until then be good to one another, have a happy holidays and always remember: There's  always another rainbow. 

#christmas #jingle belle #santa claus #mrs claus #paul dini #oni press #comics #review #comics reviews

[peter-parkner]

All I Want

“Pep, I don’t think I went overboard.”

“Didn’t go overboard!? Tony, there’s fifteen boxes of gingerbread cookies on our counter!” Pepper jabbed a finger toward the offending baked goods while she spoke.

Tony’s lips quirked into a nervous smile as he rubbed idly at the back of his head. When he opened his mouth to speak, Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose. “Look, you said we needed cookies for Christmas.”

“Yes, Tony. I asked you to order a few boxes of cookies, not the entire bakery! We’re only having four people over!”

“I kept telling you I could have made them.” The moment the words left his mouth, Tony instantly regretted them. Pepper’s left eyebrow rose and her stare hardened as she continued glaring at her husband. Gaping like a fish, Tony desperately grasped coherent sentences, “I mean, you’re completely right sweetheart. I would have burned the kitchen down if I tried to bake.”

Tony slowly moved toward his wife. His eyes never left her while he approached, like prey warily eyeing a predator. “You gave me one job and I definitely screwed it up. Royally.” Pepper’s resolve cracked a little as a small smile appeared on her face. “Think of it this way,” Tony’s hands came up to rest comfortingly on her shoulders, “now Morgan won’t be pestering us for dessert for at least another six months.”

Pepper broke into a grin and rested her forehead on Tony’s chest as he hugged her. She emitted a small laugh that Tony felt in his chest. Pepper’s voice came out muffled as she spoke, “At least they’re good cookies.”

Four hours, three showers, two disasters and one hour in the oven later, the Stark penthouse smelled of lasagna, cookies and home. Normally, Tony and Pepper would host Christmas at the lake house, but this year they decided to use Stark Tower in an effort to create new, good memories. Pepper was setting out the last of the plates on their dining room table when JARVIS alerted them to visitors at the door.

“Morguna, can you go get the door for our guests?” Tony smiled sweetly at his daughter while carefully balancing the lasagna straight out of the oven.

She nodded in affirmation before setting off down the hall on her mission. Somewhere, a door opened and muffled voices spilled down the corridor. They became clearer the closer they got until the entourage, led by Morgan, entered the kitchen.

“Merry Christmas!” May gleefully exclaimed as she wrapped Pepper into an expected, unexpected hug. Happy trailed close behind and delicately shook Tony’s hand while his other balanced a boatload of presents.

Behind the couple were Harley and Peter, the latter of which was holding Morgan in his arms. “Merry Christmas old man! Thanks for having us again.” Harley nodded in Tony’s direction while he made his way over to the ceiling high Christmas tree in the living room. He whistled while looking up at the evergreen monstrosity and started unloading his miniature pile of presents. The Stark’s Christmas tree was at least twenty feet high and lit up brighter than Rockefeller Center’s.

While Harley admired the Christmas décor strung about, Peter set Morgan down and walked over to Pepper. He wrapped her into a tight hug and tried to ignore the fact that, in heels, Pepper stood three inches taller than him.

“Is there anything we can help you with?” May asked while Happy followed Harley’s lead by setting their gifts down under the tree. “I feel so bad not even bringing anything!”

“Oh May, we insisted. All you needed to bring was yourselves and an appetite!” As if on cue, Peter’s stomach growled from the living room.

“Well, guess that’s our cue to start dinner!” Tony chuckled and led everyone to the dining room.

After dinner, everyone moved to the living room to open their presents. Morgan had already unwrapped a majority of hers in the morning, but Tony and Pepper saved a few for the evening when company was over. The flurry of presents and laughter fueled the unwrapping chaos while Nat King Cole’s Christmas album blasted in the background.

“Pepper, I have literally never been this full in my entire life,” May groaned while slumped over in an end chair. A slew of wrapping paper was at her feet.

“Yeah, I’m feeling full and that shouldn’t even be possible with my metabolism,” Peter chipped in from the loveseat, where he sat plastered to Harley’s side. The older boy had an arm contentedly slung around Peter’s shoulders.

The adults idly chatted while Morgan nodded in and out of consciousness on the couch. Her head was propped up on Tony’s lap, and his hands intermittently ran through his daughter’s hair. Surveying the scene, Peter nervously running his hands through his curls before turning toward Harley.

“Hey, I have one last gift I want to give you if – if you don’t mind going somewhere more private.”

“Oh?” Harley waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Normally, that move alone would send Peter into a flurry of giggles. When it didn’t, Harley’s expression morphed from playful to worried. “Hey, what’s wrong? Is it something I said?”

“No, no. It’s fine. Just, uh, follow me.” Peter grabbed his boyfriend’s hand reassuringly and stood from the loveseat, hauling Harley up as well. “Guys, we’ll be right back! I have to, uh, grab something from my room.” He gestured weakly down the hall toward his part-time bedroom, where Peter would stay when he was too exhausted to go home after a long night working or on patrol.

Pepper nodded, businesslike, while Tony smiled and tried to suppress his laughter at Peter’s badly concealed lie. Thankfully, May was in the kitchen pouring more wine so she didn’t have to witness the funeral of Peter’s finessing skills. Ignoring all of the adults, Peter continued towing Harley down the hall toward his room.

Inside, Peter paced nervously while Harley shut the door behind them. The lights came on automatically while the glittering city outside illuminated the room further. Peter’s pacing came to a stop in front of Harley. “I have one last gift for you, but I’m kind of scared of how you’ll react.”

“React? What are you talking about, Peter?” Harley’s faced was scrunched up in confusion.

Peter thought it was adorable, but now was neither the time nor place. “I know we’ve only been dating for six months, but I already feel like I’ve known you for my whole life.”

“Yeah, the feeling’s mutual.” Harley flashed Peter a small smile.

During the stretch of silence, Peter reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small, plainly wrapped box. Harley’s eyes widened impossibly larger as he zeroed in on the present. “I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not a ring,” Peter chuckled as he gingerly plopped the box into Harley’s outstretched hands.

The other man hesitated before slipping his index finger underneath the wrapping paper and neatly tearing it open. The silence in the room was deafening, and the anticipation caused Peter to bounce lightly from foot to foot. He could hear Harley’s heartbeat quicken as shaky hands flipped open the lid of the now unwrapped gift box.A brief look of confusion flit across Harley’s face before he broke out into a wide grin. He looked up, “Peter, is this the key to your apartment?”

“Spare key, actually,” Peter cleared his throat. The grin on his face mirrored Harley’s. “You’re already over so much anyway, that I thought moving in with me would just make things…more convenient. I know we haven’t been dating for a long time, and that moving in with me is obviously a huge commitment, but it just feels right. You know?”

Harley nodded, considering Peter’s words while he fumbled to take his keyring out of his pocket. As he fixed the precious piece of metal onto his key ring, Harley spoke in a serious tone, “What exactly will be made more…convenient by this arrangement?”

With an eye roll, Peter let out an exasperated sigh and held his head in his hands. “You’re impossible, Harley Keener.

“I know, but you love me.”

Peter leaned up on his tip toes to give Harley a peck on the lips before dragging him back to the living room, where their small family and the rest of Christmas waited.

Merry Christmas @the-fifth-marauder101​ !!!! I hope you like your gift for 2019′s @parkner-secret-santa​ exchange

#parkner #harleypeter #spiderlad #potatowebs #keenker #parley #harley x peter #christmas fic #christmas drabble #otp #otp moodboard #gift exchange #ironfam #domestic pepperony #parkner secret santa #parkner secret santa 2019

[chickensarentcheap]

I Found (chapter 8)

Warnings: none really. Some bad language. Maybe a bit of angst. I needed an Esme chapter for character building purposes before I get into the past chapters.

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @hemmyworthy @alievans007

Esme watches him; the way he stands thirty meters away with his arms crossed over his chest and a pair of Ray-bans covering his eyes. He stands out like a sore thumb. A peculiar site among a street crawling with folks in swimsuits and other summer gear.  The sun beating down on that simple yet surprisingly stylish black suit, the heat and humidity causing beads of sweat to gather on his forehead, at his temples, and on his top lip.  She both envies and feels sorry for him.  Envies the fact he hasn't yet seen the real heartache and the real darkness that comes with the job. He hasn't had the demons and ghosts settle in yet.

And that's what makes her sad. Because it is inevitable.  Somewhere down the road his eagerness to live up to a legend will lead him in the right direction but into the entirely wrong place. And he won't be the same kid that he is right now.  Anxious.  Scared to make a mistake. Wanting to impress.  Dreaming of the missions of guts and glory and seemingly endless brutality. Right now he finds it glamorous. They all did at one point.  But one day he'll wake up and realize just how fucked up it all was.  He'll look back on the places he'd been and the things he'd done and he'll wonder why the hell he'd ever been so eager to get into the trenches in the first place.

She'd been there. She WAS there. And it eats at you. It chews you up and it spits you out. And the memories come back so fast and so hard that there's times you pray...beg...that the ground will open up beneath you and swallow you whole.

“You can sit down you know,” she calls to him.  She admires the determination. She's sure there's a little bit of fear he'll fuck up and get his ass handed to him because of it. But he's steadfast. A rock. Even if he does look like a secret service agent.  “I don't mind. I could use the company.”

He regards her through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. She imagines he looks like a deer caught in the headlights right about now.

“I don't bite,” she assures him. Although her husband would beg to differ. He'd been at the receiving end of more than a few during their often rough and uninhibited love making sessions. Teeth marks like war wounds on his shoulders, neck, even the insides of his thighs.

He takes a step towards her.  Then hesitates.

“Are you being serious right now? Look, you're making me extremely nervous right now and people are getting suspicious. If you're going to be watching someone...if you're going to be someone's detail...you have to less conspicuous about it. If there was a bad guy around, they would have made you about ten minutes ago. Sit down. It's hot out. Get into the shade.”

He finally relents.  Crossing the promenade in two long strides, unbuttoning his suit jacket before sitting down across from her.  A waitress scurrying over to take his order.

“We come here a lot,” Esme says. “It's one of our favourites. The coffee is strong and the food is good and the people watching is A plus. You'd be surprised the weird and funny shit you see when you actually sit back and pay attention.   Sometimes I even come here by myself. When Tyler has his own shit to do or he's at the doctor's or at the shrink. He won't let me go with him to those things.  He says it makes him nervous.  That he's too busy worrying about what he might say and that means he won't actually say it.  So the baby and I will come here. Just hang out.  Forget about everything else in our lives for a while.”

“Shrink? What...?”

“You talk about wanting to fill those shoes. Believe me, those are shoes that are probably best left empty.  Don't go down that road kid. I know you admire him. I know you've heard the stories. You've seen the numbers. And it's impressive and it's bad ass and it's something you want to emulate. I get it. I do.  He's my husband and I admire him. But this isn't the life you want. This is not how you want to end up.  Because it fucks you up and it haunts you.  For the rest of your life. And if you're not strong enough, it will eat you alive. It takes no prisoners. Unless you're prepared for all of that, don't go following down anyone else's path.”

He nods slowly, considering her words.  Then smiles at the waitress when she returns with his coffee.

“But that's just words from someone who has been in the game. Who is living with the after effects. So I won't be offended if you tell me to  gofuck myself.”

His eyes widen. “I'd never say something like that to you, Mrs Rake.”

She laughs at that.  It makes her feel so old; Mrs Rake. It's so mature and so formal and it seems as if it should belong to someone twice her age.  But it's who she is now. It is part of her identity. Someone's wife, someone's mother. And they were the two greatest roles she'd ever been fortunate enough to play in her entire life.

“What's your name?” she asks.  

“Jason, ma'am. Jason Andrews.”

“Well Jason Andrews, it's nice to meet you. I'm sorry it wasn't under better circumstances. I was a bit more likeable a year ago.”

“I think you're likeable enough just fine, ma'am.”

She laughs, pushing her sunglasses up onto the top of her head. “Ma'am? Just how old do you think I am?”

“My mother always told me to never ask a woman her age or never even gather a guess. I'll have to plead the fifth.”

“You're from the south, aren't you.”

“Yes, ma'am.  Just a tad east of North Orleans.”

“I haven't been there in years.  University was a wild time.  Trips down to Mardis Gras. Back when I had less gray hair and people still called me Miss instead of M''am.  It's Esme, by the way. But I'm sure you already knew that.”

He nods in confirmation.  

“You can call me by name, you know.  It doesn't have to be so formal. This is some unprecedented shit you've gotten yourself mixed up in. I'm pretty sure that means we can move on to first names.”

“Nik has told me a lot about you,” he informs her. “A lot about the both of you.  You're from Colorado?”

“Snowmass. About fifteen miles from Aspen. Just a little place. All of twenty five hundred people.  Or at least that's what it was when I left. There's probably more now.”

“You haven't been home in a while?”

“I had a place there.  A house.  A quaint little thing with a porch swing and a fire pit in the backyard. My brother lives there now. With his wife and his kids.  He took it over once I decided I wasn't going back.  But I haven't been home, home, in just shy of six years. You know, family dinners on a late Sunday afternoon,  coffee on my folks' porch,  watching my nieces and nephews playing.  Life just got away from me. The job just took hold. IT became who I was as opposed to something I did.  Life got away from me.”

“Excuse me for saying this, but that's kind of....sad.”

“It is what it is,” she reasons. “Those are the choices I made.  I knew there was no going back...truly going back...when I made them. And then I took the job with Nik and I ended up in Dhaka and now...well here I am.”

“Here you are,” he echoes, a sense of sadness creeping into his voice. “You were military?”

“Once. The Marines”

“My older brother is a jar head. A gunnery sergeant.  Forgive me for saying this and I mean no disrespect, but you don't seem the type. You don't really fit the picture of what people have when they think of the Marines.  And you definitely don't seem to be the type to be involved in the job.”

“I guess that was my greatest weapon of all.  People looked at me and would never think...in a million years....that I was capable of doing the things I've done.  It's not one size, fits all. There's a lot of us that don't look the part. Sometimes that's good when it comes to the job. You blend in. People aren't suspicious of you. Half the time they don't give you a second glance.  It worked in Dhaka. I gained peoples' trust.  I got them to open up.  It worked until it didn't work.  And once that happened...” she sighs. “...well let's just say that it went way worse than anyone expected.”

“I've heard the stories. People like to talk. I'm not sure how many of the things I've heard are actually true.”

“When it went bad, it went extremely bad.  It happened so quick. We didn't even have time to catch our breath.  One minute we're making friends with the locals and the next we're running for our lives. No one expected it to go as horrible as it did.  I mean, you go into things expecting and fearing the worst. But that...” she runs the palms of her hands along the sides of her glass of iced tea. “...that was way worse than anything I ever imagined.”

“And now you're going back.”

“And now I'm going back,” she concedes, and then clears her throat noisily.  “Trust me when I say that it isn't a place I thought I'd ever return to. I thought that was behind me.  I needed it to be behind me.   But want and need are two entities of their own.  What my heart wanted and what my brain allowed are two entirely different things. I realize that while I physically put it behind me, mentally I've been hanging onto it.  Mentally I never left. If that makes sense.”

“Yes, m'am...Esme...it makes perfect sense.”

She noisily clears her throat, slides the sunglasses back down onto her face. “You have family? Other than an older brother?”

“A younger sister.  She's still in high school.  She wants to be a nurse.”

“Your folks?”

“Still alive. They've been together since high school.  You?”

“My father died when I was a teenager. My mom is still kicking. She remarried a about ten years ago. My step dad's a good guy. Ex Army. He still has the hair cut, the swagger, the stories.  We call him The Sarge,” she smiles at that. Fond memories of a man that had come into her life and filled a role that had been missing since those difficult teenage years.  “He treats her well. They're happy. They're the disgustingly content retired couple that owns two Harleys,  a motor home, and like to visit Graceland.  The type that has 'my grand kids are better than yours' bumper stickers. It's been a while since I've seen them...”

Her voice drifts off, recalling all the earlier times. The easier times. When all that mattered was bush parties and hanging out with friends and the fights and good natured ribbing that occurred between siblings.  

“...one day I'd like to go back,” she continues  “I'd like to see them again. I'd like to sit across the table from Sarge and have him light into me about my tattoos and my piercings.  I'd like to sit with my mom on the front porch; sipping sweet tea and eating her homemade peach pie.  I'd like to see my little sister graduate from high school.  Be the one that takes her to college and helps her move into residence.  And I'd especially like to see my brothers and their families again.  Hug and kiss my nieces and nephews. Meet the ones I haven't got a chance to.”

“You have a lot?”

“Fourteen,” she confirms. “My brothers wasted no time. They're baby making factories.”

“What about your baby?”

“They haven't met her. At least not in person. I send pictures. We do face time chats. That type of thing. I didn't even tell them I was having a baby until she was almost here.”

“Why not?”

“Things weren't easily explained.  Things were messy. Complicated.  They were still reeling over the fact that I had run off and gotten married without telling any of them. I'm the first daughter. My mom was super pissed that she didn't get that whole mother of the bride experience. She felt robbed. And I can understand that.  It's not an easy pill to swallow.  Your first girl running off and meeting some random guy and deciding to settle down in Australia and never coming home.  It's a lot for them to digest. And they don't even know the whole truth of it.”

“Why not?”

“Do your parents know about the job? Do they really know about it?”

“Just that I do security detail for a private company.”

“My parents thought I went into business when I left the corps.  Because that's what I told them.  I told them I was making a career change. One that would have me travelling a lot.  It was a half truth, I guess.  But they couldn't handle all of it. How do you tell your folks something like that? That your new skill set includes rescuing some and killing others? You don't. You don't tell them that. You make up some shit that will be easier on them.  They think I came here on a business trip, met some guy and never came back. That's pretty much it.  They know his name, what he looks like, his age. But they think he's in law enforcement. They think he was in an accident and I stayed here to help him through it and this is where I made my life.  It seemed so much easier when I first told them all that. Now I realize just how fucked up it actually is. Not that I lied to them. We all lie. Some more than others. But why I had to lie.  Why I had to cover  it up.  It's screwed up.  I'm screwed up. This whole thing is screwed up. And you know what the worst part is? There's no easy way out of this. No matter what I tell them or how I tell them, it will be messy.  They're going to hear things they don't like. And I'm worried they're going to hate me.”

“Parents could never hate their kids.  It isn't in their nature. Could you ever hate your daughter?”

“No. I can't imagine I ever could.”

“Your folks could never hate you.  They'd probably be surprised at the truth.”

“Probably? They would be.  The truth is stranger than fiction. At least in this situation.”

“But hate you? No. I don't think that could ever happen.”

She stares down at the amber coloured liquid in her glass, tracing a finger tip on the side, making patterns in the condensation.

She hopes he is right.

#I Found #tyler rake #extraction #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction

[takaraphoenix]

@ketchups-bitch prompted:

Peter with Morgan in general is all I need in life. Also Tony and Peter catching up. Make me cry with joy for once since endgame lmao

“That's super cool”, whispered Morgan in awe.

She was sitting in front of her bed with her head tilted up to look at Peter, who was danging from the ceiling. He grinned at her before shooting his webbing to grab Morgan's favorite stuffed toy and pulling it close from across the room. Morgan made an ew sound at the webbing on the pet before she started giggling at the funny face Peter made.

“Ouch. Ouch! Stop hitting me with a broom, Keener!”, yelped Peter.

Harley smirked where he stood in the doorway, poking Peter with a broom. “Why? It's how my mom used to get spiders off the ceiling. Shoo. Shoo, spider.”

“...Ha, ha, ha”, drawled Peter unimpressed and webbed Harley's face.

Harley huffed as he stumbled backward, trying to pull the webbing off his face. Morgan liked them. They were really silly and kept making fun of each other and making her laugh. For the past few days, she had been living with mommy and pa, because daddy was still in the super secret hospital, getting better. She didn't know why she had to go to a lake all dressed in black and look really sad, but everyone kept telling her that it was because her daddy wanted to spend all his time with her. And that? That was very okay with her. However, he was still getting better and she was bored and worried and Harley and Peter have been here to make her laugh.

“So, I guess it's my turn, right?”, asked Peter curiously.

They had a schedule, because daddy was still supposed to rest and everyone wanted to visit him and talk to him and his doctor – a man with a really funny goatee and an even funnier cape that could move – had chided them and told them 'two people at a time! No more!'. So now they had a schedule for who got to see her dad. But Morgan had special privileges to see him more often than the others! She tugged on Peter's sleeve and looked up at him with the sad Bambi eyes her dad had taught her to get everything from mommy and from pa.

“...And I guess I'll take the mini Stark with me”, grunted Peter amused.

He went down onto his knees so she could climb onto his back and cling onto his neck. She giggled delighted as he lifted her up. Harley watched them curiously and with a small grin.

“You know what route to take?”, asked Harley.

“Yes, I know how to get there without attracting press attention”, huffed Peter and rolled his eyes. “Seriously, you fuss worse than my aunt May.”

“Oh, I'm sorry Mister 'Hello, I'm Peter Parker!'. You suck with your secret identity. Who's to say you won't blow the mechanic's fake death too?”, accused Harley and narrowed his eyes. “Seriously, I know you admire him but the whole advertising your secret identity thing? Was not his best call.”

Peter huffed and ducked his head, muttering beneath his breath as he walked past Harley. Seriously, that kid fussed. And he acted all like he was Peter's senior, because he had known Tony longer than Peter. Sure, sure, he was brilliant and all that – but Peter didn't need a babysitter!

“Be careful anyway”, sighed Harley and rolled his eyes. “There's a looting downtown.”

Peter frowned at that and pulled Morgan a little closer. Okay maybe Harley's fussing wasn't entirely unreasonable. They had heard what had happened to the planet during the five years when everyone had been dusted, but right now was a far larger mess. Houses had been sold, apartments and things that had belonged to dusted people now belonged to others, jobs were gone to the survivors now, life partners had moved on from their losses, for other dusted people their surviving family had died of natural causes in the past five years, supposedly orphaned children had been adopted in those five years and had virtually no memories of their dusted parents. Life had gone on in those five years and many people had a problem adjusting to it. Many felt entitled to taking back what once belonged to them, no one had any idea what to do with the legal system – because being turned to dust by a crazy alien and then being brought back to life was kind of an unprecedented situation.

There were so many things that the Avengers hadn't thought of when reversing the snap. Peter himself had quite the hard time adjusting. Yes, Ned had been dusted too, but many of the people he had known hadn't... and were now suddenly college age. It was weird. His neighborhood had changed, Mister Stark – Mister Stark was older now and had a whole entire daughter.

“So... it must be cool having three parents, right?”, asked Peter lightly.

He knew that Pepper had been the surrogate for Tony, because Tony had really wanted a kid, but she could also not be absent from the life of her daughter. And since Pepper and Happy had gotten married – oh, oh Peter remembered that, he remembered how they had saved face back then when Peter had declined the offer to join the Avengers. Peter and May had been at the wedding.

“Uhu. When one says no, I just go to another who says yes”, chimed Morgan.

Peter laughed softly. He really liked the kid. He also liked the big brother role he had been taking in the past few days, ever since – ever since the undusting. Since Tony Stark had wielded his home-made Infinity Gauntlet, undid Thanos' snap and single-handedly saved the universe. Honestly, holy shit. Peter really was stanning the most amazing brilliant genius hero on the planet, huh.

The duo made their way to the secret hospital where Tony, Nebula and every other hurt Avenger and Guardian were currently recovering. They needed the privacy there, because the press was all over them, wanting to hear the story of what the Avengers had done to save the universe.

“Hello, Mister Stark!”, exclaimed Peter enthusiastically as he swung into the hospital room.

“Perfect timing! Neytiri just left with Rhodey for physical therapy!”, replied Tony with a smile. “And what did I tell you about calling me Tony, Petey?”

“That you should, is what daddy said”, stated Morgan.

“See. At least one of my kids listens to me”, huffed Tony, his smile growing.

Morgan let go of Peter's neck and eagerly crawled into Tony's arms for a tight hug while Peter sat down at the edge of the bed. Tony smoothed down Morgan's hair and kissed the top of her head.

“There's too many people who want to see me”, sighed Tony dramatically. “I haven't seen you in three days, Petey! What have you been up to? Tell me everything.”

“Uh, I mean, I was mainly with aunt May? And with Ned. Aunt May has a really hard time leaving me out of her sight since I returned. I... guess I get that”, laughed Peter awkwardly. “And I've been watching Morgan here together with Harley when Happy and Pepper have to work.”

“They're good babysitters, but not as good as auntie Nebu”, piped Morgan up.

“And considering the overall chaos with everyone who was dusted and legally declared dead, I am currently not obligated to go to school, so—o... not much happened”, continued Peter thoughtfully. “I think you have more to tell! What happened in the past five years? Tell me all about Morgan's birth! And her first day at kindergarten and—who is the flying blonde woman who seems to be with Rhodey all the time now? And the woman who called you 'uncle'? And since when are you and... uh... Nebu...?... so close? Have you spent a lot of time together in the past five years? And what happened to Thor?! Also did that one lady really have a pegasus, or did I imagine that? And was there a talking raccoon? There was, right? Together with a talking tree? I have so many questions, Mister Stark. Also why did you never introduce Harley and me? He would be way less acting like he's my senior and I should listen to him if you had introduced us earlier!”

“So many questions, so many accusations”, huffed Tony very amused. “Nebula and I spent a lot of time together returning from Titan and... in the past five years, yes. The talking raccoon doesn't like to be called a raccoon. The tree is his son. Don't ask, I don't understand that one either. And the pegasus, honestly, I have no idea where that came from either... Ah yes, the blonde flying lady is Carol and she's now dating Rhodey and Rhodey's wife. I swear I would have introduced you to his daughter Monica sooner, but... things happened, I suppose.”

Peter smiled to himself as he settled in to listen to Tony's voice.

#Iron Family #Iron Dad #Morgan Stark #Peter Parker #Harley Keener #Tony Stark #Endgame Fix It #Avengers Endgame #Avengers Endgame Spoilers #Marvel #Fanfiction #ketchups-bitch

[goodbyecringe]

(Un)Natural Selection Chapter 6

Enjolras

There was no more avoiding it. Thirty-five girls from different backgrounds with different motives were living right below me. I had done everything I could to throw myself more into my work than usual. I had taken to meeting with the dignitaries and pouring over caste related civil disputes. Of course Father said that this was the worst way to spend a prince’s time because there were majors and soldiers to deal with those things. However, it would be impossible to abolish the caste system without knowing what the specific problems were.

“I can’t believe it,” a joyful voice said from the doorway, “I don’t think I know a single man that could work if there were thirty-five women getting makeovers in their basement.”

“Ferre, when have you ever known for me to let women interfere with my work?” I said, turning around in my chair to face him.

“Well in the sixteen years that we’ve been friends I’ve only known of your relationship with the great Patria. It’s unfortunate you couldn’t marry her,” he said, clicking his tongue.

“It’s unfortunate I have to marry at all. How am I supposed to change the governing system of Illeá when I have to worry about finding a wife? He did this on purpose of course, maybe I somehow tipped him off,” I said putting my head in my hands.

“The only thing that tipped off your father was the fact that you invited eight aspiring political figures that are all openly against the caste system. In all actuality it could be argued that he did you a favor. Imagine if we were all that the media focused on over the next few months? By the time you were made King every pro-caste politician would have been able to perfect their argument. Of course I’m sure your father is hoping that the Selection will distract you from your responsibilities and Les Amis.”

“Yes, I’ve already thought about that theory a thousand times over. But what’s stopping me from eliminating thirty tomorrow morning? He never made me commit to a formal timeline-”

“And I’m sure you’ve already thought of the associative repercussions for doing that Julien,” he said, cutting me off. “You already know that the media would have a field day. You would be marked as a heartless slab of marble. Remember, you need the people on your side during the revolution,” Ferre became serious as he sat on the edge of my desk.

“No matter who I choose, the castes will be divided. Anyone lower than a Four would be seen as a saint to the lower castes, however the lower castes already stand with our views. We need to secure the support of those who we are removing from power,” I sighed as I restated the facts.

“We’ve been through this at least a dozen times, Julien. Isn’t that the entire reason you decided to announce that this would be a caste-blind selection? You just need to take it one day at a time. And since there are thirty-five eligible bachelorettes in your home, you should at least give them the respect they deserve,” Combeferre said, standing.

“I’ve haven’t even met them yet Ferre, how have I already disrespected them?”

“You don’t know any of their names, you don’t know what they look like, you haven’t bothered to learn a thing about them. But I could guarantee you that everyone of those girls knows everything about you.”

“Are you referring to those presentations I put Les Amis in charge of? I swear, if Jean Prouvaire’s presentation takes over an hour I’ll leave and simply review the applications in my office… alone.”

Combeferre chuckled as we walked out of my office. The walk to the Men’s Room was more eventful then I had ever expected. Dozens of servants were making final adjustments to the decorations. There were fresh flowers around every corner, the drapes were open, letting sunlight shine through the halls. As the new butler, Grantaire, opened the door, I had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes. The beautiful library space that I used as my philosophical escape to discuss the future of Illeá had been turned upside down. Feuilly and Joly were hanging a large piece of white fabric over a large bookshelf, and Bahorel was closing all the drapes so the setting sun didn’t blind anyone. I grabbed a notepad and took a seat next to Courfeyrac in the front row.

“Your Royal Highness,” Bossuet called out from his place in front of the projector.

“Our fearless leader and marble statue,” Courfeyrac laughed from next to me.

“We, the Friends of the ABC, are proud to present your future wife, or at least the thirty-five possible candidates for the title of Queen Enjolras,” Jean Prouvaire announced as the lights began to dim.

From behind me, Grantaire was laughing with Bossuet while he turned down the lights. Les Amis began to seat themselves in front of the screen, all armed with several manilla folders which I assumed held the applications of the selected girls.

“First, we will give a brief presentation about each of the thirty-five contestants and then we will tune into the Report and Enjolras will get his first real look at the girls.”

I made a note that if a career in politics never worked out for Prouvaire, he could take Kyran Cervantes’ job. Suddenly, the screen lit up with the faces of thirty-five young women of various appearances, all of which I was sure would be changing drastically during their makeovers.

“We have decided to present in the order of east coast to west coast, so first up is the lovely province of Hansport! So please give a warm welcome to Miss Teresa Gilbert!” The screen centered on a girl with near white hair that was sharply stopped just below her cheek-bones.

“Teresa is nineteen years old and is proud to call Hansport the place of her humble roots. She has been acting in television shows and movies since she was three years old. Her favorite role was a princess during the apocalypse where she learned what it truly took to be a royal! She says that she will never be afraid of the media,” Prouvaire finished, now sounding confident in his game show host role.

There was a massive amount of applause from the boys around me. Looking down at my notepad I jotted down, Teresa Gilbert: movie star, 2. There was nothing more, nothing less about this girl. It was only too bad for her that I couldn’t care less about the television industry. Unfortunately, her status as a celebrity made it too easy to know her caste.

“Next up we have Adele Castro of Waverly,” a picture of a mousy looking girl with large green eyes appeared on the screen.

“At sixteen, Adele is our youngest selected girl, but don’t let that lead you astray because she’s already been quite successful…” Prouvaire continued to explain how she had spent her life volunteering in less developed countries.

Adele Castro: volunteer, 2 or 3.

“Now gentlemen, show some love for Miss Éponine Jondrette from Allens,” the face of a tan girl with a wild head of brown hair came over the screen. Despite the large state of her hair, her eyes appeared tired and her cheeks were hollow.

“Miss Éponine might give our fearless leader a run for his money! In her free time, Éponine enjoys reading about Political Science and learning about other cultures. She can speak English, Chinese, and French fluently,” I couldn’t help but think about how her appearance contradicted her description.

Éponine Jondrette: hungry wildcard, 5 or 3. By the time Prouvaire had finished I had made note of Lucy Frost: artistic, 5 and Harley Housten: average, 4 or 3. Everyone applauded as Jean bowed to take his seat. Joly walked forward and pulled a stack of index cards out of his suit jacket.

“Moving West we’ll start out in the province of Kent. Miss Cosette Fauchelevent recently returned to Illeá after spending about 5 years living in an Abbey in France. Cosette is an avid gardener and has a passion for animals,” Joly rushed as the room admired a pale girl with golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

Cosette Fauchelevent: lark, 2 or 3. At some point throughout the presentations all of the girls started to blur together. A few girls stood out, for example, Liberty Cook: paralyzed, 4. I couldn’t believe how delighted I was when Bossuet finally got to Angles.

“At the age of 20 our oldest contestant is Musichetta Simon. Miss Musichetta has recently begun a career in the prominent modeling agency in Angles. However, prior, she traveled throughout highly impoverished areas of Illeá to provide clean drinking water,” Bossuet said, failing to remove his eyes from her picture. The bright color of her red hair caused his bald head to reflect a pinkish color.

“Excellent job Bossuet,” Prouvaire said, clapping a hand on Bossuet’s back. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Grantaire was passing out refreshments before we settled down to watch the Report.

“I hope that everyone else is as excited for the next few months as I am,” Courfeyrac called out.

“Now remember my friends,” Combeferre stood, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “We are to remain out of sight out of mind. Unless Enjolras asks for our presence specifically, we are not to interact with the women of the selected. Everyone here is subject to the law,” he called out, staring directly at Courf.

“Thank you for all of your hard work my friends,” I said, standing next to Ferre. “I hope that you all feel more comfortable with the process of creating and executing presentations. Even though this may have sounded like a fun and frivolous exercise, it is important to find a way to improve yourself in any situation,” I could hear groans among the group. “However, I am very appreciative for the effort that you put in, and if any of you have any suggestions during this process, please feel free to know. I shall see all of you tomorrow evening for our regularly scheduled meeting.”

“Won’t you be staying to watch the Report, Enjolras?” Joly asked.

“I’m afraid I have a very important speech concerning several dignitaries of New Asia that I’ve been neglecting to revise,” I said, making my way towards the door. As Grantaire opened the door for me I could hear what seemed to be a stampede of high heeled shoes. I decided to wait until I could no longer hear them, so not to cause a scene since I wasn’t supposed to meet any of them until tomorrow morning. While looking across my shoulder at the crowd of girls I was taken aback when I felt something collide with me. In the second it took me to turn around, the person was already on the ground.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, looking around for her heels. “I should have been paying attention to wear I was going, but you see my shoe broke and I’ve been trying to keep up with the rest-”

I think she stopped breathing when she finally looked up at me.

“I am deeply sorry, Your Highness,” she went into a deep curtsey.

“The fault is entirely mine Lady... Éponine,” I paused, noting the silver name tag pinned to her green dress. “I should know to pay more attention to my surroundings.”

I extended my arm to help her up, which she accepted. I could see that the heels on one of her shoes had snapped in half, which must have been the cause for her falling behind.

“Would it be considered rude for a lady to run down the hall in her bare feet?” She asked in a brazen way.

“I believe that would be classified as a capital offense.” I smiled thinking of how the royal planner and etiquette instructor Claudia would throw a fit if she witnessed such an event.

“Well then maybe you can keep this a secret between just the two of us?” She suggested looking back and forth between me and the rest of the girls.

“Only if you promise to only wear shoes you can properly walk in.”

She gave a mischievous smirk before running towards the crowd of her competitors. There were several times that she had to stop and pick up her dress to avoid slipping, but she eventually caught up to the group as they entered the Women’s Room. I made a mental note to add the word cheeky next to her name in my notebook.

#enjonine #prince enjolras #enjolras #eponine #the selection #les mierables #fanfiction #crossover #les amis #Joly #Combeferre #courfeyrac #bahorel #grantaire #cross-posted #ao3 #jehan prouvaire #musichetta #cosette

[cottontail20]

The Domestic Life Of The Vision And His Witch, Chapter 27: A Little Crazy

Summary: Wanda and Vision arrive home to an unexpected party.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18461504/chapters/51185104

She really shouldn't be quite so comfortable, Wanda thought, laying here out in the open, naked as the day she was born. But she was comfortable, and quite content.

They were hundreds of miles away from anything or anyone, after all. And Wanda felt safe in Vision's arms, her head resting on his chest, a blanket draped over them. Safe in her fiance's arms. They were engaged. They were going to get married. A little giggle escaped her at the thought.

"What's funny, love?" Vision smiled, eyes sparkling, heart warmed by the sound of her giggle.

"Nothing. I'm just happy" She lifted her head to kiss him, then paused for a moment to admire the red stone now glinting on her finger. "It really is perfect, Vizh."

"I am so glad you like it."

"Love it" Wanda corrected him, settling back against his chest. "How long can we stay?"

"As long as we like" Vision pressed a kiss to the top of Wanda's head. "The twins are safe with Clint and Laura, they can call if they really need us. Everyone else has been told not to disturb us except for a 'Code Marvel' situation."

"That's stuck, huh?" Wanda chuckled.

"It has. I think Carol is feeling a little bit smug about it."

"Carol is a little bit smug about a lot of things.. But I like her anyway."

"So do I."

"And Billy likes her" Wanda's fingers stroked Vision's chest, over his steadily beating synthetic heart. "He's usually so shy with new people, but he took to Carol right away."

"He did" Vision nodded. "Of course, his Mama is his favorite."

"For now.." Wanda blushed.

They lay quietly for a while, both perfectly content. Eventually, Wanda shifted again, propping herself up on one elbow to gaze at her husband to be, her green eyes twinkling like the stars above them.

Vision was quite certain that she was a Goddess.

"You are so beautiful.." He whispered.

"Si tu" Wanda whispered back, reaching to cup his cheek. "This moment, right now, I want to commit it to my memory. I'm just.. atat de fericit. So happy." She still couldn't quite believe it. Vision was everything she had ever wanted. Everything she never thought she deserved, but he loved her anyway. "And so lucky.. You are going to be my husband."

"I am" Vision smiled brightly. In his eyes, he was the lucky one. "And you are going to be my wife."

"Eu sunt" Wanda replied with a beaming smile, before she leaned down to kiss him, passionately, melting into his embrace to make the most of their remaining alone time. --

On their way home the following afternoon, Wanda and Vision first stopped by the Barton House to pick up the twins.

"Does it seem a little quiet around here to you?" Wanda asked as they got out of the car.

"It does.." Vision frowned a little. With three children, there was usually a little more noise.

Once they had headed up onto the porch, Wanda found a note stuck to the door.

'Dear W + V,

Figured you'd be home soon, so we've taken the twins back to the cottage to wait for you. See you there.

Love,

C + L'

"That's weird.." Wanda's brow crinkled in confusion. Clint and Laura had babysat for them plenty of times, and they'd never done this.

"Oh well.." Vision shrugged. It was slightly unusual, yes, but not overly concerning. "We'll just head home then." --

Of course, when they returned to the cottage, they found a celebration already in full swing, with tables full of food and drink, music blaring, and a banner reading 'Congratulations, Little Witch and Robo-Son!"

"What the.." Wanda began as she got out of the car.

"Surprise!" Tony rushed over to greet them with a typical Tony Stark grin. "Little bit last minute, but I think we managed to throw a decent party together once everyone knew it was for you two.. You did say yes, right Wanda? Because this is gonna be really awkward if you said no.."

"She said yes" Vision chuckled.

"I most definitely did" Wanda grinned, lifting her hand to show off the ring.

"Brilliant" Tony grinned. "Let the revels continue!"

"Just a minute" Vision cut in. "Where are our children?"

"Well, mine is nestled safely in my wife's womb" Tony waved to Pepper, chatting to Laura a short distance away. "But I guess you meant yours. Little Witch Junior is with Danvers, and last time I saw the Tiny Speedster.."

Natasha suddenly rammed Tony out of the way, grabbing Wanda's hand with the arm that was not holding Tommy to her hip.

"Lemme see that ring.. Ooh. Nice, subtle. It suits you."

"Thanks, Nat" Wanda smiled, reaching over to ruffle Tommy's hair with her free hand. "I think so too."

"Good. You should like it" Nat smiled at Wanda, then turned to Vision, her expression morphing into something just a little bit scary. Vision gulped. "You'd better take care of her."

"You know I will" said Vision.

After another few moments of glaring at him, Natasha was smiling again, and then Tommy giggled, helping to completely break any remaining tension.

"Yeah, I know" The Black Widow turned, heading back towards the main party. "Come on, everyone wants to congratulate you." --

It wasn't long before all the female party-goers descended upon Wanda to see the ring for themselves, including a slightly surly teenage girl whom Wanda didn't recognise.

"Oh, that is gorgeous!" Hope gushed.

"Mama!" Billy cried happily, and Carol handed him over to Wanda before examining her ring finger.

"That is nice" Carol nodded. "Not too flashy."

"It's nice to see someone go against the traditional diamond" Commented the unknown teen, "Since that whole industry runs on blood money."

"Uh.. Thanks" Wanda blinked. "Have we met?"

"Oh, uh, no" The girl suddenly grew a little awkward. "I'm Michelle.. MJ. I'm here with Parker.. I mean, Peter. Peter Parker."

MJ pointed to where Peter and Harley stood with Vision, Thor, and Bruce a short distance away. Sometime earlier, Vision had been dragged away by Thor for celebratory ale, ignoring both Vision and Bruce's reminders that Vision could not actually drink. So, Vision had been holding a glass and occasionally pretending to sip it. At the moment MJ pointed, Wanda saw Vision snatching another two beer glasses that Thor had been about to give to Harley and Peter.

"It's nice to meet you, MJ" Wanda greeted the girl with a smile, then chuckled at her new Fiance's current predicament.

Peter and Harley both looked disappointed, while Thor was confused, not understanding what he had done wrong. Vision caught Wanda's eye and shrugged, smiling.

Their family was a little crazy, but they loved them anyway.

-

Notes:

Translation:

Si tu: So are you.

Eu sunt: I am

#scarlet vision #ScarletVision #Scarlet Witch #wanda maximoff #vision mcu #wanda x vision #vision x wanda #Avengers #MCU #tony stark #natasha romanoff

[trash-squatch]

Birthday Party

Word Count: 3.6k

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: It is Morgan’s fifth birthday party and she spend it alongside her family, extended family, and some of the Avengers at the lake house. Set after Endgame, but Tony is alive. Family Fluff.

Characters: Tony Stark, Pepper Potts-Stark, Morgan Stark, Happy Hogan, Rhodey, Peter Parker, May Parker, Harley Keener, Clint Barton, Laura Barton, Lila Barton, Cooper Barton, Nathaniel Barton, Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne, Cassie Lang, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner. 

FFN: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12931038/5/Suiting-Up-For-Fatherhood

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/734132772-suiting-up-for-fatherhood-birthday-party

Shoutout to @fandoms-funnies-etc for editing this at 3:30 am

It was a quaint morning on an early June summer day in a secluded part of upstate New York. A tire swing that sat adjacent to a shimmering lake swayed in the wind, mirroring the tree branches that danced in the surrounding woodland area. Everything was peaceful outside; however, that was not the case for the inside of the nearby lakeside house.

“MOMMY! DADDY! WAKE UP!” A small, yet powerful voice echoed through the halls. Morgan Stark was found jumping up and down on her parent’s bed, trying to get them up and just as excited for the day as she was.

Tony Stark was a man who enjoyed his sleep, and needed a minimum of at least eight hours of sleep to be able to function; so, he was not loving the fact that his darling daughter woke him up at 9 o’clock in the morning, as he had been up late the previous night in the garage/lab working on updates for Pepper’s Rescue suit.

“Morgan Hope Stark, you better have a good reason for waking daddy up so early” Tony groggily muttered as he got up from underneath his pillow.

Morgan stopped her bouncing after hearing her father’s comment and with a disappointed look on her face replied, “It’s my birthday. Did you forget?”

Of course, Tony remembered his daughter’s birthday was today, in fact he had been working on Morgan’s gift for the past month, he was just messing with her.

“Oh, is that today?” He sarcastically admitted, just before picking Morgan up and tickling her.

The bubbly laughter, of the now 5-year-old, was always contagious and Pepper Potts-Stark rose from her side of the bed and couldn't help but smile at seeing the scene unfolding before her.

“Be careful you two, we don’t need any injuries to deal with before our guests start arriving for the big day.” She chimed in, causing Tony to put Morgan down slowly and safely on the hardwood floor.

The Starks had a special day planned out for the birthday girl and had some surprises in store for her too. They had a lot to do before the guests were to arrive at noon, so both Tony and Pepper were a little grateful for their early wake up call. Happy would be coming over first to help out and bring back some very much needed items such as the decorations, food, drinks, and of course the cake.

“You know Mo, mom is always right, so how about some breakfast? What you hungry for? Your wish is my command.” Tony happily offered up as he led the family of three down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Once they arrived, Morgan was lifted up into the elevated metal chair that stood up to the granite island by her mother as Pepper immediately afterwards planted a soft kiss upon the top of her daughter’s head.

Morgan spun around in her seat, debating on what she wanted for breakfast, until finally coming to a decision.

“Can we have scrambled eggs, juice pops, and lemonade?!” Morgan asked, as her face lit up from her previous deep-in-thought expression.

Both Tony and Pepper realized that this food combination was a bit outlandish, but they both weren’t the type of parents to ever turn down their child’s request, no matter how silly it was.

“Of course, Peanut, daddy will get right on that. How about in the meantime you and mommy can set the table?” He swiftly proclaimed, which caused his wife to stop in her tracks, as she was already up from her seat next to Morgan and ready to start on the meal.

Cooking eggs was an easy enough task to handle, Tony thought to himself, so he let his wife have a little break; even though she would be intently watching him make the eggs, as she still didn’t trust her husband to not burn down the kitchen.

The meal was served soon after the girls were finished setting the table, which of course only happened right after a short round of I Spy at the request of little, miss Stark. As they were seated, Tony went around the table distributing the juice pops, pouring the lemonade, and serving the eggs.

“Ok, I think I have this right. Let’s see, an orange juice pop for mom, purple for Momo, and a red one for me.” He confidently announced, before sitting himself down at the table with his family.

It was a little after 10 in the morning when they had finished and cleaned up after Morgan’s birthday breakfast. Just as Tony placed the last plate into the drying rack, FRIDAY’s voice had announced a notification throughout the entire house.

“Boss, it seems that someone is approaching the front door.” The AI alerted.

“I wonder who that could be?” Tony jokingly asked as he turned to his daughter, dish towel still in hand.

Morgan immediately hopped out of the chair at the kitchen table, and sprinted towards the door, yelling out “Uncle Happy!” with pure joy. She knew she was not supposed to open the door, so she excitedly awaited by the door until her mother came to let Happy in.

“Hello there, Munchkin. Happy birthday!” He greeted, as he ruffled the hair on the top of her head, carefully trying not to drop the many brown paper bags of party supplies that he had been carrying.

Pepper took it upon herself to reach out and take the bags from Mr. Hogan to help him out a bit, as she knew Morgan would climb all over him in no time.

“Thanks Pep. I still got a bunch more stuff in the car; I will go get them.” He calmly informed her.

Just as he turned around to make his way out to the driveway, he felt a bunch of weight jump on his back.

“Oooff,” he called out in slight pain, “is that Monkey Morgan I detect? Shouldn’t she be in the jungle somewhere? Maybe off her uncle Happy and his old back?” He enthusiastically suggested.

Thankfully, he felt her slide off of him and heard her feet hit the gravel below.

“Oh, so your back is too old for Monkey Morgan all the sudden? That’s too bad, guess she’s just going to have to find a new jungle gym.” Tony mentioned, as he came outside to welcome his loyal friend and proceeded to pick Morgan up and onto his shoulders.

“I still don’t know how you can take all of that.” Happy responded in disbelief.

“Well, I am Iron Man.” Tony smirked and patted Happy on the back before going out to his car to assist him with the bags.

“Of course, how could I forget.” Happy slyly mentioned under his breath before slamming the trunk of his black Audi.

“Is that my cake daddy?” Morgan exclaimed as she saw the white rectangular box that he was holding as they walked back into the house.

Tony had been in charge of ordering the cake this year and wanted it to be a surprise for Morgan, so he responded “Yes Momo, but you're going to have to wait until it’s time to blow out the candles with everyone here to see it.”

She was a bit bummed out by her father’s statement, but then it also reminded her of the party, and she became excited again, as she was looking forward to playing with and seeing all her friends and family that were coming.

When they had entered the house with all the supplies in tow, Pepper lifted Morgan off Tony’s shoulders and sent her to get dressed for the party and then to go play outside while the grown-ups set up. Shortly after getting her party dress on, off the birthday girl went, skipping her merry way to her purple play tent to throw a grand tea party for her stuffed animals until her guests arrived. In the meantime, Pepper, Tony and Happy hung pink and purple streamers, set out paper plates and plastic cups, tied balloons around the banister on the back porch, set out various snacks, sandwiches, and beverages, all while taking turns keeping a watchful eye on Morgan.

It was about 11:40 when the first guest arrived, as Tony could tell because he watched Morgan rush out from her tent and out of sight towards the driveway. Tony could have guessed who this early arrival was, and his guess was confirmed when he heard his daughter scream out “Uncle Rhodey!” with glee.

Tony dropped the bag of pretzels he was pouring into a bowl and chased after his daughter, making sure his best friend wasn’t stupid enough to run her over.

Thankfully, Rhodey successfully parked without any casualties.

“Woah there Mo, take it slow. We don’t want to scare uncle Rhodey away there, do we?” Tony proposed, as he intercepted Morgan just in time before she was about to open his door to launch herself onto him for a hug.

Rhodey exited his car with a large red gift bag in one hand and with the other he picked Morgan up and planted a kiss on her cheek.

“Happy birthday, Morgs! Five years old today, wow what a big girl you are!” He happily beamed, before putting her down.

“Good to see you again, Rhodey! How’s D.C. been treating you, buddy?” Tony inquired, as he put one arm around his friend to lead him inside to the party ready house. He also reached out and took Morgan’s smaller hand in his own to make sure she didn’t bolt again towards any more guests that may have been arriving early as well.

Once returning back into the house, Morgan stood in awe in the front door frame, admiring the magnificent decorations that had been adorned around the entire first floor of the house.

She snapped out of it when she saw the snack table and rushed over to grab a handful of Cheeto puffs, as playing for almost two hours made the small girl work up quite a large appetite.

Pepper caught her daughter red-handed with her face stuffed with the orange chips and her hand ready in the bowl for another refill.

“Now Honey, don’t eat too much before the guests arrive. We need to leave some Cheeto puffs for them too, plus we have sandwiches here for everyone to eat for lunch. They should all be here any minute, let’s wait till then.” She advised her daughter, as she took Morgan’s free hand out of the bowl.

Tony’s previous statement about mom always being right held true, because in a matter of minutes the doorbell rang yet again, indicating a most anticipated guest’s arrival. This time it was Happy to answer the door, as he was the closest to it.

As the door opened, the Stark household was greeted by the familiar faces of Peter and May Parker as they both held onto a rather large gift box tied up together with a big bow between the two of them.

Happy took the large box from the both of them, and soon afterwards, Peter and Morgan simultaneously ran towards each other meeting in the middle of the family room in a large embrace.

“Petey! I missed you!” Morgan loudly announced once their hug had ended.

“I missed you too Mo, but it has only been like a week since I last saw you.” He laughed out and proceeded to get back up off the floor to greet everyone else in the room.

He took a quick glance back at his aunt, whom he noticed was laughing at something Happy had said, and was quick to roll his eyes at the blatant display of flirting both May and Happy were involved in.

Thankfully, Mr. Stark came over to him and embraced him in a hug to take his mind off the probable future of Happy and his aunt dating.

“What’s up, Kid, how’s school these days? Is that Flash guy still bothering you, because if he is I can come down one of these days and give him a stern talking to.” Tony stoically reassured.

Peter knew how worried Mr. Stark could be, but he didn’t want him to handle his fights for him. But he was still appreciative of the fact that he was so fiercely protective of him.

“Oh, no Mr. Stark, that’s fine. I’ve got it covered. Thanks for the offer though.” He politely responded. “School is going great. We have a field trip coming up during this summer to Italy which I’m really looking forward to.”

“Oh, really? That sounds fun. And it sounds like the perfect time to ask a certain someone out on a date. I bet MJ would really love a gondola ride in Venice.” Tony mentioned, as he led Peter into the kitchen and offered him a sandwhich.

“Keep your voice down, not everyone knows about the MJ thing.” Peter said as he lightly hit Tony in the stomach.

“OK, OK I surrender. But really, if you do, make sure to tell me how it goes.” He adds, dropping the topic for good.

More and more guests arrived as the time drew after noon. Scott Lang, his daughter Cassie, and Hope van Dyne were next, followed by Clint Barton and his entire family, then Bruce Banner. Even Steve managed to show up alongside Sam Wilson, which was a pleasant surprise.

Everyone was mingling around and happily helping themselves to sandwiches, snacks, and refreshments. After lunch, the grown-ups retired to the living room while the kids split up and did their own thing. Cassie and Lila went off on their own to the dock to talk, Cooper and Nate went out to the back to play catch with a baseball they had to ask Mr. Stark to borrow, meanwhile Morgan and Peter stayed inside and began working on a pillow fort.

Suddenly, the doorbell chimed and everyone turned their heads to the front door. Morgan climbed out from under all the pillows and blankets her and Peter had been working on and followed her father to answer the door.

“Who could that be Morgs?” Tony asked. He knew the answer, as this was her first surprise of the day, and was looking forward to seeing the expression on her face when he opened the door.

“I don’t know, daddy.” She suspiciously replied, as she reached out to turn the door knob with the help of her dad.

Standing in front of the father-daughter duo was none other than Harley Keener.

“Surprise, Mo!” Harley exclaimed as he took a knee to get down to her level with open arms.

As soon as they were done hugging, he got back up and apologized for being so late to the party due to his flight being delayed. Tony had flown him out from MIT to make sure he could be here for Morgan’s special day. Harley had been a part of Morgan’s life for a while now, as he had survived the snap and would visit the Starks often, but he hasn’t been around that much lately due to his busy life being a college student at MIT.

“Yay Harley’s here! Daddy, now can we eat the cake?” Morgan sheepishly questioned.

He laughed at his daughter’s obsession with getting to the cake and was grateful to finally grant her wish.

“Yes Mo, I think it’s finally cake time. Let’s round everyone up first.” He instructed and watched her drag Harley outside to go excitedly inform the rest of the kids that it was cake time.

Once everyone convened to the kitchen, they all took their positions around the table with the birthday girl in the middle. Tony obtained the cake from the fridge, made his way next to his daughter, set the white box in front of her, and finally made the big reveal of the cake by opening it up.

The cake was a large chocolate sheet cake with white icing, a red icing border, and an iron man helmet made out of fondant displayed in the middle of yellow frosting text that read ‘Happy Birthday Morgan’.

“Did Morgan really ask for that, Honey?” Pepper spoke out from the silence of everyone in awe of the cake.

Tony was too busy admiring the cake that he had forgotten his wife had asked him a question. Peter nudged him and Tony quickly replied back.

“Um, well no, not specifically. She didn’t really say what she wanted, so I saw this on the bakery’s website and just ordered it.”

Most of the adults in the room let out a snicker, as they had assumed Tony had kept up on his arrogant ways and made his daughter’s cake be Iron Man centric; however, a small voice suddenly silenced the lingering laughter.

“I love it Daddy! Thank you!” Morgan happily declared.

Tony looked down at his daughter and beamed. He was glad to hear that his daughter was a fan of Iron Man, almost as much as he was a fan of her.

“The only thing that could make this cake better would be if Spider-Man was on it though.” She confessed, throwing Tony off a bit.

“Yessss.” Peter quietly let out from under his breath, as he couldn’t help but do a small fist pump under the table.

Pepper took it upon herself to get everything back on track and started to light all five candles on the cake. The whole house echoed with voices singing happy birthday to Morgan, and then the cake was quickly consumed by all.

The party continued as it was now time for Morgan to open her presents. The Langs had gotten her a variety of different stuffed animals and dolls, the Bartons bought her a day pass to a nearby farm to go horseback riding with her family, Bruce brought a children’s science kit, Sam and Steve had together gotten her a couple of board games and craft supplies, Harley had given her a purple MIT sweatshirt that she immediately put on, Peter and May had gotten her a brand new doll house, Rhodey came along with a ton of coloring books and art supplies, and Happy brought two squirt guns with a promise to play with them all throughout the summer.

Last, but not least, was what everyone was waiting for. To see what the last surprise Tony Stark had in store for his daughter’s gift. Tony had excused himself and went out to the garage to get the gift. Soon later, he returned back with a large pink box wrapped with a black and white polka dot ribbon.

Morgan’s eyes lit up when presented with the giant box. She looked up to her parents with excitement before going to town and ripping that box apart. Many styrofoam peanuts were flying behind her, as she tossed them aside to get to the gift below. What she pulled out made the whole room gasp.

In her grasp was a small purple and pink accented iron man helmet that would fit her perfectly and then she realized that there was one more item in the box as well. She then pulled out a child sized toy web shooter glove that was painted like Spider-Man’s suit.

She ran into her father’s arms and thanked him for the gifts and then did the same to her mother, before attempting to try them both on.

“Now, Morgan, you need to be very careful with these and mommy and daddy need to establish some rules to go along with them, per mommy’s request.” Tony stressed, as he helped her into the helmet. “I noticed you like to play with the stuff in the garage, so I thought it would be good to have something of your own to play with.” He added.

“Tony, is that safe? Giving a five-year-old a web shooter sounds a bit dangerous.” Steve chimed in, genuinely concerned for Morgan’s wellbeing.

“Of course, Rogers, these are toys. She's been playing with the real things, so I made her some more high tech toy versions of them that are safe for her.” Tony assured the older man.

“Yeah, Steve, I had the same concern, but Tony did promise me that Morgan would be fine playing with these things. Right, Hon?” Pepper chimed in.

“Of course, I would never give her anything that would put her in danger. Now Mo, you have to use this web shooter outside” He responded, as he finished helping her get the glove on.

Once Morgan was all suited up, she immediately ran outside to try out her new toys and everyone followed to see what would ensue.

Morgan’s first target with the web shooters was none other than Peter Parker, coincidentally. All of the other kids, including Peter and Harley ran around the backyard trying to avoid the wrath of Morgan Stark.

And that’s how the rest of the day unfolded. Morgan was tuckered out from playing super heroes for an hour and a half and found herself being carried back into the house by her father. The whole group retired back into the living room and sat around on couches to watch Morgan and the other kids color together with her new coloring books on the coffee table in the middle of the room. To Morgan, and only being five years old, this was by far the best day of her life. She was surrounded by her uncles Happy and Rhodey, her big brothers Peter and Harley, her friends, and most importantly, her parents. That was what her favorite gift of the day actually was...spending the day with all the people she loved 3000.

#avengers #avengers endgame #endgame #tony stark #iron man #morgan stark #pepper potts #pepper potts stark #pepper stark #rescue #happy hogan #james rhodes #rhodey #peter parker #spider man #harley keener #scott lan #hope van dyne #cassie lang #clint barton #laura barton #lila barton #cooper barton #nathaniel barton #steve rogers #sam wilson #captain america #war machine #iron patriot #iron family

[erribeka]

What are your thoughts on the Joker (in all his incarnations)?

Thank you for your question! Well, aside the fact that I’m obsessed with him since 2012 and my mom calls him my boyfriend jokingly? :^DI guess I have a slightly different take on him than most fans.This is gonna be a long post

1. Joker is not crazy. Yes, he is mentally unstable, but it’s not the same as mentally ill. All his craziness is a made up show, because he understands that he will be executed if he admits that he is in full control of his doings. There are a few graphic novels that portray this issue very well. My personal favorite is that one where he has Bruce teddy bear (I don’t remember the name cause I’ve read it many years ago, sorry).2. He doesn’t have a sexual orientation. Yeah, I love Batjokes but seriously, I find it so weird when people try to label him as a gay/straight or whatever. He is a killer clown, not a character of a teenager love story. He doesn’t care about your age, gender or looks. Romance is the last thing on his mind, he lives in chaos. But if we are talking about physical attraction, he is definitely more into women, because even aside of Harley, he has quite a list of affairs with females. Men? Despite his flirtations, cross dressing and obsession with the Bat, there is not much. But I’m sure he had tried everything in his life just of curiosity.3. His feelings towards Bats have a label in psychology which is called “a favorite person case”. It’s when mentally unstable/ill person chooses that one special who they will annoy with their presence all the time. Their choice lays on their strong emotions towards that said person: love, hate, jealousy, admiration and etc. In BatJokes case it’s all together.4. This one is very made up but I have a headcanon that Joker has hidden fatherly feelings for Harley. If we follow with the Killing Joke, he had lost a pregnant wife and even if he doesn’t show it, it is one of his major issues. The way he treats Harley looks more like a twisted version of how someone would treat a misbehaving child rather than an adult female. He is most likely twice her age and it’s only natural for him to put her below his status and see her as someone not capable to function on her own. Despite that he finds her very annoying, he can be proud of her and call her his best creation, which most people assume is that he treats her as a thing, but looks more as fatherly instincts to me. Well, this or I have strong daddy issues and look too much into all age gap relationships.

I could blab for hours about him but the post is already long. Hope my answer is not boring :D

#joker #batjokes #jarley #long post #headcanon

[thatbluegibson]

CH 58

The remaining weeks dragged by with both Liz and Dave immersed in their commitments. When Dave wasn’t at rehearsals, he was in the studio with Josh listening to the Vulture’s B-sides, jamming and woodshedding towards workable material. Liz had finished her dance lessons and was busy with the script details, reading and reworking her lines, building and researching her character and racing back and forth to costume fittings that had been moved to Portland for her convenience. They somehow fell into a steady routine of texts and brief phone calls, just enough contact to feel connected, but not nearly enough to dull the ache of missing each other. 

Liz made a point to wear whatever Foo Fighters merch she had whenever she knew she would be photographed, purposefully overkilling it with a FF tour shirt and hoodie when she was invited to a Hollywood Vampires show. She had taken her father as her date and he had worn his well loved Nirvana shirt, purchased in January 1994 when he had taken Liz to see the biggest music phenomenon since The Beatles. The look on Johnny’s face when he saw Liz and her father backstage almost made her feel bad, he had invited her after all, but she wanted to be very clear about where her affections lay.  

Dave had saved every paparazzi picture of her to his phone, looking back on them when he felt the urge to book a ticket to see her. She wore the same slight smile in every photo, one that rebuffed every question that was flung at her. Yes, he was still in her life even though they were thousands of miles apart. The questions flung at him, however, were a bit more intrusive and it took an exhausting amount of energy to keep himself from shoving an insanely expensive camera up these ill-mannered cameramen’s asses. How low does someone have to be to ask a man what his girlfriend is like in bed in front of his children? He remained poised and dignified, but was in the process of hiring more security to quell the onslaught. 

*

Dave squinted down at his phone, trying to read the headline notification in the dimly lit parking lot. Liz had already left for England that afternoon, calling him from the airport to let him know that the studio had swung for a private jet and that she and Johnny would be stuck in a ‘fucking beer can together for twelve hours, so don’t be surprised if you hear he’s been murdered’ as she so eloquently put it. They ended the call with her making him laugh, a ‘miss you’ and ‘see you soon’, though Dave knew he wouldn’t be able to set foot on British ground until May and April was just beginning. His phone read that Liz had been spotted at LAX, but that couldn’t be right. She said she was going to Heathrow straight from Portland. There must have been an editing error…

“Hey!” Josh jogged across the parking lot from the line of bikes where a crowd had formed, “You have to come see this bike, man.”

Dave ashed his cigarette and followed him over, weaving his way through the leather vests and helmets to where Josh’s tall frame stood above the rest of the crowd. He looked over the bike in front of them while Josh practically giggled with excitement. “It’s a 1921 stock HD,” he explained and looked around, “never been touched and the chick that rode it in is a fucking stone fox.”

Dave admired the bike’s fairly pristine condition and wondered if it was a barn find when he heard her laugh through the crowd. She had that loud, melodic, unrestrained and genuine laugh that was almost a rarer find in LA than the bike in front of him. He turned towards the sound and spotted her a few feet away with her back to him, surrounded by several people in matching leather vests as they gradually made their way towards the back door of the bar.

Josh followed his stare and nodded to her. “Yeah, that’s her. She rode up on this. She’s a babe as is, but with this bike? God damn.”

“She’s… she’s something,” Dave said quietly. He recognized her leather leggings, high top Vans and cropped leather jacket from the night he met her, though she was wearing a loose white shirt this time. She walked with the small group of men in leather vests letting them go inside without her while she hesitated at the back door.

“Dude, she’s alone. Go talk to her into going home with you,” Josh nudged him with his elbow.

“I don’t know, man,” he tried to hide a smile as he watched her tap out a text on her phone, “She seems like she’d kick my ass just for suggesting it.”

“Fuck, dude,” Josh pinched a cigarette between his lips and lit it, “A girl that hot? I’d pay her to kick my ass.”

Dave felt his phone buzz in his pocket and before he fully realized what he was doing, started towards Liz. She was still engrossed in whatever was on her phone screen, not bothering to look up until he was almost on top of her. Her face broke into an elated smile in the split second before he shoved her against the brick wall and kissed her. She giggled happily against his lips, gasping when he pinned her against the cold brick with his upper body. He whispered to her between kisses, I missed you, so much, I missed you. He had only meant to surprise her, kiss her quickly and then ask what the hell she was doing in LA, but the moment she put her arms around him all he could think about was getting her out of there and to the nearest bed or backseat. Damnit, why didn’t he drive the van? She was all dark red hair, vanilla chapstick, leather and skate shoes, and she was all over him. She tangled her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck and it all felt remarkably similar to the night at the Roxy when he kissed her behind the equipment boxes.

“Let the poor girl breathe, Dave!” Josh yelled from the row of bikes in the parking lot.

Dave felt Liz’s right hand leave his neck, probably to flip Josh off, but she pulled away from him anyways.

“You’re supposed to be somewhere over Canada right now,” he whispered, still holding her head in his hands.

“The studio wanted a meeting in LA before we left, so I’m here until tomorrow night,” she looked unsure, as if he wouldn’t be completely thrilled that she managed to swing some time with him.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked. He had called Josh after talking to Liz, afraid to be alone with his thoughts while knowing she was trapped in such close quarters with Depp. 

Liz blushed a little and looked down at her shoes, “Taylor helped me out.”

Dave grinned at the thought of Liz and his best friend planning all this behind his back and leaned in to kiss her again, but she pressed her hands against his chest to stop him. 

“I’m gonna go so you can hang out with your friends, but I just wanted to see you before I left,” she whispered and tried to side step away.

“You just got here,” he quickly moved to grab her hips in case she made a break for it. If she was going to leave, he was going with her and fuck everyone else.

Liz looked over his shoulder as another group of motorcycles rumbled into the parking lot, momentarily pausing to stare at a stunned Josh, “No, I should really go,” she forced a smile, “My flight isn’t until nine so I can see you tomorrow if you’re free.”

“Please stay” he leaned down and softly kissed her neck, smiling when she whined at the feeling.

“Dave, it’s the Rainbow,” she sighed, more out of pleasure than annoyance, “No one wants their girlfriend lurking about here.”

“Do you think I have a herd of groupies in there waiting for me?” he leaned back a little to see her face.

Liz shrugged, “I don’t know what you get up to when I’m not around!” she laughed when he glared at her. “Fine. I’ll stay for one beer. One.” She held her finger up in his face to drive her point home, but Dave shoved her hand away and kissed her again while running his hands down her sides to feel her pockets for her keys. Finding them tucked into her jacket, he shoved them into the front of his jeans before unceremoniously pushing away from her and walking towards the bar’s back door.

“Honestly David, that’s not much of a deterrent,” she called after him before he disappeared into the dark doorway. She leaned back against the wall again to catch her breath and maybe warn Andy that she would be staying longer than originally planned.

“So do you two know each other or is that how I should introduce myself as well?” Josh called from his spot further away.

“I’d say it’s my preferred greeting method, but I’m scared to death of your wife,” she replied and finished her text to Andy, looking up when he came closer to her.

Josh exhaled sharply in a laugh, blowing smoke from his cigarette above his head, “Yeah, I’m scared of her too. Mean as hell, that one.”

Liz smiled, she liked Josh already, and held her hand out to him, “I’m Liz.”

“Ah, the muse I’ve heard so much about,” he shook her hand and ignored her raised eyebrow, “I’m Josh. So, doll,” Liz tensed at Josh’s endearment, “tell me how you came across that cherry over there.”

“It was my grandfather’s,” she replied, following his gaze out to her bike, “He was a big Harley fan.”

He narrowed his blue eyes at her, “And those guys you rolled up with? They with you?” Josh nodded to the line of bikes next to hers, all with club insignia on the gas tanks.

“Maybe,” Liz said quietly, wary of where this conversation was headed.

“And you are…?” he asked, tossing his spent cigarette to the pavement.

“Just the granddaughter,” she smiled and looked away, feeling like she was being tested. Most riders were aware of the Hell’s Angels, but only some were aware of her grandfather’s club and its contribution to bike culture.

Josh leaned an arm against the wall next to her, well aware that their close proximity was making her uncomfortable, “The Jokers have been through here.”

Liz’s eyes snapped back up to his. “That’s fine,” she lied. The old timers at the club house had warned her that the rival club was around when she had showed up to get Pop’s bike out of storage, but she had thought nothing of it. She wouldn’t be wearing anything to announce her affiliation with Pops and the club, but the standing club president would only let her go with the promise that she would take some of the younger club members with her, just in case. It had taken the better part of an hour to convince Andy that she could go to The Rainbow alone, so she was furious that eight members were on her tail the entire ride over. She tried to lose them at least three times, but the vintage Harley was no match for the newer models they were on. Fortunately, they were more interested in the beer and meeting the rock stars inside the bar than watching Liz make out with her boyfriend in the parking lot.

 *

A ripple of excitement moved through the crowd at the Rainbow, indicating someone noteworthy had arrived and was making their way towards the bar. Dave ignored the hushed whispers and continued to wait for the bartender when Josh casually strolled through the parted crowd with Liz under his arm.

“Asshole,” Dave laughed as Josh led Liz right past him.

“Any unattended female property will be claimed by me,” he yelled over Liz’s head.

Dave expected her to drive her elbow into Josh’s ribs, but she just shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and grinned at him.

With the beer finally acquired, Dave found them at a spot against the far wall. Liz was intently watching the people around her while Josh was engrossed in a conversation with a man that Dave vaguely recognized as a session drummer.

“You okay?” he asked her, handing her a bottle.

“Just fine,” she smiled, but it didn’t meet her eyes. He slipped his arm around her waist and felt her relax against him before turning to face him. “I feel bad that I crashed your night out. I really should go.”

“The only way you’re leaving is on the back of my bike” he laughed, but he couldn’t figure out why she was trying to get out of there so badly.

Liz snorted a laugh at that and took a quick drink, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I never ride bitch on a bike.”

He frowned, a little disappointed that she would never wrap her arms around him as they flew down the highway, but he would gladly take the second best option. Maybe they could go on a ride before she left for England, take the bikes out towards the desert and he could stare at her through his rear view mirror again.

“Dave!” Liz just about jumped out of her skin when a man yelled just feet away from them. “Long time no see!”

“Hey, man!” Dave released Liz to shake Paul Stanley’s hand. “Haven’t seen you in a while!” Really, it had only been a few hours. They had nodded to each other from their respective vehicles while picking up their kids from the same school.  

“We have a table over here!” Paul waved as an invitation to join him and led them to a large corner booth where several other people were sitting. The introductions went as most Hollywood ones do, an acknowledging nod that said, yes, I already know who you are, no need to tell me your name or what you do. The booth was full to the point that Eric Singer was practically falling out into the walkway, so Dave snagged a couple chairs from the wall and lined them up in front of the table. He set one close to Eric in hopes he would assume it was for him, biting back a smile when he took the bait.

“Thanks, man!” Eric called, stopping short when he saw Liz. “I know you.” 

She innocently shrugged and took a drink of her beer while Dave settled into the chair behind her. “I think we’ve met briefly, yeah.”

The realization spread across Eric’s face and he slapped the table loudly, earning the full attention of every one at the table. “You’re the one with the bar!”

Liz’s eyes darted around the table, completely embarrassed that everyone was now staring at her. “That’s me!” she said meekly, looking back at Dave when he tugged on her arm and quickly sat on his knee. 

“She owns the coolest little beach bar where Tommy’s got a place,” Eric explained to the rest of the table then laughed loudly. “Remember that night we got blackout drunk with Tommy and landscaped his house?”

Dave remembered Krist pointing out Tommy Thayer’s house while Liz shook her head. “I don’t recall much of that night, honestly,” she laughed. 

She fell into a conversation with Eric about Tommy and her little beach town while Dave casually ran his hand up her back between her leather jacket and shirt. He felt her shiver at his touch and watched as her knuckles turned white around her beer bottle. His fingertips made it to the base of her shoulder blade when he realized she had apparently been in such a hurry that she had forsaken her bra. She raised an eyebrow at him when he shifted her on his leg, fully realizing how long they had been apart by the way his body reacted to hers.

She leaned into him, only worsening matters when her lips brushed against his ear, “I’m only here for a few hours, Dave. I wasn’t about to spend any of it tangling with a fucking bra.”

Yep, he thought, leaning back to look around for an exit, that’s it. We’re leaving. If we hurry we might make it upstairs, otherwise the bathroom would have to be romantic enough for her.

Liz shifted her hips a little and her eyes darted down. “Wait... if that’s not... where are my keys?,” she murmured.

“So!” Paul leaned across the table, interrupting several different conversations that were happening around him and snapping Dave and Liz back to attention. “How did you two lovebirds meet?”

Liz, now aware that Dave was in distress, took initiative, “A mutual friend introduced us.” She leaned forward as if she were trying to hear Paul better and in the process positioned her ass right over the bulge in Dave’s jeans. His right hand slammed into her hip to hold her still, his fingers digging into her so hard that even through the leather leggings, she knew he was leaving a bruise. She feigned ignorance and continued speaking with Paul about her Oscar and the upcoming school fundraiser he and Dave were working on while occasionally wiggling her hips. Eventually a waitress appeared with a full tray, forcing Liz to sit upright so she could place the fresh drinks on the table.

“Liz, darlin',” she was surprised by Josh’s voice and glanced over to see that he had pulled up a chair next to Dave. “You can’t kill him right now. Everyone is going on summer festival tours and no one will make it to his funeral.”

“That’s fine,” she laughed and Dave groaned, his fingers tightening even further around her hip bone as she slid herself back to his thigh, “Taylor looks really good in black so everyone will be staring at him and not the lack of mourners.”

“I don’t know, doll,” Josh made a scene of looking her up and down, “You might give him a run for his money.”

“You wanna be my date?” she kept her eyes on Josh as she took a drink of her beer.

“God, yes,” he took her free hand and kissed her knuckles, “You can cry on my shoulder all you want, kitten.”

“Hey, assholes,” Dave finally said, making no attempt to hide his smile, “I’m right here.” He was relieved they were getting along so well. Josh could be incredibly intimidating with his brash humor and dry wit, but Liz had easily matched him.

“Right, right” Liz pulled her hand away from Josh to put it around Dave, kissing his forehead in the process, “Not in front of the corpse.”

“Lucky fucking stiff,” Josh grumbled with a grin and stood from his chair, shaking his head in mock defeat as he wandered off into the crowded bar.

Liz finished off her beer and pried Dave’s fingers off her hip so she could stand. He stared up at her with an exaggerated pout and she rolled her eyes.

“I said one beer and then I was leaving.”

“Then you shouldn’t drive,” he tugged on her arm, but she stood firm.

She was just about to throw a smart comment back at him when Josh burst back through the crowd and threw his arms around Liz. His eyes were wide and his voice was urgent, “You should tell me more about your bike!” he yelled and hurried her towards the back of the bar. Liz dutifully followed, looking back at Dave’s confused face that matched her own. She had to trot to keep up with Josh’s determined gait, sensing that whatever he was up to was in her best interest.

“Yo, brother!” a raspy voice echoed down the long hallway just as Josh and Liz reached the back door.

They both stared down at Josh’s tattooed and ringed fingers hovering over the door handle and listened to the heavy boot steps hurrying their way.

“Whoa! Who’s this little snack?”

Josh let out a long breath and squared his shoulders, catching Liz’s eye as he turned her around. She recognized something in his look, a silent plea to just go with it, stay cool, stay calm and she steeled herself against the unknown behind her.

“This is Liz,” Josh gently squeezed her, keeping his arm tightly around her shoulders.

She forced a smile at the man in front of her, one she recognized as a musician that traveled in the same orbit as Dave and Josh. He stared at her through red tinted glasses, clutching a generic canned beer and swaying on his steel toe boots. Liz could tell he had just arrived on a bike, the smell of gasoline tinged exhaust was strong on his denim vest and his fair hair was matted from his helmet.

“Well hello, little lady!” he drawled, dragging his eyes down her body as he took a long swig of his beer. “Brody’s going to kick your fucking ass,” he said to Josh as if Liz wasn’t there. “I’m Jesse,” his boot clicked on the parquet flooring as he stepped forward and offered his hand. She hesitantly shook it and roughly cleared her throat when he lifted her arm to kiss her wrist and eye her feather tattoo.

Josh gritted his teeth and adjusted his arm so that his hand was gripping the nape of Liz’s neck. “We were just headed for a smoke,” he said, his voice dripping with an underlying ‘fuck off’ tone, but Jesse was already too drunk to notice.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Jesse slurred, glancing behind him at the packed bar. He had turned just enough that Liz could see the back of his denim vest was covered in motorcycle club patches, a large green and white oval showcased in the center. Tunnel vision set in and she stepped out of Josh’s hold to get a better look. The patch portrayed a graveyard landscape in green embroidery. The foreground had a freshly dug plot and a man dancing happily atop it next to a bobber style motorcycle. In the background, a severed head was held aloft, green threaded blood dripping down towards the patch’s border and a line of men saluting with their middle fingers. Jack’s Jokers was in a bold script at the top, though the thread used there was black. The edge of Liz’s vision tinged a dark red and her fists balled up at her sides just as Josh threw both his arms around her and pinned her to the wall.

“Yeah, man!” Jesse cheered, misinterpreting Josh’s movements as amorous instead of preventative. He set off down the hallway, but called back as he reached the threshold to the bar, “Don’t wear her out, man! You know how much I love groupies!”

Liz felt a small, but distinct snap deep in her chest and she bounced a little in Josh’s arms. “Fuck you!” she screamed, wiggling her arm free to point a black fingernail at him.

Jesse stopped short and spun around, a menacing smile on his face. “Oooo… I like my women mean,” he shot back.

“Then you’re in luck, mother fucker,” she spat at him, only faintly aware of Josh whispering directly into her ear in an attempt to calm her down. “Cause I’m about to fucking kick your bitch ass all over this shit hole.”

“Are we going to have a fucking problem?” Jesse walked slowly back towards them, his eyes locked on Liz.

“We already have a fucking problem,” she glowered. “I’ll be out back.” She roughly shoved Josh’s arms away and kicked open the back door as hard as she could, sending the metal clanging against the cinderblock wall.

“Liz!” Josh ran after her, stopping her with an arm on the shoulder. “He’s a fucking asshole, okay? But you have to let this one go.”

“Fuck that guy!” Liz huffed, pointing back to the bar. Seeing that patch had thrown her into another dimension of anger. The club didn’t have a rival, per say, but her grandfather had evicted some men from the brotherhood citing a rumor that they were dealing under the club’s name. They then went on to found ‘Jack’s Jokers’ and mock her grandfather’s legacy, specifically by depicting him as a disembodied head with a desecrated grave for good measure.  The back door flew open again, making Josh and Liz jump. Several drunk men lined up against the wall and pulled out packs of cigarettes as Josh dragged Liz further into the dark back lot.

He held Liz’s arms and bent low so he was eye level with her. “I get why you’re pissed, but Jesse-“

They both looked over as Dave’s voice boomed across the dark parking lot. “Liz!” He sounded pissed.

#dave grohl fanfiction #dave grohl fanfic #dave grohl fiction #thatbluegibson

[frankiefellinlove]

Anniversary of Danny’s death

Bruce’s tribute, long but wonderful! There are some great early e street adventures! Remembering Daniel Paul “Danny” Federici (January 23, 1950 Flemington, NJ – April 17 2008, New York City, NY)

FAREWELL TO DANNY “Let me start with the stories. Back in the days of miracles, the frontier days when "Mad Dog” Lopez and his temper struck fear into the band, small club owners, innocent civilians and all women, children and small animals. Back in the days when you could still sign your life away on the hood of a parked car in New York City. Back shortly after a young red-headed accordionist struck gold on the Ted Mack Amateur Hour and he and his mama were sent to Switzerland to show them how it’s really done. Back before beach bums were featured on the cover of Time magazine.

I’m talking about back when the E Street Band was a communist organization! My pal, quiet, shy Dan Federici, was a one-man creator of some of the hairiest circumstances of our 40 year career… And that wasn’t easy to do. He had “Mad Dog” Lopez to compete with… Danny just outlasted him. Maybe it was the “police riot” in Middletown, New Jersey. A show we were doing to raise bail money for “Mad Dog” Lopez who was in jail in Richmond, Virginia, for having an altercation with police officers who we’d aggravated by playing too long. Danny allegedly knocked over our huge Marshall stacks on some of Middletown’s finest who had rushed the stage because we broke the law by…playing too long. As I stood there watching, several police oficers crawled out from underneath the speaker cabinets and rushed away to seek medical attention. Another nice young officer stood in front of me onstage waving his nightstick, poking and calling me nasty names. I looked over to see Danny with a beefy police officer pulling on one arm while Flo Federici, his first wife, pulled on the other, assisting her man in resisting arrest. A kid leapt from the audience onto the stage, momentarily distracting the beefy officer with the insults of the day. Forever thereafter, “Phantom” Dan Federici slipped into the crowd and disappeared. A warrant out for his arrest and one month on the lam later, he still hadn’t been brought to justice. We hid him in various places but now we had a problem. We had a show coming at Monmouth College. We needed the money and we had to do the gig. We tried a replacement but it didn’t work out. So Danny, to all of our admiration, stepped up and said he’d risk his freedom, take the chance and play.

Show night. 2,000 screaming fans in the Monmouth College gym. We had it worked out so Danny would not appear onstage until the moment we started playing. We figured the police who were there to arrest him wouldn’t do so onstage during the show and risk starting another riot. Let me set the scene for you. Danny is hiding, hunkered down in the backseat of a car in the parking lot. At five minutes to eight, our scheduled start time, I go out to whisk him in. I tap on the window. “Danny, come on, it’s time.” I hear back, “I’m not going.” Me: “What do you mean you’re not going?” Danny: “The cops are on the roof of the gym. I’ve seen them and they’re going to nail me the minute I step out of this car.” As I open the door, I realize that Danny has been smoking a little something and had grown rather paranoid. I said, “Dan, there are no cops on the roof.” He says, “Yes, I saw them, I tell you. I’m not coming in.” So I used a procedure I’d call on often over the next forty years in dealing with my old pal’s concerns. I threatened him…and cajoled. Finally, out he came. Across the parking lot and into the gym we swept for a rapturous concert during which we laughted like thieves at our excellent dodge of the local cops. At the end of the evening, during the last song, I pulled the entire crowd up onto the stage and Danny slipped into the audience and out the front door. Once again, “Phantom” Dan had made his exit. (I still get the occasional card from the old Chief of Police of Middletown wishing us well. Our histories are forever intertwined.) And that, my friends, was only the beginning.

There was the time Danny quit the band during a rough period at Max’s Kansas City, explaining to me that he was leaving to fix televisions. I asked him to think about that and come back later. Or Danny, in the band rental car, bouncing off several parked cars after a night of entertainment, smashing out the windshield with his head but saved from severe injury by the huge hard cowboy hat he bought in Texas on our last Western swing. Or Danny, leaving a large marijuana plant on the front seat of his car in a tow away zone. The car was promptly towed. He said, “Bruce, I’m going to go down and report that it was stolen.” I said, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Down he went and straight into the slammer without passing go. Or Danny, the only member of the E Street Band to be physically thrown out of the Stone Pony. Considering all the money we made them, that wasn’t easy to do. Or Danny receiving and surviving a “cautionary assault” from an enraged but restrained “Big Man” Clarence Clemons while they were living together and Danny finally drove the “Big Man” over the big top. Or Danny assisting me in removing my foot from his stereo speaker after being the only band member ever to drive me into a violent rage. And through it all, Danny played his beautiful, soulful B3 organ for me and our love grew. And continued to grow. Life is funny like that. He was my homeboy, and great, and for that you make considerations… And he was much more tolerant of my failures than I was of his. When Danny wasn’t causing chaos, he was a sweet, talented, unassuming, unpretentious good-hearted guy who simply had an unchecked ability to make good fortune and things in general go fabulously wrong. But beyond all of that, he also had a mountain of the right stuff. He had the heart and soul of an engineer. He learned to fly. He was always up on the latest technology and would explain it to you patiently and in enormous detail. He was always “souping” something up, his car, his stereo, his B3. When Patti joined the band, he was the most welcoming, thoughtful, kindest friend to the first woman entering our “boys club.” He loved his kids, always bragging about Jason, Harley, and Madison, and he loved his wife Maya for the new things she brought into his life. And then there was his artistry. He was the most intuitive player I’ve ever seen. His style was slippery and fluid, drawn to the spaces the other musicians in the E Street Band left. He wasn’t an assertive player, he was a complementary player. A true accompanist. He naturally supplied the glue that bound the band’s sound together. In doing so, he created for himself a very specific style. When you hear Dan Federici, you don’t hear a blanket of sound, you hear a riff, packed with energy, flying above everything else for a few moments and then gone back in the track. “Phantom” Dan Federici. Now you hear him, now you don’t. Offstage, Danny couldn’t recite a lyric or a chord progression for one of my songs. Onstage, his ears opened up. He listened, he felt, he played, finding the perfect hole and placement for a chord or a flurry of notes. This style created a tremendous feeling of spontaneity in our ensemble playing. In the studio, if I wanted to loosen up the track we were recording, I’d put Danny on it and not tell him what to play. I’d just set him loose. He brought with him the sound of the carnival, the amusements, the boardwalk, the beach, the geography of our youth and the heart and soul of the birthplace of the E Street Band.

Then we grew up. Very slowly. We stood together through a lot of trials and tribulations. Danny’s response to a mistake onstage, hard times, catastrophic events was usually a shrug and a smile. Sort of an “I am but one man in a raging sea, but I’m still afloat. And we’re all still here.” I watched Danny fight and conquer some tough addictions. I watched him struggle to put his life together and in the last decade when the band reunited, thrive on sitting in his seat behind that big B3, filled with life and, yes, a new maturity, passion for his job, his family and his home in the brother and sisterhood of our band. Finally, I watched him fight his cancer without complaint and with great courage and spirit. When I asked him how things looked, he just said, “what are you going to do? I’m looking forward to tomorrow.” Danny, the sunny side up fatalist. He never gave up right to the end.

A few weeks back we ended up onstage in Indianapolis for what would be the last time. Before we went on I asked him what he wanted to play and he said, “Sandy.” He wanted to strap on the accordion and revisit the boardwalk of our youth during the summer nights when we’d walk along the boards with all the time in the world. So what if we just smashed into three parked cars, it’s a beautiful night! So what if we’re on the lam from the entire Middletown police department, let’s go take a swim! He wanted to play once more the song that is of course about the end of something wonderful and the beginning of something unknown and new. Let’s go back to the days of miracles. Pete Townshend said, “a rock and roll band is a crazy thing. You meet some people when you’re a kid and unlike any other occupation in the whole world, you’re stuck with them your whole life no matter who they are or what crazy things they do.”

If we didn’t play together, the E Street Band at this point would probably not know one another. We wouldn’t be in this room together. But we do… We do play together. And every night at 8 p.m., we walk out on stage together and that, my friends, is a place where miracles occur…old and new miracles. And those you are with, in the presence of miracles, you never forget. Life does not separate you. Time does not separate you. Animosities do not separate you. Death does not separate you. Those you are with who create miracles for you, like Danny did for me every night, you are honored to be amongst. Of course we all grow up and we know “it’s only rock and roll”…but it’s not. After a lifetime of watching a man perform his miracle for you, night after night, it feels an awful lot like love. So today, making another one of his mysterious exits, we say farewell to Danny, “Phantom” Dan, Federici. Father, husband, my brother, my friend, my mystery, my thorn, my rose, my keyboard player, my miracle man and lifelong member in good standing of the house rockin’, pants droppin’, earth shockin’, hard rockin’, booty shakin’, love makin’, heart breakin’, soul cryin’… and, yes, death defyin’ legendary E Street Band.“

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Final Fate by Kendall Talbot

Waves of Fate #3

 Riveting read that had me flipping pages quickly to find out what would happen to those left on the island and the four that left to search for a way to bring them all home to the USA. What would they face? Would they survive? Would they find the family that were not with them on the cruise liner? What secrets would come out? Would they find the mental and physical strength they would need and just how would they all end up at the end of this portion of their journey? All of these questions and more kept me reading hoping for answers and for a happy ending for the characters I grew to consider friends.

 What I liked:

* The people on the yacht that scooped the four from their dire predicament – they didn’t have to be kind, but they were and in being kind they showed that there were a few good people left in a chaotic world.

* The dual storyline of those left behind on the island and that of the four who make it to the USA to find a way to rescue everyone.

* That I cared about the outcome.

* Feeling immersed in the story.

* Being able to identify with the characters.

* Being allowed to see the thought processes of the characters.

* Thinking about what I would have done in the shoes of the various characters.

* Watching the growth and development of more than one in the story.

* Admiring the selflessness of more than one.

* That it was realistic.

* Thinking about what it would be like if something like this were to happen now – and wondering how I would fare.

* The way the decision was made to “rescue” everyone.

* Thinking about the future of those that managed to survive.

 What I didn’t like:

* Knowing that when survival is the line for self and loved ones it is more than likely people will not abide by current laws but instead do whatever it takes…no matter what.

* Thinking about the type of person(s) that would perpetrate an EMP or other terrorist attack.

* Having to say goodbye to the characters and wondering how they will manage in the future.

 Did I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I read more by this author/in this series? Definitely

 Thank you to the author for the ARC – This is my honest review.

 5 Stars

    BLURB

 The world is splintered, and so are the survivors.

Adrift at sea for weeks, a rescue party finally offers safe haven to the four survivors who escaped the island. But the civilized society they’ve always known has fallen… and a fractured, dangerous anarchy has taken its place.

Gunner. Charging into the chaos of the mainland, Gunner is determined to find his wife and daughter. But he has a new hell to deal with—desperate people with cutthroat motives.

Zon. Returning home forces Zon to face his worst nightmare—losing Jessie, the only woman he’s ever loved, in order to save her family.

Gabby. Still trapped on the island with the other desperate survivors, Gabby and Madeline fear they’ve been forgotten. But nothing could prepare them for the danger that washes up on the shore.

America is gone. Hope is all they have left. In a world of disorder, will the remaining passengers from Rose of the Sea ever make it home? Or will the darkness of human nature destroy what little is left?

Find out in this gripping post-apocalyptic EMP survival thriller.

FINAL FATE is the third book in the Waves of Fate series.

This dystopian, disaster/survival series follows ordinary people in a desperate fight to stay alive and is perfect for fans of Mike Kraus, Ryan Schow, Grace Hamilton, Harley Tate, JJ Pike, Jack Hunt, JJ Holden, and Kyla Stone.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Kendall Talbot is a thrill seeker, hopeless romantic, virtual killer, and award-winning author of stories that’ll have your heart thumping from the action-packed suspense in exotic locations and the swoon-worthy romance. Kendall has sought thrills in all 46 countries she’s visited. She’s abseiled down freezing waterfalls, catapulted out of a white-water raft, jumped off a mountain with a man who spoke little English, and got way too close to a sixteen-foot shark. When she isn’t writing, she’s enjoying wine and cheese with her crazy friends, and planning her next thrilling international escape. She lives in Brisbane, Australia with her very own hero and a fluffy little dog who specializes in hijacking her writing time. Meanwhile, Kendall’s two sons are off making their own adventures – look out world. Kendall’s book, Lost in Kakadu won the acclaimed title of Romantic Book of the Year 2014, and her books have also been finalists for Best Romantic Suspense, Best Crime Novel, Best Continuing Series, and Best New Author. I love to hear from my readers! Find my books and chat with me via any of the contacts below: Website: http://www.kendalltalbot.com.au/ Email: [email protected] Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KendallTalbo... Or you can follow me on any of the following channels: Amazon Author Profile: https://www.amazon.com/Kendall-Talbot... Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/kenda... Newsletter: http://www.kendalltalbot.com.au/newsl...

#Kendall Talbot #Waves of Fate 3 #Dystopian Fiction #Survival #EMP Strike #Fiction #Suspense #Thriller